#pre acotar

[achaotichuman]

Tamlin/Lucien Vanserra

Lucien is an avid reader. His room is filled to the brim with books upon books upon books. His nightstand is piled up with his favourite stories. He reads a wide variety of genres. Lucien can be found sitting by his window, fire crackling and filling his room with the smokey scents of Autumn. His hair unbound and spilling freely down his back and shoulders, shirt half unbuttoned and jacket thrown onto his bed. Book open in his hands, completely enthralled in the story he’s reading.

Lucien loved to read and always has. However, after Amarantha stole his eye, for a time he couldn’t read. The sound of his new prosthetic eye clicking as he scanned the words was near unbearable, many a night he wished he had simply never taken the prosthetic. He wished he could read without the sound of metal whirring and clicking echoing through his skull. He wished to claw it out and throw it against the wall.

One night, Tamlin found Lucien in the drawing room, biting his bottom lip so hard he began to draw blood. A book clenched tightly in his hands, his knuckles near white. Tamlin watched silently from the doorway as Lucien swallowed hard, desperately trying to focus on the words on the page and not the sound of his new eye.

A moment passed and Lucien gave up, he muffled a scream with his palm and threw the book to the floor. Tamlin noted the title, it was one of Lucien favourite childhood stories.

Lucien fell limp against the lounge he was sitting in. Head tipping back to stare at the ceiling, tears of frustration running from his good eye.

Tamlin felt a strong of heart pull tightly. He knocked on the threshold and Lucien straightened immediately, quickly brushing the tears from his eye and attempting to appear fine.

“You’re awake.” Lucien stated, it was quite late. The moon was high in the sky, the only light coming from the crackling fire, casting an amber glow over his skin, darkening his red hair. He looked like fire incarnate.

“I was getting a drink of water.” Tamlin answered honestly, “What are you doing?”

Lucien for the first time in his damn life, struggled to come up with a lie to explain this. The urge the cover his weaknesses took over. He opened and closed his mouth, then looked away from Tamlin, unable to face him. Lucien stared at the fire, and simply shrugged.

Tamlin took in the sight of his friend. Scars still raw and red, no longer bleeding so profusely anymore thankfully. But every now and again, some parts would bleed. Tamlin didn’t miss the way Lucien’s eyes would dull, he didn’t miss the way he would become downcast whenever his face bled. Like he had gone back to the day it happened.

Staring down at the book thrown on the floor, Tamlin finally understood why his Lucien hadn’t been reading.

But looking at Lucien staring so resolutely away from Tamlin, the High lord knew Lucien wasn’t going to explain why he was sitting down here, or why he appeared so frustrated. So Tamlin took matters into his own hands.

Walking further into the room. Tamlin swept up the book discarded on the floor. He flipped through it, appearing to be interested as if he hadn’t seen Lucien read it a thousand times over. Through the top of his vision he could spy Lucien tilting his gaze back to Tamlin, curiosity outweighing his want to look away.

“This is a good book.” Tamlin stated. A plan crept into the edges of his mind, he hoped to the mother Lucien would let him enact it.

Lucien swallowed hard, his fingers drifting to his face as if he couldn’t stop them, “It is.” His voice was strained just ever so slightly.

Tamlin wasn’t good at figuring out emotions, it was half of the reason he was a truly terrible courtier.

But he knew Lucien. Lucien knew him. They knew each other.

And Lucien was not acting like Lucien. Tamlin needed to fix that. Or at least soothe him.

Maybe he should have handled it with more delicacy. Maybe he should’ve jumped around the subject more. Maybe he should’ve at least attempted to take care of the situation like a true High lord.

But Tamlin never claimed to be made for this lifestyle. So he simply handled it like Tamlin would. Like what Lucien’s friend would.

Tamlin crossed the distance between him and Lucien. He sat down beside his friend and made himself comfortable. Lucien blinked at him, surprise contorting his features.

Tamlin lazily threw an arm over the back of lounge, pressing himself gently against Lucien. He flipped to the first page and with a tone of slight interest, he said, “I would quite like to read this.”

“So read it.” Lucien said, trying to mask the pain in his voice with indifference.

Tamlin simply glanced over the first sentences and said, “that’s what I’m going to do, and you’re going to listen.”

Lucien opened his mouth but before he could come up with a retort, Tamlin began to read.

It was an adventure. Simple and easy to follow. Lucien didn’t know Tamlin had read it before, after being curious as to what it was that he friend found so enthralling. But Tamlin was still more than happy to read it as though it were the first time.

Night came and went. Soon enough dawn peeked on the horizon and they were on the last page.

At some point Lucien and Tamlin had manoeuvrerend themselves. Now Lucien was resting his head in Tamlin’s lap and Tamlin was twirling those red locks in his fingers as he read.

All too soon the story was over, and Tamlin found himself looking down at Lucien.

His eyes are closed, and his scars were red and on display. But even if they marred his face, even if their presence no longer meant he was completely symmetrical. His face was soft, the tension gone. He had a smile on his face. And when he looked up at Tamlin once the last sentences were spoken, it was with pure love.

Lucien loved to read. It was such an important part of him.

Tamlin didn’t enjoy it nearly as much.

But that look on his Lucien’s face was more than enough to light up Tamlin’s world.

For Lucien Tamlin would read an entire library.

Tonight though, Lucien just needed him to read his favourite book. Tonight, that was enough.

‘Shit, I love you.’ Was the only thought Tamlin had as Lucien sat up and pressed his warm soft lips to his.

[hrizantemy]

I love writing snippets of Rhysand’s sister, like a diary of some sort so here is more!!

I’ve always understood that my fate was predetermined, far removed from the whims of love or choice. While my brother had the freedom to pursue his heart’s desires, to love and be loved in return, my path was set in stone from the moment I was born.

Marriage was not a matter of affection or compatibility for me—it was a strategic alliance, a political transaction orchestrated by those in power. My hand would be offered to the highest bidder, traded like a commodity in exchange for power, wealth, or influence. Love was a luxury I could ill afford, a notion reserved for the pages of fairy tales and the dreams of foolish maidens.

I watched as Rhysand roamed the Night Court, his heart untethered and free, while I remained confined within the walls of duty and obligation. My future was not my own to mold; it was dictated by the needs of our people, by the machinations of those who sought to control us.

In the world, where power and politics intertwined seamlessly, my brother Rhysand had the privilege of finding a mate—a partner who complemented him in every way, whose love was a beacon of light in the darkness that often enveloped our realm. Their bond was forged in the fires of passion and mutual respect, a rare connection that transcended the constraints of duty and obligation.

For me, however, the concept of a mate was a distant dream, a fantasy reserved for those fortunate enough to be born into privilege. Instead, I faced the prospect of a husband—a man chosen for me by those who held sway over my destiny. If I were lucky, he would be decent, his intentions honorable and his demeanor tolerable. But luck was a fleeting commodity in the world of arranged marriages, and more often than not, the reality fell far short of my hopes and expectations.

I braced myself for a future filled with duty and sacrifice, where my husband’s desires would supersede my own, and where love was but a distant memory, overshadowed by the weight of obligation. While Rhysand basked in the warmth of his mate’s love, I would navigate the treacherous waters of marital politics, longing for a freedom I could never truly attain.

My acceptance of my predetermined fate was not born solely out of resignation; rather, it was a result of the careful orchestration of my father, who had ensured that I would walk the path laid out before me. From a young age, he had instilled in me the importance of duty and obedience, molding me into a vessel of his ambitions.

My father’s influence loomed large over my life, his presence a constant reminder of the expectations placed upon me as his daughter. He had made it clear that my future would be one of significance, that my marriage would serve as a means to secure his power and influence within the Night Court. And while his words may have lacked the tenderness of a loving parent, there was a certain conviction in his tone—a promise to ensure that my husband would be a man of stature and authority, if nothing else.

In his own way, my father had pledged to make sure that my husband would be powerful, as if that alone would be enough to ensure my happiness and security. And so, I resigned myself to the role he had carved out for me, finding solace in the knowledge that, at the very least, my union would serve a greater purpose—one that extended far beyond the confines of my own desires.

In the end, I found comfort in the knowledge that while my brother may be a fool for dreaming of love, I was wise enough to recognize that power was the true currency of our world—a currency that would ensure my survival in a realm where love was a luxury few could afford.

[nocasdatsgay]

Day 1 of Tamlin week I wrote a Drabble

Rated: M

Tags: Tamlin/Lucien (one sided), suppressed gay thoughts, angst, calanmai

Summary:

Calanmai has come once again, but Tamlin isn’t focused on the females waiting for him.

[thetwistedbeauty]

𝖶𝖾𝗅𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖾!

❝ 𝘍𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘱 𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘰𝘳𝘯 ���𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘴𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳, '𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵! 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰𝘰? 𝘐 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘰𝘯𝘦! ❞

𝗧𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗶𝘀 𝗮 𝗦𝗮𝗿𝗮𝗵 𝗝. 𝗠𝗮𝗮𝘀 𝗰𝗿𝗶𝘁𝗶𝗰𝗮𝗹 𝗽𝗮𝗴𝗲

𝗔𝗼𝟯 𝗮𝗰𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁

𝗠𝘆 𝘀𝗶𝗱𝗲𝗯𝗹𝗼𝗴

[ratabrasileira]

Um WIP de quando eu estava no fandom de ACOTAR

No meio do inverno, situados sob uma das montanhas mais altas da corte noturna, Morrigan e Rhysand estavam encolhidos sob pesadas cobertas, enquanto lá fora, mesmo que eles não pudessem ver, a neve corria tão leve quanto o vento que a carregava.

A relação dos dois garotos deitados sobre a cama era tão normal quanto a de qualquer irmãos -embora o parentesco real de ambos estivesse longe da irmandade. Mesmo sendo primos, distantes primos, Rhysand e Morrigan cresceram quase como um só. Aonde quer que Rhysand fosse, Morrigan vinha logo atrás, irritando-o ou divertindo-o. Haviam noites em que os dois se escondiam dos adultos, seja em festas formais ou em simples eventos familiares, apenas para saborearem a rebeldia infantil e suas próprias presenças.

Todavia, no dia posterior a essa noite, Morrigan não podia acompanhar Rhysand, muito menos o chamar para se esconderem sob as longas mesas das festas da Cidade Escavada. Eles não sabiam exatamente o porquê, mas a Dama da Corte Noturna levaria seu filho, Rhysand, consigo, a fim de morar no local a qual ela viera; Illyria. 

“Rhysie” O sussurro de Morrigan ecoou baixinho na escuridão da montanha. Ela estava deitada de lado encarando a cabeleira preta do primo, que, ao ouvir a voz da menina, se virou para observá-la. “Me prometa uma coisa”.

“O que?” Rhysie indagou. Mesmo que aparentava estar dormindo, era visível o semblante alerta do menino; nenhum traço de sonolência. Os dois sabiam o que o dia de amanhã esperava.

“Me prometa que você não vai me esquecer.”

Ao ouvir o pedido, o menino não se conteve a segurar uma risada, o que custou  a ele um leve beliscão. 

“Ouch! Mor!”

“Eu estou falando sério, não ria!”

“Eu nunca vou te esquecer, sua doida. Vou ficar lá alguns anos, só.”

“Alguns anos... Quantos anos?”

“Mamãe não especificou, mas olha; vou poder te visitar e você vai poder me visitar. Ela me falou isso.”

“E se você não quiser me visitar? Aposto que você vai fazer novos amigos lá e vai se esquecer de mim.”

O menino riu de novo, mas dessa vez a menina não fez nada.

“Mor. Morrigan, eu nunca vou te esquecer.”

“Promete?”

“Prometo. Nós vamos ficar juntos. Para sempre, ok?”

“Ok” Com isso a menina abriu um sorriso que Rhys jurou poder ver brilhar na escuridão abrangente da montanha. 

Sorrindo também, Rhys fechou os olhos e desejou à sua prima uma boa noite enquanto o amanhecer os esperava trazendo consigo o novo do mundo deles.

[thisblogisaboutabook]

Neon Moon

Azriel x Reader/Rhysand’s Sister - Angst

Rhysand’s sister grapples with a one-sided mating bond that has yet to snap for the Shadowsinger. When a drunken night brings the two closer together than ever, Azriel is made aware of a circumstance that could change the course of her life.

This is a one-shot that is able to be read as a stand-alone fic.

This is also a prequel to Wicked Felina and elements of this prequel will be involved in the remainder of the series. Wicked Felina Part 5

Warnings: Sexual content, alcohol, language, age difference concerns

Y/N - 19 Years Old

When the sun goes down on my side of town, that lonsesome feeling comes to my door.

Pretty moans echo through the walls of the House of Wind only broken by an ocasional deep groan.

I roll over with an aggravated sigh, pulling an overstuffed pillow across the back of my head, covering my ears. Not that it will do any good. Curse being High Fae and the exceptional hearing that comes with it.

I lay awake, taking deep breaths, trying to sink into the starry depths of my mind but Azriel’s hook-up of the week lets out a particularly loud cry of pleasure before her moans are muffled by what I assume is a gloved hand and a low reprimand.

I roll my eyes. He may as well chide her with a warning of “Shh, don’t wake the baby.” by the way he treats me.

Never mind the fact that I am an adult now. I have tits for cauldron’s sake, nice ones at that. I wouldn’t be wearing this oversized, ridiculously soft knit sweater if I didn’t.

And yet he still views me as a child.

It’s cruel to think that on my eighteenth name day, a golden thread snapped. Tethering my soul to him… and yet, he has no clue. That, or he does, and has no intention of acting on it, refusing to view me as anything other than the little sister of his best friend.

I’ve got a table for two, way in the back where I sit alone and I think of losing you.

So I grin and bear it. And if I happen to wear clothing a bit too cheeky when he is around and other males inevitably gawk at my exposed skin, thus prompting the overprotective bat to shuck his sweater off and toss it to me, and then I spend the rest of the night drinking him under the table? Well, that will have to do for now. So, I wait for the day his soul is ready to seek mine.

Y/N - 21 years old

He’s watching her again. He always does. She dances through the room like petals on a breeze, enamoring the crowd with vivacious conversation as she skirts throughout those gathered in the room. How will I ever compare to the radiant and lovely enigma that is THE Morrigan? I shouldn’t feel bitterness toward my cousin and yet I do. I get why people flock to her, she’s kind and lovely, strong, somehow both approachable and unobtainable. She’s a total pain in my ass busybody cousin-acting-as-older-sister I never wanted.

I requested that the band play Azriel’s favorite song tonight. The one time he’ll loosen up and let himself enjoy a moment. It has become a routine, our dance. The one time that he holds me a little closer. The one time I can pretend he sees me as the mature female that I am and not the child I was.

But tonight, the song plays, and it’s Morrigan in his arms, not me. It’s not the first time he’s chosen her over me. When she’s here, I don’t exist.

I can’t stand it anymore. I can’t watch this.

I spend most every night beneath the light of a Neon Moon.

I turn to leave, exiting the hall, winding through the crowd of pompous nobility from all courts. The garden. I’ll find solace in the garden, beneath the glittering stars, among the fragrant blooms. Sneaking down a quiet corridor and out a shadowed alcove, a guard opens the door for me and the warm, lavender scented breeze greets me like a friend. My steps fall swiftly, distancing myself from the evening revelry. As I wind down a path of blooming roses, a loose stone causes my sole to slip, bracing myself for the fall and the sting of rock to my palms. Instead, I am shocked to feel warm, strong arms catching me. Looking up at my savior, a few long golden locks of hair fall over the concerned, emerald green eyes staring down at me.

Y/N - four months later

“Shit, Shadowsinger. You look like you could use this more than me.”

The start of a grin tilts the left corner of his lips upward as an incredulous laugh slips from his throat. Reaching a scarred hand toward the bottle of my brother’s finer wine and swiping it from me.

Azriel’s hazel eyes assess the bottle, giving a raise of his brow. “Looks like you’ve done a number on this one already.”

“I never do things halfway.” I tease. Giving a nod toward the wine that was indeed half-empty. His dark brows rise again as I unveil a second bottle before he could remark on it. “Some Spymaster you are. You should’ve know I’d come prepared with the best selections from Rhys’ secret-” The playful jest is interrupted by the tickle of a shadow trailing up my arm and spiriting the second bottle right out of my hand, eliciting a pout of my lower lip.

“Hey, now that’s just greedy.”

The handsome planes of Azriel’s face illuminate in the twilight, causing my heart to stir. Perhaps it’s the way the night shrouds him in ominous twilight, or the way his shadows sit strewn across his shoulders but I know tonight was hard for him.

Mor had shown up to dinner as radiant as ever, a red dress clinging to her delicious curves, some male she’d picked up at Rita’s on her arm.

Now if you lose your one and only, there's always room here for the lonely

I should leave him alone but I can feel it in my chest. Stoic and broody? Yes. A lonely soul? Also yes.

And damn, do I know I deserve better than to be the female that will never be chosen first? Yes. And yet, he’s my mate and more importantly, my friend.

“Scooch over,” my arm waives in a correlating gesture. “This grass is dewy and cold and this dress is far too thin. Your leathers can handle the chill, I’m stealing your warmth.”

With a small shake of the head, a lock of raven hair falls over his forehead, Azriel scoots, exposing the vacated patch of grass for me to sit on. “Gods, it’s still chilly.” I complain as I swipe one of the bottles back from the Shadowsinger.

“Nobody asked you to come out here.”

“And yet here I am.”

Azriel eyes meet mine, a small flicker of emotion passing behind them. “Yes.” He whispers fondly. “Here you are.”

I ignore the blush threatening to redden my cheeks and fire back at him. “Your breath smells like a vineyard. You’d already gotten started on the drinking without me?”

Recognizing the rhetorical question for what it is, Azriel presses his lips to the bottle, tilting his head back as he takes a long swig of the bittersweet wine. My breath catches as a harsh swallow bobs his adam’s apple. Heat pools through me and I quickly turn away, searching for something, anything to distract from the effect he has on me.

To watch your broken dreams, dance in and out of the beams of a neon moon

Shadows dance around us, like figures on the wind, weaving in and out of the moon’s luminescent rays.

“Y/N…” I turn to face him as a scarred hand reaches for me before seemingly thinking better of it and pulling back. “I didn’t dance with you at the ball.”

It’s my turn to laugh incredulously. “That was months ago Azriel, why bring it up now?”

That peculiar flicker of emotion crosses his eyes again.

“I’m sorry.”

I pause, taken back by the apology. Had he known how much it hurt to see him dancing with her? Thinking on it, I can’t seem to grasp whether it is better or worse that way.

I freeze, grappling with emotion as he ruffles his hair with a scarred hand, dragging his palm over his face. “Y/N. The conflict that wars within me, it’s… .”

Confusion conveys on my features and I resist the urge to dive into his mind and read exactly what he’s thinking. “What?” I ask as his sentence trails into a void of lost words.

He shakes his head as if he’s already pushed whatever he was about to confess aside. Hurt washes through me and I begin to turn away. A broad, calloused palm grasps my wrist. “You’re beautiful, Y/N.” He leans closer, his wine addled breath mingling with my own, only centimeters separate his lips from mine.

I think of two young lovers running wild and free. I close my eyes and sometimes see you in the shadows.

I’m certain he can hear my heartbeat as it roars through my ears. My eyes flutter looking into his heavy-lidded hazel and onyx eyes. His head tilts, low voice barely more than a rumble.

“You’re everything.”

Azriel inhales, his gaze searching mine in a silent ask of permission, preparing to close the hairs-breadth of distance between our lips. Suddenly those lust-addled eyes go wide, nostrils flaring, and he abruptly pulls away, swiping my bottle of wine as he withdraws his hand. “You don’t need any more of this, Y/N. Go to bed.”

My mouth gapes slightly, processing what just happened. “What?”

“It’s late and I have to leave for a mission for your father in the morning.”

He stands straight, stretching out his tall body and those glorious, broad wings, stiff from sitting on the ground.

My heart is crushed, once again. The words that could change it all sitting on the tip of my tongue.

You’re my mate. You’re my mate. You’re my mate.

But his feelings for my cousin still run strong and we have centuries ahead of us. I refuse to be in second place.

Azriel extends a tanned arm to me, eyes now softened, a slight crease between his brows as he takes me in. “Come on, Y/N. Let’s get inside.”

Taking his extended arm, we walk in silence through the grand entryway of the House of Wind, winding down the corridors within, stopping at my room, I murmur a rushed “goodnight.” before escaping behind the shield of my door, to the quiet lonesome solace of my room.

I sense Azriel’s presence outside my latched door for several moments before his steps pad down the hall opening the door one down from mine, into his room.

No telling how many tears I've sat here and cried, or how many lies that I've lied telling my poor heart he’ll come back someday.

Azriel

Azriel couldn’t take it. The way the walls closed in around him. Sleep was always just out of reach but tonight, he felt the weight on his chest in a crushing embrace.

If you lose your one and only, there's always room here for the lonely.

He’d spent the past few years dicking around, ignoring the shift he’d felt toward Y/N. For fuck’s sake, she was Rhysand’s little sister, barely an adult. She’d always gravitated toward him in her childhood. Looked up to him. And he cared so deeply for her, like a little sister. And then soon after her eighteenth birthday something began to shift in his chest. Something that he felt so incredibly wrong for feeling - and yet something he’d buried deep within begged him to accept that it was right.

He was a bastard for it and latched onto his feelings for Mor even harder, despite the fact that they’d simmered down in previous years. And then Y/N had changed her demeanor toward him and he knew- gods, he knew she wanted him but he couldn’t do it. Rhys would kill him for it if her father didn’t first. It was so wrong.

And it had gotten harder and harder recently. He’d brought females home, spent more time around Mor when she’d visit, anything to push her away without actually owning up to what his feelings were.

And then Mor had shown up on a whim tonight with some male that she’d picked up gods knows where, he couldn’t even fall back on clinging to her, leaving him forced to face how strongly he felt toward Y/N, so he’d indulged in booze and snuck out to sit beneath the moonlight and drown in his own pool of self-pity.

To watch your broken dreams dance in and out of the beams of a neon moon.

When she’d found him, any semblance of willpower was gone. Y/N was a goddess beneath the moonlight. Kind, strong, intelligent, and so damned beautiful and, out here, it was just the two of them. So, he’d finally given in. One kiss, one kiss would help him see how wrong this was. And yet as he leaned in, all he could feel was how right it seemed to be.

Until he’d inhaled, taking that final breath of courage to close the distance. That’s when he smelled it, the shift in her scent. Her scent was there but there was something somewhat familiar and earthen intertwined a scent so light and sweet, almost like roses. A scent that was not her own, not of her.

She was pregnant. He had no idea by whom but the realization sobered him up entirely. He swiped her wine and panicked. Did she know? Should he say something? Instead, like the older brother figure he’d once viewed himself as to her, he escorted her into the house and told her to go to bed, ensuring to keep the alcohol out of her reach.

Gods, he didn’t know what to do from here

He spent the rest of the night flying, taking in the stars and the moon as they shone brightly above, ethereal just like her.

He’d go on his mission this week, and Y/N and her mother would travel to the war camp that her father was at to visit him, and when she came back he’d talk it all out with her.

Yes, he’d support her and love her however she needed to be, whether it be as a friend, as chosen family, or as something more. It would all work out. It had to.

Come watch your broken dreams dance in and out of the beams of a neon moon.

————————————

Although this is a one-shot, it is also the prequel to Wicked Felina, you can read Part 1 here.

Tags

ACOTAR general: @lilah-asteria @thecollegecowgirl @mochibabycakes @nickishadow139

Wicked Felina tags: @glittervame @julesofvolterra @saltedcoffeescotch @candyjaypoppins @st4r-girl-official @nocasdatsgay @gxdsmonsters @honk4emoboyz

[geniemillies]

hii im back with more tamliiiin

he's my little princess, pls take good care of him 🤲❤

[gwandas]

Underrated hilarious aspect of Rhysand’s “mask” being that no other High Lord needs to do all that.

He’s acting like he has to act like a villain and mistreat 2/3 of his court to rule it when that doesn’t seem to be true anywhere else? Why are we acting like Velaris is so great when I’d honestly rather be one of Thesan or Helion’s subjects.

The only High Lord who might be worse than him is Beron who is actually evil. Which says… something about Rhys I fear.

[redbleedingrose]

Girl Dad!Cassian x reader Headcanons

A/N: I love me some girl dad Bat boys and Vanserra bros. TBH all the ACOTAR males would make incredible girl dads and I was just thinking about Cassian today. Anyway, this is for @augustinerose I know that it has been tough recently, so I hope this made you smile. <3

Cassian is a girls girl. He LOVES his daughter, and wants his babe to be able to express herself in any way she wants. So he def lets his daughter paint his nails pink and purple, and grins so wide when she smacks a kiss onto his cheek calling him pretty. And he takes real good care to paint her nails all nice and clean.

Cass is also happy to let his pretty princess put some makeup on him, with the blue eyeshadow and red lips. Male is not even the slightest bit embarrassed when you walk into your home to find him sitting on the floor so that your daughter can reach his face, six bows of all colors in his hair that is half braided and half curled, with your reddest shade of lipstick being smeared all over him. The guilty look from your babe stealing your makeup is too cute, and you settle down into Cass’ lap and ask her to do your hair and makeup too.

He would die for this child, and do practically anything to see a smile on her face, so he is gonna wear the purple tutu and tiara for his girl, and he is absolutely gonna have his pinky pointing out while he sips water from a tiny princess tea cup cuz his baby girl scolded him for not using "proper etticuite daddy."

Occasionally, she can also rope in Az and Rhys and they might roll their eyes and moan and groan, but they are gonna do anything for that little girl because they adore her and she is the only baby girl in the family so far. They spoil her like no other. You had to practically ban Rhys from getting her anymore dresses because there was no more storage in your home, and you nearly threw him into the Sidra when he offered to add another room to your home so he could fill it up with more jewelry and shoes and tutus for the “night court princess”

And on starfall, she does little dance routines for the whole family but she willet all shy about dancing her little ballerina routine in front everyone in the inner circle, so he helps her out and dances by her side even getting on his tippy toes despite everyone is snickering at him, this big burly male twirling around with his muscled arms pointed to the sky with his "mini me"

He loves pretending to chomp and eat her ruddy cheeks because it makes her cackle from deep in her tummy, and he is always blowing raspberries into her chubby belly. Don’t even get me started on those chunky thighs, and stinky feet. Cass wants to cry every single time he thinks about his pretty princess growing up. He wants her to stay young forever, to never worry about a single thing, to make sure that he can always watch over her and protect her.

When she was a newborn, he would steal her from the bassinet and take her on flights, wrapping her tiny wings into a wooly blanket to make sure they stay warm and cozy, and he would spend hours just flying around and telling her stories about his life, and stories about you. His favorite topic to talk about to her while she snoozes away is how much he loves you and how much he loves her. His obsession with his girls is truly a next level of adoration.

Ugh AND he loves cutting up fruit for her, and she just walks around munching on it with her tiny fist around the fruit and juices smeared across her cheeks. An he is always so gentle about wiping away the juices with a wet rag, having her sitting on the counter with her tiny legs swinging back and forth kicking his corded thighs while he cleans her ups and smooches her ruddy cheeks when he is done

Let us also discuss how Cassian learned how to braid hair by the Valkaryie warriors, and so he is the expert when it comes to doing her hair. Male can do twists and plaits so fast and instinctually, its insane. Most days, you have him doing your own hair. Oh, and she was born with a TUFT of hair that he would play with to soothe her. It is thick and dark just like his, and curls at the end, and he thinks it is one of his favorite features that he passed on to her.

OOOHHHH and imagine him teaching her to fly when she finally has the strength to control those muscles. She is all frustrated with fat tears rolling down her ruddy cheeks cuz “is too hard daddy” and he is down on one knee in front of her, rubbing his large hands over her tiny shoulders hushing her little cries, “s’okay baby, you’re right, it is hard,” and he smooches her cheek and pulls back to stare into her big eyes, “but you know what sweet girl? You can do it. It might take some time and practice, like most things do, but you will do it. And I will be here every step of the way, ‘kay?” And she sniffles, rubbing her tears away with a tiny fist and snuggles into his big chest while nodding.

Every birthday, he buys her a bouquet of flowers. And he also buys you a bouquet of flowers, making sure to thank you for the best gift he has ever received.

Okay maybe I will add more to this later, but this all I got for now, I hope you enjoyed!!!

[fourteentrout]

Tamlin with a tail, anyone? Click for quality

Dialogue ID:

T: “Wow, they really are so much smaller!”

R: “I’m aware, Tam”

T: “They’re cute. You should tuck your hair back more often”

T: “I’m sure females would love it”

R: “I’m not so sure about that, Tam”

[offtorivendell]

The Weaver's Song

Disclaimer: well I thought I had time to edit this properly and tidy it up, but joke's on me, apparently the entirety of HOFAS has leaked in Portuguese over night. That'll teach me (haha, never) to leave something in my drafts for months. So this may or may not be correct, and YOU might know that, but I'm not going to read the whole thing until I have the original version.

If someone has already posted this theory, I'm sorry!

Spoilers: this contains information from ACOTAR, TOG and CC series books 1 and 2. Please do not discuss spoilers in the comments until after HOFAS has officially been published, or in the reblogs without warning (and ideally a read more option)!

This may be fanciful, but I think I may know what The Weaver was singing about in ACOMAF... it was a metaphor for Prythian history and Void travel.

“There were two sisters, they went playing, To see their father’s ships come sailing … And when they came unto the sea-brim The elder did push the younger in.”

Theia's two daughters, as @silverlinedeyes has posted before, she thinks the second daughter brought Truth-Teller back to Prythian through a rift - though was there a third, unknown sibling, as @wingedblooms and I have theorised?

Playing - playing music? Music as the universal magic/language? Urd’s music?

Whether or not they're also Fionn's daughters, if literal, the ships could be people travelling through the Void/Rift to Midgard… the Feyre, the Nesta, the Elain come to mind, except maybe the Selene, the Eos and the Helios?

The Haldren Sea sounds like it could have a rift/portal in it (similar imagery to the Court of Nightmares/Hewn City). Port/portal?

Did Helena push her younger sister into the rift, to make her return through the Void and save Prythian from the Asteri, per @silverlinedeyes?

If this was then case then Helena knowingly sacrificed herself.

“Sometimes she sank, and sometimes she swam, ’Til her corpse came to the miller’s dam.”

Did she travel through multiple worlds until she reached Prythian, similar to Aelin as the red star? Or was this after returning to Prythian and living her life she then travelled again across the murky realm?

Miller's dam - dam could be their mother? The Mother? Silba?

A dam is also a body of water. The Cauldron?

Miller is one of the oldest human professions - milling grains for bread.

Miller is also a type of moth - moth wings at the HOW library, with their Cauldron/bowl-type statues at the entrance?

What if the Void/Cauldron is the Miller, and Chaos/Cauldron's water is the Dam?

What if the Void/Cauldron is the earth, Chaos/Cauldron's water is the dam, and the Miller is the hypothetical third sibling?

How do the underground waterways and/or the pool of Starlight in the Spring Court fit in?

“But what did he do with her breastbone? He made him a viol to play on. What’d he do with her fingers so small? He made pegs to his viol withall.”

The viol is an instrument; is the language of the universe a song? This would support my idea that Singing is a language of the gods, and Sight/messages from the gods could be a form of Singing.

Breastbone, spells and bonds are threads, viol strings? Pegs tighten/tune the strings. Witchy and sorcery spell vibes, but also hello PUPPET VIBES. Who is/will the Cauldron using as a puppet?

“And what did he do with her nose-ridge? Unto his viol he made a bridge. What did he do with her veins so blue? He made strings to his viol thereto.”

Nose - smells, Azriel can smell the Elucien bond… because it's discordant (theory on the way)? Amren could smell Feysand’s bond, how?

Bridge - I saw the painting in my mind: the lovely fawn, blooming spring vibrant behind her. Standing before Death, shadows and terrors lurking over his shoulder. Light and dark, the space between their bodies a blend of the two. The only bridge of connection … that knife. Paint that when we get home. - ACOWAR, chapter 69. Truth-Teller connecting with the Starsword.

"A violin bridge is a maple piece that sits atop the violin and lifts the strings above the fingerboard in a way that allows you to play both single notes and double stops. It transmits the string vibrations to the soundbox (body of the violin)." It's a conduit. Could Carranam be relevant here?

Blue - Azriel's siphons, the veins in Elain's eyes in the tent scene when she Looked for the Suriel. Can she see the threads?

Viols have six strings - three brothers and three sisters?

“What did he do with her eyes so bright? On his viol he set at first light. What did he do with her tongue so rough? ’Twas the new till and it spoke enough.”

Eyes bright - like Elain's when she's in pain? Pain is a link to the divine, do her eyes go bright when she's using her magic?

Eyes at first light - Sight/Singing at dawn? Eos?

First light - firstlight?

To set at something, to go after it… with an instrument playing him through the Void? Someone is after the firstlight and will go after it. The Asteri and Bryce. Mystics? Elain?

Till - as in the soil/gardening? More likely a boat's till/tiller; did Theia's second daughter’s tongue become the rudder that allowed “the Miller” to steer his way through the water/Void/space between… Lightsingers? Mystics? And there were three ships named after Feyre, Nesta and Elain Archeron.

Mor speaks the truth, Elain speaks what she Sees.

“Then bespake the treble string, ‘O yonder is my father the king.’”

“Then bespake the second string, ‘O yonder sits my mother the queen.’”

“Then bespake the strings all three, ‘Yonder is my sister that drowned me.’”

The father/king and mother/queen have been separated, and are in different locations.

Different worlds?

Fionn/the father/king is in Prythian.

Theia/the mother/queen "sits" somewhere else… a hell/Hel realm? Sits on a throne?

The sister/Helena is in Midgard.

I really think that the Weaver was singing to nobody/Feyre about Prythian's ancient history, along with the crossover - and potential instructions on how to navigate the Void to "go to Hel" - all the way back in ACOMAF! When she just happened to be collecting a six pointed star sapphire ring (six strings?) for Rhys?

Will each sister become a magical, Singing tiller for the bat boys' wings (as rudders), guiding and guarding them through the Void? It gives a whole new depth of meaning to Papa Archeron's fleet going down in a storm!

This also fits for Vassien, with Lucien being the magical tiller and Vassa as the firebird. And even possibly More and Emerie, if her wings get healed, or she gets her own Pegasus! Could it parallel the way they had to fly through holes in the Wall back in the OT, before Hybern destroyed it with the Cauldron (which just happens to contain Void)?

Will they be the light in the dark?

SJM you wicked bloody genius, this cannot be a coincidence. 🙏🏻

PLEASE BE VERY CAREFUL NOT TO SPOIL HOFAS FOR OTHERS WITH DISCUSSIONS ABOUT THE LEAKS!

[infiniteetcetera]

I lose ten years off my life every time I see someone compare Tamlin and Chaol. Like one is a twenty year old guy who made some mistakes, said some rude things, but then risked everything including his life and his entire belief system to make that right and do better for his people and his kingdom. The other is a FIVE HUNDRED year old all powerful being who emotionally and physically abused his NINETEEN year old girlfriend and then completely abandoned all responsibilities to be sad about it. They are NOT the same😭

[acourtofquestions]

I JUST WANT ONE MAASVERSE BOOK TO LET ME SEE A WEDDING JUST ONE

[c-e-d-dreamer]

But I'm Only Looking At You: Chapter Masterlist

Main Pairing: Nesta Archeron/Cassian

Summary:

Cassian has been in love with Nesta Archeron for years and hopes to one day ask for her hand. But when Cassian learns that Nesta is set to marry the Viscount Tomas Mandray, he's ready and willing to do anything to stop it, including doing something very very stupid.

Aka a Regency AU inspired by Taylor Swift's Speak Now

Read on AO3

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Epilogue

[highlordofkrypton]

headcanons // vegetarian tamlin

I had to share these because @thrumbolt had me CACKLING AT WORK.

cassian: do u like beans tamlin: yeah, why? cassian: idk im trying be thoughtful and shit cassian: so do you like... rawdog grass? tamlin: do I whAT????? cassian: DO YOU EAT GRASS tamlin: I'm VEGETARIAN I'M NOT A GOAT WHO SAYS 'RAWDOG GRASS' WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU

***

tamlin: hey, you should try this cake cassian: sure what flavour is it tamlin: zuccini cassian: ZUCCINIWHAT cassian: DISCOSTANG tamlin: iTS SUPER GOOD YOU DON'T EVEN TASTE THE ZUCCINI cassian: SHUT UP cassian: WHY WOULD YOU RUIN A PERFECTLY GOOD CAKE WITH ZUCCINI

[bookofmirth]

You know, given how long many elucien shippers have been waiting, part of me still wouldn’t mind if their book came after gwynriel because at least then it would be farther removed from all this ship war nonsense