#rhysand is a baddie

[replenaryindulgence]

Before the Light

Azriel x Calida (ka-lee-duh)/Reader

Summary: After getting lost in the woods on a camping trip and finding herself in an unfamiliar land, 22-year-old Cal must decide what she's willing to do to get back to her life if she still wants it.

Word count: 5.5k

Warnings: Panic, creepy guy in the woods

a/n: I know there’s a lot of backstory, I promise it’s worth getting through! I really wanted to set the stage and for you to get to know our MC.

I didn't intend for this to be so long, but d*mn my little hamster brain kept running on that wheel!!! The MC's name might seem a little strange, it's of Irish origin & I thought it was pretty and unique. Also, she's a redhead because so am I and me plus Azriel equals two (iykyk). Plz let me know what you think! Thinking about throwing in a slight love triangle moment with Morrigan eventually because how dramatic would that be & because our reader might be a little bi aren't we all? Strap in!!!

I'll try to update this as soon as I can! It might be a week or so. (P.S. my asks are always open! Thanks for bearing with me while I relearn how to use tumblr lol)

 Chapter 1

“I don’t think we’re doing this right. No, definitely not, this piece is supposed to bend across that one.” 

“You suck at this An,” Jack threw back. 

“I suck at this? You didn’t get it right either asshole,” Annie quipped. 

You shook your head, amused by the twins struggling to put together the first tent. The ground beneath the large pines was littered with dried needles, perfect for kindling. Circling around, you collected them into your jacket pocket.

“You hearing this, Cal?” Jack called out to you.

Turning to face your friends, you couldn’t help but laugh. 

“You guys are ridiculous,” You threw back, reaching for a small pine cone at your feet and rolling it in your palm.

You walked back and tossed your growing pile of fire-starter near the center of the clearing. It was still a few hours from dusk, but the hike had been long and you were eager to set up and be done with it. Jack and Annie were tasked with the tents while Brooke gathered rocks for the fire pit and scouted the area, something about checking for bears. A ridiculous idea, you had thought, though if you trusted anyone here with your life it was probably Brooke. Your guess was she wanted to get away from the bickering for a while.

The sweat from the hike still clung to your skin, sitting sticky and uncomfortable beneath your jacket. It’s much cooler now than it had been on the trip in. You touched the back of your hand to your nose to warm it. The sun’s rays peeked through the ever-rising pines, and you welcomed the sparse heat. Closing your eyes, you tilted your head back and let the afternoon look at you. Your feet shuffled slightly until light touched your face, and vibrant red filled your vision from behind closed lids. This moment reminded you of being a kid, observing and learning about the world around you. You tried to remember the last time you felt peace like you did now. It seemed as though no matter how hard you tried to clutch it, life slipped quickly through your fingers like sand. The years passed and suddenly, nothing was the same. But, this moment felt still; the sun was warm, and the lake welcomed you back with familiar hands.

”You’ve been a real help,” Jack whispered, startling you. His arm brushed yours, you smiled at the sky. 

“It’s nice that we’re staying out here. I love the cabin, but I think we could all use the seclusion,” you responded, meeting his eyes. He nodded back, folding his arms. Brown hair stuck to his forehead, damp with sweat. 

“Seclusion, huh?” He teased. 

“Seclusion, isolation, freedom from the expectations and burdens of society,” you replied dramatically.

“Okay, Thoreau, can we get some help sorting through the bags?” He questioned.

Before you could respond, you saw movement beyond the trees. Brooke approached and Jack walked over to help her with the arm full of small rocks she carried. 

“No sign of bears,” she stated shortly. “Only one tent? I’ve been gone for twenty minutes.” 

Brooke wasn’t angry, she just had a way about her. A way that was quick to say what was on her mind, and without much thought to how it would be taken. You learn to let it roll off of you when you’ve known someone for years. She’d been your and Annie’s suitemate freshman year. As a sensitive person, you found her bluntness unpleasant, but Annie liked her, and eventually, you came around. 

You’ve known Jack and Annie longer than you can remember. Your parents were once very close; you’d spend weeks out of the year at their cabin just east of the lake. When your parents divorced it got ugly and uncomfortable, like a festering wound, until neither of them came back to the cabin. You were grateful for that. The cabin, the lake, it remained a place untouched by the crumbling debris of your parents’ failed marriage. Jack’s mom had pulled you aside and assured you that you’d always have a place with them. You knew she meant it. Mrs. Henley, Ruth, was a soft-spoken woman, but always sincere. 

The cabin was almost two hours from the water by car, if cabin was the right word for it. You never talked about how much money the Henleys had, and they didn’t seem to care what your family had in comparison. The twins’ Dad, Eric, ran a few publishing companies in Washington, one in Oregon. After graduation, Mr. Henley lined up an internship for you as an editorial assistant, and asked you to persuade Jack to stay in Washington and work for him. A fruitless task, you were sure. Jack was over living out west, he wanted to travel the states, maybe move abroad for a while. No entry level job at his Dad’s company would sway a 22 year old from the intrigue of adventure.

A month ago, Annie suggested we spend these last few weeks before the fall, fully together. Camping was never your favorite, but you couldn’t say no to Annie. Not when you knew she was right. After graduation, you’d spent the summer mostly together, in your apartments in Seattle, at the Henley’s house in the city, or at the cabin. It felt right, it felt how it always did. But now, the discomfort of change was more tangible, less abstracted by time. Jack was talking of moving east with a friend you’ve known since high school and Brooke was heading to Alaska for grad school. Lucky for you, Annie didn’t seem in a rush to solidify plans, besides staying in the city. Who could blame her, with parents like that? 

You joined Annie in the one set-up tent, helping her spread a blanket over one of the thin camping mattresses. You worked silently, unpacking a small pillow, another blanket, and hooking a portable light onto where the poles crossed inside the tent. 

“You don’t need my permission, you know,” Annie said, breaking the silence. 

You furrowed your brows. “Permission? For what?” You continued looking through the bags, setting one aside and adjusting the blanket beneath you.

"With Jack," She said, smiling at your confused look as she grabbed a bag of peanut M&M’s from her bag. She tilted her head back, letting a few fall into her mouth.

You didn’t know what to say. “It’s not like that,” you assured.

”It’s always like that,” she smiled at you, offering the sweets in her hand. 

You took them, rolling your eyes. Annie assumed everyone was in love. You were definitely a romantic, but you also knew what disinterest looked like. You and Jack had shared a few lingering touches and almost-moments on drunken nights, but it didn’t sway you to gamble your friendship on the possibility that he was interested in anything serious. You were content wondering what could have been. You were typically more fond of fiction, anyway.

“Annie, come help me finish setting this up,” Jack called. She smiled at you once more before disappearing from the tent. You laid back, thankful for the swift death of the conversation. 

… 

The second tent was up much quicker than the first. You had organized them; Annie and Jack’s bags in one, Brooke’s and yours in the other. A small pile of sticks and pine needles glowed atop a circle of rock in the center of the camp. Jack and Brooke had found a small log and somehow managed to carry it over. You sat on it with Jack, rubbing your neck, the ghostly weight of your bag on your shoulders. You tried to pack light, but you brought a few books along; a mystery about a kidnapping that took place at a summer camp, some fairy book Brooke had suggested, and, possibly, one too many sweaters, which added some weight. 

The sun was setting now, teasing the horizon with a gentle touch, and although it meant the temperature would plummet, you were eager for sleep. The heels of your feet ached, your calves felt stiff, and you were sure you needed to drink more water. 

Brooke poked at the fire while Annie was engrossed in her phone, probably looking at pictures she'd taken on the hike in. You and Jack shared dried mango slices while you searched the shared playlist Brooke made for the trip. All Things End by Hozier began playing, and you smiled absentmindedly at the memory of hearing it live.

"Everyone is so quiet," Annie said, interrupting the hiss of the crackling embers. She and Brooke sat on a blanket across from you.

“I’m exhausted,” You responded with a yawn, staring vacantly beyond the campground. You thought you could spot the glitter of sunset on the distant water. 

“Let’s get in the lake,” she laughed. “The cold is supposed to be good for your nervous system, or something.”

The prospect of dipping into the lake woke your body slightly, sending a buzz down your spine. You liked the rush of adrenaline, the euphoria following it. 

“I’m in,” you responded with a smile. Brooke looked behind her, towards the direction of the water, and back with a scrunched nose, but eventually agreed. You turned to Jack, he only groaned. Still, he stood, mumbling something about how men weren’t built for cold water. Tell that to the Vikings, you thought.

You grabbed the thin towels from your tent, and headed towards the water. 

…

Pebbles crunched beneath your boots. It was a short walk to the mouth of the lake, Brooke had chosen a good spot to camp. You quickly stripped them along with most of your clothes, leaving you in a thin bra and hiking shorts. You dipped one foot in the water, wincing at the temperature. Your friends stripped behind you, while you tried not to lose your nerve. Jack was taking pictures of the sunset from a few feet away, and you quickly slipped out of your shorts while he was preoccupied. Brooke and Annie took to your sides, and the three of you stood apprehensively at the edge of the lake, glancing over the water that expanded before you.

“It’ll be worse if we think too much about it,” Annie said, folding her arms to hold her body.

Brooke took a few brave strides and sank below the surface, cursing as she came up, before tilting her head back and letting the water caress her. Annie squealed before following suit. You blew out a huff of air, trying and failing to compartmentalize the chill in the water. When it got to your stomach your body shivered. No, this definitely wasn’t helping your aching muscles. You pressed on. 

The water kissed your chest, then your shoulders. Finally, you gave in, dipping your head under. It wasn’t unbearable, but you weren’t sure you’d last long. You felt your pulse slightly in the back of your head as you swam under the surface. It had been almost 80 degrees today, but the water refused to acknowledge that. You broke the surface with a gasp, turning to face your friends who hovered near the edge of the lake. Why had you been so enthusiastic about this idea? You watched as Jack strolled over and dropped his clothes in a pile near the rest, quickly avoiding his gaze. Annie called out to him that it wasn’t so bad, and he shook his head in disagreement as he stood with the water just above his knees. He folded his arms, holding himself how Annie had. You stilled, lowering your head so your nose and eyes peaked just above the surface, and watched him sink further. You took a breath and sank below once more.

You had always loved the water. Brooke said it was biological, that it calmed something in the animal of us to be near it. When you were younger you pretended you were the half-blood offspring of Poseidon, counting how long you could hold your breath in it before your lungs felt like fire and you got light-headed. 

You felt something touch your hand, and you lifted yourself from the water and your daydreaming. Jack had swum out, treading water as he watched the sun set over the mountains behind you. Water trickled down his face, gathering in his lashes, and his golden skin was cast in a reddish-golden light. He looked ethereal. 

Turning, you faced the sunset. The sun lit the sky beyond the mountains in the most vibrant hues of red and orange. Where the darkening sky above you met the sun, pale shades of pink gathered. There was a good ten minutes of light left, and you thought that you’d never forget this moment. The beauty of it burned into your eyes. You saw it even as you blinked.

You broke the peaceful silence, "It feels like everything’s changing. I hate it." Change felt like putting on a new leather jacket. It chafed in all the wrong places.

He sighed, “Everything is changing. I for one am excited to leave this oppressive ass place.”

You thought of the vastness of the city, the lake that expanded before you, the mountains that climbed ahead, and wondered how anyone could call this oppressive. You knew he meant the people, but the city was big and it seemed like an excuse for wanting to leave. You stayed silent, sifting through your thoughts. 

“Dad sure is glad you’re staying. At least one of us won’t disappoint him.” He added, wiping his short hair back from his face.

You laughed at the idea of his Dad ever being disappointed in either him or Annie. Their parents were unusually understanding people. Of course he wanted his kids close to home but he never was the type to force anyone’s hand. Sometimes, you thought Jack wanted a reason to brood. 

“He wants you to stay, but I know he’ll live vicariously through you wherever you go, he’s an adventurer at heart. Maybe we can write about it when you get back,” you replied, smiling as you thought of the times you sat around their Dad’s faded armchair as he read you and the twins stories. He filled your minds with images of half-human creatures and monsters that swallowed ships whole. Of wars waged over beautiful women. Greedy dragons and cursed rings. 

He replied with a smile and a ‘maybe’, and you pictured his portrait in the back of a travel book. ‘Everyone has a story to tell,’ His Dad had said to him years ago. 

You heard laughter and splashing behind you as your friends jumped out of the lake. 

“You’re just like him,” he added, nudging your arm underwater. You raised your brows in question.

He continued, “You should come with me. No author came up with anything interesting to say by staying put. New York, maybe Italy, or Ireland. You’d get plenty of inspiration there.” 

“I want to be where the publishing action is,” you joke, “And I’m no storyteller, at least not yet.” 

“Yeah right, you’re a natural,” He adds, “You’ve got an eye for it.” 

You admired how sure Jack was. You liked how it felt to be near him, it put you at ease. He smiled and you could just picture late nights in the sticky bars of Dublin and Vespa rides along the coast.

Of course, you’d agree you had an eye for storytelling, otherwise you'd have wasted the last four years of your life. But, you didn’t have the option of relying on your rich parents for support as you found yourself at the Cliffs of Moher. The Pacific North-West was beautiful, you couldn't believe anyone would want to leave. You’d travel one day, maybe after you’d settled into your career. Until then, this would have to do. You looked out as the sun took its last breath, bowing to the mountains, passing its watch over to the moon. 

“Let’s go, I’m freezing!” Annie called out from the shore. 

"I’ll start dinner," Brooke added, attempting to shake the last of the water from her short hair. 

You didn’t wait for Jack as you made your way to them. You hurried out, thankful for the thin veil of darkness as you dried off. Jack dressed beside you, his hair falling in short ringlets over his brows. He caught your eye and you pulled your towel over your head, hiding your face, and squeezing the lake from your hair. 

…

The fire started quickly, and you ate slightly gummy re-hydrated pasta that Ruth made for the trip with her food dehydrator. You were sure this was the first time they’d used it. Shortly after dinner you fell prey to the lull of darkness and excused yourself with a ‘good night’ leaving your friends by the fire. The blankets in the tent felt damp. Great. Your sweats, thankfully, weren’t as bad. You fell asleep to hushed conversation, burrowing deep into your hooded sweatshirt. 

You awoke to a sharp, shining light. Brooke was reading something next to you. How long had you been asleep? You hummed a greeting, burying your face further into your blanket, and sank deeply into the comfort of sleep.

The next day consisted of meals around the fire and a short hike to get a better view of the mountains. You trailed behind your friends, deep in thought as you failed to push away Jack’s suggestion that what you needed was travel. You thought of Bilbo refusing to leave the Shire. 

Annie crept scarcely close to the edge of a boulder and you tried to hide your worried face while Brooke took her photo. They pulled you in for a group one, and you held tightly to Brooke as she captured your smiling faces.

The day seemed shorter than the one before, the sunset was more of a dulled pink, dimmed by low-hanging clouds. You made s’mores and failed at telling ghost stories around the fire before turning in early. You grabbed the fairy book from your bag, deciding the mystery should be read in the safety of daylight. You were on page 32 when Brooke joined you, crawling into the tent and kicking pine needles onto your blanket. 

“I swear fantasy writers all had a meeting and committed to only writing weak, sex-depraved female leads,” You tell Brooke as she slips into her sleepwear. 

“That or they become the best fighters and magicians all of a sudden. Can’t a girl just be a girl?” She adds.

You laughed in agreement and attempted to discuss the female archetype in fairy lands while she settled in. You pressed your legs to hers for warmth, and she opened a book about the history of the local tribes in Washington. Your thoughts drifted from the page, unable to comprehend the last paragraph of world-building you attempted to read twice, and you let your head fall back to your pillow. The serenade of cicadas filled your ears, and you tried to commit the sound to memory. A vision tugged at you, of laying on a porch swing in your mother's arms, listening to the cicadas call as she read to you from your book about flower fairies. You laugh at how little you’ve changed, and how much you’ve changed.

“My mom used to read me this fairy book when I was a kid. I’ve probably heard it a thousand times, and I swore I saw fairies in my backyard. My grandma told me if there was a ring of mushrooms, a fairy had been there and I looked all over the yard for them,” you admitted, the memory vivid and colorful in your mind.

“My brother and I used to build little homes for them out of sticks and leaves,” she added. You enthusiastically agreed, remembering sitting outside of your grandparents’ house arranging pieces of earth with your cousins. Hours content in the world of your imagination. You missed that part of yourself, the child in you. You thought of her as you drifted asleep.

…

The next day the sky was filled with thick puffs of soft gray clouds, the air cooler than it'd been a few days ago. You started the morning off slowly, accompanied by Annie as you laid on a blanket near the water and read. Lunch had been brought to the lake, the four of you determined to spend the whole day in this spot. 

Hours later you sat, Jack at your side, and watched as Annie and Brooke swam further and further out. So far this week you’d gone hiking, swimming, read your books, and walked around looking at fauna. You weren’t sure what camping for a week looked like. The longest you’d camped out was two nights, and it was technically in the backyard of the twins’ house. 

“What time are your friends getting here?” You asked Jack as you chewed the inside of your lip. He sat with his arms resting on his knees beside you.

"Mmm, around five I think," he responded, glancing at his watch. 

A few of Jack’s friends were coming to camp for the rest of the week. They were nice guys, and you weren’t exactly feeling antisocial, but you wished it would have stayed just the four of you. 

“Dylan’s bringing is his girlfriend I think,” he added.

You hummed in response. You liked her, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

Mirroring Jack, you looked at your watch; 4:14. Wanting to spare yourself from awkward small talk and having to help set up tents, you decided you’d go for a run along the shore soon. The energy bites Brooke had made and the coffee you drank with lunch were making you restless, anyway. You sat with Jack a little longer, and at half past four you stood, slipping back into your shoes. 

Jack laughed amusingly when you told him of your plan, seeing through your avoidant ploy, but he just reminded you to be careful and to be back before dark or they’d have to form a search party. You called out to Brooke and Annie and they both echoed a warning too. A ‘be careful’, and a ‘bring your charger just in case.’

Back at camp, you threw your small solar charger into your jacket pocket, along with a granola bar, and drank from your water bottle. Anxious thoughts filled your mind, though you weren’t sure why. You’d woken up slightly on edge this morning and chalked it up to the company arriving soon. The path you’d run would be easy and mindless, no reason to worry. You’d stick to the shoreline, and come back the same way long before it got dark; the shore near the camp would be unmistakable. You took a breath and willed your stomach to settle.

You tied your hair up, swinging it to your back, then wrapped your jacket around your waist and began jogging towards the water. You’d gotten a little addicted to running this past year. It trained your breathing and focused your mind, something you’ve been trying and failing to do all your life. In Seattle, you always ran the same four-mile route from your apartment to around the park and back. It took you a few weeks to map down the perfect path. Past the gift shop at the end of the block, steering clear of the traffic near the middle school a half-mile down, and along the widest sidewalk that led to the park closest to your apartment. You focused on your breath and willed your anxious mind to focus on your surroundings. The pines loomed above you, it almost made you dizzy to look at them. The water reflected the mood of the sky. You could see a small group of people kayaking in the water towards the East side of the lake. 

One mile down. 

Deep breath in, deep breath out. The trees thinned out near the edge of the lake and the view was stunning. You sometimes felt like you couldn’t fully experience how beautiful it was here, not in the moment. It would hit you on the way home or when you’d get your film back from being developed. You almost brought your camera but decided it wasn’t worth the risk.

Two miles down.

Stopping, you caught your breath as you snapped a photo with your phone, then slid it back into the band of your leggings and picked up your pace. Your mind drifted to the book you were reading. 

Three miles down. 

Your headphone cord swung annoyingly across your chest, and sweat started to prickle your forehead. A large boulder sat in your path and you swerved around it. 

Shit. You threw your hands up on instinct, hitting something hard. Blinking for a moment, you steadied yourself. How had you not seen this tree? You brought your fingers to your face and winced as your eyebrow stung. Your eyes fell to the blood prickling the back of your hand. You felt it suddenly, the annoying ache of scraped skin and you cursed yourself for being unobservant. You looked at your watch with a sigh; 5:09. You tried not to let your injury annoy you as you turned to start the journey back towards camp. 

Your heart sank. Head darting back and forth, then behind you. Eyebrows knit in confusion.

The lake was gone.

Ripping your headphones out, you scanned the forest before you. What the hell?

Okay, you thought, don’t freak out, don’t panic. Just think. Did you accidentally run further from the shore? You knew the lake was North and camp was West. You looked above you for the sun to verify, but the clouds had gotten even thicker. You scanned the forest confused, trying to find the boulder you had swerved just moments ago. How hard had you hit your head?

Shit. You grabbed your phone and opened the compass app to verify your direction, chewing on your lip nervously as it loaded. You sighed in relief, yes you were facing North. If you walked forward there’s no way you wouldn’t see the lake soon. 

Goosebumps prickled your arms and neck. When did it get so cold?

Throwing on your jacket, you tucked your headphones into your pocket and gripped your phone anxiously. You took deep breaths and tried to settle the sick feeling in your stomach. You’d be fine. 

You walked further and further North, anxiety creeping up into your body with each step. You settled into a light jog and searched for anything familiar. The minutes dragged on. The panic set in. You checked your watch again; 5:15. Keep going.

Darkness flashed suddenly in the corner of your eye and stopped you in your tracks. You swung your head toward where it’d appeared. Your ragged breathing broke the suffocating silence of the forest. Your anxiety screamed into your mind, animal, and all you could think of was Brooke’s comment about bears, but there was nothing. Just you and the never-ending expanse of trees. Did you have a concussion?

The wind howled behind you, and your body reacted before your mind. Shivers ran up your spine into your neck and you ran. Hopping over fallen branches and swerving between trees. The forest grew thicker, swallowing you whole. You felt your vision tunneling; you were panicking but you couldn’t stop moving. You spotted a clearing ahead and prayed to whoever was listening that it was the shoreline. A low-hanging branch scraped your shoulder as you reached the field. The field. Not the shore. Your eyes searched wildly. 

The darkness appeared again, but stood still. 

Not darkness, but pure blackness against the muted brown trunks of the forest. You turned to face it, and there, at the edge of the clearing stood a man in a black suit.

All thoughts left your mind. Something in your DNA clawed at you to run, but you stood, perhaps in shock, staring at this man before you. He was much taller than you, you could tell even through the distance, with golden skin and hair black as night. 

Seemingly out of thin air, another man appeared by his side. Something covered him, or hung behind him, extending above his head. They looked like… What the hell? Was there a group of guys out here role-playing? Your head ached, this wasn’t happening, this had to be a hallucination, maybe from the injury and the anxiety.

The man in the suit took a step further into the clearing and slipped his hands into his pockets. You stood frozen at the edge of the clearing. He cocked his head to the side and squinted, seemingly assessing you. You thought of the group you saw kayaking and a small amount of hope hit you. Of course you weren’t the only people out here, you were bound to run into someone. You could ask for directions back to the lake. If they were playing make-believe in the forest that was their business. A woman with a long brown braid and a dark leather suit walked into view next and you took a calming breath. A woman. 

You swallowed your panic but it stuck in your throat as you took a step forward and lifted your hand to wave. You hoped they didn’t see you shaking. There was a woman, yes, but the two men kept you at edge. Everything seemed out of place.

“Hey, sorry you startled me,” you began with a nervous laugh. “I was running along the shore but I went a little too far, do you know how much further North the lake is from here?” you inquired, heart beating in your throat.

No answer. The suited man looked to the woman next to him, and the man with the giant fake wings kept his arms held tightly at his thighs. Seconds passed.

“Your costumes are great,” you added, trying to sound at ease, and gesturing to the man’s wings. He took a step forward, but the suited man stopped him. 

Time to go whispered into your mind and you managed a tight smile, as you took a few small steps away. 

“Well, I better head back to my group,” you called out. You needed to put more distance between you. You needed to get the hell out of here. 

You started to jog away, but something shot out into your path. You slammed to a stop. Another man, with shoulder-length brown hair half-tied up, clad in black leather gear and the same towering wings rising above his head stood before you. What the hell? He looked at you with creased brows, and glanced at the group of people to your right. He pressed his lips in a line, eyes darting back to you. Your heart raced; you felt like prey. Every hair on your body stood and every instinct told you to run, but the man in front of you was huge. At least six foot five.

You had to go. Whatever this was, you needed to remove yourself from it. They couldn’t run very fast with those things hanging on their back, anyway, right? You took a step back and glanced beside you. You could break for the trees and start heading West.

You began to move, but something stopped you like you'd run into an invisible wall. Whipping around, the suited man now stood before you, just feet away. Your eyes met his. They almost glowed an unnatural purple. He was handsome, they all were, which freaked you out even more. The man next to him looked at you sternly, like he was assessing a threat. What the hell is this?

"I need to get back to my friends, they’re waiting for me," you lied, straining to keep your voice even. 

The man spoke back in a language you couldn’t understand. You tried to pick out familiar words but the dialect was too strange. It wasn’t Native, or any of the Latin languages from what you could tell. You looked to the woman who stood slightly further back, with pure plea written on your face. Her eyes softened and she spoke back in the unfamiliar language. She would help, you convinced yourself. 

They conversed once more. You took a step back, but hands wrapped around your arms tightly, fingers digging into the sleeves of your jacket. You tried jerking them away, but the long-haired man held firm.

Panic now coursed through you in a dam-less stream. “Please, just let me go, what do you want?” you begged them all, looking to the woman once more. She and the suited man exchanged glances before turning to face you. So this is how you’d die, crossed your mind. What kind of sick game had you stumbled into?

The man spoke once more and took a step closer. You looked to the man at his side, the one with towering wings. His hazel eyes met yours. You searched his face, what you were looking for you didn’t know. Sympathy maybe? His jaw loosened slightly and he held your stare. 

You turned to the purple-eyed man before you and pleaded again. He responded, nodding, but you didn’t understand. Tears filled your eyes. A scream pierced your ears. Your scream. It tore its way up your throat as a hot, white pain pierced your brain like a jagged knife. Your knees gave out, but the hands gripping you kept you upright. A golden-brown light filled your blurring vision. Your head fell back, heavy, and your mouth hung open in agony as your body finally gave in.

Darkness washed over you.

...

Ahhh! I'm so nervous to post this but so excited! Already getting started on Chapter 2. Sorry this was so long LMAO I just really wanted to set the scene for some hard-core angst.

[lucienarcheron]

That “Little Lucien” always gets me 😭😭

And then he goes on to remind us how old he is. Grandpa.

[velarisdusk]

Shattered

Hockey AU

Series Masterlist Part 3 <- ✦.⁺.✦.⁺.✦ -> Part 5 - Burning Desire

word count: 8k content: [ explicit sexual content, fingering, voyeurism, exhibitionism, dirty talk, praise, degredation, dominance/submission, biting, group almost sex?, 5 guys but it isn't a gangbang sorry | infidelity, alcohol mention, strong language, emotional conflict, verbal conflict] summary: At a lavish party you're reluctantly attending on behalf of your boyfriend, who's occupied with a pressing PR matter, temptation proves too alluring to resist. A heated encounter with several teammates in a secluded room is quickly shattered, forcing you to face the consequences of your actions. author's note: :)

The invitation had arrived in a gold-embossed envelope, signaling the kind of wealth and excess only a notorious socialite like Ianthe could muster. When the team saw the invite, their collective groan was almost comical.

“Oh, come on,” Azriel had grumbled, tossing the invitation onto the table. “Does she really expect us to show up to one of these again?”

“You know how she is,” Rhysand had replied with a roll of his eyes. “She’ll throw a fit if we don’t, and then all of her fans’ll spam our comments.”

Despite their reluctance, Cassian had insisted on attending. “It’s good PR,” he had said with a smirk. “Sadly, I can’t make it. I’ve got a prior engagement.”

Eris had raised an eyebrow. “What engagement?”

“A press event,” Cassian had replied smoothly. “To address your… inappropriate use of the team’s Twitter and make clear that the rest of us had nothing to do with it.”

Eris had looked defensive. “How was I supposed to know it would blow up like that?”

Cassian had stifled a chuckle. “Yeah, how would you have known? The Vipers tweeting, ‘Calling all baddies with fat asses, slide into my DMs if you want a real man tonight,’ and then following it up by replying to half of them with ‘ayo shawtay’—with five y’s—‘hit me up.’ Not unusual at all.” He paused, letting the absurdity of the situation sink in. Laughter bubbled up around the room, the tension breaking as Cassian continued, “Some outlets reported it as ‘disturbing,’ so now I’m on damage control. Important stuff. You’ll manage without me.”

So, you found yourself amidst a sea of opulence, far removed from your usual comfort. The penthouse was alive with celebrities, influencers, and high-profile guests. Crystal chandeliers bathed the room in a warm glow, casting reflections off designer clothes and extravagant jewelry. Conversations buzzed around you, a mix of superficial small talk and name-dropping that made you feel even more out of place.

Ianthe had greeted you with an overly enthusiastic hug, her perfume almost overwhelming. “Oh my goodness, (y/n)! It’s been ages since I’ve seen you and Cassian!” she exclaimed, her voice loud and piercing. She wore a shimmering gold gown, the fabric hugging her every curve and sparkling under the dim lights. “Where is he?”

“Babe, you should go. Someone needs to make sure they don’t embarrass themselves, and since I can’t, you’re the only one I trust to handle it,” he had said, brushing a stray bit of hair behind your ear. “Besides, Ianthe will make it a whole thing if I don’t show up or at least send someone in my place. I’ve got that press thing to handle.”

“Do I really have to go?” you had asked, frowning. “I don’t know anyone there well enough to enjoy myself.”

Cassian had sighed, wrapping his arms around you. “I know it’s not ideal, but it’ll be over before you know it. Plus, the guys’ll be there. Just stay for a bit, make an appearance, and then you can leave. Ianthe will appreciate it, and so will the team.”

You had huffed, certain they’d appreciate your presence. “Fine, but you owe me.”

He had laughed, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Deal. I’ll make it up to you, promise.”

“He couldn’t make it,” you said with a forced smile, smoothing down the fabric of your elegant but understated dress. “But he insisted I come in his place.”

Ianthe’s laugh had been high and tinkling, grating on your nerves. “Of course he did! Well, you’re here now, so make yourself at home! Enjoy the party!” She flitted off to greet another guest, leaving you feeling even more adrift.

Despite her warm greeting, you couldn’t shake the feeling of being out of place. As the night wore on, you tried to mingle, but the crowd was overwhelming. You watched the guys make small talk in their circles, but the noise and the crowd became suffocating. Seeking refuge, you slipped away from the chaos, your steps quickening as you wandered through Ianthe’s penthouse.

The further you ventured from the bustling noise, the more the laughter and music faded into a distant murmur. You eventually discovered a quiet hallway upstairs, offering a welcome escape from the revelry below. Following the corridor, you stumbled upon a study, its shelves lined with immaculate rows of books, each seeming more decorative than practical. You stood in the center of the room, the serene atmosphere wrapping around you like a comforting blanket. The soft glow of a nearby lamp cast gentle shadows on the walls, and the muffled sounds from the party below felt like a world away. It was a rare moment of peace, a chance to collect your thoughts and find solace in the stillness of the room.

Your gaze drifted around the dim room, but your thoughts were elsewhere, tangled in a web of regret. Cassian's face flashed in your mind, a painful reminder of the trust you had shattered. The memories of what had transpired were vivid: stolen moments in the locker room with Azriel and Rhysand, the rooftop terrace with Helion and Tarquin. It had all started with light touches and innocent flirtations, things Cassian tolerated, but you had crossed a line. The reality of your actions pressed heavily on you, each encounter a mark against your integrity. Every touch from Tarquin, every whispered promise from Helion, only served to deepen your regret. It wasn’t just the physical betrayals that stung but the realization that you had allowed things to spiral out of control. What had driven you to push the boundaries so far? Was it the thrill of the forbidden, the chase of something new, or simply a frantic attempt to fill a void you hadn’t fully acknowledged before? The ache in your chest grew with each passing moment, a constant reminder of the damage you had done.

The sudden rush of music and laughter from the party downstairs broke the silence, flooding into the study as the door creaked open. You turned, startled, and saw Rhysand and Tarquin step into the room. Rhysand’s gaze was sharp, a mixture of curiosity and something else flickering in his eyes. Tarquin’s expression was equally intrigued, his attention immediately drawn to you.

“What brings you up here, alone, with all the fun downstairs?” Rhysand’s voice was smooth, almost curious, but there was an undercurrent of something more in his gaze. 

“I needed a break from all the noise,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady.

Tarquin leaned casually against the doorframe, amusement evident in his eyes. “Ianthe does have a flair for the dramatic, doesn’t she?” His tone was light, almost playful.

Rhysand nodded, his expression almost sympathetic, but his eyes never left yours. “Must be hard without Cassian here.”

You swallowed hard, feeling the tension in the room. “Yeah, it’s... different.”

Rhysand chuckled softly. “Tarquin and I were just chatting, and your name came up.” He stepped closer and brushed a hand down his sleeve, as if casually dismissing any pretense. “He mentioned something interesting about you.”

He took a final step, closing the distance between you. His presence was that of danger and allure. “So, I told him something interesting in return.” His hand reached out, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch lingering. “And, well,” he continued, his lips curling into a predatory smile, “we just had to share what we learned with Azriel and Helion.”

As if on cue, the door opened again — Tarquin’s doing, you noticed — and Azriel and Helion walked in. Helion’s grin widened as he sauntered over with an easy, confident stride. “When they came over, we were just having a little chat about you,” he remarked, his tone light and teasing. But there was something in the way his gaze lingered on you, something that hinted at a deeper, more dangerous amusement.

Azriel’s sharp gaze lingered on you. “Did you think we wouldn’t notice the way you’ve been acting?” His voice was soft, almost gentle, but there was a subtle edge to it as if he were piecing together a puzzle you hadn’t meant for them to solve. It wasn’t that you were intentionally hiding anything; it just seemed to happen that way. He paused just a few steps away, his presence quietly commanding.

Tarquin idly traced his fingers along the edge of a nearby bookshelf, his gaze drifting back to you with a casual curiosity. “We’ve noticed you’ve slipping away whenever one of us gets too close. Almost like you’re avoiding something... or someone.” His voice was light, but it was clear he was feigning ignorance.

Rhysand’s voice dripped with mock indignation. “You’re even avoiding eye contact with us. How do you think that makes us feel?” His gaze was intense, holding you in place. 

The room was charged with tension as they closed in on you, their questions relentless. You shifted uncomfortably, trying to find the right words amidst your rising anxiety. “Look, it’s not that simple,” you said, your voice trembling. “I’ve just been... overwhelmed.”

Azriel’s lips curled into a faint, knowing smile. “Overwhelmed, huh?” His voice was soft, but it carried a weight that made your heart race. He moved around you with a quiet, deliberate grace, his hand settling on your shoulder with a firm yet almost tender grip. “You know, running from one fuck to another isn’t exactly a solution.” His fingers trailed slowly up your arm, the touch deceptively gentle, but there was no mistaking the intent behind it.

Helion closed the distance with a casual, almost lazy grace, his smile never fading. “Avoiding us won’t make the mess you’ve made disappear,” he teased, his voice laced with playful mockery. His hand brushed over your shoulder lightly. “Now that you’re here, though, maybe we can have a bit of fun sorting it out.”

Rhysand’s voice softened as he leaned in, his expression mockingly sympathetic. “So, (y/n), was it worth it? Playing these games, sneaking around? Did it give you what you needed?” His hand brushed against your jaw, a gentle touch that belied the weight of his words.

“Answer him, (y/n),” Tarquin chimed in, his voice nonchalant as he flipped through a book without really looking at it. “We’re all ears.”

You swallowed hard, feeling the heat of their scrutiny. “I... I just didn’t know how to handle everything,” you stammered, trying to keep your voice steady. “It was a mess, and I didn’t think it through.”

You met each of their eyes, trying to make them understand despite the teasing edge of their demeanor. “But you know what?” you added, a spark of defiance igniting in your eyes. “It takes more than one person to fuck. If you’re going to judge me, take a look at yourselves. You’re supposed to be his friends, but you’re betraying him just as much as I am. Don’t act like I’m the only one to blame.”

Azriel’s brows rose in amusement, clearly entertained. With his lips trailing the side of your neck, he murmured, “She’s got a point, doesn’t she? We’ve all played our parts in this.” You shivered at the sensation.

Tarquin closed the book with a snap and shelved it, a smirk playing on his lips. “Well, if we’re all to blame, maybe we’ve been too harsh,” he drawled, standing beside Rhysand, finally joining you all.

Helion’s fingers began a slow, deliberate trail along your waist, his touch possessive. He let his fingertips graze the fabric of your dress, eyes glinting with dark amusement. “Let us make it up to you?” When you didn’t respond, he added, “I’m surprised Cassian let you out in something that makes you look so… delicious,” he purred, his voice low and sultry.

You shot him a look. “Cass doesn’t ‘let’ me do anything. I do what I please, and he’s secure enough not to care.”

Helion’s smirk widened as he leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear. “Misplaced security, then,” he murmured, his tone dripping with mockery and desire.

Azriel watched the exchange with a predatory gleam. He moved his hands to your hips, the touch light but purposeful as he pulled you back into him. “Maybe he should be more worried about how easily you slip away,” he suggested, his voice a dangerous whisper. Tarquin stepped closer, his gaze fixated on you as he reached out to run his fingers along your exposed neckline. A chill ran up your spine.

Without warning, Helion’s hands slid from your waist to your hips, resting on top of Azriel’s, pulling himself closer. He leaned down for a heated kiss, his lips insistent and demanding. As his kiss deepened, Azriel ground himself against your ass, groans of pleasure from both of you filled the relatively quiet study. 

Tarquin leaned in next, his lips finding your neck. Rhysand, standing on your other side now, placed a hand on your shoulder, letting his lips graze your ear before trailing down to your jawline. Azriel’s hands moved from under Helion’s to your ass, grabbing and squeezing and pinching and spreading. “Oh, God,” you gasped breathlessly into the kiss, your voice trembling as you pressed your chest against Helion. “I can’t… I can’t handle this.” 

But his kiss only grew more fervent, his tongue exploring yours as he murmured against your lips, “You’re doing just fine, you’ve handled much more.”

With trembling hands, you reached down, your fingers deftly finding their way to the two men at your sides. Your fingers brushed against the smooth, warm fabric, feeling the outlines of their arousal. Tarquin's pants were dark navy, contrasting sharply with the crisp white of his dress shirt, and his belt was a sleek black leather that made the bulge even more pronounced. Rhysand wore a tailored charcoal suit, the fabric fitting him perfectly, showing off his powerful frame. 

As you palmed them through their pants, you couldn’t help but marvel at how incredibly sexy they all looked. Helion’s suit was a rich, deep burgundy, the color enhancing the warmth of his skin and exuding an air of refined elegance. The fabric shimmered subtly under the soft lighting, and the tailored lines of his jacket accentuated his every movement, making him look irresistibly captivating.

Though Azriel was behind you, you knew he wore a classic charcoal-grey suit, the dark color highlighting his powerful build. The suit’s fitted cut accentuated his broad shoulders and slim waist. Calling it elegance, you thought, would not do him justice.

“Fuck,” you breathed out, your voice a ragged whisper as you felt the heat and hardness of their cocks through the fabric. “You all look so… fucking hot, it’s driving me crazy.”

Azriel groaned quietly behind you, his grip on your ass tightening as he hissed, “That’s what we wanted to hear. Keep talking, angel, tell us how much you’re enjoying it.”

Your breaths came faster, each one a ragged gasp as the intensity built. “I... I can’t,” you moaned against Helion’s lips, your voice trembling. “It feels so good, it’s too much...” You turned your head to lock your lips with Rhysand, the hand you used to please him now tangling in his hair. “You’re all so fucking perfect,” you breathed, your words spilling out in a torrent of need.

Tarquin bit down on your neck, making the skin there tingle in pleasure and pain. You gasped, your voice breathless. “I want all of you, I need every bit of this... fucking addicted.” Azriel placed kisses against the back of your neck, and your words became a fervent plea. “Please don’t stop, I need more, I need all of you.” You were overwhelmed, your mind a haze of need and desire. “Just keep going, don’t stop... I’m yours, just take me, use me,” you begged, your voice raw with need.

“Well, this is a scene,” a smug voice cut through the charged atmosphere. The room went silent as every head turned toward the door.

“Seems like you’ve all been holding out on me,” Eris drawled, leaning casually against the doorframe. His eyes swept over the room with a mixture of amusement and hunger. “Didn’t realize you were all getting so… wrapped up in each other tonight.” His gaze lingered on you with a dark, knowing smile. “Seems I’ve arrived just in time.”

The tension in the room shifted, grew heavier with Eris’s presence. Your heart was racing, caught between the intense pleasure still pulsing through you and the fresh wave of anxiety his scrutiny brought. The others froze momentarily, their expressions a mix of shock and discomfort.

Helion, having maintained his composure, tilted his head with a nonchalant grin. “Eris, what a surprise. Care to join?”

Eris’s grin widened as he stepped further into the room. “I’d be delighted,” he said smoothly, his gaze never leaving you. “I’m disappointed. I’ve made it very clear how much I want you. So tell me,” he murmured, his voice gaining a roguish tone as he continued, “if Cassian wasn’t satisfying you, why didn’t you come to me first, baby? You know I would’ve fucked you so much better.”

As he closed the distance, you eyed him with apprehension. Eris’s eyes roamed over you, taking in your flushed skin and the desperate look in your eyes. “If I can’t have the privilege of being the first in this room to fuck you, I’ll just have to be the best, won’t I?” 

With that, Eris pushed his way through Rhysand and Helion, his presence commanding and overpowering. His fingers brushed against your lips as he leaned in, his breath warm against your ear. “And trust me,” he said, his voice brimming with a fierce intensity, “I plan to make up for every second of those three years. Think you can take that?” His tone was a blend of seductive confidence and genuine desire.

Before you could respond, Eris’s lips were on yours, his kiss wild and demanding. His hands tangled in your meticulously styled hair, pulling you closer as his tongue explored your mouth with an urgency that matched his frustration. Your mind raced with conflicting thoughts—how wrong this felt, knowing Cassian hated Eris with a passion. They’d seemed almost friendly at the club, though. Maybe they’d become friends after that night. Which was worse? But as Eris's lips moved against yours, you couldn't help it. You found yourself clinging to him, craving more.

Rhysand’s hands roamed with deliberate slowness, slipping beneath your dress to explore the bare skin of your thighs. Each caress sparked waves of pleasure that had you gasping. His lips found your neck, tracing heated, lingering kisses that made you moan in response.

Helion’s hands roamed over your front and sides, brushing the sensitive skin just beneath the hem of your dress. His lips followed a path from your shoulder down your arm, leaving a trail of kisses that made you whimper with every touch. His touch was both teasing and possessive, a stark contrast to the yearning you felt.

Behind you, Azriel's hips pressed firmly against you, lifting your dress to reveal the lacy, barely-there underwear you wore. His breath was hot and intense against your skin, his kisses on the back of your neck growing more insistent. Tarquin, on your left, knelt down, his lips placing open-mouthed kisses up your smooth leg, his hands gripping your thigh with relentless, demanding pressure.

The room was soon filled with the symphony of your moans, the fervent kisses, and the hands exploring every inch of your body. The line between pleasure and chaos blurred as their combined touches drove you to the brink of madness.

Eris pulled back slightly, his eyes dark with an intense desire and a wicked glint. “This dress... it’s in my way,” he growled, his voice rough with urgency. “It needs to go.”

Azriel swiftly undid the zip, and without a second thought, Eris grabbed the hem of your dress and tore it up and over your head, tossing it aside. The cool air of the study hit your exposed skin, making you press closer into Eris's arms, now completely vulnerable.

“God, fucking look at you,” he groaned, his voice thick with satisfaction as his hands roamed over your newly exposed skin. He leaned in again, capturing your lips in another searing kiss. His hands moved with renewed fervor over your body, exploring every contour.

Rhysand, Azriel, Helion, and Tarquin took full advantage of the moment, their hands and lips everywhere, driving you to the edge with their combined touches. Your neck, your chest, your arms and legs, your ass; you couldn’t keep track of who was where anymore.

The room was filled with the sounds of your breathless moans and their low, appreciative growls and hums. Every nerve in your body was alight with sensation, the heat and intensity of their touches washing over you completely.

Eris’s hands moved to your breasts, which had been freed from your bra at some point, kneading and teasing them while his mouth claimed yours with a wild intensity. His lips traveled down to your neck, and your face flushed with embarrassment as you realized you were left in nothing but your panties and heels. The remaining fabric clung to you, highlighting your vulnerability amid their consuming attention.

“Go ahead and say those pretty words for me again,” he growled against your lips, “like you were when I came in. Let me hear you, baby.”

“I want it so bad,” you gasped, your voice trembling with need. “I need it, I’m begging you, please.”

“Azriel, fucking move,” Eris commanded with a low, vicious growl that was unlike anything you’d heard from any of them. Before you could fully grasp what was happening, your back was shoved against a bookshelf behind you, Eris’s hand cradling the back of your head. The sensation of the others being ripped away left you feeling startlingly exposed, emptiness washing over you.

Eris’s eyes pierced into yours, hunger and dominance in his gaze. His hand moved from the back of your head to the front of your neck, his grip surprisingly gentle, almost like a caress. “I want to hear you say it again,” he demanded, his voice rough and commanding. He placed his other hand on your bare waist, squeezing. “Tell us how much you want it. Tell us how badly you need to be fucked by all of us.”

Your breaths came out in ragged pants, your body trembling with anticipation and need. “I want it,” you repeated, your voice cracking with desperation. “I need it… Please.”

Eris’s lips curved into a dark, satisfied smile as he pressed his body against yours, the heat and hardness of him making you moan. “Good girl,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble. 

The heat in the room surged as Eris's words hung in the air, his confidence palpable. The intensity of the situation seemed to reach new heights with his arrival. His fingers traced your lips, and you parted them slightly with a quiet exhale. The way he looked at you, with that dark, predatory glint in his eyes, made you feel like a prey caught in the snare of a hunter.

Rhysand and Helion exchanged glances, the challenge in Eris's demeanor stirring a competitive edge among them. It wasn’t until now that you realized Azriel still had a hand on your hip, his touch now more possessive, as if he were staking his claim. Tarquin’s eyes narrowed slightly, his lips curling into a smirk as he observed the scene unfolding.

Eris, now firmly in your space, didn’t wait for a response. His hands moved with a practiced ease, his grip on your jaw guiding you to face him fully. His eyes were dark, almost hypnotic, as they bore into yours. “Tell me,” he said, his voice low and urgent, “what do you need right now? Let me hear it.”

His warmth was enveloping, his breath hot against the shell of your ear as his lips brushed against the sensitive skin. Every touch seemed to heighten your awareness of just how far you'd let things go, and yet, you found yourself unable to pull away.

“I need...” you began, your voice trembling with desire and apprehension. You tried to glance at the men in the room, at Azriel, but Eris gave your head a firm but controlled shake, forcing your attention back to him. “I need all of you… All of you, Eris.”

His smirk widened, satisfaction gleaming in his eyes. He took your hand, which lay limp at your side, guiding it to his abdomen and laying his hand over yours. You could feel every muscle under his dress shirt. “Good,” he murmured. “I’m glad we’re on the same page.”

He then turned his gaze towards Azriel, his eyes narrowing slightly. “You heard her,” Eris said, his tone brooking no argument. “Take a break. She’s mine now.”

The room seemed to pulse with energy when Eris gently spun you around by that same hand, his presence a commanding force as he instructed you to place your hands against the large oak bookshelf. His hands slid down slowly, along your sides, caressing your hips and waist with a deliberate, almost reverent touch. You felt his lightly calloused fingers grazing your skin, igniting a fire that made you ache with need.

The rest of the group watched with fascination and anticipation, their eyes never leaving you. The room was charged with competition and desire that seemed to fuel the intensity of the moment. As Eris knelt behind you, his touch grew more demanding. His hands roamed possessively, squeezing the curve of your waist, tracing the swell of your hips, and gripping your thighs with a fierce intensity. Every touch ignited a fire within you that made you surrender completely to him. With your hips pushed out and your back arched, you let out a moan that sent a jolt of arousal through the room, leaving the others subtly adjusting themselves as their growing need strained against their clothes.

When he bit down on your ass, the sound pulled from you fell somewhere between desperate and strained. Just when you were on the verge of demanding — not begging for — more, Eris pulled the lace of your underwear aside and teased a finger through your arousal. 

“Look at how nice and ready they got you for me,” he murmured, more to himself than anything. After lining two fingers up to your entrance, he continued. “Thank them for me, baby?”

Though you stumbled over your words trying to steady your breaths, you managed a quiet “thank you” as he eased his fingers into you with an aching slowness. The groan he let out had you squeezing around them. Eris's fingers moved with a slow, tantalizing rhythm that left no room for haste. Each caress was meticulously timed, creating a sensation that felt intensely intimate yet firmly under his control. His touch was not just about pleasure but also about power, each stroke conveying his dominance. 

Eris looked around the room, fingers still pumping slowly in and out, his gaze meeting the eyes of his teammates who watched with rapt attention. He smirked, fully aware of the effect this display had on them. With a casual but commanding tone, he addressed them without breaking his rhythm. “Sit back and take it in,” he said smoothly, standing back up. “Once I’m done with her, you won’t be seeing her like this again.”

You would’ve glanced around the room to gauge their reactions, curious despite yourself, but Eris didn’t give you the chance. His free hand came up to grasp your chin firmly, turning your head to the right to face him. “Eyes forward, or on me,” he murmured, voice low and dangerous, his breath ghosting across your lips as his fingers inside you curled just right, sending a jolt of pleasure through your body. The sharpness of the motion had you gasping, pulling your focus solely to him.

Your lips parted to respond, but instead, another moan escaped as his fingers flexed inside you, sending pleasure radiating out from your core. The slow, deliberate pace had you trembling, every nerve drawn tight as you clung to the edge he was carefully holding you on.

"I..." you started, but the words were swallowed by a sharp intake of breath. "You–" The sentence dissolved into another gasp as his thumb slid over your clit in a slow circle. Every inch of your skin felt like it was on fire, and you couldn't help the way your hips pushed back against him, seeking more.

Eris's smirk widened, and his grip on your chin shifted, thumb trailing down the column of your throat. "What's that?" he taunted softly. "I didn't quite catch that."

You fought to catch your breath, tried to gather your thoughts, but it was no use.

"You're... taking your time," you managed to murmur, a half-hearted attempt at regaining some ground. But the way your body betrayed you — arching toward his touch, trembling under his fingers — made it clear that he was the one in control. 

Eris hummed, clearly pleased with himself. "And you love it," he murmured, his voice low and dangerous, as if it were a secret meant just for you.

Another moan escaped your lips, but you gritted your teeth, trying to stifle it. You felt the weight of the others' stares on your skin, but they didn't matter. Nothing mattered except the feeling of Eris inside you, stretching you, teasing you. The pleasure was too much, and yet somehow not enough. It was a cruel balance that he had perfected.

Eris’ lips brushed against your ear as he spoke, his voice low and velvety. “You’ve been waiting for this, haven’t you? I can feel how ready you are, how much you want it. But I’m going to take my time with you, is that okay, baby?”

You couldn’t help the small whimper that escaped your lips, the sound more of frustration than anything else. The way he moved inside you was maddeningly slow, calculated, as if he wanted to draw out every bit of pleasure he could. Your body responded eagerly, hips instinctively pushing back against his hand, craving more, needing more.

Helion’s voice drifted in the background, but you were too lost in those smoldering amber eyes to pay it any mind. “Come on, Eris. Give her something to remember.” Chuckles and murmurs of approval echoed around the room.

Eris chuckled, a dark, satisfied sound. “Patience, gentlemen. You’ve all had your turn.” His fingers slid out of you with a slow, deliberate motion, leaving you feeling unbearably empty. 

The hand cradling your face moved to trace a path down your back, over your ass, the touch firm and possessive. He didn’t rush, didn’t give in to the urgency that was building in the room. Instead, he took his time, savoring the feel of your body beneath his hands.

Rhysand’s voice cut through the tension, smooth as silk. “Don’t tease her too much. We want her desperate, but let’s not break her just yet, hm?”

Eris’s grin widened, a wicked glint in his eyes as he turned his attention back to your face. “Oh, I have no intention of breaking her. Just bending her a little.” His fingers found their way back between your legs, brushing against your swollen, sensitive flesh with just enough pressure to make you gasp. “We’ve got all night, after all.”

You were drowning in sensation, every touch, every word pulling you deeper into a state of raw, aching need. The way they watched you, the way they spoke about you as if you were theirs to play with, only made the heat pooling in you grow stronger.

“I… I need it,” you whispered, your voice trembling with anticipation. “Please, Eris… please.”

Eris’s smirk softened, just a fraction. “Look at you, begging so sweetly,” he murmured, but his eyes held that predatory glint you’d come to recognize. He brushed a thumb over your lower lip and leaned in close, his voice a low, seductive growl. “I want you to show them, baby. Move those pretty hips for me—let them see how badly you need this.”

He paused, letting his words hang in the air, the command settling in. The way he looked at you, his gaze intense and unyielding, made it clear this was no request—it was a demand. “Go on,” he urged, his fingers pressing just a bit more firmly against your aching core. “Show them how much you want it.”

A surge of anticipation coursed through you at his words, the need to satisfy that growing ache overpowering any lingering restraint. You were acutely aware of their gazes on you, the weight of their expectation filling the room. Slowly, you let your hips roll forward, the movement tentative at first, but as Eris’s fingers pressed more firmly against you, a soft moan escaped your lips, urging you to continue. You arched your back slightly, pushing your body back toward him, the desire becoming impossible to ignore.

A low murmur of approval rippled through the room, the men watching you with hunger and admiration. The sensation of Eris’s touch, combined with their heated gazes, sent a thrill through your veins.

“That’s it,” Eris whispered, voice dripping with satisfaction. “Good girl. Keep going.”

You moved with growing confidence, your hips swaying in a slow, deliberate rhythm, designed to show them just how badly you craved them. The room seemed to grow hotter, every brush of his fingers against you intensifying the ache. You were fully aware of how exposed you were, how much you were giving them exactly what they wanted, and yet you couldn’t stop yourself.

Eris’s other hand slid down your back, his touch firm, guiding you to continue. “Do you see this, gentlemen?” he called over his shoulder, his voice thick with pride. “This is what it means to truly want. To be so consumed by need that you’d do anything to be filled.”

A fresh wave of arousal surged through you at his words. The others murmured in agreement, their voices low and appreciative as they watched you move under Eris’s command. And as you continued to grind against him, the heat between your thighs growing more intense with each passing moment, you realized there was no turning back. You were completely at their mercy, and it felt both terrifying and exhilarating.

Eris’s gaze held yours, unwavering and intense as if he could see every thought, every desire running through your mind. The others seemed to fade into the background, their presence still felt, but distant, as Eris commanded your full attention. He slowly removed his hand from between your thighs, and you bit back a whimper of frustration at the loss of contact. The smirk on his lips told you he knew exactly what he was doing.

“Look at you,” he murmured, his voice dropping to a low, intimate tone that sent a shiver down your spine. “So eager, so desperate. You’d let me do anything to you, wouldn’t you?”

The question hung in the air, heavy with the implications of what he was asking. You could feel the weight of his dominance pressing down on you, making it hard to think clearly. Still, you found yourself nodding, unable to tear your gaze away from his.

Eris’s smirk deepened, his hand reaching for the waistband of his pants. “I knew it,” he said, his voice filled with a dark satisfaction. “You want to be mine, even if it’s just for tonight. You want to feel every inch of me inside you, don’t you?”

A tremor ran through you, the anticipation nearly unbearable as he slowly undid his pants, the sound of the zipper loud in the otherwise silent room. “Yes,” you whispered, the word slipping out before you could stop it.

He freed his cock from the confines of his pants, stroking himself slowly as he watched your reaction. “Tell me,” he demanded, his voice a low growl, “how you want it. How you’re going to let me fuck you.”

You swallowed hard, your mouth suddenly dry as you tried to find the words. “I want…” you began, your voice trembling with a mix of fear and desire. “I want you to take me, Eris. To make me yours in every way.”

Eris’s eyes darkened with lust, his hand moving faster as he stroked himself, the sight sending another wave of heat through your body. “Good girl,” he murmured, his voice filled with approval. “I’m going to fuck you so hard that you’ll still feel me inside you tomorrow. You’ll be so full of me, you won’t be able to think about anything else.”

The way he claimed you with his words as if you were his possession, only stoked the flames of desire within you. You knew you should be ashamed, embarrassed by how easily you were giving in, but all you could feel was the overwhelming need to be consumed by him.

“And when I’m done,” Eris continued, his voice low and dangerous, “you’re going to thank me. You’re going to tell me how much you loved every second of it, how you haven’t been able to stop thinking about my cock.”

“Go on and get dressed for me, baby. We’ve got somewhere to be.”

The words cut through the charged atmosphere like a knife, and every head in the room turned toward the doorway. Cassian stood there, hands resting in the pockets of a suit that fit him perfectly. He stood upright, his posture conveying an unsettling calm. His eyes, though steady, held an intensity that made your stomach twist.

You froze, your heart racing as you tried to pull yourself together. Eris, momentarily taken aback, pulled his hand away from you in a swift motion, his expression caught between surprise and frustration. The men around you were already moving, hastily tucking themselves away. You reached for your clothes, discarded a few feet to your side, hands trembling slightly as you dressed under Cassian’s unwavering gaze. He didn’t move, didn’t hurry you, but the weight of his presence was undeniable. Meanwhile, the others couldn’t seem to settle their eyes on one spot, their gazes flickering restlessly around the room.

As you dressed quickly, your mind spun with fear and a dizzying confusion. Cassian’s gaze was a constant weight on your shoulders, and every movement felt slow and surreal. When you finally made your way toward him, he extended his arm, guiding you toward the door with a firm, steady hand. The steady warmth of his arm beneath your hand was the only thing anchoring you against the whirlwind of your mind. 

You stepped into the hallway, the noise of the party growing louder as you and Cassian descended the stairs. The space felt cold, the walls closing in around you as you moved with a sense of dread. Cassian’s silence was a heavy shroud, his presence almost forbidding. His eyes remained fixed ahead, devoid of any warmth, though his face remained perfectly composed. He gave brief, casual waves and polite nods to those who greeted him, his demeanor impeccably maintained. His silence was almost chilling; the way he pointedly avoided looking at you only heightened your sense of unease.

As you approached the exit, Cassian was stopped by a man who must have been a colleague. They spoke in low tones, most of the words indistinguishable to you through the blood pumping in your ears, but you caught Cassian’s voice cutting through the din with cold clarity. “Seems she’s had one too many espresso martinis tonight,” he said, his tone smooth and effortlessly charming. “We’re heading out.” The words seemed to echo in your ears as you walked alongside him, your arm still looped through his. The weight of the situation pressed heavily on your chest as you tried not to stumble. 

You and Cassian made your way down the sleek marble hallway, the ambient noise of the party fading behind you. The elevator was just a few steps from the penthouse door, and you held tightly to his arm as he guided you. Every movement felt deliberate, his grip firm but impersonal. Waiting for the elevator felt like an eternity, each passing second stretching out and amplifying the anxiety in your stomach.

The elevator ride was a blur of metallic walls and muffled sounds. You stared straight ahead, unable to bring yourself to meet his gaze, each moment stretching into an unbearable silence. When you finally reached the ground floor, the lobby greeted you with its polished elegance. The sound of your footsteps and his seemed to reverberate through the space, each echo amplifying your trepidation. The building’s doorman greeted you with a nod, and Cassian responded with a brief, detached smile. 

As you neared the entrance, Cassian pulled out his phone with his free hand, making a brief call. The minutes dragged on as you stood by the sleek glass doors. Soon after, a black Audi A7 glided up to the curb, its glossy finish gleaming under the streetlights. Cassian had brought out the luxury car tonight, a stark contrast to his usual red F150. The polished finish and the soft purr of the engine seemed to mock you.

Cassian opened the car door for you, his gesture polite and deliberate. You slid into the plush interior, the cool leather seats enveloping you as you settled in. He closed the door behind you with a soft click, then slipped a tip to the valet before making his way around to the driver’s side. With an unreadable expression, he slid behind the wheel, taking his time to adjust himself before pulling away from the curb.

The drive was shrouded in an oppressive silence, the only sounds being the steady hum of the engine and the occasional click of the turn signal. Cassian’s profile was set in a rigid line, the stern set of his jaw betraying none of his inner thoughts. You fidgeted with your hands, trying to make sense of the situation, but every attempt to gauge his mood seemed to lead only to deeper confusion.

Your gaze dropped to your hands in your lap. They were trembling. betraying the turmoil churning inside you. The silence in the car felt suffocating, pressing down on you with each passing second. Your mind raced with frantic questions: Was he angry? Disappointed? Did he already know everything? The more you tried to steady yourself, the more the uncertainty gnawed at you.

You tried to focus on the rhythmic thrum of the engine, the soft vibrations through the leather seat. But even the steady hum seemed to amplify your anxiety, making the silence feel even more oppressive. Each street you passed blurred together, a series of indistinct shapes and shadows. Your thoughts spun in a relentless cycle of worry, and you couldn’t escape the growing dread that was settling heavily in your chest.

Then a new wave of mortification crashed over you. The image of Cassian opening the door, his eyes taking in the sight of you practically naked against the bookshelf, filled your mind. The sheer embarrassment of being caught in such a compromising position—the heels, the underwear pulled aside, leaving you exposed and vulnerable—was almost too much to bear. You had been so caught up in the moment, so lost in the haze of the night, that you hadn't fully processed how degrading it must have seemed. The thought of him seeing you so utterly exposed, presenting yourself like a bitch in heat, was a sharp, humiliating jolt.

You considered what you might say when the time came. Would apologies be enough? Could explanations make any difference? The questions tumbled through your thoughts, each one more unsettling than the last. Now and then, you’d steal a glance at Cassian’s profile, trying to read something—anything—into his stoic expression. But he remained a solid, unyielding presence, leaving you to confront your anxieties alone.

You glanced at the passing street signs, noticing they were not leading toward your apartment. Your brow furrowed in concern as you watched the roads change. Cassian made a sharp turn, and you could no longer ignore the growing knot of anxiety in your stomach.

“Cassian,” you ventured cautiously, your voice barely cutting through the heavy silence, “where are we going?”

He offered no response, his focus straight ahead, his expression inscrutable. The tension in the car grew almost tangible as you fidgeted in your seat, trying to make sense of the unexpected detour. 

Minutes stretched into what felt like hours, each intersection and street sign passing by in a blur. The initial confusion of the detour slowly gave way to a creeping sense of recognition. You noticed that while the roads were leading you further from your apartment, they were somewhat familiar. The familiar landmarks began to settle in your mind, and you felt a growing realization.

As the streetlights flickered past, you finally identified a landmark that confirmed your fears. The realization hit you with a jolt, and you swallowed hard, feeling a lump of anxiety form in your throat.

Cassian pulled the car to a smooth stop in front of the familiar house, its warm lights casting a soft glow on the front lawn. You stared at it, stunned, as he unlocked the doors. 

“Cass, please, we need to talk about this,” you said, your voice cracking as you turned to face him. “I know things look bad, but I can explain!” But why should he let you explain? What would you even say?

He glanced at you briefly before turning his attention back to the road ahead, responding with a cold calmness. “There’s nothing to discuss. You’re staying with your mom for a bit.”

The impact of his words hit you hard; this was the first time he had spoken since you left the party. “No, wait,” you pleaded, the tears that had been brimming your eyes finally falling. “Please, just let me explain. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen—”

Cassian cut you off with a firm tone. “I’m not interested in your excuses, (y/n).”

Your hands gripped the seat as you struggled to find the right words. “Cass, please, it wasn’t what it looked like. I was just—”

“Just what?” he cut in, his voice as cold as ever. “Drunk or not, and it seems like you’re not, the situation was clear. Get out.”

You stared at him in shock, your voice trembling. “Please, just listen to me! I’m sorry for everything. I never meant for any of this to happen!”

He gave you a hard look, his face set in stone. “You made your choices. Do us both a favor and fix your hair before you walk in. Wouldn’t want your mom to think her daughter’s a cheap fucking whore.”

The words hit you like a punch, leaving you in stunned silence as he waited for you to get out of the car. You stared at Cassian, your heart aching with each passing second. “Cassian, I’m so sorry. Please believe me, I…” Your voice trailed off. You weren’t getting anywhere.

With a resigned sigh, you reached for the handle and slowly opened the car door. Each movement felt heavy with your defeat. As you stepped out onto the pavement, you cast one last glance at him, the weight of the night’s events settling heavily on your shoulders. Cassian's face remained impassive, his gaze fixed ahead.

You pushed the door shut, and made your way to the front door, the cool night air biting at your exposed skin. The stillness of the quiet neighborhood seemed to press in on you, the pitiful realization of your vulnerability sinking in more with each step.

Standing on the doorstep, you hesitated for a moment, your fingers hovering over the doorbell. The stark contrast between the warm, inviting glow of the house and the cold, dark night around you felt almost surreal. The weight of your earlier actions and Cassian’s harsh words seemed to bear down on you.

Finally, with a resigned breath, you pressed the button on the Ring camera. The chime echoed softly through the night, a jarring reminder of how far you had fallen from the comfort you once took for granted. As you waited, you could only hope that your mother’s response would offer some semblance of solace amid the wreckage of your evening.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Taglist <3

@blessthepizzaman @celear @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @girl-math-aint-mathing @halo-hanging @julesvanslutta @lilah-asteria @paleidiot @panther-girl-124 @secretlyhers @starlightazriel @scarsandallaz @uncxmfxrtablex

[shadowqueenjude]

Chaorene vs Feysand Pregnancy

A lot of people have pointed out that Feyre’s pregnancy trope is awful, but I haven’t seen anyone compare it to Yrene’s yet and I think it would help a lot of people understand the countless problems with it. First let’s discuss Yrene’s pregnancy: Yrene's baby was a regular human baby so it carried minimal risk to her life. Actually, she hid her pregnancy initially because she didn't want Chaol to worry, but clearly, the baby was entirely her choice. But even after Chaol found out, it didn't stop Yrene from healing a bunch of people on a daily basis, including removing Valg from human bodies. Chaol had an insane amount of faith in her, so much faith that even though he was worried as hell, he trusted Yrene to take on the DEMON KING Erawan which she did and won because she is a baddie. Even Lorcan points out that he's "not sure Yrene is human" because she's such a queen. Clearly, being pregnant didn't stop her from taking action. Now let's discuss Feyre's pregnancy: Feyre was complaining about being seen as a "trophy wife" by Tamlin (I just don't see this at all but go figure), yet after being constantly objectified by Rhysand, being sexually assaulted, and playing his whore, she finds herself a year later isolated from everybody, forced to walk around with a heavy shield and unable to go anywhere without heavy protection, forced to hide her pregnancy from everyone until it was "deemed safe," and she was unaware of the fact that her baby will most likely kill her. Rhysand threatened Nesta into not telling and when she did tell her (as was in her right), he nearly killed her. Not to mention Rhysand was acting like a possessive asshole, antagonizing everybody who got anywhere near her. But canonically, Feyre is very powerful. So why the hell doesn't he trust her? Why does he isolate her? Yet I see Chaol get an insane amount of hate from this fandom and Rhysand doesn't get nearly enough. Yrene's pregnancy is inspiring. Feyre's pregnancy is the upholding of toxic masculinity and underlies the major problems with pro-choice advocacy. It's amazing that both are written by the same author. But it shows that SJM is capable of writing a proper story if she actually tries.

[stargirlie25]

Me through reading all the ACOTAR books.

ACOTAR: Ew Nesta and Elain are so annoying. This is going to be the best series, Feyre is such a baddie! Awww feylin so cute! DAMN LUCIENNN. I know she ends up with Rhysand but im not vibing with him......how can ACOMAF excuse this?

ACOMAF: Ohk feysands kinda cute but i dont think we can justify all that....Oooooo Cassian and azrielllllll! Awww i hope Mor and Azriel gets a book! *Goes to tiktok and finds out mor is gay* damn Azriel.OMG I LOVE NESTA NOWW PERIOD POP OFF SIS MY QUEENNN. Elain is there too. Ooooo Nessian. Elain and Azriel? I mean as long as its not mor! NAHHH GIRL DONT U DARE BLAME LULU BLAME TAMLIN! OMG ELAIN AND LUCIEN???

ACOWAR: Feyre isnt really feyre-ing any more :(.OH HELL NO SCREW IANTHE NO WAY YOU DID THAT TO MY MANSSS!!! MY POOR LULUUU Why feyre lowkey being such a bitach?

Awww Elucien is so tender! LUCIEN AS A MATE AWWEEEE. Damn Nessian making me sqeual. Lucien went away to find the queen from elains vision! OMG. CASSIAN IS SOOO FINEEEE, elriel is lowkey getting boring....Why is she disrespecting tarquin? He has ALL rights to be upset. Ok tamlin in the HL meeting is being pretty annoying and doing nothing but feyre did nothing as well but NESTA ARCHERON THE WOMAN YOU ARE!!!!! WTHHH HELION AND LUCIEN??????? OMG the war!!! NO THE SURIELLL. THE BONE CARVER NOOOO THE WITCH LADY I FORGOT HER NAME BUT NOOOOOO. THE ELAIN. THE FEYRE. THE NESTA. Omg i have no regrets in my life but this.Damn Nessian ur hurting me. NOOO papa arhceron diedddddddddddd. Damn Ok Elain and Nesta king slayers! Oh rhysand died........i know damn well he gonna come back......´´Be happy feyre´´ bawling. Omggg Lucien was besties with papa archeron???? THE ONLY FATHER FIGURE HE HADDDD DAMN WHY ISNT FEYRE TELLING LUCIEN?? Awww lucien and feyre hug! Cass and feyre are cute but i miss the og´s! Ok girl you flying.

ACOFAS: Snoring. YALL ARE CUTE BUT IM BOREDDD AS HELL. Ok literally no one asked for this Mor pov. Wait why did Elain invite lulu if she is uncomfortable around him? Her power? Elriel kinda gave me brother and sister but i guess elain likes him now.....HI EMERIE IVE HEARD ABT YOUUUUU!!! I just want my girl Nesta, feyre u are not feyreing.

ACOSF: I love nesta so much!!!!!!! Cassian is acting like Rhysands frikcing dog. I hate amren soo much. WHY is Elain acting like shes the victim like nesta told you to leave and now you crying?? Girl you are 23 years old! Ok respect azriel has never disrespected my Nesta. Aw nesta gwyn and emeries friendship is the best one yet!!!!!! Azriel is starting to show an actual personality.....With Gwyn? Okay Gwynriel is so cuteee *sees elucien and gwynriel theories* 100% on board with this!!!!! DAMN the Valkyries! I am so excited for all the other girls to tag along! Just imagine a MOB of nesta gwyn and emerie!!! Eris? HELLL YAHHHHHHH VANSERRAS FOR LIFEEEEEE!!!! YOU ARE TELLING ME CASSIAN DID NOT SAY I LOVE YOU ONCE? Of course nesta lost her powers and she obviously lost them for the sake of the main characters that im bored of :(

ACOA (A court of Azriel): You got her a rose flower......because she likes flowers??? Why is this man so insecure about his hands around her? That cant be right......MISTAKE? THANKYOU RHYSAND FOR STOPPING THIS MADNESS! Wow he just wanted to F**k her and thats it? WTH is Gwyn doing here? Ok creepy Azriel is gone and this new azriel is here? Aweee he is actually kinda cutie now and he is laughing? HE SINGS???? OMG SHE SINGS THO! His shadows singing and dancing with her??? Cuteeeeeee, Ok so he gave the necklace to clotho to give to gwyn, thats cute she does in fact deserve something beautiful like that but why Elains? Ig its the though that counts. SPARKED IN HIS CHEST???? THATS ROWAELIN/NESSIAN LANGUAGE!!!! HOW does her picture it proper?? Glowing and secret? Where the hell did he tuck the image bruhhh?

A thing of secret lovely beauty. AHHHHHHHH clotho and the shadows are team Gwynriel for sure! Gwynriel are sooo mates tho and i hate Elriel with every fiber in my being. How did azriel go from mr. creep to mr. melts my heart?

After finishing: Wow everybody on tiktok are elriels. They are so confident elriel is endgame? Hmmmm but none of their points make sense but i cant explain in a comment section! Maybe Gwynriel and Elucien isnt endgame :(

*Downloads tumblr*

Gwynriel and Eluciens on tumblr have their freaking masters degree DAMN

[astridhoff03]

I also watched the Mermaid Magic, the new series from the guy who produced winx club, because I was curious…

And man this show rocks. It’s funny, emotional and has a beautiful message about not polluting the ocean and the environment in general. It shows that Rainbow and Iginio Straffi still got it if Nickelodeon doesn’t ruin their plans.

First to the characters: Merlinda is such a lovely protagonist, how she deals with the loss of her mother, trying to save her father and her kingdom, working together with her friends is just wonderful. She’s a dutiful, driven by loss and love Crownprincess, who be a great Queen one day. She has some great character moments, better than Bloom. My favorite scene is definitely when the whale mother is drowning and Merlinda reminds of the loss of her own mother. This moment and scene montage is for so many reasons one of the best moments in the entire series.

First I thought I wouldn’t like Nerissa and Sasha, especially Sasha because I thought she would annoy me. But she and Nerissa were actually kinda fun to watch. Sasha is so funny and also very nice and smart, how she uses her social media skills to fight the Kraken. Nerissa is the complete opposite, she’s serious and feisty but also selfless. I think she has a softer side to her or she’s just a baddie. So were Tyler and Celia. And we also have a Diaspro in this show lol. Also can we agree that Alex is the hottest guy in the show, Tyler is cute but Alex is Romantasy Material. Seriously he looks like a combination between Xaden and Rhysand. He reminds me a lot of these two. Orca is also a really cool mentor. I really enjoy his teacher-student relationship with Merlinda. He is a really lovable character. His ultimate test for Merlinda was phenomenal, testing her empathy, powers and strength at the same time. Also that he is her uncle really took me by surprise, I wouldn’t have seen this coming.

Second the villains: they were creepy as fuck and I love them. They have really good designs and motivations. Even if it’s revenge, revenge can be some sinister motivation.

Third the world: I love the whole design of Mertropia it’s like a Venice for Mermaids. I just wish we would explore more seas, there’s so much to learn about the oceans of our planet. But maybe in next seasons. I would love to see the girls interact with different species of the ocean, there is so much potential. And I would love to see more of the complex ecosystem of the ocean, the task every single ocean creature has in their ecosystem and they should introduce sharks as harmless and these are also just animals who want to life their life.

Also this show would be perfect for the Sirenix song from Winx Club. It would perfectly fit the ocean theme and how the merfolk is bound to it.

[infiniteetcetera]

MY TOP 10 SJM CHARACTER RANKINGS:

[Broken up as girls vs boys bc if it wasn’t it’d just be like all the girls and Dorian]

GUYS:

1) DORIAN HAVILLIARD��: NO ONE IS SURPRISED BUTTTT truly love him so much, no notes at all✨Hot, sweet, kind, respectful?? Amazing character journey??? Served “I’ll bleed whatever color you tell me” AND “you cannot pick and choose what parts of her to love”??? Impossible not to love him

2) Rowan👑: Another angel who just wants to love, respect, and protect his wife✨ his sense of humor is so underrated and he’s just overall a generally good/fun guy

3) Fenrys: I’m actually SO sad we don’t get more of him because he steals every scene he’s in. He’s so charming and fun despite everything he’s been through and his friendship with Aelin has my heart. Also love a sassy man🔥😩

4) Chaol: Hot take perhaps but I love him and his character arc so much. One of the most realistic SJM characters overall and more than any other he just has such a kind heart and genuinely wants to do the right thing and protect those he cares about. Also underrated hottie, smooth AF when he wants to be THERE I said it🔥

5) Azriel: We have so little of him but I love him so much already😭 will probably be higher after his book, I just already love how he’s such a perfect balance of mysterious/hot and gentle/kind. he’s also SOOOO funny??? like one of the funniest ACOTAR characters by FAR

6) Rhysand: Maybe controversial because I feel like most people either love him like #1 style or hate him completely but I think Rhys is SOOO complex and one of SJM’s most interesting characters. He’s been through more than almost any other character and I think if he was perfect after that he wouldn’t be realistic, so even despite his flaws I love him and want the best for this silly sassy fairy boy✨

7) Lorcan: I have my moments with this guy but I do love him😩 he can be a little bit too broody at times but he has others to remind him to cut the nonsense so✨he definitely gets extra points for changing his name to Lord Lorcan Lochan (even though I know Fenrys and Aelin never let him live that down) and just generally loving his wife

8) Lucien: I LOVE my sassy fire boy😩🔥 Book 1 Lucien would be higher but he’s gone missing since then🤧 still love him though and hope we get to see more of his charisma in future books because he’s so fun and deserves a happy ending

9) Sartaq: SOOOO underrated and for why??? Him and Nesryn are SO adorable and he’s just so cool??? Super smart, funny, kind and just a great leader??? literally told the girl he likes “marry me and be my queen or i’ll quit and just be your man” like???? only so low because we get so little of him but TOD is actually one of SJMs best books too

10) Aidas: would have felt rude to put ZERO crescent city boys on this list and this spot wouldddd be Ruhn but he was an absolute dumpster fire in CC3 with Lidia so he’s lost his place🫡✨ but AIDAS I literally kept waiting for more of him the whole series because he’s so cools and suave (and a cat boy😩🔥) and brought this interesting morally grey twang to CC that it was missing. wish they expanded more on him but I love ALL his scenes

GALS:

1) AELIN ASHRYVER WHITETHORN GALATHYNIUS & MANON BLACKBEACK: no you can literally not make me chose they’re both PERFECT. perfect character arcs, perfect stories, perfect vibes, no notes at all✨🔥❤️ two of the most fun MC’s i’ve ever read and super interesting story arcs. Aelin went through so much and I genuinely FELT her journey and Manon was such a fun heartbreaking insane character to follow too I love them both endlessly

2) Elide: okay I LIVE for this girl and I don’t know why she’s so underrated??? like she’s so smart and cool??? survived this whole series with like -100 health and all odds against her and pulls all the baddies because she’s just that good??? is 50% of the reason they win the war??? so funny and generally STANDS ON BUSINESS, like she got the ick from Lorcan and actually made this man GROVELLLL and I love her for it

3) Yrene: ANOTHER underrated queen, i’m obsessed with her😩 there are so few fantasy characters out there like her and I LOVE that in this series of chaos and violence it’s a healer who saves the day and Yrene is so lovely and fun and smart but also stands on business and gets things done and I LOVE her

4) Nesta: I LOVE her and her character arc, she is another one of SJM’s most real/realistic characters and my heart genuinely aches for her, she deserves all the happiness in the world and the only reason she isn’t higher is bc of her choice in men (free her)🤧✨

5) Lidia: This woman literally SAVED the CC series. I would have DNF’d HOSAB if it weren’t for her and her parts were the only bearable ones (besides Nes and Az) in CC3. such an awesome character and her story is so heartbreaking and done so well for just being in one book really?? she’s incredible, I love her, of course she’s related to the queen and king themselves🔥✨

6) Lysandra: an absolute QUEEN and so underrated even though she saves the day countless times and is just so loyal and kind??? her friendships with Aelin and Evangeline are everything. she literally gave her all to fight for a world that had done nothing but hurt her and she’s so brave and beautiful for that, wish we had more of her🤧❤️

7) Asterin: when I tell you I WEPT at her death like a young lad I just JENDKEND for a side character she’s so phenomenal and has SUCH an impact on the entire storyline. her backstory is heartbreaking and yet she’s so full of light and happiness and love for her sisters. BRING MY BODY TO THE CABIN???? LIKE??? gets me everytime and I would SO read a story about her and her hunter boy or her and manon growing up or just her existing again 💔

8) Feyre: I know this feels low BUT i do love her so much, she genuinely starts this all and saved everyone’s ass, her character arc just feels a little incomplete to me and I wish SJM didn’t kick her to the curb because there’s a lot left to be done with her. truly though, I love Feyre and wish the best for her and hope we get to see more from her in the future✨

9) Elain: we’ve gotten so little of her but IDC I love a flower girl❤️🤧 truly though, she’s so intriguing to me and I can’t wait to read more about her (could DEFINITELY be higher after her book) she’s already so kind and fierce and also HILARIOUS, like I have laughed out loud at so many of her scenes😩 her gifts to Azriel being the best gags??? her LOLing when Nesta calls her a bitch??? I know she’s funny AF and we just need to see more of it

10) Emerie & Gwyn: I couldn’t decide again I love them both✨❤️ but really there two are not just what Nesta needed but what I NEEDED to get through ACOSF. their friendships with Nesta have my heart and they’re both so complex and fun even with so little page time??? I can’t wait to read more of them, I feel like both their stories have SOOOOO many possibilities and I am pumped AF for more

[daycourtofficial]

i just KNOW gingerfucker is a baddie omg when all the other high lords get invited to their public marriage ceremony or her crowning as high lady they’re like ummm 🤔🤨

how’d that whiney ginger freak bag her

Rhysand would be trying to gossip with all the other high lords like

[mossytrashcan]

also btw none of you will ever be as real as my 6’4 baddie. I told her about white rhysand from the fanarts, and she said “oh like jesus”. implications so severe that Ive been thinking about it for over a year

[stargirlfeyre]

I know you usually don’t like to bother with Reddit and understandably so!! But girl look at this post that’s triggered by Feyre arts where she looks “beautiful” They all want to picture her as basic SO bad. It’s actually weird if you think about it, They’re THIS triggered by users posting gorgeous arts of her there and an artist that said she believes Feyre is gorgeous for downvoted. Saying she’s not curvy bc she’s been starved, Saying she doesn’t have big breasts even though we know Rhysand is always playing with her breasts or talking about them. Mind you Pregnancy makes you get thicker, boobs too! I love that Feyre being a baddie to people gets under their skin so much. Imagine getting irked by a fictional character being viewed as a baddie just Bc that’s not how you want to see it 🥴

https://www.reddit.com/r/acotar/comments/14rcupm/genuine_feyre_fanart_question/

As if Nesta doesn’t look like Angelina Jolie with her face beat with Max cosmetics in most of her arts when she’s know to be skinny, no revealing clothes and no makeup and hair up all the time. But do arts look like that? Nope. Where’s the complaints for that or it’s just Feyre they can’t stand being seen or drawn as a baddie? 🤭

See I would have taken what they said seriously if they didn’t make a point in saying the reason they don’t like Feyre fan arts is because they see her as just “conventionally attractive”.

Why are you so upset about how artists draw her? If you’re that mad then pick up a pencil and make your own art? Complaining that an artist makes someone “too attractive” is just so…huh?

[replenaryindulgence]

Before the Light: Chapter 2

Azriel x Calida (ka-lee-duh)/Reader

Summary: Calida wakes up disoriented, her captors' intentions unclear. As she learns more about the world around her, her path home becomes more uncertain.

Word count: 5.6k

Warnings: alcohol

a/n: Now we're getting into ittttt. I'm so excited to see where this fic goes. I love leaving things open-ended. can you tell lol? This series is based in my mind right after ACOSF, hence the tension between Az and Elaine. How would you react if you were Cal? I tried to put myself in her shoes & not in the shoes of someone familiar with the world (P.S. there are probably typos, I'm rereading it as we speak & I'm on the lookout lol plz forgive me)

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

The throb at the base of your skull echoed to your temples. Groaning, you pulled the blanket up further to hide from the flickering light. 

Sifting through your thoughts was like trudging through molasses; the events of the past day came reluctantly. The bite of the early morning air, the laughter that echoed over the lake. The pain in your head grew sharp and you rubbed circles trying to ease the pressure. Moments flashed in your mind. Toes in the water, the burnt taste of instant coffee on your tongue. The gleam of silver water through the trees as you ran. 

It all hit you suddenly, dizzyingly; the forest, the strangers. You shot up. A wave of nausea had you clutching the stiff cushion beneath you. You took deep, burning breaths, forcing it to pass. For long moments you sat like this, taking careful glances, afraid to move too quickly. 

The room was dimly lit. A small fireplace crackled before you, the light sharp in your eyes. The smell of rotting wood and smoke hung in the air. To your left was a door; the wood gnarly and weathered. The whole place was. There was little furniture; a small work table sat to the right of the fireplace, at the end of the bed a large armchair. The dark material glittered slightly in the firelight. It looked out of place, less subjected to the elements. There was nothing else — no one else. No light peered through the small windows. 

The door flung open, the tall man with the stern face from the forest entered carrying pieces of wood under his arm. You heard the thudding of your heart in your ears. He didn’t speak. In three strides he hovered over the small work table. That’s when you noticed it, barely illuminated; the dagger at his side. 

He spoke and you met his gaze, blinking through the panic as he held out a glass of water. You couldn’t move. He sighed, setting it on the stool next to the bed. Your eyes trailed him as he sat upon the small stool by the fire, stoking it with another piece of wood, keeping it alive. He looked over his shoulder and gestured to the glass, repeating the unfamiliar phrase. Your tongue felt like cloth in your mouth but the fear held you frozen in place.

He stood once more and walked to the table, searching through a small bag. The thud of chopping filled the cabin and you watched as he added ingredients to a small black pot. Several minutes passed, your gaze fell to the glass of water and you gave in to your thirst. The water streamed down your chin, dampening your collar. 

“Where am I,” you choked out, voice sounding like you’d swallowed gravel. You knew he couldn’t understand. “What did you do to me?” 

You tried to form a plan. It was dark, this place was unfamiliar. Your face heated. Your friends. They were probably scouring the woods looking for you; you had to find them. You reached into your pocket.

They’d taken your phone, your watch. Everything. 

You tried to stand, or make for the door, but whatever they’d done to your head had the floor shifting beneath you. You couldn’t make it back like this. You sat back, leaning on the wall for support. ”Please,” you begged, though you weren’t sure what exactly for. You couldn’t make it three miles, not like this. You watched as the man hung the pot over the small fire and took a seat before it. He finally looked to you, and you held his stare. A minute passed like this, the two of you silent and unwavering. 

His attention turned back to the fire, stirring the pot slowly, and you closed your eyes in defeat. Your mind led you through every twisted possibility. 

When he spoke again, you found a wooden bowl sitting on the stool by the bed. He sat, watching you, his own bowl in hand. Your stomach snarled. You waited for him to take a bite. You looked at the stew inspectingly; vegetables peeked out of a thin broth. You brought it to your nose. He muttered under his breath. You hesitantly took a bite. It didn’t feel safe, eating what he’d made, but the aching in your head persisted and you’d do anything for it to stop. 

You weren’t sure if it was just the hunger, but you’d never tasted anything like this. You barely swallowed before taking your next bite. Unfamiliar spices stuck in your nose. Setting the bowl aside you noticed the refilled glass. You reached for it, this time taking small sips as you settled against the wall, cautiously surveying the cabin once more. The only exit was the door, the windows were too small for you to fit through. You’d have to wait for him to leave or to be distracted, but you weren’t sure you could outrun him. You felt hopeless; you hadn’t outrun them before, when they wore those ridiculous wings. Maybe if you cried enough he’d let you go from annoyance. You tried to recount what exactly happened in the woods. All you could remember was the fear, and the pain. 

The man walked over to the stool, grabbing the empty bowl. You watched as he moved through the space. He made his way to the end of the bed, settling into the armchair. You clutched the glass tightly as he fidgeted in his seat.

“I need to leave,” you gestured toward the door, pronouncing each word, though it’d do no good. “My friends are out there looking for me,” you patted your chest, ”just, please,” you were begging now, tears burned your eyes, “let me go.” 

His head fell back onto the chair in dismissal. The tears that fell were hot. Panic filled your veins, taking over as you leapt up, but he was quicker. He slammed a fist to the door, blocking it. You stumbled back, legs hitting the cushions.

“Move,” you forced out. You pointed to the door again. He shook his head, this you understood. 

“Yes.” You seethed.

He shook his head again and spoke a single word. ‘No’, you assumed. He pointed towards the bed.

You repeated the word he’d said to you. He shook his head, amused, avoiding your resolute stare. You tried for the door again, but he grabbed your wrist. That’s when you noticed — his hand. It was covered in scars. Both of them were. They rippled in silver and pink swirls of raised skin. He tore away his grip, crossing his arms. He stared past you with a cold gaze. 

You fell backwards onto the bed, dragging yourself to the corner. He set the stool down with a loud thud before the door. His head fell back, eyes looking vacantly through the room. Your head mirrored his, leaning on the wall for some sense of support. You were stuck here — at least for the night. 

…

You’d gotten little rest. You kept yourself curled up to the wall uncomfortably, eyes on the stranger. He never moved. You weren’t sure if he slept either. You’d spent the night contemplating every terrible scenario until your lips were puffy and your eyes swollen. You were thankful when the fire died down and you were able to cry in the cover of darkness. Exhaustion eventually took hold of you.

You woke abruptly as a loud knock sounded. Lifting your stiff head, your eyes squinted in the light as your captor stood, cracking his neck as he reached for the door. The man that grabbed you in the woods appeared beneath the frame. Your heart began to race. 

He took a step in, ducking, as he looked at you with a small, tight smile. He handed over a small satchel. As they spoke, you listened to the words with intense focus, searching for familiarity. Their demeanor was casual despite the situation. The second man had taken off his wings too. They wouldn’t have fit into this cramped cabin, anyways. He rubbed the back of his neck, and turned to look at you. The muscles in your body stiffened. He took a step toward the bed and crouched. 

Holding his hand to his chest he spoke. You stared at him. ‘Cassian’, he repeated gently, patting himself. His name? You looked between them, the other man stood back with his arms crossed. This must be some ploy to try and gain your trust. The man before you hit the other and gestured toward you. He rolled his eyes, stating his name. You repeated it and his eyes shot to yours. 

The man before you nodded with a kind expression and gestured to you encouragingly. You took a breath. If you played along, played nice, maybe you could persuade them to let you go. Maybe this was some big misunderstanding, you let yourself hope.

“Calida,” you stated quietly. 

‘Calida,’ he repeated, standing. He spoke a quick word to the scarred man before turning back through the doorway. He hesitated, nodding to you once more before disappearing and shutting the door tightly behind him. 

That’s it? 

Where was he going? Were they letting you go? You tried to stand but your captor moved before the door. It was useless trying to argue with him. You were a prisoner. You sat back, staring at the door, at the light peering in through the curling wood, visualizing your escape over and over in your mind.  A bird chirped, pulling you from your angry haze. Light poured through the small windows, illuminating specks of dust. You watched despondently as they floated freely around you.

…

You weren’t sure how much time had passed. You’d been given water and more soup. It had been simmering over the fire and tasted even richer than it had the night before. The man left the cabin, taking guard just outside as you relieved yourself in the tiny bathing area covered only by a thin sheet. You scoured the place for a weapon before he returned, but cursed when you found nothing. He must have taken the knife he’d used for dinner. He came back in as you were reaching for the small bag near the armchair and were met with a scowl.

Perhaps your body had run out of anxiety, or perhaps your stillness had fooled it into peace as you sat, legs crossed, watching through the small window as the day passed. As birds and small animals roamed and sang through the forest, and the light filtered through the trees. You heard movement outside just as the door swung open. 

The man with the violet eyes entered, his companion, Cassian, just behind him. No sign of the woman. “Calida,” he spoke, tilting his head toward you. You held your legs in a failed attempt at comfort and prepared for their next move. He reached out and set a small object on the stool next to you. A ring. You looked at him confused, but he only gestured to it. 

You hesitantly reached for the ring, holding it in your palm. It was a gold signet with three deep green stones in the center. Dull metal and shallow scratches showed its age. They watched you silently, expectantly, so you slid the ring on your hand, finding its place on your pointer finger. You twirled it with your thumb.

“Now what,” you spat.

”Now, we find out if this was worth the hassle,” the violet-eyed man spoke, his voice clear and familiar. Your eyes went wide.

”Seeing as to how it went last time, I’m going to have to rely on your candor,” he continued. Your mind ran wild, a million questions on your tongue. ”How did you find yourself in these woods?”

”These woods?” You questioned through the shock.

He raised a brow. 

“I… I’m camping near the lake with a group. I went for a run and… got lost. They’ll be looking for me,” you threatened. 

“You’re not a human spy sent from Autumn with a mind full of riddles to throw me off of your trail?”

“I… what?”

He squinted at you, assessing as he’d done before.

“These are public lands."

“These are Night Court lands.”

Night Court? Reservation land was miles East from where you camped, and none of them were called the Night Court; there was no private land.

“You can’t keep me here, this is kidnapping—“ 

“These woods aren’t safe for you,” Cassian interjected, his voice even.

“I ran three miles without trouble, I can make it back just fine,” you argued, your heart in your throat. “So what, you think you’re locking me away for my own safety?” You mocked.

“Yes,” the man with the violet eyes began, “we are. You are not supposed to be here, and the more you can tell us, the better the chance we have at returning you.”

Returning you? Nothing made sense. 

“How can you understand me?” 

“Magic,” a sly smile grew on his face. You shook your head, your lips pressed in a thin line. This wasn’t a game, but he certainly treated it like one. 

“When you were running, what did you see? Anything strange or unfamiliar?”

“You mean, besides the men with wings?”

“Yes, besides that.” He crossed his arms.

You took a breath, thinking back to the forest, to the lake disappearing, to hitting your head. “I turned to avoid a boulder and ran into a tree. When I looked up, the lake was just… gone. I thought I was concussed,” you admitted reluctantly.

He sighed. “I needed to make sure you weren’t a threat. Clearly, you know nothing,” he sauntered over, settling into the armchair and crossing his legs. “Although… what I saw in the woods, it was intriguing. Where are you from Calida?”

“Washington,” you spat. 

He tapped the armrest with his finger, assessing you. 

“There have been reports of strange happenings in these woods. Herds gone missing only to reappear out of thin air. It’s not unheard of, though there hasn’t been a tear in…” he pondered, “thousands of years. Long before most of our family walked these lands. At least not that we know of. This one seems to be stuck open, for now, though we’re having trouble locating it.”

You blinked. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Would you believe me if I told you the truth?”

Cassian and the other man watched your conversation silently. You looked for any sign of humor or mischief on their face, but they were unnaturally stoic. 

“Tell me then, and I’ll decide for myself.”

“Very well,” He clasped his hands with a casual grace that made you want to roll your eyes. “You must have slipped through a tear, or a door between worlds, because you, Calida, are not where you believe yourself to be. I attempted to read your mind in the forest, and saw nothing familiar. We don’t know where you slipped through. You’re in Prythian, a land of humans, like yourself, as well as Fae and magic,” he pointed to your ring, “the reason we can understand one another.”

You stared at him in disbelief.

“The humans here look and smell like you, but you are wholly different. A glimpse into an unfamiliar world.”

You sat still, looking at the men in the room, deciding drugs must be involved. Your mind pulled you back to the scarred man, Azriel. He watched you, and you could’ve sworn pity lined his eyes.

“I see…” you started, “I appreciate your protection and hospitality, but I’m sure I can find my way back.” You spoke calmly, afraid of their reaction.

A deep laugh filled the cabin as the violet eyed man stood. 

“Very well, we’ll see you on your way.” He reached into a small bag and set your belongings down beside you. 

“Rhys-” Azriel began, but the man held up a gentle hand to silence him.

He nodded toward the door, and Cassian opened it apprehensively. They seemed to share a wordless communication. You grabbed your things before they could change their mind. Azriel’s worried eyes followed you through the door. The cool forest air bit at your lungs, a flutter of hope filling your chest. The men behind you made no attempt to grab you. You didn’t dare look back; your feet skipping below you as you began to run through the thick trees. Moments passed and the hope sang louder in your ears as you blindly headed West, your eyes searching wildly for something familiar as your feet skipped across the forest floor.

After some time you came to a stop, leaning on a large rough tree while you caught your breath. You heard nothing over your loud breathing. Eventually it slowed and you realized you heard nothing, no birds sang, no creatures skittered. It was silent. Hairs stood on the back of your neck. Your eyes scanned the forest. There, in the distance, something caught your eye. You were flooded with a sense of familiar dread. You squinted, afraid to move, to breathe. You leaned ever so closer.

As if day was marrying night, a thick, dark swirl of shadow appeared before you. Along with Azriel. Your scream was muffled by his hand as he grabbed your arm with his other. He hushed you and you froze. His head snapped to the right, scanning the trees. You felt your breath in his hand.

”Shit,” he breathed. Before you could blink a darkness washed over you. It swallowed you whole, its gentle claws pulling at your ankles and combing through your hair. What kept you in place was not gravity, but Azriel as he held you to his chest. And just as the darkness had appeared, in a shadow, it had vanished before the light. The cabin filled your vision and you fell promptly to the soft ground, the world around you swirling.

”What was it?” Cassian questioned.

”Naga,” Rhysand spat.

You propped yourself on your elbows, your mouth hanging open, brows furrowed. You looked at the cabin, shocked. Suddenly, a swirl of shadow appeared and dissipated just as quickly as before, and a woman, the woman from the woods, stepped through. Definitely a concussion. 

”Let’s go,” Azriel pulled his dagger from his leg, nodding to Cassian. Wings, the giant membranous wings appeared on their back. This time, they moved as gracefully as the rest of them. Your breath caught in your throat. Your neck fell back as the men leapt up twenty feet in the air, their wings beating the wild grasses flat as they ascended. A cry left escaped your lips. You heard voices in the distance; you stared unblinking at the bright sky.

”You said yourself she’s harmless.”

”I said she’s not a threat. We’ll keep searching. Azriel will watch-“

”You want to keep them cooped up in that cabin? They’ll be at each other's throats. These woods aren’t safe,” She gestured toward the forest.

”The cabin is warded. We can find a spot for her elsewhere-“

“There is a spot. The River House.”

”Feyre, we’re not opening our home to her. There’s too much unknown.”

"Just for a day, Rhys. She’s human," she emphasized.

"Human, yes, but from a foreign world."

The woman stilled and they stood looking at each other for a long while. 

“You knew when you read her mind she wasn’t dangerous. She’ll be my responsibility. Madja will look over her again,” she held a hand up to stop him from arguing. ”That was me Rhys, this could have been me.”

It was decided. The woman made her way to you and knelt.

"Don’t be scared," she began, “but this may be uncomfortable.” She grabbed your arm and again you were swept up in rolling darkness.

…

“I was asleep for a day and a half?” You questioned in disbelief, eyes vacantly set on the wall before you.

The woman, Feyre as she’d told you, nodded, sighing. She was much better at calming your nerves than her husband had been. She’d expressed sympathy for not being there when you woke, something about dealing with a disgruntled citizen. She’d also apologized for Rhysand’s hostility. ‘You look similar to the people we have… political disagreements with,’ she’d said. ‘People, or “fae?”’ You’d questioned, but she’d just given you that same careful smile. 

When Feyre had brought you to the house you’d vomited on the floor, a reaction from what felt like being thrown a thousand feet in the air. Winnowing, she’d called it. You’d laid your cheek on the cool dark tile, steadying your breath. An older woman with a cautious face had appeared. She kept her distance as she moved her arms above you in slow circles. With a simple nod, she was off. Feyre seemed relieved by this and slowly guided you up the stairs and down the hall. 

You'd since decided that you died in the woods, or were clinging to life somewhere having fever-induced dreams. Now you sat on a bed in the grandest room you’d ever seen, unsure of how you’d imagined something like this. Swirls of gold decorated the walls, the wallpaper a faded, clear night sky. Painted portraits and landscapes filled the room. They glowed, the color so rich you swore you could step into the frame. The sheer pale curtains stretched high above the windows, breathing in and out with the uncertain breeze. 

Feyre had confirmed Rhys’s story. Prythian, Fae, the tear between worlds. You half-absorbed it, overwhelmed to the point of numbness. She handed you a small vile that the older woman had left, and you sniffed it suspiciously. ‘It’ll help with the nausea and the headache. I took it all the time when I was pregnant,’ she’d said. You took a sip and puckered. It tasted like lemon thyme. 

“So those men can fly.”

She chuckled, setting a pair of shoes down by the mirror and muttering something about the males being dramatic. “They can. So can Rhys and I, but we can conjure them. We had a glamour-” she paused, “we hid their wings with magic so you’d be less afraid.” 

Less afraid. You scoffed. Thinking back to the way Azriel had walked about the space so carefully, it was clear now. Maybe you hadn’t seen his wings because you didn’t want to.

“That man,” you interrupted the silence, watching as Feyre sorted through a box of clothing she’d brought to the room. “Azriel,” you continued, picking at the skin around your nails, “what happened to him?” 

She stilled. “I’m not sure that’s my story to tell.” She folded a gray sweater, and walked to the wardrobe, setting the pile of clothing inside. “As scary as these past days have been for you, there’s much worse beyond these walls. As long as you’re here, until we can get you back to your family, you’re safe.” 

You weren’t sure why, but again you felt a peace settle into your chest with her words. You read her sincerity. She spoke with a sureness that would ease any anxious mind. You refused to think about what else laid beyond these walls. Your imagination had never been kind to you.

“Rhysand was afraid to bring me here,” you responded.

She nodded, folding her arms. “He’s protective of our family, our son. So am I.” She tilted her head. “But, I saw into your mind through his, you’re not dangerous…” She continued after a pause, “I was lost once. And I was lucky enough to have someone to help guide me back.”

You hummed in response. ‘Saw into your mind.’

“Dinner is at sunset, but until then, rest. If you don’t want to join us you’re more than welcome to have dinner in your room.”

You nodded in thanks, as she reached the bedroom door. 

“There’s a bath waiting for you, whenever you’re ready.” she gestured toward the arched doorway that led to the bathing room. “Drink the rest of that vile,” she stated pointedly. The door shut softly behind her and you fell back, arms spread behind you. Your mind twisted around her words.

You grabbed your phone; dead. With a huff you plugged it into your charger and prayed.

… 

The bath water was still steaming hours later. You’d slept for a while, the adrenaline finally retreated, leaving you a heap of heavy limbs. The knot in your stomach loosened only slightly as you stepped in. You let your head fall back onto the cool porcelain as the hot water licked your tense body. You sat, watching the sun sink slowly beyond the windowsill. You scrubbed your body and inspected your hand. Flexing your fingers, you realized the scratch was gone. A dream, you thought to yourself. You stepped out, combing your lavender-scented hair.

The clothing Feyre brought was far nicer than most of what you owned. It looked well crafted, handmade. The brown knitted cardigan fell gently over your cream silk pants that you’d slipped on, along with a white t-shirt. Everything was familiar, but not. Every detail of the clothing was slightly different than you were accustomed to. You stood, fidgeting with the ring on your finger as you stood frozen in the mirror. The hairs around your face curled as they began to dry.

Down the stairs and to the left was the dining room, you’d been told. With a breath you stepped out, your silk slippers patting gently on the tiled floor. The grand hallway was barely illuminated. Sconces lined the walls, their warm flickering glow mixed with the cool light that shone through the windows. Flickering shadows danced on the giant paintings that filled the hall; your eyes landed on familiar wings and you shuddered. With each step down your anxiety heightened. Even asleep you couldn’t escape it.

Conversation filtered through the house, growing clearer with every step. You hesitated, heart beating heavily. The voices hushed. Every gaze turned toward you inquisitively as you stepped into view. Some faces recognizable, some not. A woman with long golden hair looked over you. A dark-haired woman at her side leaned over her elbow curiously, eyes squinted. A handsome man with dark skin and pure white hair whispered into her ear. Opposite them, a woman who looked remarkably similar to Feyre sat beside Cassian. You met Rhysand’s gaze as he sat at the end of the long dining table, Feyre by his side. She stood, coming to walk you to the opposite end near Azriel. You felt their burning gazes as you stiffly took your seat.

For a moment, there was silence. You glanced around, in awe of the people before you. At the towering wings. Their unnatural beauty. That’s when you spotted their ears, Feyre’s hair had covered them before. Delicate, pointed ears. You glanced around, realizing they all had them. All except Azriel and Cassian.

“Sorry if we scared you, kid,” Cassian interrupted the silence, taking a swig of his drink with a mischievous grin. 

“Calida, you’ve met Cassian, the Commander of our Armies,” Rhysand began. “Azriel, our Spymaster, as well as High Lady of the Night Court, Feyre. These are her sisters Elain and Nesta.”

Elaine, sitting closest to you, offered you a small smile, while Nesta only stared. 

“Morrigan, my cousin,” he pointed to the golden-haired woman to your left, “Amren my Second-in-Command, and our friend Varian.” 

“Call me Mor,” She replied, before turning to Rhys. “What’s with the formalities? And why did I just get ‘cousin’?” 

“Third-in-Command, Queen of Velaris, take your pick,” Rhys responded smoothly, sipping his wine. 

“If she's the Queen, what does that make you?” You asked, eyes set on the man across the table. 

“High Lord of the Night Court, and more powerful than most everyone at this table,” he responded coolly.

“Most?” you questioned. 

“Most,” Feyre responded, a smile playing on her lips.

Cassian interrupted, “See Nes, you two will get along great.” The woman at his side chuckled. The atmosphere was tense. You weren’t helping. 

The focus turned to dinner. The scent of roasted meat and vegetables filled the air. You all loaded your plates and ate in near silence. It tasted so real. So many questions racked your mind, too many. You weren’t sure how to organize them, so you observed. For a ‘foreign world’, there was a lot of familiarity. Their mannerisms, the food. You stabbed a carrot with your fork. Light conversation skittered through the room. You felt Azriel’s eyes on you while you ate, as if he was waiting for you to pounce. You grabbed a slice of dark bread. Everyone seemed unsure of what to do with you. 

“Calida.” 

You looked up, startled. Elain offered you a smile. “That’s a beautiful name.” You felt lingering glances.

“Thank you,” you responded windlessly, “It’s Irish.”

“Is that where you’re from?” She questioned.

“My great-grandfather immigrated from Ireland to America,” you responded. “I grew up in Washington, near the city of Seattle.” You knew this meant nothing to them, but she nodded anyway.

“And what do you fill your time with?” She inquired.

“I’m a student,” you began, “or was. I studied English. Books and authors.”

“What kind of books?” Nesta chimed in.

You looked at her in surprise. “A little of everything. Classic literature, poetry, non-fiction.” 

She hummed in response, tilting her head and reaching for her glass.

Elain asked about your family and friends. You told them about Jack, Annie, and Brooke. A little about your parents. Sometimes they looked at you like you’d said something totally foreign. You were sure you had.

“How do you know each other?” you questioned. Cassian and Azriel looked like they could be related. They had the same large frame and dark hair like Rhysand.

“Cassion, Azriel, Mor, and I grew up together,” Rhysand answered, leaning back in his chair. You glanced at Azriel beside you, but he remained uninterested in conversation.

“My story is long and complicated. I was born human, and eventually found myself here,” Feyre added.

“Born human?” 

“Nesta and I were, too,” Elain emphasized. 

“How did you–”

“It’s a long story,” Nesta repeated, shutting you down.

This time, it was the dark-haired woman, Amren, who spoke. “I come from a different place, just like you, girl.” She set her glass down, crossing her arms on the table. Her stare felt cold. “About five-thousand years ago I crossed over from a different world. It seems we have that in common.”

“Five thousand years?” You scoffed. 

“Yes.” 

Your mind flew back to Rhysand’s comment at the cabin. You looked around the room for an answer, a rebuttal. 

“Amren’s ancient. I’m 537,” Cassian spoke, stretching his arm behind his head with a yawn. 

“I’m twenty-three,” Elain offered. You turned to her with a smile, a small laugh bubbling in your chest at the ridiculousness of it all. You decided you liked Elain. She reminded you of Annie. 

A thought crossed your mind, and you turned to Rhysand. “Why did you ask me if I was from Autumn? What does that mean?”

You felt Azriel’s gaze slip.

“It was mostly a joke. Your hair is red like the family from Autumn Court, but I knew you were human. Nevertheless, I wanted to see your reaction.”

“Autumn Court? There’s another court?” You questioned. 

Before he could answer, the scrape of Azriel’s chair pierced the air as he pushed himself further from the table, his wings flaring slightly behind him.

“We have an early morning.” He stated, focus turning to Rhysand. 

Rhysand ignored his interruption. “There are several courts. You don’t need to worry yourself. Tomorrow morning you’ll go back to the forest, search for the tear, and this will all be behind you.”

“Alone?”

“No. Azriel and Amren will accompany you. She may be able to spot the tear.”

May. Your mind and body grew heavy. You felt yourself falling deeper into the abyss of your mind. You reached out to grab the bottle of dark liquid closest to you. Azriel stole it from your hands.

“That’s not a good idea,” he stated, peering at you with dark eyes.

“I’m old enough to drink.”

“And how old would that be?”

“Twenty-two,” you rebutted. He scoffed, shaking his head. You looked at his hand that rested before you. A fresh cut sliced along the back of it.

“It's not real,” you whispered to him, staring into his eyes intently. They almost looked brown in the dim light. He furrowed his brows.

“A small glass is fine, Az,” Feyre offered.

He sighed, sliding it over. You poured yourself a glass as he settled back into his seat. You watched his wings as they moved. The candlelight shone through ever so slightly, illuminating dark veins. You stared, amazed as you sipped the wine. It was tart, tasting like cherry or currant. It made your head buzz.

“So you read minds,” you gestured to Rhysand and Feyre.

He smiled. “Yes. But I wasn’t very successful reading yours, what with you fainting and all.”

You nodded, thankful for the absence of the ache in the back of your head. “What did you see?” 

He leaned forward, resting his chin on his fist. 

“Faces, feelings; some things familiar, some not.” 

You hummed in response, swirling your glass on the table.

“You don’t seem upset that I was in your head,” he inquired.

You shook yours. “It reminds me I’m not making it all up.”

Taglist: @cleverzonkwombatsludge @latinxbipride @inkedinshadows @lilah-asteria @rcarbo1

[nikethestatue]

I'm reading through Crescent City now, and one thing I wonder about continually since Bryce, Ruhn and other characters alude to "ancient faes" with powers way beyond them, is does this mean the ACOTAR gang is wayyy more powerful than the crescent city gang?

I know the way SJM describes power is often super vague, but we've definitely seen Rhysand and the others do elaborate things with their magic already (affecting the land around them etc etc). I'm already aware of what happens at the end of Crescent City 2, so I'm just wondering if there will be some power imbalance between the different "teams", and how this will translate in the story. What is your take on it?

You are correct. Not to spoil too much, but the Fae of CC are basically being harvested for their power by the baddies. So they have little power left for themselves. Mostly they get their immortality through the Drop and the rest is fairly negligible.

I think Rhys is significantly more powerful than Bryce, from the standpoint of 'raw' power, where he can wield things and snap his fingers and make stuff happen.

I think Aelin is probably the most powerful of them all.

I imagine CC3 will be mostly friendly between Bryce and the Prythinians. She might show them some stuff and explain certain things, but i think it will be mostly them trying to help her.

[spidersmiceandeverythingnice]

Okay I only really know about ACOTAR from your posts and one Youtube overview vid but what I've gleaned from both is that SJM accidentally made Tamlin so incredibly babygirl but got so hooked on Draco-in-leather-pants'ing her own baddie Rhysand she actually ruined the story.

Wjshjsjsjehe you are SO right for this. Our guy Tamlin is thee babygirl. In a better series, hed be flanderized by this fandom as its the himbo monster boyfriend and I'd have to make lovingly exasperated posts reminding everyone of how smart our guy really is. Except the text of book two in the series literally is just Draco in Leather Pants and Ron the Death Eater except played completely straight in an actual work of real published fiction. So now I have to make exasperated and annoyed analytical posts and write fix it fanfiction about it.

[hereathemoment]

This is really interesting to read because it emphasizes how often sjm BLATANTLY self-inserts into her books. She doesn’t relate to Nesta. That’s why Feysand were still a major component of acosf and why is was dual-pov. She had a baby, Feyre had a baby. Feysand is based off her marriage. Nessian was torpedoed because she can’t fathom any of the characters she likes (Cassian) siding against her baby boy rhysand. Nesta MUST be broken and rebuilt in the IC’s image because she was never going to acknowledge the merit Nesta’s objections to the night court have. The majority of Rhys’s court hates him but he “deserves” to be high king? Nesta is only a tool to sjm that bolsters rhysand’s further rise to power. She was given powers to help during the war. She couldn’t train them or use them or god forbid leave the court, but don’t worry she made special baddie weapons before her power was taken from her. She’s always had retcon in her books but acosf was just a genuinely bad idea because she’s already self-inserted into Feyre and she doesn’t have the capacity to maintain character consistency without writing about herself and the developments in her life. I’ve said this before, but right off the bat it is was out of character for Nesta to binge drink and live in the slums after the war. Why do the female characters need to be at their lowest and be “saved” by the male leads to be worth something? I felt the same way when celaena dumped choal and met rowan when she was drunk on a rooftop— the end of the last book seemed to set up a motivation and plot that the proceeding book completely disregarded. The same happened when Nessian almost died together and then in the next book weren’t on speaking terms. Even in acofas the very end has Nesta going to the Illyrian mountains with Cassian and then acosf comes out and that never happened. This got derailed but basically sjm never liked Nesta, her having power was only for how convenient it was for true war and her character was only used as a device to show rhysands loyalty to Feyre (kicking anyone who “hurts” her). And when sjm tried to put herself in Nesta’s head, immediately she was like “oh, well she MUST hate herself and think herself unworthy of love otherwise she would bow and grovel and kiss the ground Rhsyand walks on— which was the ending of acosf btw. But in all seriousness Rhsyand had more screen time in what is supposedly Nesta’s book than Feyre and Feyre and her relationship is the one that’s constantly put on the rocks to “put Nesta in her place” so it’s just weird Feyre was just a baby maker and party host in a book that branches off of Feyre’s story

stans are actually very funny bc they often time talk themselves into the weirdest corners.

the whole point of criticizing acosf and its handling of nesta's character is to prove the point that sjm...doesn't like nesta as a character. that's is literally THE point - that sjm often abandons her moral themes (abuse, trauma, assault, etc.,) for character's deemed as undesirable or villainous to a capacity - and its through the handling of those 'vilified' (i.e. main character opposed - not even villianous) that we can gauge the extent to which sjm actually believes the ideals of her story. like - it is alarming that the only tolerable, empathetic parts of the a court of silver flames were the moments you could tell where ripped straight from sjm's own life (the hiking, training, mind-stilling etc.,). any actual characteristics about nesta weren't explored...like at all. her relationship with feyre and elain, with her mother, her trauma from her sexual assault, her conflicted relationship with her grandmother, her life before the cabin, her life during the cabin. in 800 pages - i still don't know mama archeron's name. what was life like in the cabin? what did nesta do all day? what was the dynamic? what was going on between elain and nesta?i don't know anything about her and nesta, we don't know anything about nesta's human life, her conversation with clare bedor, her relationship with clare beddor, moments with her dad - not even touching moments with him (and part of this story is her finding love for her dad). mind you we read 800+ pages and we learned absolutely nothing about her.

we essentially read sjm's emotional journey in one part, and a taming of the shrew narrative in another. i think the only way sjm had genuine interest in exploring nesta's story is through essentially self-inserting herself and avoiding the actual plot-points she set up in the first three books. like did nesta have childhood friends? if losing the wealth so drastically affected her life wouldn't she reminisce about it a lot? would she yearn for her mother? who were her childhood friends, how did she function at court?

and the whole point of saying alll of that is to argue the misuse of these topics - serious discussions abuse are only reserved for certain situation, and others its completely undermined in a way that only reinforces the negative ideals to begin with. (i.e. nesta needs to abused bc..." "the intervention was harsh but" - pair that with discussion around what feyre needed in acomaf - and it makes much more sense).

nesta antis often jump between the fact that nesta is so favored that sjm nerfed feysand to 'redeem her' and arguing that sjm secretly does everything in her power to embarrass and secretly laugh at people who like nesta's character. (1) we've gotta pick one or the other (2) in my humble opinion - sjm would have always given feyre a pregnancy plot like this regardless of whether this was nesta's book or elain. its literally so sjm. im shocked people are surprised she pulled the pregnancy as she did.

as with the tamlin discussion we had under this post - i think the story undermines its discussion of abuse with feyre/tam by essentially insinuating that tamlin (when placed in the same victimized position as feyre) should have sucked it up and braved out his abuse with amarantha (and the same with rhysand as well - esp with the deliberate foil of rhysand's 'willingness' v. tamlin's unwillingness). and when we start to have a real conversation ultilizing our own irl analysis and standards we really see how harmful and rather sisyphean the conversation becomes. instead of engaging with these topics earnestly, they only engage in them to prove a point - which is how the issue began in the first place. the whole issue with rhysand isn't the fact that he engages with harmful, potentially villainous positions. no - its that the book wants to prove that tamlin is wrong by justifying rhysand's actions. so even though rhysand and tamlin almost always have the same written and expressed intentions in their abuse of feyre, the book flocks to justify one, and eschews the other. and thats why we get so much reactionary critcism of rhys that is surface: people only admit the problems because they know antis will, not because they actually believe their are issues in the story.

and perhaps im still speaking into a void here but i can tell there's tension between pro stans wanting to have these serious conversations but understanding they can only really introspect so far until the conversation begin to prod at the validity of the topics being brought forth. so stans have to jump between invalidating the romantasy genre ("its just faeries") and treating this book as a serious topic (cue: "sjm put a hotline in the back of the book"). this is also the exact reason why the racism conversations stall (i.e. why inherent superiority is always passively emphasized - despite cc1 + 2 centering human oppresion there is no human in the ensemble cast. despite the fact that illyrian women are the most oppressed - rhys has no illyrian women - or reg illyrians (not his brothers) in his inner circle. aelin 'sacrificing' her human body).

[captainninej]

the infantilisation of elain archeron + why it pisses me off

disclaimer: i am hardly the first person to talk about this but it's really been on my mind lately so i wanted to crawl out of hiding and write this

elain is a character with so much potential that has been completely wasted by her author and the characters around her. throughout the story post-ACOWAR especially, she's been treated like some fucking baby by the characters around her which leads to a couple of things: her character's contributions being overlooked, her character being seen as weak or passive, her character not being held accountable and the further vilification of nesta, a character who is already hated on wayyyy too much.

elain's contributions being overlooked elain killed the FUCKING KING OF HYBERN Y'ALL. you know, just the big baddie that feyre darling and rhysand couldn't do shit against, that it took all seven high lords to defeat. she straight up YOINKED him right through the NECK in more of a girlboss move than anything feyre has done in all five books. and what do the characters around her do??? BARELY ACKNOWLEDGE IT!! WTF!!! they treat her like some delicate child flower breakable vase instead of uhh idk a hERO like she deserves. she's not a fucking baby and it pisses me off so much that she literally kills the villain of the entire series and like. nobody cares. i bet even sjm forgot as soon as she wrote it. also, it shows her love for nesta!! she has never so much as touched a sword before and she KILLED the man who was about to kill her sister!! in my eyes it was such a power move and such a powerful show of love, since nesta was so ride or die for her and this was elain repaying her for all that fierce love. it could have added so much depth to their relationship and maybe even nesta learning to not underestimate elain. but guess what!! instead we get elain turning her nose up at nesta and acting all prudish and dainty like she didnt just KILL A MAN FOR HER. elain. come on.

her character being seen as weak or passive this sort of follows on from my previous point. post-ACOWAR especially, elain has like NO AGENCY. she can't do anything by herself or make a single decision that isn't what feyre and rhys want her to do. this isn't me hating her, it's me hating the author that wrote her this way. because she could have written elain in a way that validates women who are naturally inclined to more 'feminine' interests and sensitivities. but we all know sjm is a misogynist who looks down on 'feminine' women so i guess i shouldn't have hoped. elain is shown to be kind, but KINDNESS DOES NOT EQUAL WEAKNESS FOR FUCKS SAKE. it's such a strength and yet she's literally treated by feyre and rhys as some like delicate doll that you have to talk quietly around. she never gets to make her own decisions - where she lives, what she does, who she's friends with (apart from nuala and cerridwen) or even dictate her own relationship with nesta without that being overseen by feyre and rhys. she cries at everything in ACOSF - where is the woman who bravely allowed her house to be used in the war? who ran her household? who STABBED HYBERN THROUGH THE GODDAMN THROAT LIKE A KEBAB?? it just makes her seem super opportunistic and ungrateful to see her jump ship to feyre as soon as nesta's mental health declines, when nesta stuck by elain's side all throughout her healing process from the Cauldron. nesta's comment about her being a dog who just goes towards whoever gives her shelter and food didn't even seem that unwarranted to me - sure it was a cruel delivery, but it wasn't untrue was it? we don't even ever get her perspective on who she loves - it's all told through everyone else's perspective. we have no idea what elain truly thinks of lucien or azriel without it being skewed by other characters - everyone hates lucien for some reason, so they don't want her to be with him, and then we have azriel who she genuinely does have chemistry with but he's a fuckign creep. we never get to see what she thinks, she's like some voiceless object being tossed between these two guys.

her character not being held accountable this is perhaps my biggest gripe with how elain is written. when i tell you i nearly threw ACOFAS across the room when rhys said 'eLaIn iS eLaIn' in regards to feyre's relationship with her sisters. what does that even mean?? elain was ALSO written to sit on her ass while feyre hunted for the family. she was ALSO intended to be nothing more than a cruel older sister. so why does she get a free pass when feyre and co are still punishing nesta for doing the EXACT SAME THING? why does elain get coddled and included by feyre for doing exactly what she still hates nesta for?? it would be interesting to see her and nesta sit down and really discuss their inaction in the first book, but we never get to see elain's motivations as to why she didn't really do anything. and nope, don't tell me to 'wait until elain's book' bitch we are FIVE books and like EIGHT YEARS into this goddamn series, it doesn't even really matter now. elain should be held accountable for not helping feyre, for not teaching her how to read (i have my Questions about this sjm but my point still stands), for not really giving a shit when feyre disappeared. we got nesta trying to cross the fuckign wall for feyre in book 1. what did elain do? listen, sjm is no role model for writing sibling relationships given how jacked she is as a person but i'm a middle sister in a house of three girls. every family is different, but usually what ends up happening is me either being picked on by my other two sisters, sometimes feeling a little invisible given i'm not the oldest or the youngest, or me having to patch things up between my sisters. that last one could have been such a powerful role for elain to have as the in between of feyre and nesta. she clearly loves both of them (questionably in ACOSF but i digress) and has the most stable relationship with both of them. she could have been a bridge between them and helped them all heal. but instead she just gets a free pass and does jackshit which i just don't buy or like at all.

finally, how all this leads to nesta being needlessly vilified even more guys i know this is already so long but i have MORE FEELINGS. elain being painted as such a flimsy, paper-thin character who gets a free pass for everything makes nesta an even more contentious character. listen, nesta is a bitch. even her stans know that. and guess what sjm and sjm stans!! women are allowed to be bitches!!!! we drool over sassy, cruel men but as soon as a woman isn't immediately likeable we write them off, and sjm is a HUGE perpetrator of this. her handling of nesta vs elain was so poorly done. people literally simp over AZRIEL, a TORTURER with NO PERSONALITY apart from being *brooding* and *misunderstood* and whatever the fuck else (also for viewing women as objects). elain is held up to be some paradigm of goodness and virtue and virginity or whatever and this leads to nesta being even further vilified. i don't know how sjm manages to shit on 'feminine' women and then hold them as a standard for all women at the same time, but she's remarkably good at a lot of shitty things i guess. nesta is already hated by like 3/4 of the fandom and by her own author and by her own mate and by every single character around her. where elain could be the one person who understands nesta, who understands her pain and her grudges, she turns her back on her and instead judges her as harshly as everyone else. nesta is not a 'good' woman like elain, so she is crucified for it. she isn't kissing rhys and feyre's feet like elain, so she's crucified for it. she's struggling and suffering and still in so much pain over what she went through, but elain got over it, so nesta is crucified for it. all in all i don't understand how people are still consuming this garbage, misogynistic series but we all have embarrassing interests i guess. every woman is fucked over in this series and elain is no exception - she's fucked over because her own author genuinely doesn't give a flying fuck about her. she's just kind of *there* when she could have been so much more, you know? and i think people who love her character are more in love with their own canon about her and their own theories and art that far surpasses any actual canon by the author because they care about her more than she does. elain was a character with so much potential and now you could literally replace her with a house plant and nothing would change.

[dreaminginvelaris]

feyre going into bad bitch mode when rhysand was shot with arrows and taken is literally what keeps me alive. this baddie is so in love with him that she pushed all her doubt and fear aside to get her mans back. now, this is a bad bitch.

but wait imagine how feral feyre would go if something happened to nyx. like we all know rhys would go ballistic but feyre, the mother, i truly believe she would do anything, become anything to get nyx back and bad bitch mama feyre is something i need to see asap.