#sjm universe spoilers

[moonybeam3]

Putting this out there now: I FULLY believe we will get a Dr Strange level entrance from our queen Aelin Ashryver Whitethorn Galathnius coming through a portal with her whole entourage ready to kick ass and take names right when everything seems hopeless

Idk if this will be in CC3 or a later book but I’m manifesting the queen’s return

[chairofchaos]

HOT TAKE

Or, Thoughts on movie/tv/whatever adaptations of SJM's books:

(SERIES SPOILERS FOR THRONE OF GLASS, ACOTAR, AND CRESCENT CITY BELOW. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK)

I don't want to see these stories on a screen now, or really anytime soon. I want one twenty, maybe even thirty, years from now, when we have the full picture OF EVERYTHING. I want to be able to have all of the books published. Starting a series or movie saga right now would only lead us to some Game of Thrones thing where we have a different ending in the show than the books (don't look too hard at that, I've never read or watched GoT and have no intention to, it was just the most apparent comparison).

I want our characters with completed arcs to have foreshadowing from movie/episode one. I want concurrent series for events that are happening at the same time. I want to know what Celaena is doing while Feyre is hunting in the cold woods, I want to know that when Aelin becomes queen, that world we glimpsed as she fell through is the world we know and love. I want to know, when I watch Nesta get her bargain tattoo from her deal with Cassian, that I'm going to watch her and Bryce talk about that eight pointed star in some parallel series very soon.

I want a grouping of series that come out and are well thought out, are powerful in their design and execution, and are faithful to all of the characters. And that's a tall order. We aren't going to get that right away. These things will take time- so much time. So I'm going to wait, and I'm eager too, because in my mind, the longer we wait, the more time there is to get it right.

[myfriendscallmeraba]

HoFaS spoilers

So you’re telling me that in another world

AELINS FREAKING BLOODLINE AND RHYSAND FREAKING BLOODLINE

mated

The two bloodlines that gave the universe two of the most powerful beings run years and years gave us Ruhn and Lidia AND THEYRE MATES

Daaaaaaamn I do not know how to process

Tho I do wanna comment that it fees like al the fanfics and head canons of shipping the feysand and rowaelin kids😂

[rainingriversofyou]

Lidia Cervos, The Hind

Ruhn Danaan, Crown Prince of the Valbaran Fae

Bryce Adelaide Quinlan, Heir to the Starborn Fae

Hunt Athalar, The Umbra Mortis

Crescent City - Art by Lua / luaartiste

[likethewillowfic]

“nesta had no right to give the mask to bryce.”

nesta went through extremely traumatic events, at rhysand and the inner circles request, to find the missing items of the trove. she was sexually assaulted, almost killed, and endlessly hunted down while in search of those items.

they are hers.

rhysand can get fucked.

[shadowhandss60]

“The body he’d turned into solid flame, so hot it had melted through the wyvern’s jaws, its throat, and he had passed through the beast’s mouth as if it were nothing but a cobweb.”

-Chapter 14, Kingdom of Ash

Commission by @gonzais_ on Instagram

[thenovocianelullaby]

now that i have finished the sjm universe, here are my official favorite characters

acotar

Lucien - no one can make me hate this man i have been there from day 1! i thought he was the most charming and funny character in acotar and i have come to love him more as the series progresses. i think that he is a complex character and somehow the character that makes me feel the most (elucien book will be the death of me) and as i have said before… i don’t even want him to end up with elain or anyone else, I WANT HIM FOR MYSELF!

Nesta- i used to hate nesta and i dreaded reading her book, and then i read it, and i have never seen myself in a character more. i would, im not joking, die for nesta. talk about complex character. i have nothing else to say i love her.

tog

Yrene- i LOVE the way sjm writes mothers (some) but i love the fact the yrene being pregnant did not stop her from ANYTHING. she saved the whole world so that her child and her family could have the future they deserve, the better future that was hoped for by each character. Yrene also made me fall in love with chaol in TOD. yrene is a powerful woman in every sense, from innish to orynth… i loved her

fenrys- he gave a lucien vibe and had some witty little comments throughout the book that i loved. but the emotions that radiated off him after his brother and what him and aelin went through… my heart breaks for him.

aelin- yes she is the FMC but.. oh my god. TALK ABOUT COMPLEX! i cant even put into words how how much i loved her. that is all i can say.

CC

Tharion- again lucien vibes. he is funny and charming and genuinely made me smile each time he was on the page. i felt so conflicted when he started self sabotaging to the highest degree, but i still found myself wanting him to get through and be happy. this boy is an idiot but hes my idiot.

baxian- i.. want.. NOTHING BUT HAPPINESS FOR HIM! i just.. i want him to be happy

Ember- i want her to be my mother? again love the way that sjm writes moms and the fierceness that ember loves her family. i think you can especially see this in the bonus chapter with my girl nesta

[watchnrant]

Before the Throne: How The Assassin's Blade Reveals the Heart Behind the Legend

This Is Where It Hurts—And This Is Where She Begins

I didn’t expect this book to undo me. I opened it for context, for backstory, for a deeper understanding of a girl I already thought I knew. I was not prepared to meet her here—bloody-knuckled and golden-eyed, standing at the edge of her own undoing, daring the world to come closer.

The Assassin’s Blade is not a prequel. It’s a reckoning.

These five novellas do not orbit the Throne of Glass series—they are its heartbeat, its open wound. They are the story beneath the story, the ghost behind every line Celaena Sardothien ever speaks. I thought I loved her before. But it was here, in these pages of sun-scorched desert and salt-stung shores and bloodstained cobblestones, that I saw her clearly for the first time.

This is the book where the mask cracks.

Where we watch a girl who kills for coin learn what it means to fight for something she’ll never get paid for. Where the sharp edges of her arrogance are dulled by bruised compassion, where her bravado is tested against grief so raw it bleeds straight through the page. She is not softened here. She is tempered.

Her love story with Sam Cortland wrecked me—not because it was tragic (though it is, utterly), but because it was real. No grand declarations. No sweeping gestures. Just quiet defiance and tentative touches. A rivalry melting into alliance. A glance held too long. A boy who didn’t ask to be her hero—but stayed anyway.

And when he’s gone? The silence he leaves behind is the loudest thing in the book.

But this isn’t just a love story. It’s a story about choice. About power.

About what happens when a girl forged into a weapon begins to wonder who she is when she’s not being pointed at someone.

When Celaena walks into Skull’s Bay, she is the blade Arobynn Hamel sharpened for years—obedient, lethal, beautiful. When she leaves, she’s something else entirely. She’s the girl who chose to defy him. Who looked at 200 shackled souls and decided that maybe she didn’t have to be what he made her.

There is no moment more powerful than when she realizes she can choose. That her loyalty was never freely given—it was manipulated, conditioned, beaten into her. That the life she’s been living isn’t the only one available to her.

And it costs her everything.

Arobynn’s shadow stretches long over these novellas.

He is not the loudest villain. But he is the most dangerous. His violence doesn’t scream—it whispers. It gifts. It smiles. He doesn’t break Celaena with blows (though those come too)—he breaks her with belief. He teaches her to confuse control for care, cruelty for closeness. And when she finally sees through it—when she walks away from the Keep, from him, from the man who raised her in a gilded cage—she doesn’t just claim freedom.

She earns it.

Every setting here is symbolic. Every relationship a lesson.

The Red Desert teaches her discipline, the cost of trust, and what it means to be seen as something more than a killer. Ansel offers her friendship, then betrayal, then something stranger: mercy. In Innish, Yrene Towers reminds Celaena that healing and hurting can exist in the same body—and that sometimes, giving away your armor (a ruby brooch, a pouch of gold) can be braver than drawing your blade.

By the time we reach the final novella, the road ahead feels inevitable. And yet, I still hoped. I hoped Sam would survive. I hoped Arobynn’s grip wouldn’t tighten. I hoped, absurdly, that love might be enough to save her.

But this is not a story that spares its heroine. This is the story that forges her.

When Celaena kneels in the King’s court, sentenced not to death but to a life of chains, she doesn’t scream. She doesn’t beg.

She survives.

And on that long, bitter road to Endovier, when the world has been stripped from her and only the memory of love remains, she sees the white stag—the Lord of the North, the symbol of her lost home—and finds something fierce and sacred still flickering inside her.

Not hope. Not yet. But resolve.

“I am Celaena Sardothien, and I will not be afraid.”

Those words hit like thunder. They are not pride. They are not bravado. They are the bones of her future self forming beneath the ash. This line, whispered into darkness, is a prophecy. A promise. And I will never forget the way it made me sit back, breathe deep, and believe in her all over again.

This book didn’t just deepen my love for the series. It reshaped it.

The Assassin’s Blade is not supplemental. It’s essential. It’s the foundation. The soul. The scar tissue. It is the quiet epic of a girl choosing—over and over—not to become the worst thing that ever happened to her.

Reading it felt like remembering something I’d forgotten I knew. Something about survival. About love. About fire.

Rating: ★★★★¾ (4.75/5)

For the ache. For the anger. For the boy who died, and the girl who didn’t. For the blade that became a queen.

[throughstarlitfields]

Az is clearly depressed af in that BC. AND he hums an Elriel coded song… but the Gwynriel’s are running with it. Wasn’t that smile and spark in his chest supposed to be life changing in the previous BC? Cause it seems to me that he’s still thinking about Elain.

[nesta-is-my-queen]

A mini fanfic of what I wish Cassian would tell Nesta, post HOFAS bonus chapter.

***

Of all the things that could have happened Nesta did not expect a red-headed alien, with an eight-pointed star on her chest twin to the one stamped across her own heart, to completely change everything she knew about her world—about life itself. That there were other worlds out there, with powerful beings that walked between them, leaving a path of death and destruction in their wake.

She had never expected other planets full of fae, let alone humans, to be hunted and brutalized, to be turned into a source of food and entertainment for intergalactic parasites. It was for the sake of the humans that she handed over the mask. She couldn't bare the thought of them at the mercy of the Asteri, with nothing to defend themselves, so she made the choice to help the female who called herself Bryce, and loaned her what might just tip the scales in their favour.

And then Rhysand and Cassian found out. She didn't care that Rhysand was upset with her, for she could scarcely remember when the high lord was not. It was Cassian's reaction that ate at her. He was furious, even more than Rhysand was.

She remembered Ember's horrified expression when she quipped Rhysand might execute her for her alleged treason. Rhysand wouldn't, of course, if not for Feyre and Cassian. She supposed Ember didn't understand her particular brand of dark humour, and she'd had to promise her that she was safe, that there was no impending execution to be had. The silver lining to it all, however was watching Ember Quinlan, a human woman, hand Rhysand his own ass, something not even Amren had successfully done.

It had been days since she and Cassian spoke. Once again they were fighting. He was angry that she had done the unthinkable and given a trove item to a prisoner. And she was livid that he had taken Rhysand's side in all this. That Rhysand would have preferred her to kill Bryce before handing over the mask.

She had not been this enraged since she had been locked up in the House of Wind and carted off to the Illyrian mountains. She was not some simpering female to be ordered about. She understood the consequences of her actions and decided if the people of Midgard were not safe, then no one was safe. The threat of the Asteri would have eventually reared it's ugly head upon Prythian and enslaved them all. She had seen what one of them could do, in the prison, she couldn't imagine what a host of them might do if they got their hands on Bryce and ripped open a portal to their world.

When Bryce appeared she had no time to do much else but offer the mask, it was a fleeting moment, a wrinkle in time and space and then Bryce was hurtling back to her world, gone before she even had time to blink, the portal winking out with her, leaving her parents as collateral. Those days with Ember had been everything to Nesta. She was the mother she never had. Warm, loving, understanding—so unlike the one who birthed her.

During those days Ember and Randall were the only two she had the heart to interact with, other than Azriel. She and Cassian were not talking and it began to show. Ember was the one who brought it up. Said that it wasn't healthy for them to avoid eachother like this. She had Randall talk to Cassian about it as well. She supposed they were right, how many more days could she lock herself up in her room. How many more nights could she sleep alone?

That was when the knock came. And the house, the traitorous house, opened it's doors to reveal Cassian. She didn't want him to see her crying, to see her weakness. She sniffed back tears and seethed, "go away."

——

Cassian’s hazel eyes locked with Nesta’s, two endless pools of blue grey. Eyes he could get lost in, that could drown him in their depths. Something fractured in him as he watched a lone tear trickle down her cheek, escaping that carefully constructed mask she always wore.

Their bedroom was littered in piles of discarded books. Some half opened with cracked spines, shoved to the side ranging from smut to battle strategy. Steaming mugs of tea and trays laden with truffles and petit fours were scattered across the room. As if the house was desperate to comfort the female standing before him.

“I—I am so sorry.” He said. His voice low, cracking. It was not the only thing that cracked.

“That’s not enough.” She said, in the ghost of a whisper.

“Nesta…” Cassian said, his voice strained, as he lifted a hand towards her. She flinched, backing away.

“Please… just talk to me… tell me what to do…” he pleaded.

“I’m so tired of this. I’m so tired of everyone telling me I’m wrong, of having you—the one person—my person—doubt me," she said, swallowing deeply, as if there wasn't enough air in her lungs.

"How could you—?" she breathed, feigning her head to the side, as if trying to hide that thing inside that threatened to burst. Her eyes turned silver, not with flame, but with tears. Tears that would devour him and her. That would devour the world. Cassian would rather have been burned by that unholy fire he'd seen in her eyes. Would rather be turned to ash, a thousand times over, than see those tears falling from them.

As if sensing the onslaught, a soft, cotton napkin materialized in Nesta's hand.

“I know—I know.” He whispered as he watched red splotches spread across her face while she shuddered and heaved. The navy blue drapes unhooked themselves, sliding across the brass railing to cover the bay windows overlooking Velaris, as if to conceal the crying female from any potential onlookers flying by.

“You know what the worst part of it is—I don’t think you know what it is that you did wrong,” she faltered, wiping her tears on the cloth provided to her by the house.

“That you think I did not consider your soldiers, your brothers in arms, who might lose their lives if a war came here. I did consider it, I thought of everything. And all I could think of was about someone like my father, who wouldn’t stand a chance—"

"So I gave them a chance.” She choked out, ringing the cloth in her hands. "I gave them a chance," she repeated.

“And I took one too. But you—you couldn’t take one on me.” She faltered. As each word landed he felt those threads between them slacking. As if their very souls were unravelling.

Something inside of him felt like it was drowning, as if wave after wave were crashing down on that thing in his chest, beaten and battered. Threatening to drag him in the undertow of the storm he was facing.

“Let me make it right. Give me that chance I should have given you.” he pleaded.

“That’s not enough Cassian. It’s not enough and you know it. I refuse to be second when I put you first.” Something flickered in her eyes before quickly sputtering out. He promised himself then and there that he would never let that ember inside of her die out. That he would spend his life dedicated to kindling that fire. That he was a mere shadow that could only exist in the presence of her flame.

“I once told you I have no regrets in my life. Well I was wrong. I regret ever hurting you, ever causing you a moment of pain, ever doubting you. Not putting you first. Because I was afraid. Afraid of disappointing people. But you're the only person who matters. And I will spend whatever time I have left in this life showing you that, if you give me the chance. And if that’s not enough I will keep on trying. As long as you let me."

“Why now? What’s different? What’s changed?” Nesta narrowed her reddened eyes. “Aren’t you sick of being shackled to me?” She squared her shoulders, her eyes turning into two silver slits, giving him that "I will slay my enemies look" that nearly had him falling to his knees.

“The thought of living life without you is unbearable. Without you I am nothing. It's why I was so angry—I was thinking about you. Of losing you. It wasn't just about the last war. It was about what would happen in this one. All I could think of was you throwing your body on top of mine and nearly dying. And—." The words tumbled out of him, erratic and desperate.

"And what a world without you might look like. So I—I lost my mind." He said, his voice thick, eyes pleading.

"Nesta, being your mate is the greatest honour of my life. And I am sorry that I have ever made you feel otherwise."

The space between them waned, and the room somehow became smaller, as if the house was closing the distance between them.

Cassian slipped Nesta’s hand in his and slowly lifted it to that shattered place upon his chest. “You are my everything Nesta Archeron. You are my soul. My heart. My life.”

Clutching her hand to him, he lowered himself, until he was kneeling before her. She could feel his heart pounding, her own beating to the same chaotic tune, as if each pulse and each breath was taken together.

“I love you.” The words spilled out of him. “I have always loved you.”

Somehow he gripped her hand even tighter against his chest and she sunk her nails in. It felt as if she was holding his heart in her palm. Perhaps she truly was. And he just held her hand there, as she marked him. Five crescent shapes imprinted on him, dotted in red, from the base to the apex of his heart, her signature, her claiming.

“And I will always love you.” He breathed, his eyes wet, his face lifted up, meeting hers.

“I love you too.” She whispered, voice hoarse, as she grabbed at his chest, now pulling him towards her until there was no space left between them. Until their lips were crashing against one another, breathing the other in. And those golden threads began to weave themselves back together until they shone, forming an eight pointed star, a guiding light, their compass home.

"You're lucky that I believe in second chances." Nesta said, a slow smile breaking across her face like the sun peaking through the twilight sky. And it was all he needed before he met her smile with one of his own, before he pulled her down to him, until they were flush against eachother.

"I am lucky,” he whispered in her ear, his breath hot, mouth hungry, as he traced his lips along the curve of her neck, “the luckiest male alive.”

***

Second chapter is on AO3

[acotardiaries]

The idea of Ithan trying to sleep but hearing Bryce give Hunt a bj will forever be the funniest and saddest thing ever

[acourtofquestions]

Chapter 7 has some very Kingly moments for Dorian:

Asterin gave him a wicked grin. "Morning, Your Majesty."

"It is a king's mercy you receive," Dorian said coldly, "and I'd suggest being quiet long enough to receive it." Rarely, so rarely did Manon hear that voice from him, the tone that sent a thrill through her blood and bones. A king’s voice.

But he was not her king. He was not the coven leader of the Thirteen.

Dorian's sapphire eyes churned, the hand on his sword tightening. Manon tensed at that contemplative, cold stare. The hint of the calculating predator beneath the king's handsome face.

"A king without his crown asks for a lowly spider's name," she murmured, her depthless eyes setting on him. "You cannot pronounce it in your tongue, but you may call me Cyrene." Manon ground her teeth. "It doesn't matter what we call you, as you'll be dead soon."

But Dorian cut her a sidelong glance. "The Ruhnns are a part of my kingdom. As such, Cyrene is one of my subjects. I think that gives me the right to decide whether she lives or dies."

"You are both at the mercy of my coven,"

Manon snarled. "Step aside."

Dorian gave her a slight smile. "Am I?" A wind colder than the mountain air filled the pass.

He could kill them all. Whether by choking the air from them or snapping their necks. He could kill them all, and the wyverns included. The knowledge carved out another hollow within him. Another empty spot. Had it ever troubled his father, or Aelin, to bear such power?

Manon ignored the spider. "And when she shifts in the night to rip us apart?"

Dorian only inclined his head, ice dancing at his fingertips. "She won't."

Cyrene sucked in a breath. "A rare gift of magic." Her stare turned ravenous as she took in Dorian. "For a rare king."

Manon glanced to Asterin. Her Second's eyes were wary, her mouth a tight line. Sorrel, a few feet behind, glowered at the spider, but her hand had dropped from her sword.

The Thirteen, on some unspoken signal, peeled away to their wyverns. Only Cyrene watched them, those horrible, soulless eyes blinking every now and then as her teeth began to clack.

Manon angled her head at him. "You're … different today."

He shrugged. "If you want someone to warm your bed who cowers at your every word and obeys every command, look elsewhere."

Her stare drifted to the pale band around his throat. "I'm still not convinced, princeling," she hissed, "that I shouldn't just kill her."

"And what would it take, witchling, to convince you?"

A muscle flickered in Manon's jaw. Things from legends—that's who surrounded him. The witches, the spider ... He might as well have been a character in one of the books he'd lent Aelin last fall. Though none of them had ever endured such a yawning pit inside them.

[taymartiart]

Spoiler for HOFAS

[rainingriversofyou]

There was only one thing that Bryce Quinlan would describe her as: “A warrior.”

-House of Flame and Shadow

Art by Jodi McCafferty / jodicreatesartwork

[mentallyinwalmart]

I am the ceo of unpopular opinions (but great fanfics im so fr) so here goes nothing… my “Bryce was acting OOC” opinions

[HOFAS SPOILERS BELOW!!!]

The one thing I feel like people CONSTANTLY remove from their reading of fantasy books is any sense of time/urgency. I totally get it! You aren’t reading the book on an exact timeline of when the characters are living! But Ruhn, Hunt, & Baxian were in the dungeons again for like,, *a week*. I agree that what they went through was fucking horrible and probably incredibly triggering for Hunt, but Bryce was not acting OOC when she asked “if he even wanted to be there?”. He chose to do it all again with her KNOWING this could be the outcome. I’m sorry but I’m just not understanding why this moment of her cannot be forgiven when she goes on to apologize and they talk it out in the most healthy way an SJM main couple has possibly ever???

I totally get that that wasn’t her best moment. But to say it was out of character and shows she “doesn’t love/respect Hunt” is just bs and I’m tired of seeing it

[shadowhandss60]

Manon: I grow tired of you.

Dorian: Then get off my lap.

Manon: …No