#taryn deserves better

[ghosttownheart]

I have only just started The Cruel Prince and I already dislike Taryn.

Like please FUCK OFF-

Jude finds ONE THING that brings her happiness in the last 16 chapters of this godforsaken book, and Taryn couldn’t rip it away from her faster.

Go crawl in a hole and stay there. Please for the love of god.

[hrizantemy]

Nesta hadn’t expected to notice so much about Taryn. It wasn’t in her nature to observe people in such detail, to catalog the small things about them, but Taryn… Taryn made it impossible not to. She didn’t know when it started, when her gaze lingered just a little too long, when her mind began picking apart every nuance of Taryn’s presence, but now she couldn’t stop.

There was the way Taryn smiled—never too wide, but just enough that her eyes crinkled at the corners, like she was holding back something bigger. It made Nesta wonder what kind of laughter Taryn saved for when no one was looking, what kind of joy she kept just for herself. That smile was bright but never blinding, warm but never overbearing. It was a smile that drew people in without demanding anything from themselves.

Her voice was another thing. Low and even, the kind of tone that calmed rather than commanded. It was soothing, soft as the sound of pages turning in a quiet room. Taryn never raised her voice, never snapped or barked an order, but there was a firmness in the way she spoke that made people listen. It wasn’t authority—it was trust. People trusted her voice, her steadiness, and Nesta wondered when she had started to as well.

And then there were the small, unintentional things. The way Taryn tucked her hair behind her ear when she was deep in thought. The way her nose wrinkled when she didn’t agree with something but didn’t want to say it outright. The way she fiddled with the rings on her fingers when she was nervous, spinning them endlessly until she found her composure again. Nesta noticed it all, these tiny, fleeting moments that seemed insignificant but somehow weren’t.

Taryn had a way of carrying herself that spoke of quiet strength. She wasn’t the tallest, wasn’t the loudest, but there was a steadiness to her presence that anchored everything around her. Even when she was rushing out the door, hair a little messy, coat thrown on haphazardly, she still seemed composed in a way Nesta envied. There was something magnetic about her, something that Nesta didn’t fully understand but couldn’t help being drawn to.

And her scent—Nesta hated how much she noticed it. Taryn smelled faintly of lavender and something earthy, like freshly turned soil. It wasn’t perfume, at least not entirely, but something natural, something intrinsically her. It clung to her clothes and lingered in the air after she left a room, a subtle reminder of her presence that Nesta found herself searching for more often than she cared to admit.

It wasn’t just how Taryn looked or sounded or smelled, though. It was the way she existed, the way she made space for others without shrinking herself. The way she moved through the world as if she belonged in it, and yet still found ways to carve out room for people like Nesta, people who didn’t quite know where they fit. Taryn made her feel seen in a way she hadn’t before, and Nesta was starting to realize how much she liked that. How much she liked her.

Most of all, Nesta noticed how Taryn didn’t like when she brought up her sisters. Taryn never said it outright, never stopped her from talking or tried to steer the conversation in another direction, but there was a shift every time. A tightness in her jaw, the faintest flicker in her gaze, like she was forcing herself not to react. The first time, Nesta thought she’d imagined it. The second time, she wondered if she was projecting her own discomfort. But after the third, the fourth, the fifth time, Nesta began to see the pattern.

It wasn’t dramatic, nothing obvious—Taryn didn’t glare or sigh or tell her to stop. No, it was subtler than that. Her hands would fidget more than usual, her responses would grow clipped, and sometimes she’d stare into her tea like it held an answer she couldn’t quite find. It was almost as if Taryn was trying to seem unaffected, trying to be supportive, but couldn’t quite manage it.

Nesta, ever curious and prone to pushing, began testing her theory. She’d bring up Feyre or Elain in casual conversation, slipping their names into anecdotes or comments just to see. Every time, Taryn’s posture would stiffen, her shoulders drawing ever so slightly inward, as though the mention of them carried a weight she wasn’t prepared to hold. She never snapped, never told Nesta to stop, but the shift was unmistakable.

At first, Nesta thought Taryn disliked her sisters outright, though that didn’t quite sit right. Taryn wasn’t the type to hate someone without reason—at least, not from what Nesta had seen. Maybe it was something else entirely, something more complicated. But what? Taryn had never met Feyre or Elain properly, not beyond a polite greeting at solstice, and yet there was something there, something unresolved and heavy.

It gnawed at Nesta more than she wanted to admit. She’d never cared much for what people thought of her sisters—too many people had opinions about them already. But with Taryn, it was different. She wanted to know why. Why the mention of them brought that subtle tension to Taryn’s frame. Why her eyes would cloud, just for a moment, before she schooled her expression into something neutral.

The question slipped out before Nesta could think better of it. “Do you dislike my sisters?” she asked suddenly, her voice cutting through the quiet of the room.

Taryn was mid-sip of her tea, the porcelain cup poised delicately between her fingers, when the words landed. She blinked, raising an eyebrow as if Nesta had asked her something absurd. Slowly, she lowered the cup to the table, her movements measured, almost too controlled. “Of course not,” she said evenly, her tone steady, but not without a trace of something else—a note Nesta couldn’t quite place.

“Liar,” Nesta said immediately, her gaze fixed on Taryn’s face, searching for cracks in her composure.

Taryn didn’t flinch, but her lips tightened just enough for Nesta to notice. She leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms loosely over her chest. “I don’t dislike them,” Taryn said after a moment, her words slower now, more careful. “I don’t know them well enough to feel anything that strong.”

Nesta tilted her head, narrowing her eyes. “That’s not an answer,” she said coolly, folding her own arms in response. She could feel her pulse quicken, not out of anger but curiosity—curiosity sharpened by years of mistrust and a need to understand. “You tense up every time I mention them. You get quiet, avoid looking at me. So, if it’s not dislike, what is it?”

Taryn sighed, a long and drawn-out exhale as if the weight of Nesta’s persistence pressed on her. She reached for her tea again but didn’t drink it, just held the cup between her hands, staring down at the steam as though it might give her the words she needed. “It’s not about them,” she said finally, her voice softer this time, almost tentative. “It’s… complicated.”

Nesta snorted, the sound harsh in the stillness. “Everything’s complicated,” she said flatly. “Try harder.”

That earned her a sharp glance, but Taryn didn’t snap back, didn’t argue. Instead, she put the cup down again and pressed her palms against the table. “Fine,” she said, meeting Nesta’s gaze head-on now. There was something raw in her eyes, something unguarded that made Nesta sit up straighter. “I don’t dislike your sisters, Nesta. But when you talk about them… it’s hard not to see how much it still affects you. How much of your life still seems to orbit around them, even now.”

That caught Nesta off guard. She opened her mouth to respond, to deny it, but no words came. Taryn pressed on, her tone gentler but no less firm. “And maybe,” she added, “there’s a part of me that doesn’t understand how they could let you feel like you were never enough. That doesn’t understand how they could sit by and let you carry so much alone. So, no, I don’t dislike them. But I’m angry for you in ways I know I probably don’t have the right to be.”

For a moment, Nesta didn’t move, didn’t speak. She felt like Taryn had stripped something bare inside her, laid it out between them for inspection. She hadn’t expected that answer, hadn’t expected to feel a tightness in her chest at the quiet conviction in Taryn’s words. “You think they’re the reason I am the way I am,” she said finally, her voice quieter now.

“I think they’re a part of it,” Taryn said, her gaze steady. “And I think you’re still figuring out how to be you without them defining every piece of it. And for what it’s worth, I think you’re doing a damn good job of it.”

Nesta swallowed hard, looking away, her fingers curling into the fabric of her skirt. She didn’t know what to say, what to feel. So she settled for silence, letting Taryn’s words hang in the air, heavy but not unwelcome.

Nesta leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest as she regarded Taryn with a sharp gaze. The weight of Taryn’s words lingered, and she didn’t know if it was anger or confusion curling in her stomach. Maybe it was both. “Then why did you agree to go to Solstice?” she asked, her voice quiet but edged with something brittle. “Why didn’t you say anything if you felt that way? If it made you angry?”

Taryn’s expression softened, but there was no hesitance when she answered. “Because it wasn’t about me,” she said simply, her tone calm and unwavering. “My feelings don’t matter when it comes to this. Not when it’s about your family and your choice to see them. Solstice isn’t about how I feel. It’s about you and what you needed to do, even if it was hard.”

Nesta blinked, startled by the simplicity of the response. She had expected defensiveness, maybe even irritation—something to latch onto and push back against. Instead, Taryn met her confusion with clarity, as though the answer had always been obvious.

Taryn leaned forward slightly, resting her forearms on the table, her hands clasped loosely together. “It’s not my place to stand in the way of you making peace with them,” she continued, her voice quieter now but no less firm. “Even if I don’t understand all the history or all the pain, I know it’s there. And if being at Solstice was what you thought you needed—if it was your way of trying, of healing—then my feelings didn’t matter. I went because it mattered to you.”

Nesta stared at her, unable to speak for a moment as the words settled. She didn’t know what to do with them, with the sudden understanding that Taryn had always been so careful, so steady, even when Nesta herself had been unsure. “You didn’t say anything,” Nesta murmured, more to herself than to Taryn. Her hands tightened in her lap. “You should’ve said something.”

Taryn smiled faintly, a small, bittersweet curve of her lips. “Would it have changed anything?” she asked gently. “Would you have stayed home if I said I didn’t want to go?”

Nesta opened her mouth to argue, but the words caught in her throat because she knew the answer. No, she wouldn’t have stayed. She would’ve gone anyway, because it wasn’t about Taryn’s feelings—it wasn’t even entirely about her sisters. It was about proving something to herself, about trying, about making some semblance of an effort. And Taryn had known that, had seen it, and had chosen not to stand in her way.

“I hate how calm you are about this,” Nesta muttered, looking away, feeling something uncomfortable and warm twisting in her chest.

Taryn’s soft laugh broke the tension, lightening the air between them. “I know,” she said, not unkindly.

For once, Nesta didn’t have a biting remark ready. She just nodded, her throat feeling strangely tight as she reached for her tea.

Nesta fiddled with the handle of her mug, her fingers tracing the edges absently, her gaze fixed on the steam rising from her tea. The warmth seemed to settle into her, but it couldn’t ease the unease curling in her chest. She hadn’t been able to shake it all day. There were things she needed to say, things she needed to work through, and Taryn’s steady presence was the only thing grounding her.

“I think I made up with Feyre,” she said quietly, as though speaking the words out loud would make them more real. “We talked. We forgave each other. It wasn’t perfect, but I think… it was a step. It feels like a start.” She paused, trying to understand the strange sense of calm that had settled in her heart after their conversation. It was the first time in a long time that Nesta felt as though she had done something right—something real—when it came to her sisters. But even with that, there was still a part of her that wasn’t sure it would last. The damage ran deep.

Her fingers tightened around the mug as her mind shifted to Elain. Her heart twisted at the thought of her sister, the distance between them, the unspoken words. She looked up at Taryn, her gaze lingering on her for a moment, almost as if trying to gauge how to say what was next.

“Elain, though,” Nesta muttered, the weight of her thoughts heavy in her voice. “I don’t know where I stand with her. Things are… complicated. It’s like we’re strangers, even when we’re in the same room. I know it’s partly my fault. I pushed her away, didn’t I? I didn’t know how to handle her… I didn’t know how to handle any of it, and I guess I was just angry. I’m still angry, but she’s… she’s different. She’s so different from me.”

The words felt clumsy, unformed, but they were all she had. Elain’s quiet sweetness, her gentleness—it was almost too much for Nesta to take in, too much for her to understand, and it had pushed her further away. The thought that her sister had gone through so much, that she had her own pain, just as Nesta did, but somehow it hadn’t drawn them closer—it hurt in a way that Nesta didn’t know how to express.

“I don’t know what to do with her,” Nesta admitted, her voice barely a whisper. “I want to try, but I don’t know how. I don’t even know where to begin.”

Taryn was quiet for a moment, her gaze distant as she seemed to be weighing her words carefully. She looked at Nesta, her expression thoughtful, like she was piecing together something fragile. Her fingers gently curled around her tea cup, her eyes softening as she met Nesta’s gaze.

“You know,” Taryn began slowly, her voice measured but kind, “that is a step, wanting to try. It may not feel like much, but it is. And sometimes, those small steps, those quiet ones—those matter the most.” She let out a small breath, looking down at her hands, before continuing. “I don’t have sisters, so I can’t say for sure what you’re supposed to do, what’s right for you and Elain. But from what I’ve seen in the way you’ve handled things with Feyre, I think… you’re doing the right thing. It’s not about rushing in, or forcing things, or trying to fix everything all at once. It’s about the small things. Setting boundaries. Being open when you’re ready. I think that’s a start.”

Taryn took a long sip of her tea, her eyes studying Nesta intently, as though trying to understand her on a deeper level. “You’ve made progress, Nesta,” she said quietly, her words steady, almost like a promise. “It’s okay that things aren’t fixed yet. I think… being willing to try, to open yourself to the possibility of change, is the most important thing. You don’t have to have it all figured out right now. Not with your sisters. Not with yourself. Just… one step at a time.”

For the first time in a long while, Nesta felt something other than the overwhelming weight of guilt or the tightening of old wounds. Taryn’s words hung in the air, a quiet reassurance. She wasn’t rushing her. She wasn’t telling her to force the healing, to push forward when she wasn’t ready. She was simply offering support, letting Nesta know that it was okay to take the time she needed, to go at her own pace.

And for Nesta, that felt like enough. Maybe that, too, was a step forward.

Nesta raised an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued. She leaned back slightly, studying Taryn as she took another sip of her tea. “I don’t know much about your family,” Nesta remarked casually, her voice light but laced with genuine interest. She could feel the faint stir of her own discomfort as she realized how little she actually knew about the woman she had come to care for. “Why is that?”

Taryn didn’t immediately answer, her eyes flickering to the window for a brief moment before she set her cup down on the table. Her shoulders gave a small, almost imperceptible shrug as she met Nesta’s gaze. “Because I never told you,” she said simply, her tone soft but matter-of-fact.

Nesta’s gaze sharpened. “But… why not?” She had to ask, the question rolling off her tongue without hesitation. She had always been open with Taryn, shared pieces of herself, however broken they might have been. It was strange to think that Taryn might be holding back from her, keeping something guarded, especially when they had gotten closer in so many other ways.

Taryn leaned back in her chair, folding her arms across her chest as she sighed lightly. “Because there’s nothing to tell,” she answered after a beat, her voice quiet, almost distant. “My family… they’re not really a part of my life. I’m not close with them, never have been. There’s no need to talk about them, Nesta. It’s just easier that way.”

For a moment, the silence hung heavy between them. Nesta felt a flicker of understanding deep within her. She didn’t need Taryn to explain any further. She could sense there was more to the story, but it wasn’t something Taryn was ready to share. And for the first time, Nesta recognized the boundaries that Taryn had set around herself.

It was a strange, quiet thing—knowing that Taryn had her own walls, just like Nesta did. But for some reason, Nesta didn’t feel upset by it. She just felt… something. Maybe a quiet kind of acceptance. Something unsaid but understood, just between the two of them.

Nesta tilted her head, the words lingering in the air for a moment before she asked quietly, “Would you tell me? About your family, I mean. If you’re ready.”

Taryn was quiet for a long while, and Nesta almost thought she wouldn’t respond. But then, with a small sigh, Taryn set her tea down once again, her fingers tracing the edge of the cup as she looked at Nesta with a faint, unreadable expression. “Yes,” she said, her voice steady but soft. “I’ll tell you, if you really want to know.”

Nesta nodded, her curiosity still simmering, but her tone gentle, not pushing, simply waiting. “I do.”

Taryn’s gaze seemed to drift for a moment, her thoughts far away. Then, finally, she spoke. “They’re from the Dawn Court,” she began, her words slow, almost measured. “My mother was a healer. She helped people, mostly with potions and remedies—things that kept the court running smoothly. My father… he was a soldier, but I don’t really remember much about him. He left when I was young.”

Nesta listened quietly, sensing the weight of the words between the lines. Taryn spoke with a sense of detachment, as if the memories weren’t painful, but simply distant and faded with time. She didn’t press for more; Taryn had given her a piece, and Nesta understood that it was more than enough for now.

“They lived… fairly normal lives,” Taryn continued, her voice a bit lighter now. “We had a house, a garden, the kind of life that doesn’t really stand out. Nothing grand. Just… ordinary. It wasn’t a bad life, but it wasn’t anything special either. We were just… there.”

There was a pause, and Nesta felt a subtle sadness in Taryn’s words, a quiet yearning for something that had been lost. But Taryn didn’t linger on it, didn’t indulge in what-ifs or the could-have-beens. Instead, she met Nesta’s gaze with an expression that was as calm as it was firm.

“That’s all there is, really. It’s not much, and there’s not much more to say about it.”

Nesta sat back, taking it all in, realizing that this was Taryn’s way of showing trust. It wasn’t grand or dramatic, but it was enough for Nesta to understand a bit more about her—about her past, her life before, and maybe, in some strange way, who Taryn was.

Nesta could feel it, the subtle tension in Taryn’s words and the quiet way she held herself back, but she didn’t point it out. There were things that Taryn wasn’t saying, things Nesta could sense but had no desire to pry into just yet. Instead, she took a slow sip of her tea, savoring the warmth as the silence stretched between them.

Finally, after a moment of contemplation, Nesta asked softly, “Would you go with me? If I went to see my sisters?”

Taryn’s gaze flickered, a slight hesitation in her eyes, but then she gave a small, genuine smile, the kind that made Nesta’s heart skip a beat. “I want to be there,” she said, her voice steady but laced with something deeper. “If it means that much to you, of course I’ll go.”

Nesta’s smile deepened, a warmth spreading through her chest. It was more than just Taryn’s words; it was the fact that Taryn was offering herself—her presence—without hesitation, supporting Nesta in a way that felt natural, without making her feel like a burden or an afterthought. It was different from everything she had known before, and she couldn’t help but feel grateful for it.

“I’ve received a letter,” Nesta said quietly, her voice lighter now. She met Taryn’s gaze with a glint of something soft in her eyes. “From Feyre. She invited me to the House of Wind. And… I’ve accepted.”

Tag list: @litnerdwrites @viajandopelomar

[ruthplaysthesims]

After reading @deardiaryts4's recent episode of Detective Wolff (go check it out it's amazing 😍) I think there's no denying when I say Ms. Fitzgerald deserves so much more than crusty Solomon. So I took my version of her for a lil photoshoot.

[youngwitchchild]

As someone who liked the stolen heir I found the prisoner's throne lacking a lot when it comes with it's themes and plot and the final character arcs. The way I could feel the Fandom influence on the author through the pages made me very uncomfortable (Taryn's *cough*retribution). Look, I'm not the biggest fan, and I'm far from calling it a masterpiece of a book, given the typical YA writing and the way the author beats you in the head with some things like you are a toddler, and the horrible pacing of the first book, but I found most of the characters complex and likeable and the world enjoyable (I do think that the fae sometimes felt a little too human for my taste; that's why even though I love Cardan, I never liked the whole he's a faerie; of course he's cruel argument because I never felt the fae-alien-like vibe from him), but TPT was a nightmare of a book and a great example of what happens when you want to please everyone and lose the story.

[dragons-library]

The wicked king rants:

Maybe I don’t get it because I’m an only child.

But Jude forgiving Taryn without a proper apology??

I don’t trust her for one second 🤨

[magston-obsessed]

I know this is long overdue but I have been rewatching season 14/15/17/17/18 of Grey’s Anatomy recently and I hate how the writers made Taryn crush on Meredith (a straight woman) for so long and not give her a love interest. Also, isn’t Meredith old enough to be Taryn’s mother?

Honestly, I love Helm and I want to see more of her. Seriously they need make Jaicy Elliot a main cast member in season 20! I just hate how the writers wrote her for so long. I didn’t mind that she had a crush on Meredith bc honestly that’s something that I know a lot of people go through I just hated how that was her only storyline and only plot point for like 5 seasons. I have higher hopes for season 20 and while helmika seemed a little awkward at the end of this season I think that they could have a really good relationship if the writers do it right! Oh and as for the age gap I don’t think it’s a big deal about that lol Meredith and Derek and Lexie and Mark had big age gaps and people love them so yeah.

[helpimstuckinafandom]

So I decided to read Cruel Prince because one of these popular book series has to be good and Holly Black wrote Spiderwick so I trust her more than other authors and I'm 100 pages in and so far I like the protagonist her and her sisters are all valid for the way they feel in this situation and I'm mad curious to find out why Cardan is so cruel and all that I guess

[depressedhatakekakashi]

Pokemon journey

The fifth badge has been secured, but not without a cost.

I’m afraid Neji the Meditite fell in battle, exactly like the character he was named after. A sacrifice to protect a Pokemon i refused to lose (Sasuke the Luxio)

[ghosttownheart]

To everyone that says Frostbite.studios interpretations of Jude are not accurate because her hair needs to be wavy, shorter, and thick.... where are you getting all of that detail?

Because I'm looking through the first book right now and all I've found is...

"with the same shaggy brown hair, heart shaped faces, they were different, too." (prologue)

"she finished braiding my hair into an elaborate style that made it look as though I have horns." (pg. 10)

And that's it. Where is the wavy hair thing coming from? Or is it a head canon?

[justalittleconfysed]

Obsessed with the end of TFotA trilogy where Holly Black gives an subtle hint that The Ghost has a thing for Taryn.

I was gagged.

Just so obsessed with the idea of them. She deserves so much better than Locke and Jude and Taryn deserve to have their relationship back.

I know it has the potential to be toxic since she knows his true name but I also think it has the potential to be a relationship built on complete trust and honesty. Plus I think he'd be kind of into being under her control like Carden was.

Give Taryn a man that she can not only trust but is not scheming against her sister constantly. Give her someone that Jude can not only trust but is a very close friend of. Give her someone who can help Jude trust her sister again. Give her someone who is not fully fae and can understand how difficult her life there can be.

[elderwisp]

◁ || ▷

?: Listen skank.

Dan: God..?

?: I found a hair in my burger and I need you to refund it for me. Also make me another.

Dan: The hell you think you’re talkin’ to?

Kai: Hai.

Dan: Bitch! I thought you died! 

Kai: Nope, just life. Work. College. The usual.

Dan: Hmph. Let’s go sit.

Kai: Wait, aren’t you on the clock?

Dan: Yeah? Who gives a fuck? And if they do, I’ll punch ‘em.

Kai: DAN!

Dan: Meh, it doesn’t matter. I have news.

-

Kai: Holy shit, congrats!

Dan: It’ll be nice working near the bay. The company sounds pretty great too. 401k, free admission to the aquarium, and healthcare. First time in my life I’ve ever had that. Wild.

Kai: I’m happy for you! Who else knows?

Dan: Uh, just you, Frances and Atlas. I’ll probably tell the others at the record store soon. Gotta keep them up to date with the lore.

Kai: Ah. Have you told your dad?

Dan: No-uh. 

Kai: I see.

Dan: I want to tell him, I really do. 

Kai: So what’s stopping you?

Dan: Ugh, feelings. Don’t make me talk about them right now.

Kai: Fine! We can talk about something else.

Dan: Let’s talk about you.

Kai: Naur.

Dan: Si. Where’ve you been loca?

Kai: [ cackles ] I hate you!

Dan: I’m sorry! You seem so… Different. Confident, maybe? 

Kai: I didn’t realize. I dunno, a lot’s happened. 

Dan: Like?

Kai: I slept with someone. Well, multiple people, actually. Taryn knows I like men. About Atlas, too. Speaking of which, there’s no fixing that.

Dan: What the fuck.

Kai: [ chuckles ] I’m surprised you took all of this for confidence.

Dan: I mean, you seem to be holding up better than I expected.

Kai: I feel hollow, Dan. Like everything’s wrong but I gotta accept it.

Dan: You can change it. 

Kai: Maybe, but the way I left things with Alex-

Dan: Alex? Who?

Kai: He’s a good person and I… Took advantage of that.

Dan: What’d you do?

Kai: The night of the party. I told Atlas how I felt. Subconsciously I mean. It all sorta slipped out. I wasn’t really planning on it but he said some things. Well, we both said some nasty things. I was angry. He said that I knew nothing of compassion so I called Alex. I called him and I proved Atlas right. 

Dan: Kai…

Kai: I felt so ashamed after sleeping with him. Using him to mask the rejection I felt. He didn’t deserve that. I’m such a shitty person.

Dan: Don’t go there. 

Kai: It’s so hard not to.

Dan: So you made a mistake-

Kai: Several.

Dan: Everyone fucks up. There is not one person I’ve met that has done everything right. Look at our friend group. Complete mess but I’d like to think at the end of the day we’ve got each other. Regardless of flaws, it’s always been us. 

Kai: I miss it. All of us. Together.

Dan: I do too, but we’ve all got shit to sort out, yeah? Why not give yourself the space to do so as well.

Kai: Sure.

Dan: And stop calling yourself horrible, got that?

Kai: Maybe.

Dan: Bastard. 

Kai: How are you gonna tell me to be nice when you do this shit?

Dan: I never said I was perfect! Want me to grab you a milkshake? 

Kai: Hell no, you said you never clean it.

Dan: PFFT- Valid. I’ll grab you a soda.

Kai: Hey, wait.

Dan: What’s up?

Kai: Thank you for taking care of us.

Dan: Someone’s got to.

[thejudeduarte]

Tell me why I'm kinda obsessed w this

Taryn Duarte should’ve ended up with a woman idc goodbye

[hrizantemy]

What did she deserve?

For so long, Nesta had believed she deserved nothing. Nothing but the emptiness, the isolation. She had told herself, time and again, that her existence was a mistake, a burden. What was there for her, after everything she had done? After the mistakes, the anger, the bitterness that had poisoned everything around her?

She should have died. She used to think that, with a conviction that had driven her to dark places. That the world would be better without her. That the people she had hurt, the people she had pushed away, would be better off without the weight of her presence.

It wasn’t just the memories of that time; it was the constant reminder that she had failed so many—her family, her people, even herself. When she closed her eyes, it wasn’t the laughter or the good times she remembered. It was the yelling. The coldness. The disappointment. It was the sharp sting of guilt that never seemed to fade, the feeling that she would never be enough, no matter how hard she tried.

For a long time, Nesta had thought that death was an escape. A way to end the agony of being a shadow in her own life, of being a person who only took up space. She had been so certain, so sure, that the world would be lighter without her in it.

But somewhere along the way, something shifted. A small spark of something she couldn’t name had kept her from that final step. And that spark, no matter how weak it felt at times, refused to go out.

What did she deserve?

She still didn’t have the answer, but maybe, just maybe, it was something more than silence. Something more than pain. She had a lot to make up for—she knew that. She had a long road ahead, and the journey wasn’t going to be easy, but for the first time in a long time, she felt the faintest stir of hope that maybe she was worthy of something more than she had allowed herself to believe.

Maybe she deserved to live. Maybe she deserved something like peace. Maybe she even deserved love—though she had no idea how to accept it or what it might look like. But she would find out, one step at a time. She would have to. Because what else was there to do but move forward?

At least, that’s what she told herself, even if she wasn’t entirely sure she believed it yet.

Nesta didn’t truly believe it. She couldn’t. The doubt was too deep, too ingrained in her. But that didn’t mean she stopped hearing it. Because she did hear it. She heard it every time Taryn spoke, every time she said something kind, something that didn’t come with a catch or a look of pity. Taryn’s words were always steady, always filled with conviction, as though she genuinely believed Nesta deserved something more than the endless self-loathing she had carried for years.

It wasn’t just the words themselves—it was the certainty with which they were delivered. Taryn never faltered when she spoke to Nesta, never looked away or hesitated. She said what she believed, and it was enough to make Nesta question her own narrative, the one she had crafted for so long, the one that had kept her trapped in darkness.

“You’re worth it,” Taryn would say. “You’re not broken. You’re not a mistake.”

Those words echoed in her mind, louder and louder with each passing day, as if Taryn’s belief in her was strong enough to outlast her own doubt.

But Nesta couldn’t shake the disbelief. She couldn’t imagine it was true. She had been too damaged, too far gone for too long. But still, Taryn’s words lingered, even in the silence between them. They wouldn’t let her completely forget, wouldn’t let her stop wondering if, just maybe, there was something she was missing.

Cassian’s words lingered in Nesta’s mind like an echo she couldn’t escape. “I don’t know why your sisters love you.”

She didn’t have the answer. She didn’t know why Feyre and Elain had loved her, not truly. She never understood why anyone would. She wasn’t someone worth loving, not in her eyes. Not after everything she had done, the ways she had pushed them all away, the bitterness she had held onto for so long. But then there was Taryn, and Nesta couldn’t figure that one out either.

Taryn had said it before, had told her that she loved her. She had said it with such conviction that it felt like the air around them had shifted every time. Taryn said it in the morning, with a soft smile and sleepy eyes, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. She said it before bed, every night, as if she needed Nesta to hear it one more time before she could sleep. Taryn said it when Nesta was leaving, when she was walking out the door, as if there was no question that she’d be back, as if there was no reason not to. And Taryn said it when Nesta came back, with the same unshakable certainty, as though Nesta’s return was the most normal thing in the world.

It was different. So different from anything she had ever felt. Taryn spoke it with the same intensity every time, no hesitation, no doubt. As if Nesta were something to be cherished. Worshipped. Genuinely loved.

And Nesta couldn’t grasp it. She couldn’t understand it, not when she had never been able to see herself that way. How could Taryn love her like that, with such certainty? How could anyone love someone like her? But Taryn never faltered, never pulled back. She said it, again and again, as if it were truth.

Cassian’s words lingered in Nesta’s mind like an echo she couldn’t escape. “I don’t know why your sisters love you.”

She didn’t have the answer. She didn’t know why Feyre and Elain had loved her, not truly. She never understood why anyone would. She wasn’t someone worth loving, not in her eyes. Not after everything she had done, the ways she had pushed them all away, the bitterness she had held onto for so long. But then there was Taryn, and Nesta couldn’t figure that one out either.

Taryn had said it before, had told her that she loved her. She had said it with such conviction that it felt like the air around them had shifted every time. Taryn said it in the morning, with a soft smile and sleepy eyes, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. She said it before bed, every night, as if she needed Nesta to hear it one more time before she could sleep. Taryn said it when Nesta was leaving, when she was walking out the door, as if there was no question that she’d be back, as if there was no reason not to. And Taryn said it when Nesta came back, with the same unshakable certainty, as though Nesta’s return was the most normal thing in the world.

It was different. So different from anything she had ever felt. Taryn spoke it with the same intensity every time, no hesitation, no doubt. As if Nesta were something to be cherished. Worshipped. Genuinely loved.

And Nesta couldn’t grasp it. She couldn’t understand it, not when she had never been able to see herself that way. How could Taryn love her like that, with such certainty? How could anyone love someone like her? But Taryn never faltered, never pulled back. She said it, again and again, as if it were truth.

Even if she didn’t say it often, Taryn knew. And Taryn would wait for the day when she could hear it again.

Nesta walked along the Sidra, her steps slow and deliberate, the bag of books swinging gently in her hand. The scent of the river mixed with the crisp evening air, and for once, she didn’t feel rushed. It had been a long day, one filled with the familiar hum of the bookstore, the rustle of pages, and the occasional, welcome silence that came when customers found their way into their own worlds.

The books she carried were new — a mix of stories she’d been meaning to read, some old classics, and others she picked up simply because they felt like something she needed in that moment. She had grown fond of reading in the quiet hours after work, when the world around her slowed down enough for her to escape into someone else’s life, someone else’s pain, someone else’s triumphs. The weight of the bag felt like a quiet reminder of how far she’d come — from the days when books had been the last thing she wanted to hold, to now, when they were one of the few things she knew could help her make sense of her own scattered thoughts.

As she walked, Nesta thought about the day. She didn’t really talk to many people at work. She liked it that way, liked the solitude that came with shelving books or helping a customer find exactly what they were looking for. It wasn’t glamorous, but it was hers. It was stable, and it was enough.

She passed the small shops along the Sidra, the ones that glowed in the evening light, their windows framed by the glow of lanterns. She didn’t stop to browse, her mind too preoccupied with thoughts that swirled like the water by her side. She thought about the life she was building, how much it had changed in the past year.

Nesta hadn’t seen Feyre or Elain since Solstice. No letters had been sent either. For a moment, she’d considered writing to them, inviting them out again, maybe to a tavern or to spend time together. But the thought faded as quickly as it came, overshadowed by the memory of all the times she had reached out before, only to be met with rejection. The silence from them had been a constant reminder of the distance that had grown between them.

To be honest, Nesta was tired. Tired of being the one to try, of always putting herself out there and never receiving what she needed in return. It felt like the weight of their absence was too much to carry, and she was done bearing it alone. She didn’t need to fight for their attention anymore.

Nesta knew she hadn’t been the easiest to deal with. She had been cruel, she admitted that to herself. Her words were sharp, biting, meant to hurt. Every time she had lashed out, it was like she was trying to keep people at a distance, even those she cared about most. She didn’t know how to show vulnerability, how to ask for what she needed without fear of being let down. So, she shut people out, and in doing so, she pushed them away.

She owed Feyre an apology, and perhaps Elain too. She hadn’t given them a chance to show they could be anything more than what she had assumed. She had seen their love and concern as pity, or worse, as a reminder of her own failures, but maybe that wasn’t fair. Maybe she had failed them by not seeing them for who they truly were, by not acknowledging their care as something pure and genuine.

Despite everything, Nesta knew she didn’t deserve the way she had been treated, not by her sisters, not by the so-called family she had. The veiled insults, the passive-aggressive comments—those had been there, hanging in the air like a cloud she couldn’t escape. When her sisters had tried to stop them, their attempts were often ignored, as if their voices didn’t matter. Yet, when she had lashed out, when she had finally reached her breaking point, it was always her fault. She was the one to blame.

But, as much as she hated to admit it, she didn’t believe she deserved that treatment. Not anymore. Taryn had told her she didn’t deserve to be treated like she was less than, like she didn’t matter. And even though Nesta had wanted to argue against it, to believe the awful things she had told herself for so long—that she had been a wretch, a leech, that she deserved every cruel word thrown her way—something inside her questioned if that was truly the case. Did she deserve to be cast aside, to be treated as nothing more than a burden? Did she?

She didn’t have the answer, not yet.

But she was trying—really trying—to be better. That had to count for something.

Nesta turned into a small café, the kind tucked away on a quieter side street, its warm glow spilling out onto the cold pavement. She hadn’t intended to stop, but something about the cozy interior called to her. She stepped inside, adjusting the bag in her hand, and stopped short.

The sight before her was unexpected.

Feyre and Elain sat at a table near the window, a pot of tea between them, soft laughter filling the air. They looked… comfortable. Unfamiliar. Their faces were relaxed, easy, not like the strained encounters she’d had with them since Solstice. It was a strange feeling—seeing them like this, without the tension, without the constant underlying friction that had always existed between them and her.

But then they saw her.

Feyre’s eyes widened in shock, her hand pausing mid-air as she had been reaching for the teapot. The moment froze. Nesta felt a quick, unbidden surge of heat flush her cheeks, but she didn’t let herself turn away.

Feyre shot up from her seat, her chair scraping against the floor, her expression a mix of surprise and something she couldn’t place. Elain looked up too, her eyes flickering between Nesta and Feyre, clearly taken aback by the sudden shift in energy.

The air thickened with silence, and Nesta stood there, her heart pounding in her chest. She wasn’t sure if she was ready for this. But there they were, in front of her, waiting. Waiting for her to say something, do something. And for a brief, flickering moment, all she could do was stand still, uncertain, not sure of how to navigate the tangled mess of emotions that had been left unresolved between them.

Feyre’s voice broke through the silence, tentative but steady. “Nesta… I didn’t expect to see you here.” Her gaze was softer than Nesta had anticipated, though there was still a hint of uncertainty, the kind that only comes from unresolved hurt.

She stepped closer, her fingers nervously clasping and unclasping in front of her. “Are you—are you alright?”

Elain remained seated, but her gaze flickered over Nesta with the same mix of surprise and caution. Feyre’s question hung in the air, waiting for Nesta to answer, and as much as Nesta wanted to pull away, to escape the sudden confrontation, a part of her longed for something—something that resembled understanding, or maybe just the faintest trace of connection.

Nesta held up the bag of books she had been carrying, her voice firm but guarded. “I was just coming in to grab a coffee,” she said, as if the simple statement could somehow shield her from the tension building between them.

Feyre’s eyes softened, but there was a hesitation there, like she wasn’t sure how to approach Nesta. “Would you… like to join us?” she asked, her words tentative, almost as if she was bracing for rejection.

Elain’s eyes were equally cautious, glancing back and forth between Nesta and Feyre. It was clear they expected her to say no, to make some excuse and leave. But instead, Nesta surprised herself. She felt a quiet defiance rising within her, the quiet strength she had nurtured in her.

“Yes,” Nesta said, her voice steady but quieter than usual. “I’ll join you.”

The surprise flickered across Feyre’s face, but it quickly shifted into something softer, almost relieved. Elain gave her a small, encouraging smile, and for a moment, the weight of all the time apart seemed to lessen, if only for this small exchange.

Nesta set the bag down by an empty seat, her back still a little tense, but she stayed, sitting down with them. She wasn’t sure where this would lead, or how she could navigate what had happened between them, but for once, she allowed herself to take a step forward instead of retreating.

Feyre took a slow breath, her eyes flicking to Nesta as if weighing her words carefully. “How have you been?” she asked, her voice gentle. “I know… during Solstice, the tension between us all was high. And Morrigan… she didn’t mean what she said. But, well, I suppose we’ve all been wondering what you’re going to do about Cassian.” She paused, hesitating for just a moment before continuing. “He… well, he’s been asking around. We all know it’s not just about the bond anymore. It’s more than that.”

Elain’s gaze flickered briefly to Feyre, but she remained quiet, allowing the conversation to unfold.

Nesta could feel her jaw tighten, her thoughts swirling. She had expected this conversation, even if she didn’t know exactly how it would unfold. Cassian. Always Cassian. It had been a constant presence, even in her silence, and she had grown weary of it, of him.

“I don’t know what you want me to do,” Nesta replied, her voice steady but her eyes sharp, like she was holding something back. “It’s not just Cassian’s decision, or anyone’s. I’ve had to figure things out for myself, in my own time.”

Feyre nodded, understanding but also concerned. “I know. But we’re still your sisters, Nesta. And Cassian… he’s never stopped caring. He wants to fix things with you.”

Nesta’s gaze shifted from Feyre to Elain, her eyes narrowing slightly. She leaned forward, her voice steady but sharp. “And why don’t you have the same attitude about Lucien? You and Feyre are always telling me to fix things with Cassian, to put the past behind us. But I don’t see you two getting scolded about fixing things with Lucien. I mean, how many times have we seen the lingering stares between you and Azriel? But you don’t hear people demanding that you make amends with him, do you?”

Feyre’s face flushed with discomfort, and she shifted in her seat, clearly unprepared for Nesta’s accusation. She opened her mouth, closed it again, then sighed heavily, running a hand through her hair. “That’s different,” she muttered, clearly struggling to find the right words. “It’s not the same, Nesta.”

Elain, who had been silent until now, looked down at her tea, her hands nervously clasping around the cup. She didn’t want to be dragged into the comparison, but Nesta’s words had hit a nerve.

Elain stumbled, unsure of how to explain herself. “Well… because Lucien… and we’re… trying to understand everything, and… we’re still figuring things out. You know? With him being bonded to me and all.”

Nesta didn’t blink. “And so you think that makes it okay? That it excuses the double standard? Or is it just because it’s easier to focus on me, to point out everything I’ve done wrong?”

The air around the table felt thick, as if the tension between them had somehow gotten heavier with every word spoken. Feyre seemed at a loss, glancing at Elain for some kind of backup, but Elain remained quiet, still not meeting Nesta’s eyes.

“You know, I’m tired of the constant expectation that I have to be the one to fix things, that I’m the problem,” Nesta continued, her voice quieter now, though still tinged with frustration. “You’re both allowed to make mistakes, but somehow when I do, it’s a reflection of everything wrong in this family.”

Feyre bit her lip, clearly uncomfortable with the conversation, but her gaze softened with guilt. “That’s not what we meant, Nesta. It’s just… we want you to be happy. And we don’t want you to carry all of that weight alone anymore.”

Nesta sighed deeply, her shoulders slumping as the weight of her words pressed on her. She shook her head, looking at both of them, and for a moment, she felt like a stranger to herself. “I’m sorry,” she muttered, almost too quietly for them to hear. The words tasted bitter on her tongue, but they were true. She hadn’t expected to say them.

She looked directly at Feyre, her heart aching in a way that made her throat tighten. “I’ve been cruel to you,” Nesta said softly, the sincerity in her voice unmistakable. “I hated myself, and I took it out on you. You always tried to care for us, to take care of everything when Father wouldn’t. And I… I couldn’t stand it. I resented you for it.”

Feyre’s expression softened, her eyes filling with an understanding that made Nesta feel even more vulnerable. She wasn’t sure she deserved that understanding, but Feyre’s gaze didn’t waver, and it made Nesta feel both small and incredibly exposed at the same time.

“I didn’t know how to handle it,” Nesta continued, her voice rough. “How you just took on everything. And I… I didn’t want to depend on anyone, especially you. But I shouldn’t have been so cruel. I should’ve tried to understand.”

For a moment, the air between them felt heavy again, but this time it wasn’t from tension. It was something more fragile, like a crack in a wall that had been there for too long.

Nesta turned her gaze to Elain, her heart heavy as she watched her sister. She hadn’t expected this conversation to go the way it had, but now, with Feyre’s understanding, it felt right to do this. It felt right to face what she had been avoiding for so long.

“I’m sorry, Elain,” Nesta said, her voice quieter this time, almost unsure. “I never expected anything from you. I thought you would always stay the same, that you’d always be… the one who would just stay in the background, waiting for everything to pass. I never really saw you—saw who you are now. I was wrong.”

Elain’s expression softened, her eyes wide as she looked at Nesta. She had always been the more gentle, the more patient one, and Nesta had never truly acknowledged that. She had always taken her for granted, assuming Elain’s kindness was constant and unchanging.

“You’ve changed, Elain,” Nesta continued, her voice thick with emotion. “And I didn’t give you credit for it. I should’ve seen that you’ve been through your own struggles, your own growth, and I haven’t been there for you the way I should’ve been.”

For a moment, there was silence. Elain’s face softened, but there was still a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes. Nesta hadn’t expected instant forgiveness—she didn’t deserve that. But the weight of her apology hung between them, genuine and real.

Nesta straightened, her shoulders stiffening as she looked at both her sisters. Her apology felt like it had been a long time coming, but there was something else—something she needed to make clear.

“That’s all I’m sorry for,” Nesta said, her voice firm. “But there are only two of you I owe anything to. Feyre’s family, your mate—” She shook her head, frustration bubbling in her chest. “I can’t for the life of me understand why I’m made to feel like I owe them something.”

Feyre opened her mouth to respond, but Nesta cut her off, her emotions running high.

“Why am I supposed to walk on eggshells because of their pasts? Their pain? I didn’t cause it. I didn’t do anything to them. Why should I be the one to tiptoe around them, to make them feel comfortable? What happened to them had nothing to do with me.”

Feyre’s gaze softened, but she still looked conflicted. She exhaled slowly before speaking, her voice quiet but steady. “It’s not that simple, Nesta. It’s just… how they live, how they’ve always lived. Their backgrounds, especially Morrigan’s—it’s not an excuse, but it’s the reality. They come from places where those wounds run deep, and sometimes… sometimes they want to protect each other, to make sure no one repeats the mistakes of the past.”

Nesta’s chest tightened at the mention of Morrigan, but her anger hadn’t dissipated. She didn’t want to hear it. She didn’t want to keep explaining herself, apologizing, for something that felt like it wasn’t her fault.

“Protect each other?” Nesta said, bitterness creeping into her voice. “By treating me like I’m the one who needs to change, the one who needs to make amends? I didn’t ask for any of this. I didn’t ask for them to judge me for something I wasn’t even part of. And I’m tired of being made to feel like I’m the one who’s supposed to fix things that have nothing to do with me.”

Elain shifted in her seat, and Feyre sighed, looking at Nesta with a deep sadness in her eyes. “It’s not about fixing, Nesta. It’s about understanding each other, trying to heal as a family. They can’t just… ignore the things that have happened. We all carry those scars in one way or another.”

“But I’m not them,” Nesta shot back, the sharpness in her voice echoing. “I’m not their past. I’m not their family’s mistakes. And I’m tired of carrying their burdens too.”

Nesta sighed, the weight of everything she’d said settling in her chest. She didn’t come here to rehash old wounds, to argue, or to dig into the past. She came for something different. But she could feel it—this unspoken distance still hanging between them.

She stood, brushing a hand through her hair as she glanced at both Feyre and Elain. “I didn’t come here to talk about this,” she said softly, the exhaustion in her tone barely contained. Her gaze softened for a moment before she met their eyes again. “I really do need to go.” She forced a weak smile, a smile that barely felt like hers, more of a pale imitation.

“I wish you both a good day,” Nesta continued, her voice quieter, as if offering a peace she didn’t quite believe herself. She took a step back, her hand resting lightly on the chair, her eyes lingering on Feyre and Elain for just a moment longer before she spoke again. “I assume, by the lack of letters, that you won’t be coming to the tavern anytime soon.”

Feyre’s face softened, her brow furrowing as if she wanted to say something, but Nesta’s words had already pushed her back. “Elain… she’s still uncomfortable there,” Feyre said, a hint of regret in her voice. “But… maybe we could all have dinner together at the river house? Even Taryn could come along, if you’d like.”

Nesta’s smile faltered immediately. She looked down at the ground for a moment, feeling the weight of her thoughts pull her deeper into herself. “I appreciate the invitation,” she said, forcing the words out through a tight throat. “But… I think Feyre, Elain—you’re the only ones I would want to see there. And I understand they’re your friends, really, but they’re not… mine.”

She took a deep breath, as if trying to steady the shaking in her hands. “Perhaps we could have dinner another time,” Nesta said, her voice a little firmer now. “You two could come over. But… the invitation is really only extended to you.” She met Feyre and Elain’s eyes, her expression soft but resolute.

Then, without another word, she turned and walked toward the door, her footsteps steady as she left the café behind.

As Nesta stepped outside the café, the cool breeze greeted her, and for the first time in what felt like a long while, she found herself smiling. It wasn’t a wide smile, but it was there—soft and genuine, a fleeting moment of peace she hadn’t known she was capable of. The tension in her chest had eased just a bit, the weight of everything she’d been carrying seeming a little lighter.

She hadn’t expected to feel this way. She hadn’t expected to feel anything but exhaustion and frustration when she walked in. But now, with the air around her and the quiet buzzing of the city, she couldn’t help but feel like she had taken another small step forward. Maybe she hadn’t fully figured out everything yet—maybe there were still things left unsaid—but she was moving.

And that was enough for now.

Tag list: @litnerdwrites @viajandopelomar

[atinycelery]

Taryn is the kind of character you love to hate because she's Selfish capital S. Jude is someone you'd like to root for despite having killed people because they're for the Good Reasons. She also has pretty bad thoughts about almost everyonee but that's Okay 🆗 because it's backed by her good intention.

Do I like Taryn? Not really. Do I hate her? Nah. She's just a girl trying to survive the way she knows how to. Does that mean she's never betrayed her loved ones? No. It happened when she tried to get what she wanted.

Jude adapts by pissing off the Folks and showing them she belongs there using ways that gives them no choice but agree they gotta agree with her

Taryn adapts by being like those chameleons, she analyzes people just the same as Jude does and she grabs whatever opportunity she can get to get what she wants, exactly like Jude.

The biggest difference is Taryn does it for a boy, which if you replace the boy with a placeholder 'objective' just the way Jude does with 'power to feel like she belongs in Faerie', you get something of uhhh == they're both trying to survive the way they're comfortable with

Does it Piss some people off the way Jude got she wanted? Yh. Who? Cardan, Madoc, Oriana, Randalin, Orlagh, Nicasia, Balekin, etc etc etc. They were betrayed, regardless whether they deserved it or not. They're just tricks to get the upper hand in Jude getting her objectives.

Does it Piss people off too with how Taryn got she want? Yh. Who? Jude and Cardan and eventually Locke. They were betrayed, regardless whether they deserved it or not. They're just tricks to get the upper hand in Taryn getting her objectives, too.

They both played dirty at some points. Another difference is Jude's objectives are power and her free will, which instantly places her in a nobler light, while Taryn's is wanting to belong to the Folk and adapting by not pissing them off, getting her boy, and occasionally backing up Madoc, which instantly puts her in the bad light

Jude's betrayals are viewed in a better light because they don't *all* feel personal, which if you read the books, yknow the politics of Faerie is as much personal as it can get for Jude. She lives for it.

Taryn's betrayals are viewed in a dimmer light because they're for her personal reasons. And long story short, they're the betrayal against our main character, Jude

Consequentially my conclusion is, I don't think Taryn would've been hated as much as she does if she's the main character. I bet people be like, she was just trying to survive! It sucked! But that's the way she knew how to! Yes she betrayed people! But it was bound to happen! She's flawed! We love a flawed queen!

In the same practical vein, Kaz Brekker is a con-man. And we root for him because he's the main character. He's done some pretty shady stuff, they're not all wholesome Inej-hearteyes coded, but because he's the main character, we excuse them and maybe we say, hey he's a flawed character, he's a gray character. We don't want a black and white goody two shoes now, Kaz Brekker embodies someone broken and morally gray who clawed his way out of the Barrel in any which way he can

Listen, i think, i think.....what I'm trying to say is, Taryn is a also a morally gray character. She loves her sisters and Oak, but will she stop that from getting what she wants even if the methods are bad? No.

On a tangent, As a sister of a sister and we're close, but we're not the loving Jo and Beth kind, but leaning more to Jo and Amy,.I've often wondered how this person who's my blood can be so endearing and important to me while at the same time makes me want to bust a vein, and I'm sure I've been in the same line of thoughts in my sisters' minds too

Because humans are multidimensional and we're stupidly prone to wanting what we want no matter what, sometimes going against what the other person, our siblings good opinions of ours

So yh, food for thoughts

Edit: because this bears saying for some reasons, i should've added that i dc abt what you think I'm not looking for a discussion this series is almost a decade old and I'm just tired seeing Taryn hate only because she chose the more discreet path to reach her personal goals, was it annoying? Yes, but she deserved as much thought out discourse as Jude because hey being morally gray doesn't mean being on the right side of the story. It's really not.

Just because you like Jude and her intentions and she's killed people and she's the mc doesn't make her morally gray.

Taryn is.

Bye. I don't need your opinion.

[joys-journal-of-junk]

Taryn may not be my fav character in tfota but she does not deserve all of the hate she gets. Both sisters are products of their upbringing. They both choose paths they think will offer them the most protection. Jude wants to become a knight, which makes sense as she is learned everything about the world from Madoc. Taryn wants to marry so she is protected, which we can see from tqon that Orinia treats Tayrn much better and more motherly then she ever did to Jude, which explains why Taryn thinks marriage will offer her protection. Because it did for Orinia and Oak. Tayrn issue was more of her age and experience and that she also wanted a marriage with love, which Orinia and Madoc's marriage did not have, they had a mutual understanding.

Taryn and Jude are both clear representations as to how being in a world not meant for them affects their relationships and out look. Taryn keeps the secret to prove she is like the other faery (being bound by your words magically). And Jude fights in the tournament and becomes Dain's assassian/spy to prove she is like the faeries. They both seek safety and they both seek acceptance in the only world they know.

Taryn might not be a "nice" character but she is definitly not bad. They are both products of their upbringings.