#witchy Nesta

[c-e-d-dreamer]

I think we can all agree if there's one thing the fandom needs more of, it's witchy Nesta!

I want to thank InkFaeArt for working with me on this amazing piece for Day Six: Lady Death day of @nestaarcheronweek. I am absolutely obsessed with how it came to life. Witchy Nesta is so mommy and she is EVERYTHING to me!

This piece is inspired by my witchy ficlet series What If I Told You I'm A Mastermind?

[tangerinecherrygal]

Nesta Archeron, Lady Death🥀

[valkyrieappreciationweek]

Less than 2 weeks until Valkyrie Appreciation Week

Spooky season is upon us! We didn’t specifically plan for Valkyrie Appreciation Week to fall so close to Halloween, but we kinda love that it does! Nesta does get likened to a witch, and we know Emerie and Gwyn would be right there next to her brewing up some trouble (sorry, couldn’t resist).

Are the leaves changing colors in your part of the world? Ready for some tricks or treats? Or are you just ready for October to move along so we can celebrate our favorite trio? This gorgeous, witchy piece is a @fremuard commission by @amandapearls and @separatist-apologist

[jmoonjones]

Feyre, Elain, and Nesta pack a variety of ensembles for their leisurely bonding vacation around all the seasonal courts.

Bonus capsule collection for their scenic route home via the Middle.

(Trip highlights: helping Elain to pilfer flower seeds from Spring in the tulle layers of Feyre's dress, Nesta nudging Eris into staging a coup in Autumn, getting witchy with their powers in the Middle)

[shadowdaddies]

The Offering

Nesta x witch!Reader smut (AU)

A/N: I'm very much in the Witchy Girl Autumn spirit. This is an AU where Nesta is a Death Goddess; be warned it's a bit dark and twisty.

Warnings: mean domme!Nesta, fingering, oral f!receiving, tribbing, pussy spanking, breath play ish?, degradation, idk this is filthy just beware and minors dni or I'll hex you

Ice-coated leaves crunched beneath your bare feet, the remnants of snow a dulled sting against your skin. Unable to fight the shivers that wracked through you, you inwardly cursed yourself for being such a weak witch to be phased by something as little as the weather. 

The heavy black cloak draped over your body provided your only protection from the late December air as you found your small opening in the forest and knelt. Shaky hands, stiff from winter air clumsily pushed debris to the side, pulled kindling from your pack, carved the spell circle into the dirt.

Hands dirtied, breath cloudy in the crisp cold, you looked to the sky as the stars seemed to dim even without the light of the moon. The second full moon of this month - and the last of this year - would guarantee the strongest connection to the earth. As mother nature began anew, you would so draw from her power, praying to the goddesses for guidance and strength to begin anew as well.

Regretfully, you pulled the black shawl from where it draped across your neck, sucking in a deep breath at the chill that filled your bones when you laid the offering at your makeshift altar’s base beside the purple candles and fruits you’d set to honor the Crone. 

The symbol of new beginnings, wisdom, and serenity - your last hope was sacrament and supplication to the waning facet of the Triple Headed Goddess. As darkness enveloped the land and the wind grew eerily still, you breathed light into the candles with a whisper of a spell-cast. The kindling caught quickly, blazing to life with a ferocity that had you pulling off your cloak. 

Completely bare in the darkness with the spirits of goddesses and witches past watching curiously, you began to chant in the old language - your story, and your please for help. A soft smile graced your lips as the flames raged higher and higher, the only source of light in this Black Moon night, signaled that your voice had been heard.

As warm hope swelled in your chest, you closed your eyes, head thrown back in whole surrender to the powers that listened, only for that warmth to be brusquely ripped away. No gust of wind signaled the suffocation of the flames before you. It was the cold, a supernatural force that rattled your core which told you something was amiss. 

Eyes fluttering open, you gasped at the sight of the North Star shining brightly in the sky, where it had been missing only moments ago. 

“It’s snowing,” a sultry voice purred. You jumped at the sight of a woman - not a woman, but something... more - leaning against the pyre, seemingly unbothered by the simmering embers of extinguished flames against her exposed skin. 

Translucent silver fabric draped over the curves of her body, your eyes drinking her in as they trailed upwards. The thorned diadem that circled her braided hair seemed to mimic the silver flames that danced in her eyes, and you gasped at the realization of who was before you.

Lady Death read your expression with a taunting smirk, eyes glittering with amusement as she leapt from the altar with grace. You watched in awe as she picked up a pomegranate from the offerings, humming a cheery tune that seemed to betray the nature of her being. 

“It’s snowing,” she repeated, brow arched in question as Death’s gaze raked unabashedly over your naked body. “Aren’t you cold, little witch?”

The heat from her gaze sent a shock of confidence though you, your expression shifting to match her own. “I could ask the same of you, Lady Death,” you countered, accentuating your own, slow stare. You allowed yourself to fully revel in her form, the unexpected beauty of a goddess of death. 

Her long legs reflected the star’s light through the slits of wispy fabric in her gown, her breasts peaked from the cold, nearly as pale as the snow that had begun to drift upon the forest floor. 

A laugh echoed through the air, and your eyes snapped to hers to find that same taunting smile, lazy like a predator who’s caught its prey. “I am Death,” she purred, plunging a finger through the flesh of the pomegranate in her hand. “I don’t get cold, pet.”

Tipping the fruit to her lips, pomegranate juice flowed down, staining her lips a deep red and trailing down. Down her throat, the red liquid flowed slowly between her breasts and below the dress. 

You could feel heat rise to your cheeks, cunt fluttering at the mere sight of her, of everything you could and could not see. The fruit rolled from the goddess’s fingertips, dropping to the ground unceremoniously as she strolled toward where you still kneeled on the ground. 

A single finger curled under your chin, easily maneuvering you how she pleased. “Why did you summon me?” 

Heart thundered in your chest, eyes widening as you registered her question. “I-I didn’t mean to summon you,” you argued, voice pleading. “I was making an offering, hoping for a blessing from the Crone-“

“You meant to summon the Crone?” Death’s grip sharpened on your chin. 

Willing your heart to still, you forced yourself to look into her eyes, the depths of them swirling with dark power. “No, I meant to ask for wisdom. For blessings with a fresh start. My life-“ You choked slightly at the press of her hand at your throat, just hard enough to make your head feel lighter.

“You summoned me, you naive little witch.” She spat the last word like a curse, cupping your jaw as she jerked your head to face the circle behind her. “You summoned the Crone. Hecate, Coatlicue, Muerte, Meng Po, Lady Death.” The briefest pause. “Nesta.”

I go by many names, witch. And yet, you somehow ‘accidentally’ summoned me, for a mere blessing?” 

“W-well, yes. I just wanted to move on, my relationship-“

A sharp cackle cut off your rambling, the noise so unlike how the goddess had sounded earlier that you nearly jumped again. 

“You know, pet,” Nesta whispered, leaning down until her face was a breath away from your own. “I appear to those who call on me as what they truly desire. And you, my dear, see me as myself.” Drawing back slightly, the goddess’s hand moved to stroke your hair in a frighteningly soft manner.

“So tell me, pet, what do you truly desire?”

Eyes dropping down to the trail of sweet juice that stained Nesta’s skin, you could feel her smile as though she could read your thoughts. Lust overcame you like a force of its own, head cloudy as you heard yourself babble admissions of want. 

“Take it. Take what you need, little witch.” Nesta gasped as you lunged forward, pulling her to her knees along with you in the dirt. Lips instantly found hers, a clash of teeth and tongues as you licked every bit of remaining fruit from her mouth. 

Trailing down, you followed the path of temptation down her chest with a frantic need you had never felt before, pawing at the scraps of fabric that held Nesta’s dress in place. She laughed softly, the sound quickly turning to a moan as you took one of her nipples into your mouth. 

“Lay back,” you panted, Nesta’s amused lack of urgency only spurring on your own frustration. “Please,” you whined, helpless in your need to touch her, taste her. With a soft hum, she obliged you, laying back on the thin blanket of snow with a slowness that allowed you to strip her bare before she hit the earth.

Bringing your lips back to her chest, you licked and sucked dark bruises that drew sinful moans from the goddess. She reveled in the pain and pleasure, and with that knowledge you dragged your nails down her thighs, cleaning up the juice until you hovered above her glistening cunt.

Practically panting in your crazed state, you spread her legs to settle in when you felt yourself suddenly lifted. Death had easily flipped you onto your back, her hips nestled atop your own as she pinned your wrists into the dirt. 

“You look so cute like this. Needy, desperate enough to let me do anything to you,” she growled. So wrapped up in your lustful haze, you simply nodded along, weakly arching your hips for some sort of friction. “Don’t worry, I’ll give you what you asked for, baby,” Nesta cooed. Her hips lowered to meet yours, legs interlocked as she slowly ground her clit against your own.

Soft moans flowed from her lips like a melody, your own soft pants swallowed by her lips crashing against yours, her teeth sinking into your skin, lips sucking your tongue into her mouth as though she was trying to consume you. Nesta kept you pinned beneath her, using your body as she humped and rolled her growing slick against yours. 

You had never felt so helpless yet so powerful, lacking control but seizing pleasure. Your pussy clenched, lips gaping as you felt yourself begin to hit your orgasm when Nesta abruptly pulled away. “Not yet, pet,” she tsk’d at your fucked out confusion beneath her. 

“You need to take care of me.” Turning around, Nesta slid up your body, her sticky cunt perched over your mouth as her hands skated down your hips. “Show me that you deserve my blessing.”

Fully pressing her weight onto you, you moaned at the feeling of breathlessness, the taste of her dripping against your chin and lips as her hips began to rock. Taking advantage of Nesta releasing your wrists, you wrapped your arms around her thighs, pulling her closer to lick her clean, sucking and lightly nipping at her clit while you studied her reactions to every motion. 

You could tell she was close, doubling down your efforts when she suddenly thrust a finger inside of you, curling against your slick walls with embarrassing ease. She chuckled, adding to the humiliation when she added a second finger, twisting a curling with tortuous slowness that stole your focus from her pussy.

Nesta’s thumb found your clit, your hips bucking up at the sudden feeling. Before you could register what happened, Nesta was fully sitting on you, cutting off your air as a harsh smack landed on your pussy. Your scream was muffled by her cunt on your lips, but Nesta rolled against you in response, moaning at the vibrations.

Lifting up slightly, the goddess rolled a soothing hand over your puffy clit. “You take what I give you, pet. Now, stay still. I will not ask again.” She gave no warning before plunging her fingers inside of you once more, this time faster as her tongue licked a wet stripe down your clit. 

Your legs burned from keeping them still against the cold, hard ground, head swimming from how long you’d been held between Nesta’s thighs when she fluttered around your tongue. “Come, now,” she commanded, and your body obeyed. Shaking and moaning, you savored her release as she worked you through yours. 

Sitting up with an impossible grace, Nesta smirked at you over her shoulder, lips stained red and shining with your arousal as the North Star cast a glow over her silhouette. You lay, sore and exhausted, as the goddess crawled up your body, sitting her wet pussy on your stomach. She looked down at you with a sense of appraisal, hands lazily roaming every inch of your skin.

“I think I’ll have to keep you,” she hummed, thumb lazily dragging across your bottom lip.

“Keep me? What does that mean?” you squeaked out in a whisper, eagerness and fear eddying within your mind at the possibilities. 

Nesta only offered you a cryptic smile, thumb dipping into your mouth where you could still taste the pomegranate’s sweet nectar on her skin. Tongue flicking out, you wrapped your lips around her like second nature. “Good girl,” she muttered as the forest grew dark around you once more.

[wingedblooms]

Stone Mother

Spoilers for Bryce, Nesta, and Azriel’s bonus chapter below (yes, I read it; I couldn’t help myself). Don’t proceed if you don’t want any spoilers connected to hofas.

“Stone Mother” began playing, its rolling, thumping drums offsetting the wild, yet mellow, guitars. And then Josie’s voice filled the tunnel, sharp yet soaring, accented by Laurel’s sweet, clear backups. The sound was foreign, earthy—haunting. […] The wraith-like harmonies echoed off the stones, until the rock sounded as if it was singing. (Bryce, Nesta, and Azriel bonus)

-

But the music seemed to linger, like a ghostly echo through the caves.

And with each mile onward, she could hear Azriel humming softly to himself. The rolling, wild melody of “Stone Mother” flowed off his lips, and she could have sworn even the shadows danced at the sound. (Bryce, Nesta, and Azriel bonus)

Sarah felt it was important to describe Stone Mother in detail—wild and mellow and earthy. Haunting. Wraith-like. Ghostly.

My first thought (as you might expect) was of the divine trio: Mother, Cauldron, Fate.

“Three stones for the faces of the Mother,” Amren said upon seeing Nesta’s raised brows. “Four bones…for whatever reason the charlatans came up with that I can’t be bothered to remember.” (acowar)

I love how witchy this quote is about scrying, as it specifically refers to the three faces of the Mother (like a Three-Faced Goddess). It especially reminds me of the sister peaks and the Cauldron, which is a mother encased in stone.

The wild, mellow, earthy song flows off of Azriel’s lips long after he hears it. Wild, mellow, earthy. Now, let’s pretend to ignore the fact that Azriel listens very carefully to Nesta’s description of how she dealt with becoming Fae (why would that be, truly? who else would be dealing with that?). Who do those words remind you of?

Her gaze shifted to the carved wooden rose she’d placed upon the mantel, half-hidden in the shadows beside a figurine of a supple-bodied female, her upraised arms clasping a full moon between them. Some sort of primal goddess—perhaps even the Mother herself. Nesta hadn’t let herself dwell on why she’d felt the need to set the rose there. Why she hadn’t just thrown it in a drawer. (acosf)

Elain’s solid, dark wooden rose is next to a figurine of the Mother. Something wild, mellow, earthy—just like the third sister herself, a gentle gardener.

And the harmonies? They’re wraith-like. Just like Elain’s friends…

“Half,” Amren said, surveying my turquoise, cobalt, and white clothes. “Wraiths are nothing but shadow and mist, able to walk through walls, stone—you name it. I don’t even want to know how those two were conceived. High Fae will stick their cocks anywhere.”

I choked on what could have been a laugh or a cough. “They make good spies.”

“Why do you think they’re now whispering in Azriel’s ear that I’m in here?”

“I thought they answered to Rhys.”

“They answer to both, but they were trained by Azriel first.” (acomaf)

…who act a bit ghostly, walking through stone like shadows on the daily. If Elain is connected to that lovely darkness we see roaming around, she might bring us even closer to the Cauldron Stone Mother in the next book. Commands be damned.

[cateyesinlove]

“ 𝑨 𝒘𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝒘𝒉𝒐 𝒍𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝒊𝒏 𝒓𝒉𝒚𝒕𝒉𝒎 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒏𝒂𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒆’𝒔 𝒄𝒚𝒄𝒍𝒆, 𝒖𝒔𝒆𝒔 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒖𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒕𝒐 𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒅𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒔𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒂𝒑𝒔 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒂𝒈𝒊𝒌 𝐨𝐟 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒖𝒏𝒊𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒈𝒐𝒐𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒆𝒏“

-

𝐀𝐫𝐭 𝐛𝐲 @misslion.arts

𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐦𝐞

-

Happy birthday to meee 🥳😂 ( it’s actually tomorrow but I have mo patience) I’m finally back and 100%

I actually had this commission for @elainarcheronweek but sadly I wasn’t on the best headspace to post it but now I am back at it. This year I hope to read more and be more present on my witchy journey and hopefully take some of you along for the ride!

I have always felt like Elain fits the right description for witch rather than Nesta. We still don’t have a clear answer to what’s a witch in the acotar universe but I would die if Elain practice it 🙏🏼😭🙌🏼 I have always though that her love for flowers and nature, including the baking made her such a green witch and kitchen witch. She and I have such a parasocial relationship 🤣

[viktoriaashleyyx]

Obligatory Masterlist

This is a Pro Tamlin, Pro Lucien, Pro Tarquin, Pro Nesta, ACOTAR Critical and SJM Critical Blog. I ship Cresserie, Elucien, Neris, Eltamberon, and most crackships. I won't engage in ship wars, I will just block those behaving cruelly towards real people.

My personal blog is @viktoriaashleyy follow there for witchy and personal stuff. ❤️

Read before sending me dumb asks:

ACOTAR and SJM Zionist

ACOTAR and Racism: Irish Edition

Why I do not like Feyre

Why I do like Tamlin (probably anything on the blog tbh)

Why I hate RhySAnd

ACOTAR is Red Pill Content

ACOTAR vs Racialized Sterotypes

Why am I such a hater?

My Writing:

A Court Reborn: Rhysands Sister is back from exile and she is pissed. She helps her mate, Tamlin, rebuild their Court.

One shots:

Tamlin Fluff: Headscratches

Tamlins Mate is Not a Damsel

💚Bugging Tamlin💚

🤎Lucien and Eris make up❤️

🌸Breakfast in Spring🌸

Bad Kitty

WIP: The Conjunction of the Spheres occurs shortly after the events of ACOWAR and reintroduces the Ash tree to the realm. Humans from Prythia know what this can do and utilize it to rise up and finally take their power back from the Fae who have treated them like second class for centuries. A few fae survive and have to figure out how to integrate into this new society without losing their heads.

WIP: The High Lords of Prythia catch wind of Rhysand and Feyres plan to claim the title of High King and High Queen. Still driven by his love for Feyre, Tamlin travels to Night to warn them of the armies rallying against them. The Lord and Lady of Night send the Spring Lord away, disgusted that he would think they would need HIS help. After a grueling defeat, as Feyres bleeding out, he final words to her son, Nyx, are "Find Tamlin. He will help you."

Tamlin vs Geralt

Moodboards:

Tamcien as Geraskier

Nyxlin as Geralt and Cirilla

Feysand as Tissaia and Vilgefortz

Works by other creators that I implore you to read before you come here defending RhySAnd:

A Father's Promise by @lainalit

Valkyrie by @jules-writes-stories

This UTM Art by @lunamond

I will be adding to this as time goes on..

Dividers by @moosgraphics ❤️ (trying something new)

[offtorivendell]

Elain Archeron Week, Days 2 and 3: Hope and Stength

I've got many hopes for the quiet dreamer, who in turn has been so heavily associated with hope herself, when we finally get her book. But what I'd love to see most is Elain using the skills she's gained in both her "little garden" and kitchen - those for which she has previously been belittled - for the benefit of the IC/Prythian. To demonstrate that not all strengths involve muscle and blades, though she's shown she can wield one when necessary.

Elain could be...

On a mission, working as a cook or gardener. One of the main reasons Nuala and Cerridwen are such great spies is they can convincingly double as maidservants, however there are only two of them, and as half-wraiths they still stand out. If someone had to take a job in a kitchen or garden, to fly under the radar and gather information (because servants talk!) then Elain would be perfect for this role. She wouldn't need to learn the work she's meant to be doing, and as Nesta suggested that she may have been taking lessons in stealth from her two wraith friends, she may already have those skills covered, too.

A diplomat, recreating someone's favourite dish from home. Putting foreign ambassadors in a good mood would quite possibly help with any negotiations or loosen tongues, and Elain listening to information that others may deem unimportant - like discussion about food or flowers - and acting on it is something she has shown an aptitude for in the past, like when she had a horse and supplies ready for Feyre's return to Prythian in ACOTAR, or when she shadow walked to take down the King of Hybern in ACOWAR.

A potions mistress, creating poisons and antidotes. This is one of my most favourite, long-standing wishes for Elain, and I know I'm not the only one who hopes that she has a witchy aspect to her story. Imagine if she could Make her plants, imbuing their natural properties with a little more oomph? Or doing the same to any potions she concocts? Could she create faster acting antidotes to power blocking substances that we have seen before? Has she, as @ladynightcourt3 suggested, been apprenticing under Madja? This would be such a handy skillset to have on hand, especially when combined with the stealth she's exhibited.

It's important to note - and I know I'm not the first to discuss this, as SJM has mentioned it before - that women can be very effective spies (though maybe we'd call them informants, or say they worked in "intelligence" instead?) without the whole cloak and dagger "spy" approach. With regards to possible ships, imo the parallels between Azriel and Lucien are extensive; their shared role in information gathering is just one of those similarities (so in this way, at least, I think she'd do well with either - I'm mentioning this as the "couple roles" parallels SJM seems to be going for aren't irrelevant to the plot).

That being said, no matter who Elain ends up with in the end I think she'll use her charm, observational skills, wit and wisdom (all canon!) to gather important information (I've previously discussed that she may have used parties to do this while human, rather than to simply socialise); hopefully her well-earnt and unique skillset in the garden and kitchen will also come into play.

@elainarcheronweek

[theladyofbloodshed]

Featuring Nesta Archeron as the beautiful, but witchy leading lady and Eris Vanserra as the tall, quirky investigator.

Chapter 1 of 6

In the bosom of a spacious cove, which indented the eastern shore of the Hudson, lay a small market-town or rural port, which by some is called Greensburgh, but it is more generally and properly known by the name of Tarry Town. Not far from this village, perhaps about two miles, there was a little valley, or rather lap of land, amongst high hills. It was one of the quietest places in the whole world. A small brook glided through it, with just a murmur enough to lull one to repose; and the occasional whistle of a quail, or tapping of a woodpecker, was almost the only sounds that ever broke in upon the uniform tranquillity.

Along one side of the valley was a grove of tall walnut-trees. If one ever wished for a retreat, to steal from the world and its distractions or to dream quietly away the remnant of a troubled life, no land was more promising than the little value. From its listless repose and the peculiar nature of its inhabitants, the sequestered glen was long known by the name of Sleepy Hollow.

A drowsy, dreamy influence seemed to hang over the land and to pervade the very atmosphere. Some say the land was bewitched by an ancient settler. The place held a spell over the minds of the good people, causing them to walk in a continual reverie.

Others held the view that the land was cursed.

It was on the first Monday of the tenth month that Eris Crane was called upon to attend matters in Sleepy Hollow from the constabulary department of New York City. Three murders, most vile, had occurred. A father, a son, and a widow, all murdered. Such crimes occurred regularly, as was the state of the world, but three murders within a week in the small glen of Sleepy Hollow was unheard of.

Eris turned the missive over in his hands as the carriage rattled over uneven stones.

Three bodies. Decapitation. No blood loss. Heads not recovered.  

The decapitation did not move him, however the missing heads did. A lack of blood loss did not marry together with arterial bleeding either.

Eris Crane would solve this mystery, for all unexplained situations were merely waiting to be unravelled.

When his carriage stopped, the dark had settled into the peaceful village. A chill was in the air of Sleepy Hollow. Tendrils of mist stroked the hard earth as he pressed a coin into the hand of the driver then proceeded towards the home of the town’s lord and lady – Rhysand and Feyre Van Tassel.

A party was being had. Lights lit up all of the downstairs windows and music seeped towards him. Eris was not a man who revelled. The arts were a waste of an education. He would make his greetings then depart to his room using the excuse of a long day of travel to escape.

A circle had formed where a young woman was blindfolded. A tall, strapping male with an arrogant gloat about him held her by the shoulders to spin her five times before releasing her into the centre with a low laugh.

‘The pickety witch,’ she said. ‘The pickety witch. Who’s got a kiss for the pickety witch?’

As she spoke, she made lunges for people who dodged her with a giggle. Eris, whom the game was unknown to, remained rooted to the floor as she grasped his waistcoat.

‘Aha. Who do I have?’

Her cold, delicate hands roved over his face while the circle fell silent. Even with the blindfold on, Eris could make out the scrunch of her forehead.

A child cried, ‘A kiss! A kiss!’

‘She has to guess first,’ replies a woman, with pleated curls and dark eyes.

Reverently, the woman caresses his face one more time. It was most unusual for Eris who had not been touched with any sort of warmth since the day he entered an orphanage in the heart of the city.

‘Is it Azriel?’

Laughter ripples about the circle.

‘Pardon, ma’am. I am only a stranger,’ replied Eris.

‘Then have a kiss on account.’

She cupped his face again then tipped up onto her toes to press a chaste kiss to his lips. When the woman released him, she peeled away the blindfold. She was the most beautiful woman Eris had ever seen. Her eyes swirled with a silver glow. Her fair hair reminded him of the luminescence of the moon. It was braided neatly into a coronet to highlight the elegant angles of her face. His eyes traced her skin, followed the downward curve of her neck towards-

Eris swallowed and tore his eyes away from the pale blue gown and ample chest.

She did not smile or laugh as the others did, but regarded Eris as one might an opponent.

‘I am searching for Rhysand Van Tassel.’

‘I am his wife’s sister, Nesta Van Tassel. Upon their marriage, he took our family name.’

‘Most unusual,’ Eris concluded.

‘Quite,’ she agreed.

The male who had spun Nesta stepped forwards. A hand settled on her waist. ‘And who are you, friend? We have not heard your name yet.’

‘I have not said it.’

‘You need some manners.’

Nesta removed the hand from her waist. ‘Enough, Cassian.’

She escorted him through the party-goers to her brother. Where Eris had been expecting a man of stout figure who had indulged himself through many years of gluttony, he found a slim – remarkably young – Lord of Sleepy Hollow. Dark hair was slicked back and matched the sable clothing he wore. Beside him, drinking a glass of wine and speaking to others was his wife, Eris could deduce due to the exceptional resemblance to her sister.

‘Lord and Lady Van Tassel.’

‘Even if you are selling something, you are most welcome here.’

Eris straightened his tie and stood a little taller. ‘I am constable Eris Crane sent to you from New York with the authority to investigate murder in Sleepy Hollow.’

A silence fell across the room.

‘Thank God you’re here to arrest the culprit,’ Cassian called which was met with a smattering of laughter.

‘What good will a constable do?’ Another voice asked.

‘I am quite certain this case will be unravelled,’ he replied, directing his attention to the Lord and Lady of Sleepy Hollow. ‘I daresay the day of travel has been ill and I should prefer to retire rather than enjoy the festivities.’

‘I shall see Constable Crane to his rooms,’ Nesta swiftly said, cutting in before the others.

The house had a second floor followed by a conversion of the attic into a living quarter for receiving guests. Nesta swept through the room to ensure all was up to standards whilst her lips remained pursed together. She stared from the window towards the mist-covered forests that encompassed the village, bar the single road, then promptly drew the curtains closed.

‘Miss Van Tassel,’ Eris said, halting her before her departure. ‘If I may confirm details with you: Three persons murdered. Atwell Van Garrett and his son, Tamlin Van Garrett, both of them strong, capable men. They were found together. Decapitated. A week later, the Widow Briar. Their heads were unable to be located.’

Nesta’s grey eyes sought the closed curtains again then flitted back to his, a wariness settling in. ‘Their heads were not found because their heads were taken, Mister Crane.’

‘Taken?’

‘Taken by the Headless Horseman. Taken back to Hell.’

Surely a woman of sound mind and education would not be taken in by ghost stories.

‘There is a scientific explanation for everything, Miss Van Tassel.’

Nesta squared her shoulders. ‘I assure you that in any other regard I would agree with your sentiments. But not in this. The Headless Horseman is real.’

There had been laughter when Eris had spoken of apprehending the suspect.

‘Indulge me,’ he said.

‘The Horseman was a mercenary, sent to our shores during the war. But unlike his compatriots who came for money, the Horseman came... for love of carnage... and he was not like the others...’ She shook her head. ‘His name was Jurian. He rode a giant black steed. He was infamous for taking his horse hard into battle... chopping off heads at full gallop.  To look upon him made your blood run cold, for he had filed down his teeth to sharp points to add to the ferocity of his appearance.’

She told the story in such a way that Eris could not stop himself from being lured in by her voice. It was a siren’s call. He forced his hands into his pocket to keep from reaching for her.

‘This butcher would not finally meet his end till the winter of seventy-nine not far from here in our Western Woods. He had lured a general, Clythia, into his tent and tore her to pieces. He paraded her head through an enemy encampment then they captured him. They cut off Jurian’s head with his own sword, Clythia’s sister among them. To this day, the Western Woods is still a haunted place where none will dare venture for what was planted there was a seed of evil.’ Nesta spread out her hands. ‘And so it has been for twenty years. But now Jurian wakes -- he is on the rampage, cutting off heads where he finds them.’

If it were not for the austerity in her voice, Eris might have scoffed at the tale.

‘Miss Van Tassel, you cannot believe in such stories.’

‘It is no story,’ she vowed.

Eris shook his head. ‘We have murders in New York without the benefit of ghouls and goblins.’

‘You are a long way from New York, sir,’ she said, sweeping her head into a bow.

‘I shall discover the motive of the murders, Miss Van Tassel. This mystery will not resist investigation by a rational man.’

Eris moved to lean against the table, in a display of casualness, but the table wobbled on its uneven legs. The empty glass she had placed there for him juddered onto its side and rolled off the table. He winced as it fell, but – mercifully – it did not shatter.

‘You may be as rational as you like. The Reverend Helion will even press a Bible into your hands so that God may be the salvation in this horror. I speak of what I have heard from the lips of those who have seen. Those whose word I trust.’

‘Then, pray, tell me what others have seen.’

‘Rhysand has set a watch since the first murders. Cassian circles the village night after night on duty. He saw the Horseman galloping away on the night the Widow Briar was found murdered.’

‘I had believed you to be a rational woman rather than one in league with the brute from downstairs.’

Nesta stepped back, appraising him with a scowl. ‘You cast a judgement on the first night of our meeting.’

Bashfully, Eris dipped his head. ‘Please excuse my manners. I am not used to-’

‘Female company?’

Blood burned in his cheeks. ‘Society.’

‘How can you avoid society in New York? How I should love the opera - and theatres - to go dancing... Is it wonderful?’

‘I have never been.’

‘But there is an art museum? A concert hall?’

‘I don’t know.’

She gave a disappointed sigh. ‘Then you have nothing to teach me.’

At once, Eris wanted to take back his words. Or to offer Nesta the opportunity to visit museums and concert halls where they could dance. He would learn for her.

‘Nesta, you cannot truly believe it is the Horseman.’

‘Not everyone does believe.’

‘Good,’ he replied, relief flooding him.

‘Some say it is the witch of the woods who made a pact with Lucifer.’

Eris closed his eyes as he sucked in a breath. ‘There are no witches or galloping ghosts. Is everyone in this village in thrall with superstition?’

‘Why are you so frightened of magic, Eris? Not all of it is wicked. There are ancient truths in these woods which have been forgotten in your city parks.’

‘If they are truths, they are not magic – and if magic, not truth.’

She threw up her hands, anger brimming in her gaze. ‘You are foolish. When there is fever in the house, it is well known that willow-herb roots and a crow's foot must be boiled in the milk of a pure white goat with special charms uttered over the fire then the fever abates.’

‘Next time, try the herb without the rest. And now I must ask you to leave.’

‘Gladly,’ Nesta replied. ‘I should not have interrupted our town’s saviour from his contemplation. Goodnight. And as for the brute you mentioned, he has proposed to me.’

How could it be? Although Eris did not know the pair, they were already at odds in his mind. She was fair and lovely to look upon. He was big and burly with a rough tongue and rougher hands.

‘I, I, I,’ he stuttered. ‘I am happy that…’

‘He proposed to me several times.’

She gave a faint smile after her ambiguous words then departed with a slam of the door.

[qwimblenorrisstan]

Allergies | Elain x Reader

Day 11: Ingredients and Spells w/ Elain Archeron

Summary: Elain wants to visit the new cat cafe in Velaris, but can’t because of your allergies, so she comes up with a creative solution…

Word Count: ~1k

Warnings: animal parts, little explosions, cute tiny kitties

A/N: I’ve never written for Elain before, but this was inspired by the fact that I’m going to visit a cat cafe later today (I want a cat so bad) hope you enjoy<3

Requests are open!

You knew she’d been working on something new.

It was hard not to tell, really, when she was holed up in her room most of the day, strange scents that were mostly herbal if not a bit acidic leaking out from under the door. After a few of Feyre’s complaints, worried about Nyx inhaling too much of it, Elain eventually complied and used a towel to block out the bottom of the door with a neatly folded towel.

It wasn’t very clear what had thrown her into her work so avidly, but even your questioning didn’t get anything out of her, and she only stated that it was important, a determined gleam in her eye.

It might’ve been when she’d brought up visiting a cat cafe that had just opened up nearby in Velaris, the courtesy of a few humans migrating all the way to Velaris somehow, eager to explore Fae lands now that the Wall was gone.

You were quick to point out that you were quite allergic to cats and saw how defeated she looked. You felt bad about it, suggesting that maybe she should just go with her sisters or the other friends she’d made in the group baking classes she’d started attending, but she’d simply shaken her head.

And then she’d gone to consult Madja, carried some very heavy books back to her room, and been holed up for almost two days in a row.

You should’ve realized what she was trying to do sooner, but you hadn’t and had instead gotten sick of not seeing her, barging into her room one afternoon with a huff, raising a brow at what you saw.

Different samples of plants were everywhere, with various strange gatherings, such as the foot of a hare, a deer’s antlers, a frog’s eye, and a gathering of crow or raven’s feathers. There was a small bowl placed on her desk, a bubbling liquid inside, though it wasn’t a cauldron.

It didn’t take much thought to realize why she didn’t like cauldrons.

You both caught each other’s eye, staring at each other for a few moments before you finally broke the silence.

“I thought Nesta specialized in witchcraft?”

You asked teasingly, raising a brow as you closed the door behind you, Mother forbid Nyx get a whiff of plants, and walked slowly over to her desk, watching as she opened her mouth, closing it, before opening it again as her cheeks grew red.

“It’s just—you said you were allergic, so I figured I’d figure out how to fix it, but the recipe won’t work—“

She stammered out, and you hummed, watching her slender fingers flip the pages of a particularly thick book that looked ancient to a page about allergies and how to make them less potent.

You smiled warmly at how much effort she’d put into this, just to try and help you feel involved. The instructions were complicated, with the typical witchy ingredients, most of which she’d laid out on the table, and the ground or chopped herbs preserved in jars or laid out in separate bowls.

“We could do it together?”

You suggested, and she seemed to think for a moment, before nodding, her face breaking into a gentle smile as she took her spot to your right, listing off the ingredients and measurements as you picked up a few measuring cups from her desk, laying them out in order from largest to smallest, before organizing the ingredients in the order that they needed to be used.

A bundle of rosemary.

A hare’s foot.

Shavings of a deer’s antler.

A tablespoon of cilantro.

Frog’s eye.

A few more random spices and herbs that were odd, before sprinkling a few dark bird feathers over the mixture, and a large poof that felt like an explosion had you and Elain both stepping back, a hand around her waist, holding her behind you.

“You alright?”

You asked, looking her over, making sure nothing was too bad, and she nodded, looking you over for the same reason. Both of you glanced at your hand on her hip, freezing for a moment, before you chuckled nervously and pulled away.

Her cheeks were red yet again, but a bit of awe entered her eye as she slowly crept up to the bubbling mixture in the bowl on her desk, greenish in color, an aroma of clovers seeming to surround it, mixed with freshly cut grass.

“Well, we did it.”

She muttered, fingers gingerly wrapping around the bowl, pouring it into a small cup as it swirled, a bit of steam coming off.

“Drink up?”

She offered you the cup, a nervous smile pulling at her lips as she watched your expression, the slight bit of sweat dripping down your forehead at the thought of drinking it. You accepted the cup, raising it in a gesture of cheers, putting it to your lips, and tilting your head back quickly, the thick liquid sliding down without you even needing to swallow.

It didn’t taste great, to say the least.

But after the cup was empty, you handed it back to her, trying not to regurgitate whatever you’d just drank.

Not even an hour later, the both of you were sitting at the cat cafe, little kittens bouncing around, running all about as the both of you settled on the soft, carpeted floor, chatting idly while waiting for the cats to approach any of you. Eventually, a few kittens shyly approached, the one with the most energy taking messy steps, stopping to sniff at the puff of the bottom of Elain’s sundress, deeming it acceptable as it crawled onto the material, promptly falling asleep.

Two others sniffed at either of your hands, little claws tugging on your skin as they shakily crawled their way up to your sleeves, settling into the nook of your neck, both cuddled up.

You were pleased to find that you didn’t even feel a hint of a sneeze coming on, no snot, no coughing, no dry or scratchy throat, or even any sinus pressure at all afterward.

Tags:

@flufftober

@hawke1917

[c-e-d-dreamer]

What If I Told You I’m A Mastermind? (Part Three)

A/N: Will this be the first WIP I finish of 2023? Hopefully! Trying very hard to knock out the final part of this cute little mini series soon. Hope everyone enjoys :) 

Part One // Part Two

Nesta tugs on the hem of her dress, making sure it falls against her thighs the way she wants it to. A stray strand of hair has come free from her updo, so she snags another pin off her dresser, carefully sliding it and the hair into place. She dabs some lipstick onto her lips, smudging it in and giving them some color, before she gives herself one last look over in the mirror, happy with the way she looks at least.

A meow from behind her has Nesta turning to glare at where Bryaxis is sprawled across the blankets of her bed. “Not a word out of you.”

Bryaxis lets out another meow, this one more annoyed, and jumps down from Nesta’s bed, following her out of the bedroom. A brush of air skitters across Nesta’s cheeks and hair as she makes it to the stairs, billowing her dress for a moment, and she only just swallows down her eye roll. It doesn’t stop the way she balls her hands into fists though.

“Stop taking his side,” Nesta hisses at the walls.

A knock at the front door finally pulls Nesta’s attention back, and she makes her way down the stairs and to the front entryway, pulling the door open. Cassian stands on her front porch, the sleeves of his dark green shirt rolled up to his elbows and showing off the tanned skin and dark whirling tattoos of his forearm. He offers Nesta an easy, wide grin when he sees her, but his expression quickly morphs into one of almost awe, his jaw slackening and his bright, hazel eyes widening as they sweep over her.

“Wow,” Cassian breathes. “You look… amazing.”

The compliment has warmth fluttering and blooming between Nesta’s ribs, flooding up her neck and settling into her cheeks. “Thank you.”

A meow from near Nesta’s feet draws Cassian’s attention away from her, and he crouches down, scratching behind Bryaxis’ ears and under his chin. Bryaxis seems to relish in the attention, purring and knocking his head against Cassian’s large hand. Cassian lets out a soft laugh at the reaction, the sound just as warm and light as the first time Nesta heard it.

Cassian stands back up and offers Nesta his arm. “Ready?”

Nesta can do nothing but blink a few times in surprise at the gesture, but she nods. She steps out onto the porch, turning to close the front door behind her after she gives Bryaxis one last pointed look so he knows not to get up to anything while she’s gone. When she turns back to Cassian, she settles her hand in the crook of his elbow, letting him guide her down the front steps and to his truck that’s parked in front of her house. He leads her around to the passenger side, opening the door for her to slip inside.

“How very gentlemanly of you,” Nesta comments, hopping up into the passenger seat.

Cassian laughs again, his eyes lightening with amusement. “The first thing you need to know about me, Nes, is that I’m always a gentleman.”

Before Nesta can say anything about the nickname, Cassian closes the door with a wink, jogging around to the driver’s side. He clambers into the truck, and they’re off, Cassian driving them downtown. When they arrive at the bar, he opens Nesta’s door for her and offers his arm again, leading them inside and to an open pair of barstools.

“What’s your drink of choice?” Cassian asks, raising his hand to flag down a bartender.

“Cabernet.”

Cassian orders their drinks, her wine and a beer for himself, before turning in his seat to face Nesta fully. He props his elbow on the bartop, resting his chin on his fist and taking a sip of his drink. That ever-present grin is still firmly in place across his face, and sitting this way, his knee brushes softly against Nesta’s leg.

“So, how long have you had Bryaxis?”

“I’ve had him since I was eighteen,” Nesta explains, taking a sip of her own drink. “So almost a decade now.”

“Your cat is ten years old? You would never know he’s such an old cat.”

“Technically, I don’t know exactly how old he is. He… found me, you could say.”

“What do you mean?”

He asks the question with such sincerity, his face so open and genuine that it gives Nesta pause for a moment. Cassian barely even knows her, and yet, he always seems so interested in her, so determined to burrow deep under her bones and learn everything there is to know about her, to uncover every facet of her soul. It’s unnerving and… refreshing. There was a reason she had stopped going on dates this past year, but Cassian has already started dismantling the guard Nesta had built around herself following his predecessors, carefully and gently pulling free icy bricks from the wall around her heart.

Of course, there is still the elephant in the room, even if Cassian doesn’t know about it yet. It will be the true test of what this is and where it will go. If there’s one thing Nesta has learnt from past dates, it’s that it’s best to simply rip the bandaid off early to avoid any awkwardness later, better to get whatever reaction her honesty may garner out of the way as quickly as possible.

“Well, you see, I’m a witch,” Nesta starts, focusing on her wine glass so she won’t have to see Cassian’s expression change. “So when I turned eighteen, Bryaxis came to me as my familiar. It was spring and I had my windows open, and he was just sitting on the windowsill one evening, and that was that.”

“A witch? That’s cool. What kind? There’s different kinds, right?”

Nesta snaps her gaze back to Cassian, but he’s still wearing that genuine expression of his, that easy smile unmoved. She supposes that she really shouldn’t be surprised by the reaction. Only a handful of days since he showed up on her front porch, and Cassian keeps doing that, throwing off every preconceived notion she might have, proving her wrong. She recovers quickly, clearing her throat and taking another sip of her drink.

“Technically, I’m a hereditary witch. My whole family is witches, and my grandmother and mother passed down their traditions and magic,” Nesta explains, Cassian nodding along as she speaks. “But each of my sisters and I still practice a bit differently. Elain does mostly green magic, that’s plants and nature. Feyre more cosmic, with the night sky and stars and all that.”

“And you?”

“I work mostly with spirits, communing with them and such.”

“I’m going to start calling you lady death, Nes,” Cassian teases, tossing Nesta a wink before turning to take another sip of his beer.

Nesta scoffs and rolls her eyes, but a smile still tugs at her lips despite her best attempts to swallow it down, and there’s no denying the warmth, the fondness, that floods through her veins and starts to take root between her ribs.

The rest of the night goes smoothly, and Nesta finds she has a much better time she had anticipated when Cassian had first asked about getting drinks together. Something about him keeps drawing her in, his big personality, his booming laughter, his endless, genuine questions, all seeming to have its own gravitational pull. They order appetizers to split, and between telling Nesta about his job and his family, Cassian asks more questions about her magic, about her sisters, and even sits there and listens as Nesta rants about the characters in her latest book.

After they finish eating, Cassian somehow coaxes Nesta into a game of darts. She’s not particularly good, but it’s hard for her competitive spirit to feel too bruised when Cassian sidles up behind her. He practically radiates warmth, and Nesta quickly finds herself leaning back against his chest to leech as much as she can. He settles one hand on her hip, his thumb swiping almost subconsciously back and forth, while he curls his other hand around Nesta's, raising both their hands with the dart still poised between her fingers.

“It’s all about keeping your grip loose and making sure you follow through,” Cassian explains, his breath fanning across Nesta’s skin where he’s leant down to speak in her ear.

Even though she’s only half listening to the words, Nesta nods her head. Cassian guides their joined hands through the motions and the dart goes sailing, landing in the bullseye of the board hung on the wall of the bar. Nesta gasps quietly in surprise at the shot, spinning around to face Cassian properly.

“Does that mean I win after all?” she asks with a smirk.

Cassian chuckles, stepping around Nesta to pull the darts from the board. “Not quite, but we can go another round.”

Nesta loses the next round too. Her disappointment is dampened, though, when Cassian suggests they leave, a spark of excitement skittering down her spine at the implication. He laces his fingers through Nesta’s and leads them out of the bar and back to his truck, once again opening the door for Nesta. When they make it back to her place, he walks her to the door, and Nesta tries to find where her keys are buried in her purse, even with Cassian’s hand sliding across her hips, with his head dipping down so his lips brush against her shoulder, drawing all her focus.

“Are you going to invite me in, lady death?”

Before Nesta can answer, her front door flies open, practically hitting the opposite wall with the force. Nesta doesn’t even bother to stop her eye roll at the dramatics.

“Did you see that too?” Cassian asks behind her. “Is it the spirits?”

“It’s just the House,” Nesta explains dismissively. “It seems to like you.”

“Your house is magic too?”

Nesta can hear the awe in Cassian’s voice and from the way the lights inside start to flicker, the House can too. With another roll of her eyes at the preening, Nesta steps out of Cassian’s embrace and inside, but he doesn’t follow. When Nesta turns back around, Cassian’s head is tilted back as he stares up at the house, his eyes narrowed and scrutinizing like he can see some sign of the magic.

“Will you get in here?” Nesta asks exasperatedly, reaching out and tugging Cassian inside.

Cassian stumbles slightly, but he rights himself quickly. Thankfully, the House closes the door behind them, so all Nesta has to worry about is wrapping her arms around Cassian’s neck. Cassian smirks at the gesture, slipping his own arms around Nesta’s waist and pulling her until they’re pressed flush together. He leans down, but pauses, his head tilting slightly like he’s just thought of something.

“Wait,” Cassian whispers, eyebrows dipping low. “If your house is basically alive, does that mean it can see us if we—”

“Oh for Mother’s sake,” Nesta mutters, cutting him off. “Stop thinking about it too hard and just kiss me.”

Nesta presses up onto her toes at the same moment she uses her arms around Cassian’s neck to tug him down and into her. Their lips press together, and thankfully, Cassian doesn’t need any more coaxing, kissing Nesta back. His lips are soft and more perfect than she could have imagined, molding against hers as they kiss. One of his hands slips up her hip, her waist, fingers sliding into her hair as he cradles her jaw.

As they continue to kiss, Nesta’s magic roars to life in her blood, rising to meet and greet Cassian with a familiarity that is both startling and comforting. And when Cassian pulls away and takes her hand again, leading her up the stairs, Nesta can see a pair of yellow eyes watching from the darkness, a pair of eyes that seem to be full of smug pride, that seem to scream I told you so.

—

Updated Taglist (let me know if you’d like to be added): @moodymelanist @nesquik-arccheron @sv0430 @talkfantasytome @bookstantrash @eirini-thaleia @ubigaia @fromthelibraryofemilyj @luivagr-blog @superspiritfestival @hiimheresworld @marigold-morelli @sweet-pea1 @pyxxie @dustjacketmusings @hallway5 @dongjunma @glowing-stick-generation @melonsfantasyworld @isterofimias @goddess-aelin @melphss @theladystardust @a-trifling-matter @blueunoias @kookskoocie @cassiansbigwingspan @unlikelypersonalknight1​ @blurredlamplight​

[violetasteracademic]

Hi , who do you think made the killing blow to Hybern , I personally believe it was Elain as he was actively dying but Nesta just finished his life faster

Hello lovely anon!

I'm going to be completely honest, I don't really love the issue of crediting one sister over the other when it comes to the king's death. This may disappoint some of you, but I believe it was both sisters who killed the king together. And I think each of their roles in the moment were important and intentional.

For Nesta's part, this helped propel forward the rumors of her being a witch, or people fearing her "death promise" when she points a witchy lil fingie at them. This was all quite foundational to Nesta's experience in her book. She held the kings severed head in her hand. She moved into her book being feared, being called a witch, so on and so forth. This made sense for where she was headed.

For Elain's part, we have MAJORLY foreshadowed what she is able to do and what is coming for her. Elain Archeron pinpointed the exact location of the King of Hybern, wielded Truth-Teller, and travelled through the shadows across an entire battlefield to sneak up on the King by stepping out of the dark and stabbing him in the neck.

So for me- does it really matter? I don't think so. I think it was an amazing moment between both sisters that was well foreshadowed and thematically important to both of them, the two sisters captured by the king and turned. They were connected together to this moment through the text before and after:

Nesta is offered the killing blow, and her eyes immediately go searching for Elain. As if she believes the kill is as much Elain's as it is hers. Then Elain is credited for the killing blow, her eyes wander off into the trees, and she thinks of Nesta:

So Elain also sees the kill as Nesta's just as much as it is hers. I just do not see this as a vs. between the sisters. I never have and I never will. This was their moment, and I cannot think of a single function to trying to prove one of them killed the king "more" than the other.

Would the king have died just from the neck wound? Probably. Was it permanent and satisfying to remove his head? Definitely. Do Nesta and Elain think of each other and not themselves when discussing the killing blow? Yes. Why is that not infinitely more beautiful and powerful than pitting them against each other for credit?

Elain shadow-walker, neck stabber, Truth-Teller activator, sneak attack Archeron.

Nesta lady death, head severer, witch, finger pointing death promise Archeron.

It was an amazing moment for both of them, the two who suffered the most direct trauma under the kings hand. It was always going to be them.

One thing I will address is the ridiculous notion that Azriel does not give Elain credit for killing the king. I don't even know where to start with how silly that is.

Azriel tenses at Bryce asking personal questions about how he and Nesta know each other. It does not take a genius to realize he makes a conscious decision to keep Elain private.

Azriel looks down to his blade, the blade he pressed into Elain's hand, the blade that Elain used to travel through his shadows and ram through the kings neck, then he does not say "Nesta killed the King of Hybern herself." He says, "Nesta beheaded the King of Hybern herself."

If you genuinely did not catch all of the context clues about Azriel thinking of Elain in that bonus chapter, but not trusting Bryce and being afraid to speak her name to this stranger from another world and put her at risk, there is genuinely nothing else to say. We don't have to change anyone's minds. There is no changing the mind of someone that willfully ignoring Elain and her context and projecting onto Azriel to claim he doesn't care about her when the truth is it is exceedingly obvious Azriel continued to think about Elain during that BC.

Yes- the Glass Coffin BC. AKA the Sleeping Beauty BC.

Is it annoying that Elain doesn't get more credit? Totally. But I don't think 1V1 against Nesta solves that. The only thing that will solve it is people realizing how amazing Elain is in her book, and all the cool little details that were set up during her role in the death of the king.

[nikethestatue]

Do you think Elain might have healing powers similar to Disney’s version of Rapunzel (without involving her hair ofc lol)? It could be a manifestation of her ‘life’ power, opposite to Nesta’s connection to death.

Rapunzel had healing powers?

I think it would be interesting if she did something around non-magical remedies. I don't want to go into the witchy realm, but I would like to see the sisters do something meaningful and productive outside of their magic. Because others don't have their magic. So if Elain could have some innate knowledge of healing, but if she could translate it into something practical and teach others, that would be amazing.

I like magic to make sense for others. To me, that's constructive magic. Otherwise, it's just there for one person to use.

Look at me! I am a magical socialist.

[shadowqueenjude]

My girl Elain is being attacked on all sides. Some gwynriel shippers downgrade her ass (rival to their ship), elriel shippers change her character to gwyn the second and the reddit people hate her ass because she's some spoiled flower girl who does nothing. Even some lucien solo stans (not the elucien stans bless them! ) thinks this girl not even deserving of lucien. Some other character stans think this girl is downgrading beauty to outshine another? Why though? Not a lot of people aren't keen to embrace all the good and bad facets of Elain, which is disheartening.

I fear that casual readers would dismiss my girl. sjm better do my girl elain justice and blow those haters to kingdom come. On the other hand, I'm not confident with sjm's writing and a bit critical about it.

This is a fear of mine as well. However, SJM is capable of writing a character like Elain well; she did write Yrene, after all, who is similar in many ways. If SJM doesn’t do her justice it’ll be really upsetting especially bc of the reduction of her character by this fandom simply because she is a gentle feminine woman. This character archetype unfortunately is always the subject of hate because of the prevalence of internalized misogyny. As much as I love my girls who exhibit traditionally masculine traits such as Nesta, my girls who exhibit traditionally feminine traits are just as worthy if not more so.

Elain’s treatment is similar to that of Sansa Stark. I have not personally watched Game of Thrones, but the similarities are immaculate from what I’ve heard from other people. I really hope feminine women start taking main character/important roles more often in fiction because only portraying masculine women as important is another form of misogyny. It suggests that a woman is only valuable if they play the role of a man.

If Elain is done right, this fandom is in for a SHOCK! I personally hope she gets healing powers and earthly powers. I want to see how charismatic she is, how she is able to command a room with simply her charm. I want to see her heal the Spring Court with her mystical witchy powers. I want to see her become High Lady. I want to see her wit and her wiles, how fashionable she is. Her curiosity and thirst for knowledge of Prythian. I want it alllll.

[flowerflamestars]

Now that the multiverse theory is real, I want your take on the whole "Nesta and Manon would kiss if they met" take.

Also, noticed how everyone outside of the Inner Circle, even people from other dimensions, instantly like Nesta. I think my girl was meant for more

Honestly, I hate the multiverse nonsense with a deep, deep passion, but I will forever engage with the showing off this nice fine hill I'll die goddamn mad on: Manon, witch queen goddamn supreme, would rather be fucking dead then beg some mortal man to MARRY HER.

Are you kidding SJM? Joking? Deranged????

(listen. The ship makes sense as a symptom- it's a straight journey from dead mortal true love > suicidal grief + life ruined > hey lets fuck the beautiful lady who might literally eat me, don't worry if I like her too much, she's basically indestructible. But for Manon? I'll accept that she fucks men but literally everything else happening makes zero goddamn sense.)

But back to the topic: I think they WOULD kiss (bi Nesta can be pried out of my cold dead hands), but I do not think they'd stay together. They're too alike! It's not a balanced relationship.

But you know what, it would be like. Soulmate level ride or die forever friendship. Manon and Nesta. Elide and Elain. (Are these friends or alternative versions of the same characters). Nesta is literally IN CANON called a witch (as an insult. For reasons. Because faeries hate...maybe not real witches? For sexism. Mostly).

And I would much rather see Nesta tromping around rebuilding a witchy kingdom than trapped as an abused baby factory. Much!! It would appeal to her skill set and she could have an appropriately mean best friend. They speak the same emotional language. They've been through some shit. They want a better world and maybe also to be free, forever. It's ideal.