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milswrites · 2 months

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Can I have this dance?

~ Azriel X Fem!Reader

Summary: Lovingly trapped in a moment on a roof in the Rainbow, you and Azriel take advantage of the little time you get alone, enjoying your evening together until dawn makes her appearance.

Warnings: Just cuteness!

Notes: Don’t know why this made me feel homesick for a place that isn’t real. (I definitely didn’t base this off the song from High School Musical 3 👀🫣)

Life couldn’t get any better than this. You had just shared in the most magical evening with Azriel. The delectable meal at his favourite restaurant , secretly hidden down one of the narrow, twisting streets of the illuminated city. The blissful walk along the Sidra, hands entwined and swinging between you as you spoke about everything and nothing all at once. Then finally to end your evening the perfect view of the rainbow, enjoyed only by you and the shadowsinger, hiding away on the roof of Feyre’s studio, not yet wanting the most wonderful of nights to come to an end.

So here you were, sat together on a blanket Azriel had materialised from his shadows, your head resting against his shoulder as you admired the scene. Eyes closed softly as you appreciated the humid kiss of the evening breeze against your cheeks, ears perked as you listened to the bustling streets below. Friends laughing with friends as they crawl out from the rustic bars, ready for an exciting night ahead in the clubs of Velaris. Artists calling out enticingly, attempting to squeeze in a few more sales from the interested public before they packed up for the night. Velaris was a city full of life. The rising of the moon, and the dotting of twinkling stars appearing in the inky sky, called its people from their homes like a sirens song.

You and Azriel had always been wallflowers, preferring to sit back and absorb the moments you were in. So being here, sat only with each other for company on the silent roof, heightened senses taking in the sights, smells and sounds from the streets below, was your idea of heaven. You mainly sat in comforting silence, though Azriel occasionally released a low rumbling laugh from his chest, pointing out a poor fae who had drank a little too much and was struggling as they stumbled wildly down the cobbled streets. Or you would gasp in adoration each time a dog ran by, tongue hanging out as its tail wagged happily. You were watchers and this was the perfect place to observe.

Hypnotised, you were unsure just how long you had been sat there entwined together, the night sky being your only guide as to what the time was, hundreds of stars now shining in the night sky. The vendors had all taken their leave, wheeling their lightened carts away as their places were taken by musicians and performers seeking to make a few coins and share their passion with the keen citizens of Velaris, who were all too willing to stop and watch as if they had all the time in the world.

Which it felt like you did, you and Azriel sat here on the roof trapped in your little moment with no concept of time. It was almost as if you were merely figures in a painting. Too enticed by the transfixing tug of the city that was Velaris. The only thing that could ruin your enjoyment would be the rude interruption of dawn breaking, and so until then you would absorb this picture in its entirety.

The wind carried a melodic tune from the streets which you overlooked. The airy whistling of a flute accompanied by the harmonic pull of a harps strings. It was the type of music you liked to imagine the gods would listen to, the skilled musicians drawing all kinds of emotions from you through their beautiful symphony.

Azriel, who had always been appreciative of good music, softly hummed along to the tune, his voice beautifully harmonising with the notes from the instruments below. Captivated, the song made you sway softly, continuously brushing against the shadowsinger’s shoulder as you did so.

Gleeful giggles joined the orchestration, you could almost feel the vibrations of the joyful sounds as the wind gently blew them towards you. Curious, you moved from your comfortable position to lean over the edge. Still humming contentedly, Azriel absentmindedly shot out a reassuring arm to hold onto your own, ensuring that you wouldn’t topple over the ledge, interrupting the magic that was being produced below.

You peered over, merriness filling your eyes as you watched couples, both young and old, joined together in an enchanting dance. Arms embracing their lovers as they swayed to the mesmerising tune.

You squealed at the sight, hopping excitedly to your feet as you wanted nothing more than to do the same, Azriel lurching forwards in fear at your sudden movement. The male stilled as he saw you were alright, eyes glancing in confusion to the open hand you were holding out for him to take.

You chuckled at his furrowed brows marring his handsome face, his thoughts still lost to hypnotising rhythm of the music. “Dance with me” you grinned, waving your arm about energetically as impatience flooded your system, wanting to start the dance before the melody came to an end.

A matching smile crossed his face as he placed his hand in yours, “I’m not much of a dancer” he nervously mumbled, afraid to disappoint you with his skills, or lack thereof. Mustering all the strength you could you pulled the male up from the floor, “it doesn’t matter Az, all that matters is you, this. Right now.”

You raise your entwined hands just as you saw the elder couples doing below, resting your head on Azriel’s chest as you wrapped your other arm round his muscular back, the male following suit and doing the same to you.

Taking the lead you began to sway in time with the tune, taking small steps which Azriel copied, his eyes locked onto your feet to ensure he didn’t step on them. Briefly, you removed your hand from his back just to take him by the chin and move his face to meet yours before returning it to its original position, his golden-amber eyes which were fogged by lust meeting your own.

Gaining confidence as his eyes bore into yours, Azriel began to guide you, steps widening as the two of you began to move around the roof, spinning together in broad circles, allowing the moment to take over and let your bodies do all the work. He raised your joined hands, allowing you to twirl under his arm, being mindful not to bump into his wings which were slightly curled around you both in your embrace.

You moved fluidly, two shadows dancing together under the moonlight, the powerful music controlling your movement. It was an elegant mess of unplanned yet coordinated spins and dips, Azriel doing whatever felt right at the time, allowing his instincts to work for him. He drew you into a deep dip, your back arching over his supportive arm as he did so before lifting you back up and spinning you in a circle once more, pulling you close to his chest after you were steadied on your feet.

Beginning to run out of moves, both your arms drifted up his body until they locked around his neck, his own hands coming to rest at your waist. You resumed the gentle swaying, head pressed against him feeling the vibrations in his chest as he once again began to hum the melody as you moved.

You continued this dance until the music began to fade, still making the small steps even after the last note rang out through the wind, too enthralled by this perfect little scene shared between you. Enjoying the rare time you get alone when you are both off work and aren’t joined by your family - as much as you loved them.

And so the dance didn’t end with the song. The sound of your steady steps against the roof echoed until dawn finally made its appearance. The two of you still tangled in your enveloping embrace until the sun had long since risen. Allowing your perfect night to carry through into a beautiful new day.

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Notes: literally had this idea and wrote it in an hour as I was just too excited

#acotar #fanfic #acotar imagine #sarah j maas #azriel x reader #a court of thorns and roses #azriel imagine #azriel oneshot #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #azriel

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a-kind-of-merry-war · 11 months

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The real insult, Edgin thought, as the rest of his mind turned to jelly, was how fucking small the dragon was.

This was his first encounter with a faerie dragon, and he hadn't taken the whole thing very seriously. A bright green dragon no larger than a cat, cooped up in some miller's chimney? It barely felt worth the coin, not that he told the miller that.

The dragon, however, had other ideas. They'd managed to wrangle it outside thanks to some keen shapeshifting from Doric, but as soon as she'd gotten it through the front door and into Ed's arms it had hit him with an enormous blast of glittering fae magic.

Ed was no stranger to Euphoria Breath - there were bars in all the seedier spots of Neverwinter that sold a concentrated hit of the stuff for a reasonable fee - but he'd never had it straight from the source.

The last lucid thought that passed through his head before his knees hit the floor was oh, this is pretty good.

They gathered around the stricken bard, no one keen to get too close. No one had any idea what to do.

“I’m sure Xenk has something up his sleeve,” Simon said, pleadingly. “Right, Xenk?”

Xenk gave him a long look. “I assure you,” he said, “the only thing up my sleeves is my arms.”

From the floor, Ed made a choking noise.

“He speaks!” Xenk was beside him in a blink, grabbing his shoulders. “Speak to me, my dearest friend, or has some foul scourge taken thy tongue?”

Ed stared at him, unfocused. Behind Xenk’s shoulder, Holga rolled her eyes. Ed opened his mouth.

“Speak!” Xenk commanded.

“Wh—”

It was no more than a broken whisper. Xenk moved closer. “What is it, my friend?”

“Where—” Ed took a deep breath that collapsed in upon itself. His eyes had gone red, watering with the effort of speaking. “Where does— where— Xenk—”

“Yes, Edgin?”

Ed hauled himself to his elbows unsteadily. “Xenk…”

“I am with you.”

“Where…” he took another, gasping breath, like a man drowning. “Where does Xenk keep his armies?”

Xenk blinked at him. He had never had the honour of command, nor did he have the inclination.

“Your mind has been rattled by the scourge,” he said. “You must rest, and hope that you may—”

“Up his sleevies!”

Holga burst into snorting laughs. Ed looked thrilled, laughing until tears rolled down his cheeks. Even Doric began to giggle.

“I—” Xenk was lost. “I am not sure I understand your riddle, Edgin.”

Edgin clapped his shoulder, gripping tight. “Up his sleevies,” he breathed. When Xenk did not respond, he slumped back down with a groan. “Fucking harp—”

And then he swooned clean away.

#dndhat #dnd hat #xenk yendar #edgin darvis #edgin the bard #edgin x xenk #xedgin #my fic

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 2 months

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I've been dreaming of the Ruler of the Abyss.

Kneel to the Thorn Fairy, who shall make manifest one’s dreams—the wishes made by the heart.

He promises happy endings for all. Woe to those who doubt and defy his vision.

How does a moment last forever? How can a story never die?

Alone.

He has always been alone.

But alone he is no longer—not when he is in his castle, surrounded by hordes of his people. He will never be alone again. No one will, all thanks to his efforts.

Never, never, never.

Malleus easily traverses the thorn-crusted lounge, floating across them like a specter. The bodies of school staff and fellow students lie limp in chairs and couches. Eyes closed, chests rising and falling rhythmically.

As he passes, he runs a hand along their scalps. Brushing their hair, patting their heads. Tender touches wishing them well.

Here is a king's domain, and here are his subjects. He, the dragon guarding his trove of invaluable treasures.

Malleus turns to face his captive audience, arms spread out toward them. “Today is something of a special occasion: Night Raven College’s Founding. I do believe this warrants a celebration—and, of course, all are invited to the festivities.”

A wave of magic washes over the room. Conical party hats manifest on each person's head, decorations appearing from thin air. Banners drape across the walls, streamers spill from black-clothed tables laden with food, and balloons tuck into the corners, safe from the needle-like thorns.

He projects applause, stunned oohs and aahs. Here, he is not a monster, but fellow man.

"Hmm, we're still missing something." Malleus strokes his chin, deep in thought. He snaps his fingers. "Ah, that's it! Music. It's not a proper party without any music."

With the wave of his hand, he summons a series of floating instruments. Bass, cello, viola, violin, harp, each bathed in an eerie green glow. They start playing by themselves, as if being handled by skillful, invisible hands.

Soft orchestral song fills the venue.

The guests rise, puppeted by the strings of his magic. Thorns on the floor retreat, allowing his peers to spill over onto the area repurposed for dance. Heads loll over--Malleus frowns and fixes them.

"There we are."

A glittering assemblage.

He smoothly conducts the bodies into neat pairs.

A waltz, he thinks, is ideal. It is also one of the few forms of dance he is familiar with. A waltz it shall be.

Palms link, fingers intertwine. Hands upon shoulders and upon backs. And then they are set to the hypnotic swing of the music, slow and sweet and intoxicating, like a steady drip of honey into one's mouth.

Malleus threads past the avid dancers and to the one person that has not been matched. The little bat who had almost flown away, far out of his grasp.

"Lilia," Malleus breathes raptly, "look at how happy everyone is. No one was left out. No one was forgotten. No one has to be alone anymore."

With this gift... my blessing... I've protected their smiles.

The duty of any Draconia.

He's proud--elated--but Lilia, alas, does not share the sentiment. Instead, the ancient fae wears a placid expression, eyes sewn shut. The same as all the other guests.

Malleus chuckles. No one hears it but himself.

"How exciting your dream must be. Action and adventure, at the best of your strength... I'm afraid this humble gathering cannot compare."

He’s sure Lilia would agree with him, were he awake.

“Never mind that," Malleus says, dispelling the thought. No more what ifs, only there ares. "Would you care for food? You'll need to keep your energy up for the celebration--it just may last all night."

He beckons with a finger, and a platter with a large cake hovers over. It is an extravagant seven layers, each a different flavor. Details are piped on in buttercream icing, invoking the image of each dormitory. A chocolate raven, wings open and prepared for flight, crowns the dessert.

A cake knife slides into Lilia's hand. His fingers slowly closer around the handle. With Malleus's guidance, he cuts into the topmost layer--Diasomnia--of the cake.

Something thick, red, and sticky leaks from the insides. The knife is coated as it is pulled back, freeing a slice. The violet crumb is fine, the frosting neon green with a dark chocolate drip.

Devilishly decadent.

"Come, you must try this," Malleus insists, stabbing a fork into the cake. He stuffs the bite into Lilia's mouth--but it doesn't stay, just rolls out and lands with a squishy splat on the ground.

Malleus eagerly waits for Lilia to beam at him, to praise him for its deliciousness.

It never comes.

Malleus laughs as though Lilia has responded as he imagines him to. He's drunk with delirium.

The strings abruptly screech, the dancers ceasing in their revelry.

He lets the unfinished slice fall. The plate shatters, reflecting one hundred Malleuses, one hundred Lilias. So many realities, and yet this is the one he has been dealt.

He guides the corners of Lilia's mouth upward, forcing a smile.

"Happy Night Raven College Founding Day," Malleus whispers, "and may you all have the sweetest of slumbers."

To his guests, to Lilia, to himself. And to the world that will soon be joining them in this delightful, never-ending dream.

Raising a hand, he unleashes fireworks from his palm. They explode in wild shapes and colors, emitting warmth and dazzling lights. The display is beautiful but fleeting--long shadows running along the walls before they blip out of existence and return to the darkness.

Every dream is like a firework, he surmises. A fiery flower frozen in time at the height of its bloom. They shall never wither nor fade.

Malleus reclines into his seat--a spiked and scaled throne, mounted high above the party venue. A lone king, untouchable.

Seated upon a mountain of lies, he looks out at his twisted kingdom. It’s a scene of his own creation, props lovingly places and toys carefully posed, acting out situations in his head.

The average school day at Night Raven College: students bickering, teachers watching over them. They see him, smile and wave. Talk with him, invite him.

Stay with him.

A loop playing, forever and ever.

Malleus sighs contentedly.

This is his happily ever after—from now until the end of eternity.

#twisted wonderland #twst #Malleus Draconia #twst anni #twisted wonderland anniversary #twst anniversary #twisted wonderland anni #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #I've been dreaming...#book 7 spoilers #twst countdown #twisted wonderland countdown #twst imagines #twst scenarios #twisted wonderland scenarios #twisted wonderland imagines #Lilia Vanrouge

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theladyofbloodshed · 3 months

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Chapter 1

Notes: This is set after the canon events of ACOSF when Nesta and Cassian go to the Prison. Instead of opening the wards to the cells, she ends up in Lunathion. Bryce doesn't exist in this universe and no magic language beans are required.

Nesta could not do more than twitch her fingertips as an invisible, oppressive weight bore into her, like it’d flatten her into dust upon the starry ground of the strange chamber in the Prison.

Let go, she silently bade the Harp, gritting her teeth, fingers brushing over the nearest string. Free me, you blasted thing.

A beautiful, haughty voice answered, full of music so lovely it broke her heart to hear it. I do not appreciate your tone.

With that the Harp pushed into her harder, and Nesta roared silently. Her nail scraped over the string again. Let me go!

Gone was Cassian’s voice. He was kept out by the wards, witnessing it all.

Shall I open a door for you, then?

Yes! Damn you, yes!

It has been a long while, sister, since I played. I shall need time to remember the right combinations…

Don’t play games. Nesta chilled at the word it had used. Sister. Like she and this thing were one and the same.

The small strings are for games—light movement and leaping—but the longer, the final ones … Such deep wonders and horrors we could strum into being. Such great and monstrous magic I wrought with my last minstrel. Shall I show you?

No. Just let me out.

As you wish. Pluck the first string, then.

Nesta didn’t hesitate as her fingertip curled over the first string, grasping and then releasing it. A musical laugh filled her mind, but the weight lifted. Vanished.

And then everything swirled around her like she was being sucked down a plughole into a vast emptiness. The stars on the floor span, turning white with their speed.

Nesta clung to the Harp as wind whipped her face. She was falling – but into what, she didn’t know. It reminded her of the Cauldon, that endless dark, the never-ending cold. Nesta drifted through space and time until she plummeted downwards.

Her body hit stone, taking the wind out of her.

Nesta blinked, trying to right herself. The lights around her were blurred but there was noise – chatter and distant music.

A bright light came towards her. A long, blaring sound pierced her ears. There was a screech and the light stopped feet from her body curled on the stone.

‘What the fuck,’ came a female voice.

Something slammed and footsteps sounded. ‘Are you alright? I nearly hit you. You landed in the middle of the road.’

‘Move back. Official 33rd business,’ a male voice said.

Nesta was shaking. The bright lights were still in her eyes. Her hip and leg throbbed from the landing.

‘She’s armed, Hunt,’ somebody said.

The male who’d spoken gave a wearied sigh. ‘Ten minutes left of our shift and a fae has to leap in front of a car.’ He stepped closer to her. ‘Hands up. Don’t reach for the sword.’

Something silver and metallic was pointed at her by his hands. The male was fae. Or, looked it. He had wings similar to the Peregryn that she’d met in the Dawn Court with beautiful, grey feathers. Across his brow was a tattoo. Sable hair hung to his shoulders. The other male was slightly shorter with white feathers and fair hair.

Neither was dressed like anybody she’d seen before. Their clothes reminded her slightly of Illyrian leathers but the materials were different.

Nesta looked around, now that her eyes had adjusted to the light. Nobody was dressed in familiar clothing. People had small rectangles in their hands bearing lights and sounds. The fair haired male tutted and started moving them off, saying she was not a spectacle.

‘I’m going to need you to slide that sword over to me in its sheath. Do you understand?’

Where was she? This wasn’t Prythian.

Where are we?

The Harp refused to respond to her, going mute in this strange, new world.

‘Hey,’ the male with grey wings said, not unkindly. ‘Slide it over now.’

Slowly, Nesta reached for Ataraxia and pushed it across the smooth stone towards him. He kept his metal object pointed at her as he bent down and slung her sword over a shoulder.

‘Now your instrument.’

The other male had returned and collected that. He turned it from side to side, examining it. The first handed the sword to him. ‘Fly those to Vik. Get her to run her tests on them. I’ll bring her in.’

***

Ten minutes. That was all they had left after seven days straight. Hunt was looking forward to a glorious day off but Logan had said they should walk back to the 33rd rather than fly. If they flew, they still likely would have seen a female fall from the sky, but they could have pretended it didn’t happen and finished their shift on time. Now, it meant hours of questioning plus paperwork for what he guessed was an undocumented fae who’d rocked up in Lunathion.

The female in question seemed compliant thus far. Hunt hadn’t cuffed her. She was a skinny thing that couldn’t overpower him. From the spike of her ears, she was fae, not human. After basic questioning, they’d likely call in the captain of the aux from the fae side – and Hunt planned to be in his bed by then. Technically, this female had done nothing wrong except fall from the sky with a sword and nearly be hit by a car. It was strange enough though that Micah would demand their heads if they hadn’t brought her in. He was off in the north, summoned by the Asteri. Peace for once.

‘Where are you taking me?’

He kept his hand clasped around her upper arm as they walked. ‘To the 33rd.’

She frowned. ‘The 33rd what?’

Hunt glanced at her. ‘Legion.’

How had she never heard of the 33rd? Who the hell was this?

‘Are you fae?’

She must have hit her head hard. Hunt ushered her along, surveying her for obvious injuries as they went. ‘No. Malakim. Definitely not fae.’

Her silver eyes stared at him then at the ground, processing something. A med-witch would need to see her to remove her concussion.

Hunt led her to one of their interrogation rooms. The white walls looked yellow beneath the lights and she shielded her eyes from it. It was protocol to at least chain her to the table to prevent her from running, but from the bewildered expression on her face, Hunt couldn’t do it.

‘Do you want a coffee?’

‘Coffee?’

‘I’ll get you a coffee,’ he said, offering a tight smile as he backed out of the room.

He met Isaiah in the corridor.

‘Viktoria’s already working on the items. Both are definitely imbued with magic,’ he said by way of greeting. ‘Logan’s filled me in. Fell from the sky?’

‘Yup. Literally.’ Hunt pressed the coffee cup into his hand. ‘I don’t think she knows what coffee is so good luck.’

Isaiah gave a short laugh. ‘Do you think she’s one of the Avallen Fae?’

‘I have no fucking clue where she is from. Another planet by the looks of things.’

Naomi was waiting behind the interrogation room, computer at the ready. Hunt waited behind the screen of glass too as Isaiah introduced himself and put the cup of coffee in front of her. From the thin frame, Hunt should have grabbed her a snack too. She wore leathers like she was about to do battle. The sword would explain that too – but not the instrument. It seemed to be a common theme that swords were toted by pricks in Lunathion, however this female seemed not too bad so far.

‘What’s your name?’

‘Nesta.’

‘A last name?’

‘Archeron.’

Naomi’s fingers flew over the keyboard. ‘Not a single Archeron in history. Or a Nesta.’

‘I don’t think she’s lying,’ Hunt murmured. It would be a strange name to make up. Better if she gave a common one.

Isaiah spoke gently. ‘What house are you aligned with, Nesta?’

Nesta blinked a few times then, ‘Uh. The House of Wind.’

There was another click of keys beside him then Naomi drew a blank again.

‘What can your magic do?’

‘I don’t have magic.’

‘Why do you have a magical Harp?’

‘I’m a bard.’

The delivery was so flat from Nesta that Hunt couldn’t help but snort with laughter.

Isaiah’s wings flexed at the table. ‘Will you play for me?’

Nesta inspected her nails. ‘I don’t play for free.’

‘What’s the sword for?’

‘When people don’t pay me,’ she quipped.

This female had woken up and found her dry sense of humour then. Hunt examined her through the glass. She didn’t look like the fae of Lunathion. The majority had the same colouring as the king – red hair, tanned skin. Others were brown-haired. The prince was a rarity with black hair, but not unheard of. It tended to be the Avallen fae who were blonde. She certainly fitted the description for now with a limited knowledge of technology; she’d stared at everybody’s cell-phones with utmost confusion. But even Avallen fae knew how to use technology when they left their misty isles.

‘Which king did you pledge allegiance to?’

At that, Nesta gave a harsh laugh. ‘None of them and I never will.’

‘Who is the king of Avallen?’

‘Fionn,’ she said, brandishing her hands in the air with disinterest.

‘Danaan is here,’ a voice said over the intercom. ‘Sending him down.’

Ruhn Danaan was captain of the fae auxiliary unit and exemplified what it meant to be a fae prick. One day, he’d also be their king. And Hunt could not stand him.

He swaggered in, tongue flicking against his lip-ring. ‘This better be good, Athalar.’

Hunt gestured to Nesta Archeron currently stonewalling Isaiah as he attempted to interrogate her on her origins.

‘Don’t know her,’ he said with a shrug. ‘Wish I did.’

‘Is she one of the Avallen fae?’

‘No idea,’ replied Ruhn in a blasé tone. Hunt could stink alcohol on him. Likely the prince had been with his little pals doing what they did best and partying until dawn.

Sensing his frustrations, Naomi stepped in. ‘She fell from the sky. There’s no record of her family name in the history of Midgard. Nesta isn’t aligned to any house, seemingly has no knowledge of Lunathion. She cannot name either fae king – but did mention Fionn. She came with a sword imbued with magic – and a Harp.’

Ruhn finally took notice. He leaned closer to the glass, nose almost touching it. ‘Her eyes are silver.’

‘A fascinating conclusion, Danaan.’

‘Let me talk to her.’

It was Isaiah’s call so he allowed the prince into the interrogation room, claiming that not only was he fae royalty which gave Ruhn a pass to do what he liked in the city, but also a member of the aux. When he entered, Nesta knew him. Her eyes went wide then she stared down at her lap, murmuring something to herself.

‘Hi,’ said Ruhn who turned the chair around and leant his chest against the back. ‘Your coffee’s going cold.’

Nesta raised the cup to her mouth to take a sip then promptly spat it back out. ‘That’s vile.’

‘Need sugar?’

She folded her arms across her body. Anybody else would have called for their lawyer now or asked what they were being charged with. The thought hadn’t crossed her mind. Nesta seemed more interested in the security camera and even the lights above her head.

‘Are you high fae?’ she asked Ruhn.

‘I’m fae,’ he said. ‘Vanir. What other Vanir do you know?’

Nesta swallowed. Eventually, she suggested, ‘Illyrians?’

Ruhn gave an encouraging nod and lied that he knew them. Beside Hunt, Naomi was doing her best to search for the term.

‘Who else?’

‘Peregryns.’

‘Yeah. Peregryns.’ Ruhn gave another nod. ‘Those big birds that brought you to the 33rd. What are they?’

‘Malakim.’

Which she only knew because Hunt had told her.

‘What’s Sabine?’

‘I don’t know her,’ she replied.

Well, shit. She definitely was not from Lunathion because everybody knew Sabine, unfortunately. Naomi’s laptop made a pinging sound. ‘Toxicology report. Nothing in her system. Not even a drop of alcohol. Definitely no drugs.’

On arrival, the on-duty med-witch had given her a once over but had not found any major injuries beyond a few bruises from her heavy landing.

Isaiah drummed his fingers on his watch face. ‘We can’t hold her for anything. By rights, we’ve held her longer than necessary with nothing to charge her for.’

‘She’s clearly not from here.’

‘I know,’ he said. ‘But I’m reluctant to call Micah back until we have full specs on the items that she brought with her.’

‘We can keep those for a week,’ said Naomi.

Ruhn emerged from the room, shaking his head. He ran a hand through his long, black hair. ‘She’s fae. Definitely. No idea where she’s from though.’ Ruhn pulled out his cell.

‘Calling daddy?’

He threw Hunt a grin. ‘Not a chance. I’ll keep her at mine.’

‘No,’ said Hunt with a snort. ‘Do you think we’ll hand over a disorientated female to you and your little pals?’

‘Careful with what you’re insinuating, angel.’

Isaiah cleared his throat. ‘Until we know more, Nesta Archeron is a free citizen of Lunathion, not under anyone’s jurisdiction.’

‘She’s fae,’ Ruhn insisted. ‘She answers to my father.’

‘You didn’t hear her, Danaan,’ Hunt said, fighting the grin from his face. ‘She’s pledged allegiance to no king and never will.’

‘Hunt, discharge her. Ruhn, I wonder if you could take a look at the sword,’ asked Isaiah, guiding the prince out of the room.

Hunt cared little for the fae but he wasn’t going to send a lone female who had no clue where she was to the Ruhn Danaan home for parties and orgies. He took up Ruhn’s vacated seat, also sitting backwards on it at the table. Nesta watched him closely.

‘How do you know Ruhn?’

‘I don’t,’ she replied, voice clipped.

‘You looked like you did.’

Nesta furrowed her brow. ‘I thought he was somebody else.’

Hunt nodded his head towards the cup. ‘You didn’t like my coffee?’

‘It was foul.’

‘Oof. No offence taken.’ He began writing out her discharge forms, explaining them to her as he wrote. It would go under a section two; the 33rd reserved the right to question any citizen at any time without reason or without consequence. Anybody from Lunathion would have kicked up a fuss over how long they’d been held for. This one had no cell, no purse, no identification, literally nothing on her person so she likely didn’t know her rights. ‘You can collect your items in a week.’

That was if they found nothing they could charge her for.

‘A week? I need the Harp.’

‘Playing in a tavern?’

Hunt glanced up at her then jerked back. Her eyes were swirling. They looked as if silver flames were trapped within, writhing to get to the surface.

‘You’re free to go, Nesta. I’ll see you out.’

The walk out of the Comitium was just as interesting. The most inane technology snagged her attention. At the coffee machine, she came to a halt to stare at it in wonder then in the waiting room, her eyes catalogued the television screens, jaw hanging open.

‘Don’t worry. You won’t miss Fangs and Bangs.’

Nesta opened her mouth to say something then the phone rang in the office. That also hooked her attention. She was child-like in her wonder as a malakh answered the phone.

‘That device allows you to communicate?’

Hunt touched two fingers to her forehead. The temperature seemed fine. ‘Try and see a med-witch. Have them check you over for concussion.’

He held the door open for her as she stumbled off into the blackness, just as perplexed as she’d been when they’d found her in the road.

Nesta wasn’t Hunt’s duty. His shift should have ended two hours ago. He was a slave, but a slave who could be off-duty – especially when Micah was out of town. Yet, he couldn’t stop the sense of dread from clawing in his chest as he watched Nesta amble aimlessly into the night.

This female would cause him a headache.

***

Seven days.

Nesta needed to survive seven days with only the clothes on her back in this strange city. There were worse places that she could have arrived to. The dungeon had not truly been a dungeon. It lacked the prowling beasts of the Hewn City. The only issue had been how bright the lights were. They hadn’t been the faelights that Rhysand conjured.

There were more lights hanging from towering metal poles on the smooth roads. There were still many out in the darkness but not all of them were fae. Some were like animals with cloven hooves instead of feet or caprine horns that jutted out from their hair.

Nesta didn’t know what to make of it.

She’d left Cassian calling her name in the Prison. Now she was in Lunathion. Wherever that was.

The city was so noisy.

Nesta needed space to think and to breathe so she fought her way out of the densest areas of the city towards a massive river. The sounds of it calmed her. She crossed over it, into the darker area where it felt more peaceful. Nesta sucked in breaths, thinking of Gwyn and her teachings to focus on the inhales and exhales and nothing else. That was easier said than done in a foreign land with no allies, no weapons, and no way back to Velaris.

Something was moving across the bridge towards her.

It made her skin prickle.

It wasn’t walking. It was gliding.

Her hand reached over her shoulder for the pommel of her sword and remembered it had been taken.

The creature made a low, gurling sound from the back of its throat then reached out a grey hand stripped of flesh in places.

Nesta backed up a step, but more were behind her, moving in that same eerie way without a sound.

The air went static.

A bolt of lightning hit the ground which forced one of the creatures to retreat.

The male who’d chaperoned her to the Comitium landed between her and the bulk of the creatures. Lightning wreathed his hands. His hair rose from the static.

‘You will not feast this night.’

Hunt jerked his chin at her, summoning Nesta to him. An arm clamped around her shoulders then he pushed off from the floor. As they lifted off, his other arm swooped beneath the back of her knees.

The motion was surprisingly fluid. Nesta did what she always did if Cassian flew her and put her arms around his neck for support.

‘What were they?’

‘Reapers,’ he replied. ‘I’m guessing you don’t have them where you come from.’

‘We have creatures just as foul.’

‘Yeah. Well, maybe don’t go for a midnight meeting with the Under-king if you want to see the dawn, Nesta.’ Hunt flew them a short distance then landed back amongst the lights on poles. He kept one hand clasped around her wrist like she might run while pulling one of the metal rectangles from his pocket. It displayed numbers that he tapped. His thumb moved down the screen, the words it showed flew by too quick for Nesta to read. ‘It’s Athalar. As you said, she’s one of your kind. She needs to be put up in a hotel.’ A pause. ‘Near the Dead Gate. I’ve flown her near Jesiba Roga’s house of horrors, but she’ll end up wandering through the meat market if I leave her.’ Hunt gave a mirthless laugh. ‘Either a hotel or the barracks with me, but not a chance I’m leaving her in your custody.’

Hunt slid the device into his back pocket. ‘The prince of pricks is booking you a hotel for the night. You hungry?’

The malakh lifted her into the air again to cross the city. They returned to the huge building where he had first taken her but did not stay long. Nesta was told to wait in the corridor outside a room while Hunt retrieved a bag of items. They stopped off at a restaurant along the way while he waited for news from the prince of pricks, whoever that was.

‘Noodles,’ he said, gesturing to the flimsy packaging.

Nesta stared down at them. They reminded her of yellow strings but there were chunks of meat and vegetables amongst them and a sweet-smelling sauce that made her ravenous. Hunt paid for it all, including the drink that was filled with bubbles.

‘Not a fan of coffee, but you like soda,’ he said between mouthfuls.

‘It is so sweet.’

‘Yeah because it’s all sugar.’

Nesta slurped it down, not caring if the ice hurt her teeth.

Hunt pulled the device – a cell phone – from his pocket. ‘Danaan came through. Let’s go.’

The lodgings were nice. One of those moving portrait boxes was hung on the wall and Hunt pressed a button on another rectangle to make it work. He pressed a few more buttons, the portraits changing rapidly.

‘Here we go. Fangs and Bangs, as promised.’

There was a half-naked female on the screen lounging on a long chair near a body of water. A male, equally as bare and bronze, was discussing their relationship beside her.

‘What do all of those buttons do?’

Hunt shrugged one shoulder. ‘Nobody knows. That’s volume. Channel up and down. On and off.’

‘It controls it?’

‘Yes. A remote. Where the hell did you come from Nesta?’

Nesta said nothing. She couldn’t bear to think of the people she had left behind. There was no guarantee that the Harp would be returned to her or it would even let her pluck a string to return to Velaris.

‘Bathroom’s through there. This is a key card. You press it to that black panel on the door handle to get in but try not to leave tonight, alright. I don’t want to retrieve your body from the Istros in the morning.’ Hunt blew out a breath. ‘Get some sleep. I’ll be by in the morning.’

Despite the day she had endured, the sight of the bed with tightly-pulled white sheets was calling to her. As soon as she hit that pillow, Nesta would be out.

Hunt rummaged in the bag that he’d collected from the Comitium. There were soft, grey pants and a white top. ‘For you to sleep in. There are slits on the back for my wings, but it will be comfier than those,’ he said, pointing to her leathers. ‘I don’t know how you breathe in that.’

‘Thank you, Hunt,’ replied Nesta, clutching the clothes to her body.

‘Tomorrow, we will talk. Off the record. About you.’ He swept his hair from his face. ‘I want to help but I can’t if you’re not honest with me. Sleep well.’

#hunt x nesta #acotar #crescent city #hunt athalar #nesta archeron

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wingedblooms · 3 months

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The dreams that are answered

When they were children, the Illyrian brothers dreamt of wielding the legendary sword, Gwydion, to slay wyrms and rescue damsels.

And the stars who listened answered those dreams. Feyre slew a wyrm and rescued Rhysand. Nesta rescued Cassian in their book and now, with the release of hofas, has slain a wyrm. These patterns tend to come in threes in Sarah’s writing, like a Welsh triad, so it wouldn’t be surprising if Elain defeated her own wyrm (or better yet, if it yielded to her, like the scaled creatures yielded to Bryce) and she rescued Azriel in their story.

The Starborn blades have been returned to the Night Court for a reason. Nesta has her own trove of blades, and Azriel clearly cannot carry them by himself…

He hasn’t even unlocked the full potential of Truth-Teller’s blade after possessing it for years.

Vesperus, the Asteri in the Prison, makes an interesting comment here that reminds me of the Illyrian brothers’ childhood games. She accuses the Fae of playing with weapons they don’t fully understand. Their minds couldn’t hold all the possibilities at once. But we do know someone whose mind might be able to hold multiple, if not all, possibilities at once: Elain, the seer.

It was Elain who appeared out of nowhere, out of shadow, with Truth-Teller:

She may have opened a portal into nowhere, the void, with her power (which, like the Harp, might influence time and space) while linked to Truth-Teller, allowing her to appear exactly where she was needed, when she was needed to protect her loves ones.

Our damsel made her moment with a legendary weapon count. And it wouldn’t surprise me if we learn that—with her heightened, Cauldron-blessed senses—she can hear the blades singing to each other, tugging at her hidden powers.

And perhaps, when they explore the powers of those legendary blades together, Elain and Azriel will open a portal and travel the space between to places she’s only seen in her dreams.

Because the stars do listen—and dreams are answered.

Special thanks to @willowmeres, @offtorivendell, and @psychologynerd for their inspiring reactions to and thoughts about these connections.

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offtorivendell · 4 months

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Is an oily residue corrupting Azriel's hypothetical mating bond and making him feel off kilter? Is it related to Valg-type magic?

Disclaimer: this theory is a continuation of a few of my others that I've been too lazy to post until now - first I was going to post it for Elriel Month 2023, then Azriel Week 2023... it never happened - but like everyone else I'm having massive FOMO before HOFAS, so here we finally go, even though I know I've forgotten something lol. As usual, this makes no claims of being accurate, it's just theorising for fun.

A massive thank you goes out to @wingedblooms, @tswaney17, @silverlinedeyes, @psychologynerd, @ladynightcourt3, @cassianfanclub, and anyone else I've forgotten (sorry!) for all of our discussions that finally became this post. Love you guys. 💜

Spoilers: this is a Maasverse post, and draws from the ACOTAR series, CC 1 & 2/HOEAB & HOSAB, and the TOG series. It is CC 3/HOFAS spoiler free, as I'm waiting to read it in its "original English" 🤓 on the 30th of January. Please be respectful of that if engaging in the comments before it's published!

Plenty of people, including @silverlinedeyes, @icedflames and myself, have posted our thoughts on mating bonds in the Maasverse, and this theory builds on those previously established - though again, as yet hypothetical - ideas. Specifically, this post about the use of “oily” throughout the ACOTAR series is recommended reading.

What we do know is that:

Mating bonds contain threads, and so do spells.

Mates are the song/music of the soul, and their laughter is likened to music.

Different fae, and magics, contain different scents, be that personal or regional

First, let's go back to ACOWAR, when Feyre described the Ravens' entrance into the library as being like an off-kilter chord:

I felt it at the same moment she did. The ripple and tremor. Like … like some piece of the world shifted, like some off-kilter chord had been plucked. We turned toward the illuminated path that we’d just taken through the stacks, then to the dark far, far beyond. - ACOWAR, chapter 30

Initially, I had wondered if the King of Hybern had had Jurian use the Harp to infiltrate Velaris, but it was @merymoonbeam (I think) who theorised that the Cauldron might be mimicking the Harp, and maybe not doing the best job of it. Which made me wonder, could it do the same with mate bonds?

He left the rest unspoken. Because her mate was here, sleeping a level up. Because her mate had been in the family room and Azriel had needed to stay by the door the whole time because he couldn't stand the sight of it, the scent of their mating bond, and needed to have the option of leaving if it became too much. - ACOSF, Azriel's bonus chapter

Looking at her now … She was pale, yes. The vacancy still glazing her features. But he couldn’t breathe as she faced him fully. She was the most beautiful female he’d ever seen. Betrayal, queasy and oily, slid through his veins. He’d said the same to Jesminda once. But even as shame washed through him, the words, the sense chanted, Mine. You are mine, and I am yours. Mate. - ACOWAR, chapter 24

What if the Elucien bond, as either a spell or piss poor Cauldron-Made approximation of a bond, causes Azriel - and maybe Elain, possibly Lucien - nausea when Lucien is around because it's constantly changing, or reverberating over the top of, what remains of a hypothetical Elriel bond?

What if it's making the Elriel bond off-kilter, out of whack, imbalanced?

Does this make Azriel feel sick, nauseous, or simply overwhelmed/overstimulated?

When people are feeling off-balance, for whatever reason, they can feel sick or nauseous. It's one of the symptoms of vertigo, which can be triggered by severe headaches such as migraines. And guess who rubs their temples? Azriel!

Alternatively, certain chords played loudly enough on a string instrument can really mess with your chest - and where do mating bonds attach - if you're standing close enough for them to vibrate through you (at least, they do for me haha). It can be weirdly disconcerting, and I'd imagine that if Azriel or Elain feels something like this, no wonder he describes such severe discomfort that he needs to leave, and she shrinks away from Lucien, the unintentional cause of her pain.

Same with the smell; if the magic of the Cauldron, in whatever way, is messing with the smell that should be there? Contaminating it? Unbearable.

Is this too crack for you? Well, let's get even crazier.

I have previously suggested that the Cauldron's actions throughout the series could be tracked, in part, by SJM describing a feeling or quality as “oily,” and I've also wondered if the dark maker of the Cauldron - Koschei? - could have hijacked it in some way, as the Book of Breathings being made from leftover iron gave me “One Ring” vibes. I still stand by that, but with a clarification (and here is where the TOG and CC spoilers come in, FYI). I think it's only half of the magic belonging to the Cauldron that is "oily":

Throughout TOG, the Valg are heavily associated with “oiliness,” in terms of their blood and magic. The smell “reeks” and always results in the involved characters experiencing extreme revulsion, including headaches. Sound familiar?

Wyrdstone has an oily, hideous aftertaste.

Even in CC 1/HOEAB, Danika was described as oily when she came into Griffin Antiques.

Celaena looked at the sealed door, her stomach turning. A half-dried pool of blood lay at the base of the door, so dark it looked like oil. She crouched, swiping a finger through the puddle. She sniffed at it, almost gagged at the reek, and then rubbed her finger against the pad of her thumb. It felt as oily as it looked. - COM, chapter 45

“What the hell is that?” Rowan demanded, kneeling beside her, sniffing her outstretched hand. He jerked back, snarling. “That’s not dirt.” No, it wasn’t. It was blacker than night, and reeked just as badly as it had the first time she’d smelled it, in the catacombs beneath the library, an obsidian, oily pool of blood. Slightly different from that other, horrific smell that loitered around this place, but similar. So similar to— “This isn’t possible,” she said, jolting to her feet. “This—this—this—” She paced, if only to keep from shaking. “I’m wrong. I have to be wrong.” There had been so many cells in that forgotten dungeon beneath the library, beneath the king’s Wyrdstone clock tower. The creature she’d encountered there had possessed a human heart. It had been left, she’d suspected, because of some defect. What if … what if the perfected ones had been moved elsewhere? What if they were now … ready? - HOF, chapter 45

The overseer roared, thrashing as her magic swept into him, melded with him. But there was nothing inside to grab on to. No darkness to burn out, no remaining ember to breathe life into. Only— Aelin reeled back, magic vanishing and knees buckling as if struck. Her head gave a throb, and nausea roiled in her gut. She knew that feeling—that taste. Iron. As if the man’s core was made of it. And that oily, hideous aftertaste … Wyrdstone. The demon inside the overseer let out a choked laugh. “What are collars and rings compared to a solid heart? A heart of iron and Wyrdstone, to replace the coward’s heart beating within.” - EOS, chapter 15

* Side note, it's giving Tamlin and his stone heart.

Danika didn’t just look like she’d been rootling through the garbage. She smelled like it, too. Wisps of her silvery blond hair—normally a straight, silken sheet—curled from her tight, long braid, the streaks of amethyst, sapphire, and rose splattered with some dark, oily substance that reeked of metal and ammonia. - CC HOEAB, chapter 1

The Hind held Ruhn’s gaze as the game began. She was the spitting image of Luna, with her upswept chignon, the regal angle of her neck and jaw. As coldly serene as the moon. All she needed was a pack of hunting hounds at her side— And she had them, in her dreadwolves. How had someone so young risen in the ranks so swiftly, gained such notoriety and power? No wonder she left a trail of blood behind her. “Careful now,” the Harpy said with that oily smile. “The Hammer doesn’t share.” The Hind’s lips curved upward. “No, he doesn’t.” - CC HOSAB, chapter 33

I think the dark maker of the Cauldron could have been Valg, whether that's Koschei or someone else I don't know though Koschei currently makes the most sense. I also don't know when the dark maker would have had the chance to influence the Cauldron; was it always made from dark and light, or - as @fawnandshadows theorised a while back - did Koschei bastardise it after the fact? Where the Valg would fit in with the Daglan and the Asteri is also a mystery, though my current train of thought is that they could be family names or allegiances, like different clans of the same parasitical species, thanks to the description of Danika in HOEAB.

But, back to Azriel and his severe reaction to the Elucien bond.

I know I'm not the only one who wonders at the very Valg-ish themes with which Rhys and Azriel's powers have been described - maybe one day I'll post my thoughts about the possible link between lightsingers, shadowsingers, daemati and the Valg (but it is not this day lol) - and how that may have come about. For example, are the Valg interwoven, genetically, with the Avallen people, or is it because the Princes of Hel are also involved, and have similar magics? Are the Princes of Hel a similar species as the Valg, Asteri and Daglan, or completely different? Ugh, let's stop this spiral here.

Oily: the obvious train of thought being that oily things are slippery, which can lead to an imbalance… ie. becoming off-kilter.

Sounds like Azriel could be suffering from some sort of vertigo, of which symptoms can include nausea; severe headaches, such as migraines, may trigger an episode… and who rubs his temples enough that Elain noticed it?

Maybe Azriel can sense the corruption in the bond, either the current Elucien bond, or the hypothetical original bond between Elain and himself; if like calls to like, and his shadows are Valg-ish, maybe it is because his OG bond was fucked with. So, what if:

Azriel's shadows can slip away from spells and binding magic (Slippery > oily > Valg).

The guards at the prison know what he is.

Valg magic making Azriel nauseous and Elain sourcing/making a healer's powder for him? It's giving Chaol and Yrene. Especially since Elain (and Mor) make his shadows brighten.

So, we have in-text mentions of Azriel feeling overwhelmed due to the proximity of the Elucien bond, as well as Elain shrinking from Lucien - an action that parallels Azriel hanging out in the doorway, and even Lucien retreating to the human lands, if he feels any bond-related discomfort around Elain. But what about his initial response to seeing Elain, and thinking she was the most beautiful female he'd ever seen? The quote that sent me down the “oily” rabbit hole to begin with?

Well, Aelin felt oily disgust at the thought of marrying someone who wasn't Rowan:

“There are no allies,” Darrow said. “Unless Her Highness decides to be useful and gain us men and arms through marriage”—a sharp glance at Rowan—“we are alone.” Aelin debated revealing what she knew, the money she’d schemed and killed to attain, but— Something cold and oily clanged through her. Marriage to a foreign king or prince or emperor. Would this be the cost? Not just in blood shed, but in dreams yielded? To be a princess eternal, but never a queen? To fight with not just magic, but the other power in her blood: royalty. She could not look at Rowan, could not face those pine-green eyes without being sick. - EOS, chapter 5

This example from Aelin could describe Azriel and Elain’s potential future if Elain accepted a theoretically Cauldron spelled bond to Lucien, but also for Lucien and Jesminda, if they were originally true or fated mates before she was murdered.

Some final thoughts:

We know from TOG that healing light is known as the Valg executioner. In a parallel to Yrene killing Erawan with her healing light in KOA, Elain killed the King of Hybern - who I suspect was possessed or assisted by a Valg, as Feyre described his magic as a “galaxy” in his palms - with Truth-Teller, which had recently devoured the (her?) sunlight; does this mean that Elain could heal or purify Valg possessed things, with or without the magical, Made dagger? Could this be extrapolated to Azriel's magic, the Dread Trove, or even the Cauldron (possibly with Feyre and Nesta for the bigger ticket items)?

If the Asteri are the same species as the Valg, and the Valg somehow had a hand in making or twisting the Cauldron, it could follow that they used the Cauldron to create offspring bonds for a more powerful food source. If this pans out then Elain, bright light, could hypothetically heal the Cauldron. Maybe that is why Azriel describes her with purity language? Not because SJM wants to display Azriel's apparently toxic thoughts about her (🙄), but because she, along with her sisters, will be his/their salvation? Rhys once said as much to Feyre!

@mrspettyferr has suggested that Azriel's shadows ability to hide him from binding magic - see: the High Lord's meeting in ACOWAR - could have prevented his true bond from snapping with Elain when she came out of the Cauldron. This could be supported by any Valg/shadow link.

Thank you for reading! Please don't mention any CC HOFAS spoilers in the comments or reblogs until after it has been officially published. 💜

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bright-side20 · 6 months

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Elain Archeron/The seer 🌸

Art by book_s150

_In greek mythology seers are often given their power by divine powers, and the visions they have are considered messages from gods for a purpose.

_Mor about Elain’s Vision:

“There is a reason why Elain is seeing these things. She was right about the other queen turning old, about the Ravens’ attack—why is she being sent this image? Why is she hearing this queen? It must be vital. If we ignore it, perhaps we’ll deserve to fail.”

I believe the cauldron gifted Elain such a powerful ability – the literal control of the future – because it saw her heart, recognizing that she could use this power properly for the better. That's why it didn't hurt her when it lured her, and why it purred when she stabbed the king because she had done what she had to.

With all the hints about the dusk court in silver flames, and now that Bryce is in Prythian, the plot of acotar is heading towards freeing the dusk court.

_ Nesta felt that she had been brought to the prison to take the harp, the instrument in which the people of the Dusk Court were probably imprisoned :

"She had the creeping feeling she’d been brought here. Not by the Cauldron or the Mother or the Harp. By something vaster. Something that stretched into the stars carved all around them."

_Elain:

"Elain began praying to the Fae’s foreign gods"

_Bryce :

“You think the gods have something to do with all this?” Again, the hair on her arms rose; the star on her chest dimmed and went dark.... “After this spring, I can’t help but wonder if there is something out there. Guiding all this. If there’s some game afoot that’s … I don’t know. Bigger than anything we can grasp.”

“What do you mean?”

'......' all of us, the Vanir … we all came from elsewhere. We were immigrants into Midgard. But what became of our home worlds? Our home gods? Do they still pay attention to us? Remember us?”

And then she ended up in Prythian 😃

Since the whole thing is planned by divine powers, and Elain is a seer who receives visions from divine powers for specific purposes—whether guiding, as when she told them about Vassa, warning, as when she told Feyre about the twin ravens, or shaping the course of events, like when she stabbed the king of Hybern to save Nesta and Cassian and directly helping in winning the war —I believe that she also received a vision about Bryce coming to Prythian and maybe other visions about the dusk court.

_Amren to Rhys :

Do not forget that Nesta herself—and Elain, with whatever powers she has—is here. Feyre is here.All three sisters blessed by fate and gifted with powers to match your own.

Yet, antis believe her story will be about leaving the NC and becoming an emissary. Nah, her power won't be wasted like that, and she won't leave her sisters; they are literally blessed and reunited by Fate.

_Amren :

you are immune to the influence and power of the Trove. You might use them, yes, but they cannot be used upon you.” A glance to Elain. “Either of you.”

And since the people of the Dusk Court were imprisoned using the harp as it had been hinted :

“ I think someone very wicked used this last.” She stared into the darkness above. “I think they used it to … to trap their enemies and their enemies’ children into the stone itself.” Was that what had been happening to her just now? The Harp had been pushing her into the rock, fusing her soul with it?

The only one who can deal with the power of a made object without being hurt, the only one capable of rescuing the people of the Dusk Court now, is Elain, the cauldron-made seer. Elain, who it had gifted with such powers, found her so lovely it had wanted to give her something.

_Nesta took death, what could the cauldron have given Elain?.... Perhaps rebirth

And then we'll have the three sisters representing the circle of life: Feyre for life, Nesta for death, and Elain for rebirth.

#elainarcheron #elriel #pro elain #elain archeron #sarahjmaas #acotar thoughts #elriel supremacy #sjm #art #pro elriel

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yazthebookish · 1 month

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I posted my take on the Lightsinger theory and Gwyn's "luring" powers theory on Reddit two days ago but thought I'll reshare it here (with some additional thoughts)

The only canon information we have on Lightsingers:

Nesta winced. Cassian went on as she scanned the bog, "There are lightsingers: lovely, ethereal beings who will lure you, appearing as friendly faces when you are lost. Only when you're in their arms will you see their true faces, and they aren't fair at all. The horror of it is the last thing you see before they drown you in the bog. But they kill for sport, not food."

Does this correlate with anything Gwyn did in ACOSF? The answer is no.

I am not saying it is impossible for her to be a Lightsinger though where things stand it's unlikely in my opinion, but I'd attribute any potential powers either singing or glowing to her River Nymph heritage. We have no idea of her powers and she's also half High Fae of course she'll have powers like every other High Fae.

I think a lot of the "canon evidence" are different interpretations of the text but sometimes try to present itself as concrete evidence or proof when it isn't. Some attribute her singing during the services as the cause to Nesta having vision of the Prison and the Harp, but that also means we will have to ask what connection is there between Lightsingers and the Prison/Harp? And some believe it's the lyrics that trigger the vision as they're written in the ancient language and "Nesta saw what the song spoke of". Some believe Nesta power reacting to the crackling energy around Gwyn is a sign that she is a Lightsinger, but like... that's an indicator she has powers just like how Nesta in a later chapter felt Merrill's ornerry power. How is crackling energy means it's a Lightsinger when we never saw them? Powers recognize each other sometimes, just like how Feyre was surprised when Eris was able to detect a cold flame in the Dagger Nesta forged when it was given to him as a gift (like calls to like, Eris also has flame power).

In the bonus chapter, it's described at one point that the Shadows danced with Gwyn's breath as if it heard some Silent MUSIC (emphasis on music and not song). What was referred to as Music between Souls? The mating bond. Interestingly enough it was that same night when Nessian consummated their bond and they were connected by a music between their souls. So that could be a hint, and at the end of the scene Azriel hears a distant beautiful singing and the shadows sing back, hard to tell whether if it's Gwyn, who went back to trying to cut the ribbon, starts to sing or it's also another wording for a hint at the mating bond (also called the Song of the Soul).

I'm more keen to believe it's the mating bond because there are far more parallels and similar mate language to support it across all her three series and if someone is going to tell me "but Lorcan's chest glowed after he took the blood oath from Aelin—" my love context matters in this case and it doesn't invalidate the 10+ examples I can pull out of similar mate language like in the bonus chapter.

To ADD, for Azriel to be lured to the library at 7pm because of said Lightsinger singing, he has to be able to HEAR the singing for the power to influence him and Azriel didn't hear any singing, he was conscious and aware of his actions. It was mentioned Nesta sang with Gwyn at the services frequently and she didn't make any comments on a vision being triggered or her constantly seeking out Gwyn so there are holes in those kind of conclusions—again, because we never see Lightsingers on page.

"But when he arrives to the library it chimed 7pm!! That's when they sing for the dusk service" welp that's another hole in the theory, it depends on Azriel being drawn to the library because of Gwyn's singing but if he showed up at the library and they don't sing until 7pm then before the clock chimes at 7pm, they weren't singing so... not a convincing answer. Also, Clotho is usually seen during those services and Azriel still found her at her desk.

Early on when ACOSF came out, some readers made connections between Lightsingers and Shadowsingers and made the assumption that Lightsingers are the Shadowsingers' Light counterparts. That's why you had people musing about Azriel's mate being a Lightsinger, but canonically Lightsingers are evil once we go back to the text but we don't even see them to know for sure how they wield their powers or if they even sing because Shadowsinger Azriel doesn't need to sing when he uses his power.

In an Elain book (in this scenario it's her and Azriel), I don't see any purpose of Gwyn being revealed as a Lightsinger or anything about her powers because it'll be used as a plot device for an Elain/Azriel romance rather than contribute to Gwyn's own growth and that's why I don't like it. It will have implications on Nesta and the Valkyries dynamic too. If that's the case it will mean Gwyn will need more page time in an Elain and Azriel book to tackle something like that, especially if they're going to "help" her since that's the reasoning I see often—that she's not evil but she doesn't know it and if she did they will help her but like... why? To make her realize she has been keeping them apart or that she wanted a necklace she didn't even have any clue about.

Given Gwyn's history who even at the end of the book said despite training it didn't erase the fact that she let her sister die, she is still dealing with survivor's guilt, she still refuses to wear the priestesses stone, and also her desire to leave the library and see the world (which we didn't see yet). She has a lot of promise as a character than be a plot device for someone else's relationship.

The way I see it, Gwyn's theoretical powers is used to absolve Azriel of any accountability for his actions (ala Necklacegate) because it's not a good look on him, so it's better to pin it on someone else by saying he was lured against his will (since I often see that the reasoning behind her presence in the bonus chapter is to hint at her powers).

So if I have to read about Gwyn dealing with her powers whether they're good or bad, I'd rather see it from her point of view and for it to be beneficial for her own personal arc and healing journey. My problem isn't her having questionable powers (which I don't mind because many SJM characters had questionable powers but used it for good), I don't want it to be used as a plot device for another couple just to smear her as a character and clear the actions of the other male character so his "love interest" doesn't blame him for his actions.

Whew, this was long but I adore Gwyn and I am not a fan of the current version of the Lightsinger theory. I think even if SJM makes it happen, it would probably play out way differently than the fandom expects.

Also, it's not in SJM's style to use other woman drama in her romances. The other women are often 💀 or insignificant past lovers. I don't see her taking that route with Gwyn at all.

She could be half Asteri and I would still love her and be eager to explore her powers and story, I just don't like it being used to further another couple's conflict or whatever (they already have Rhys and Lucien).

And no, I hate the idea of Gwyn being controlled by either Koschei or Merrill because it takes away her agency and the suggestion here is about her doing things that harms others, how will that not have any implications on Nesta and Emerie and the trio's healing journey? Given her own tragic history and the fact that she was helpless and powerless to help her twin sister and she's still dealing with survivor's guilt over it all.

"Why did you sign up for this, then?" Nesta drank the glass Gwyn extended. "If you already have mind-calming exercises you're accustomed to?"

"Because I don't ever want to feel powerless again," Gwyn said softly, and all those easy smiles and bright laughs were gone. Only stark, pained honesty shone in her remarkable eyes.

Her being controlled is putting her in a powerless position again because she has no choice but to do Koschei or "evil" Merrill's bidding that could potentially harm Nesta and the others. I despite it.

And if I have to read about any comparisons between Gwyn and Ianthe as proof that priestesses can be evil, I'll go insane.

Also, if Gwyn's power can influence anyone through her singing, it would've influenced every single person in the services. It would have influenced other members of the IC. This particular theory is weak and depends one interpretation of the text that tries to present itself as evidence of an evil creature that never even shows up on page.

Gwyn wasn't added in the bonus chapter by coincidence. Sarah confirmed she left crumbs all over the book and specifically his bonus chapter, and what we speculate may or may not be confirmed in the next book so you can't dismiss the bonus by saying it has no relevance when the author said she left crumbs for readers to theorize about, which leads me to believe she wants us to come up with different theories until she publishes the next book where we'll know for sure if we nailed it or not.

#gwynriel #gwyneth berdara

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boopshoops · 2 months

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TWST OC INTRODUCTION - TCOAV

Ezra Goldspire - Who Knows Best

Name: Ezra Goldspire

Nicknames: Ezzie, Killifish

Gender: Male

Pronouns: He/him

Sexuality: Homosexual

Birthday: May 7 (Taurus)

Age: 362 (In canon and AU)

Height: 5'11 or 179cm

Voice Claim(s): Caleb Hyles

Twisted from: Mother Gothel/Esther Gothel of Tangled

Unique Magic: "What Once was Mine" Through the use of magical herbs and alchemy, Ezra is able to capture the likeness of himself and other individuals. He can share and change other's physical features with these concoctions, ranging anywhere from shoe size to facial structure to vocal coords. These changes last as long as he desires as well as under his own set conditions at the cost of requiring outside materials to complete. Typically the magic is contained in what appears to be a type of spice or powder, and the change leaves a mark/tattoo on the individual which the magic is cast to indicate what exactly was changed.

Grade: Primarily teaches Sophomores and Juniors

Class: Teaches art and music, along with being the homeroom teacher of class 3-D.

Hobbies: Alchemy, botany, herbology, singing, painting, playing the harp, improv.

Likes: Broadway, theater, pasta alla gricia, small spaces, spring, jewelry, floral arrangements, experimental learning, any music.

Dislikes: Crickets, wrinkles, scars, wasted talent, mumbling/whispering, tracking time.

Fears: Aging, other Changeling Fae, not being recognized by those he cares for, forgetting people.

Summary: As the most easygoing teacher on the entirety of campus, many of the students and fellow staff members view him as a scatter-brained daydreamer. However, his dreams filled with immense passion, as he desires for nothing more than to watch his student's talent blossom... and keep the bloom contained and protected in a glass case.

Now, don't get him wrong! He has the best intentions, of course. There are many, many scary people and places out there in this Twisted Wonderland. People who would take advantage of such bright minds. He is simply preventing that from happening. The man has been around for a long time and has been through his own share of ordeals, so he would most definitely know.

He has a big heart. While he goes about an odd, constrictive way of showing it, he does truly care. He has a hard time letting things go, and he simply wants the best for those he cares for. Ezra would spoil every single one of his students rotten if he were able. Even as a rather new professor at NRC, he wishes to guide every single one of them on the right path.

Outfit Inspiration

Author's Notes: ARGHHH MY BOY... Ezra is a very new character I made only a few months ago. He was created specifically for TCOAV, but alas I have grown attached. Given we already have quite a few gaslight gatekeep girlboss type characters over here, I decided to focus more on twisting different aspects of Mother Gothel. I particularly focused on her parental tendencies as well as her means of "caring" for Rapunzel. Whereas whether Gothel truly cares for Rapunzel or not is still up in the air, and they truly had a toxic relationship nonetheless, I wanted to make Ezra a more misguided but good individual.

#boopshoopsoc #twisted wonderland #twst #twst oc #disney twst #oc #twst wonderland #original character #oc art #ezra goldspire #digital drawing #digital doodle #digital art #oc profile #character art #original character art #boopshoopsart #boopshoopswriting

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trashbins-stuff · 10 months

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Harp in the au >:D

Sorry if it look a bit bad im havinf a headache

#the traumatized cup #ttc #ttc harp #creature redesign/fae au thing #digital art #art #trashbins-art

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bramblesse · 9 months

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Faeries 𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊

allegedly we get a new occult every fourth gamepack and i'm cross at people arguing that faeries would be too much like spellcasters so here's my manifesto of content that would make it worthwhile. feel free to pass this on to the nearest eaxis snoop. if you are the eaxis snoop, please read carefully and take notes. 🍄🌱

all the tuning for the 'erratic' trait built-in to every faerie's personality from the jump — laughing or crying at seemingly inappropriate times, combustive fits of rage, a playful moodlet that won't kill them for being quirky or random, etc.

not only speaking to plants but singing to them — and loudly!

either far more attentive or far more neglectful of infant, toddler and child sims. [historically fae parenting mileage may vary, they are either the worst or the best! see: changelings!]

spontaneous dancing, with or without music, and lots of it.

tampering with food such as milk for an awful rotten surprise.

higher likelihood of something being stolen by them. toys, trinkets, decorations, other sims... [i have never read a tale about a faerie who wasn't casing a joint! they like shiny objects!]

faerie bargains! they have special interactions for bargaining and haggling with human sims for things in their inventory.

bestowing gifts and curses interactions. existential gifts like longer lifespans or giving human sims green thumbs or blessing a sim with an unexpected fortune. curses that involve having human sims mindlessly going around in circles, dancing to exhaustion, having all their crops never grow to fruition, etc.

grilled cheese want replaced by a want to eat cake.

other sims find them instantly attractive and more charismatic, even more charismatic than normal sims who have high charisma skill. [listen the everything about fae tells me they are v cunning.]

an affinity for all music and boosted skill level when learning to play an instrument. [it would be nice to have a lute, flute or harp added to the game but could easily be put in a bands or medieval pack.]

setting traps everywhere but particularly in forests with trees surrounded by toadstools that trap human sims in their realm. imagine a new death type from a faerie ring object...

exceptional at locating the garbage your normal sims can find whenever they go digging. [a faerie troupe whisking by during a faerie hunt is p commonly depicted in art and literature so their ability to track things down is probably wild.]

rather than incessant need to exercise, they have an incessant need to sunbathe and/or moonbathe.

insects and animals are drawn to them and easily convinced to do their bidding without any training — for instance, they can set bees upon their enemies. [unrelated, sort of, but we need bee and butterfly spawners in build mode!!!]

a court system that is a hybrid of groups from get together and the packs in werewolves. seelie, unseelie. spring, summer, autumn, winter. day, night. it really doesn't matter. let us decide what each court represents and place our faeries accordingly!

#ts4

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helionpegasus · 1 year

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ceilings (part 4)

Azriel x Reader

masterlist

summary: Reader always had vivid dreams due her Seer heritage. But things take a twist in her life when she starts dreaming with a male she never seen, and wake up in a world that is not hers.

warnings: a bit angst

words count: 3273

author’s note: damnnn this the biggest one so far! as always, thank you for your patience <3 and i hope you like it! :)

There was too much information to absorb. Azriel’s mind was spinning since he found the female yesterday, and now this? A chance of her being able to listen to his shadows? That’s definitely not how he expected to begin his week.

He was trying to understand how the shadows are so fond of her. Because once they announced she was awake, it takes all of his strength to control them. They were trying and trying to run directly to the female, and Azriel had no clue why. And if there’s one thing that makes the Shadowsinger upset, is not knowing what’s happening with something he used to have control of.

"I don't think my shadows have the power to travel between worlds." He states.

They were in the meeting room. Cassian, Nesta, Mor and Amren arrived right after the female told the story. She came with them, eyes wide with confusion, body slightly shaking, probably scared of all the situation and scared of them.

He thought it was completely normal, given all she's been through the past day. They were a bunch of strangers to her, and she's also a stranger to them. That's why Azriel has been keeping his eye on her since they left the nursing room. She was clearly uncomfortable with the look he's giving her from the opposite side of the table, but didn't say a word of complaint.

"Maybe not traveling between worlds, but perhaps being able to connect with other shadows?" Feyre says to everyone but her stare was empty, like she's been trying to formulate a proper answer. "If she's able to hear them, like we think she is. Maybe she has such power in her world."

"I don't think that's possible." The girl says. Azriel was starting to think her accent is cute, but he'll never admit it. "I've never shown such power. I have a friend who has similar powers to that, I know how it is, but it just never happened to me. How can the first time it happens I end up in another world?

"Plus, how were you guys able to open a portal? I thought only the Horn were able to do that." Her facial features pulled in confusion.

"There's other objects that can open portals?" Nesta asked, straightening her back on the chair.

"In my world, there's the Luna Horn, a Fae relic that holds such power. My friend was trying to find it, her intentions was not to travel this much like me, but to Hel find help."

"She needs help with what?" Rhysand asks.

"Our world needs help."

Suddenly the atmosphere of the room was dense. They were still recovering from a War, now they were almost facing problems that weren’t even in their world.

Everyone got lost in their own thoughts.

Azriel didn’t waste time to call Rhysand in his mind.

“I think Nesta should play the Harp and we send this girl right where she came from.” He said once he felt Rhys presence in his mind.

“Don’t be so intransigent. She’s not some dog that we can simply deliver back to the adoption care.” His voice was firm. Making Azriel glance move to the High Lord for the first time since they arrived.

“Already so protective?”

“Not protective, Azriel. I have values. This court as well.”

Azriel was angry, because (Y/N) clearly made him uncomfortable. He didn’t know why, but there was this strange feeling starting to rip in his chest, a feeling that was not welcoming.

He was even more scared of his friends realizing that something was wrong. And he freely gave Rhysand the first sample of it in their conversation.

Their full minds were interrupted by the loud sound of the travelers belly. The Inner Circle realizes that she hasn't eaten for a long time.

“I’m sorry. I got dragged here while I was making breakfast.” She said with eyes wide. Cheeks red with embarrassment.

“There is no reason to apologize!” Feyre turned herself to face the female at her left side. “You must be starving, come with me. I’ll get something for you.”

She got up signaling for the female to the door. Mor and Nesta followed them right after.

“I’m sure of one thing…” Amren says when the females exit the room. “Mother wouldn’t let the world portal open and let the girl slip in our court with no purpose.”

“The thing is if the purpose is good or not.” Cassian says.

“She came with your shadows, boy.” The gray eyes fixed themselves on Azriel. “They didn’t tell you anything?”

“No. Apparently they’re refusing to. All they told me was that they found her in a cavern and brought her here.”

“I thought you controlled them.”

“Yes, I do. But I can not control what they say to me.”

The Shadowsinger’s voice was stiff. All he wanted was to have some free days to relax, and now it seemed like the Cauldron was throwing a bomb near to explode in his lap.

Rhysand and Cassian noticed their brother's change of mood since they saw him this morning at breakfast. Azriel was usually quiet, but now his silence was ice cutting.

You were walking in the hallways trying to remember all the turns you made on the big place those people called home, in case you needed to go back all by yourself.

At this point of the day, you were sure that in this world they were not near the advanced technology you had in Midgard. The lights were pure magic, not electricity; Their clothes were like the ones described in your favorite novels stuffed in your bookshelf and now while you were entering the kitchen you realize that they don’t even have a fridge.

“Do you want anything specific?” Feyre asked you.

She has been nothing but lovely with you since you met her. Clearly not acting like most female rulers you know about.

“Anything is fine, really.” You answer her with a shy smile.

“A bit of everything then, I guess.” The High Lady gives you one of her own.

The counter in front of you was full of food in a blink. Your body stiffen in surprise.

“How can you do that?”

“It’s the House.” The female that resembles Feyre says. Nesta, you remembered. “The House is conscient.”

“B-but how? It’s like a century spell or something like that?”

“Kinda like that.” Feyre says with a laugh. “There’s magic of a whole bloodline in this building, but I have to acknowledge that Nesta played an important part to make it more… alive.”

You read between the lines that they would not explain more than that to you, so you content yourself with only that.

Your belly was almost protesting again, which reminded you to make a move to eat something. The pies and cakes looked delicious, but eating something sweet being so long without eating anything didn’t sound really appealing, so you reach for a sandwich that was apparently with chicken and a salad.

At your first bite you couldn’t control the growl of satisfaction leaving your lips. With everything happening all at once you didn’t even realize you were hungry. But now that you had so much in front of you, your stomach was anxious to be full of everything you lay your eyes on.

“So… (Y/N), what do you work with in your world? If you don’t mind me asking, of course.” The blonde female asked. Morrigan was a name that fitted her so well, you thought, both were extremely beautiful.

“I am in my last year of studies at Crescent City University.” You answer her once you swallow the food. The name coming out of your mouth is more familiar, saying in your accent and language. “I pretend to work with Social Sciences. I’m sorry, I don’t know how to say it in your language. But basically, I want to work with people. Understand different organizations and cultures, and also learn a lot of history. That’s how I learned a bit of this language.”

“That’s really cool. I don’t think we have anything like that!” Feyre says, eyes shining with curiosity.

“The Day Court must be doing something similar, but certainly not that deep.” Morrigan add.

“You must be really smart, then.” Nesta points, making you choke on the piece of pear you were eating.

“Don’t expect a lot.” You gave her a nervous laugh. “That’s how you are divided here? By courts?” You changed subjects, embarrassed by the statement.

“Yes, there are seven of them. Night Court, where you are right now, Day, Dawn, Summer, Winter, Autumn and Spring.” The blonde answered. “We’re in Prythian. In the Continent there’s more places, but there are no Courts, just territories.”

You nod in agreement, processing all the information. Two continents, from what they said until now, but there’s probably more.

“You said you didn’t have powers with the shadows, what powers do you have then?” Nesta asked, plating a piece of the strawberry for you and the three of them as well.

“I don’t have any outstanding power. I can levitate and summon objects like most Fae. My grandmother was a Seer, but I don’t have practice with this power, since it was always very unsteady.”

“What do you mean unsteady?” Feyre asked.

“I don’t have visions out of nowhere like other Seers. It happened like once or twice, and it was nothing big and world saving. Lately I’ve been having a lot of them in my dreams, but I still don’t know if they’re exactly visions.” You feel the edge of your ears burning when you remember about Azriel. Still not trusting them so much to say such a thing. And you feel relieved to have your hair down.

“How come you hear the shadows?” Morrigan looks at you. Her brown eyes piercing yours, like daring you.

“I-I don’t know. I heard them in one of those dreams as well, before everything.”

The blonde gaze softens, surprise flashing fast on them. Not going unnoticed by you, but you decide to not comment on it. The air in the kitchen suddenly thick.

“Well…” Feyre deflected our attention. “There’s anything more you need, (Y/N)?”

“I would like to clean myself if it’s possible.” Your voice was shy. Your body contorting while feeling the stick material of the dried blood in your shirt.

“Yes, of course! I’m sorry, we should have given you the time to clean yourself before everything.” She says grabbing your hand. “Nesta will lead you to a bedroom. You can clean yourself, put some new clothes on and later someone will pick you up for dinner.”

“Alright. Thank you so much, really. You’re making this whole experience a bit less traumatic.” A nervous laugh goes out of your mouth, your eyes watering.

“Don’t need to thank me. We’re gonna figure this all out.” Her arms embraced you.

And how you needed this. The comfort settles in your body to calm your heart at least a little bit.

But that’s not when you break down. It was after Nesta led you down the hall, to a bedroom she said was near hers in case you needed anything. When you took your clothes off and the movements seemed more heavy than normal. It was when you sat inside the bathtub, your body covered in the warm water, muscles sore from everything that you broke down.

Tears falling down your face nonstop. A million thoughts per second all at once. So many feelings at the same time, fear, tiredness, relief, sadness, and mostly, you were feeling lost. When you finally meet the person you swear to yourself would answer all your questions and lead you to find the right path. You were feeling lost.

You were trying to steady your breath, not handling the hurt in your chest, like it was almost ripping itself open. Once you are feeling more calm, you finally start cleaning yourself. Washing your hair that still has some leaves from the forest, your nails still with mud and face that you doubted that the tears already did the job for you. You trace your finger in the thin scar that took place in your ribcage, but stopped before you got caught in a loop of thoughts again.

A small presence made itself known caressing your forearm out of the bathtub. A shadow lacing itself on your arm like a bracelet.

“You’re here to give information to your master? On how pitiful I am?” You ask quietly to the dark smoke, not expecting an answer.

The shadow only hugs your arm tighter.

“I’ll consider this a no. It would be really disrespectful to take information from me while I’m bathing, though.”

It makes no way to leave your arm. Circling your wrist and forearm continuously.

“I guess I’m supposed to be able to hear you. Do you have anything to say?”

“Nothing for now.”

Your body shivers seeing the shadow move to your ear and back to your arm. So it was really it. The voice you heard before was the same as this one.

You got out of the bathtub with a sigh, deciding the time was done. Confused on how the water didn’t go cold.

Once in the bedroom you went to the drawer Nesta mentioned to find something to wear. You put a black leggings and a dark blue sweater that seemed to be the clothes you’re more used to. Socks and a pair of boots to your cold feet.

You used a product that seemed to be a hair product and brushed your hair. Your guess must have been right, because your hair detangle really easily. You finish it up and let it down to dry faster.

Looking at your reflection in the mirror, you realized how your eyes were swollen from all the crying and your nose red. You’re only hope was to not be so noticeable when the dinner starts.

“There’s anything for me to do while waiting? Maybe there’s a book here somewhere.” You say to no one.

You hear a muffled thud in a table near the fireplace, an inviting armchair placed near it. A book was settled on the table, a cup of fuming tea beside it.

“So you’re really conscient.” You say looking at the ceiling, and get by surprise when you see the reflections of the windows making a whole constellation in there.

“A romance, you have good taste. I think I’m gonna spend a lot of time like this to improve my knowledge in the language. Any chance you keep doing this?”

The house answer was a pile of books next to the one it placed before.

“Thank you!” You smiled brightly.

You don’t know how much time you spend reading, but you were progressing very well considering that you haven't read in the language for quite a long time. The reading got interrupted by a knock on the door. Nesta welcomed you with a soft smile when you opened it, but it slowly disappeared.

“You’re okay?” She asked, a little worried.

“Y-Yes, my eyes are still swollen?” Your hand goes right to your eyes, patting it to feel the damage.

“A little bit.”

“You can eat here in the bedroom if you prefer.” The winged male behind Nesta suggested with a look of concern in his eyes as well. Cassian, her mate.

“Ugh, it looks really that bad?” You run your hands in your face not knowing if you cover it or accept your fate.

“No! Your face looks totally fine. You’re even cleaner now!” He says.

Nesta slaps her own forehead before slapping Cassian’s arm.

“What Cassian is trying to say is that if you are still uncomfortable and prefer to be by yourself tonight is completely alright. But we would appreciate your presence with us as well.” The female says calmly to you.

“Yes, I would like to go with you.” You said a bit shy.

“Perfect!” Nesta says and you close the door behind you to follow them to the dining room.

Cassian eyes go strictly to your forearm, where the shadow is still resting. The small smile that shows in his face eases your heart.

Everyone else was in the dining room, the big table was already settled. But there was a presence of two people you haven't met yet. The first was the little baby sleeping in Feyre arms, that you supposed was called Nyx. The second was a brunette girl sitting on the opposite side of Azriel.

The conversation eases when they notice you three arrived.

“(Y/N), let me present to you.” Rhysand starts. “This is Elain. Feyre and Nesta’s sister.” He pointed to the brunette, who gave you a small smile. “And the little one is Nyx, my son.” He caresses the little boy's head.

“Nice to meet you.” You say to Elain with a smile. The female just nods in your direction.

“Let’s eat, I’m starving!” Cassian says, making Nesta roll her eyes.

She led you to the table, to sit beside her, Azriel on your right.

Then everyone enters in a conversation and serves their own plates. Nesta serves your plate before you could feel shy to do it by yourself, you say a quiet thank you to her.

The dinner flowed fast. They shared stories and news, you stayed quiet most of the time, only answering when the question was asked directly at you. You just didn’t know exactly where to place yourself there when they seemed so complete.

“You almost didn’t eat. Didn’t like the food?” Morrigan asked you.

“Oh, no! The food is delicious, I’m just full from earlier.” You explain yourself and she makes an expression like reminding what happened in the kitchen.

“That little one seems really fond of you, (Y/N).” Cassian points at your right forearm with a smirk. “It was there the whole dinner.”

Everyone's gaze went right to you, making your cheeks burn. Azriel stiff himself in the chair when he sees the shadow. The little thing quickly went to its master, twirling itself along with the others on his shoulders.

“I’m sorry. They’re quite… Wild these days.” Azriel says to you.

“It’s okay, They are quite comforting.” You say with a small smile for him, already missing the light feeling in your arm.

Azriel only looks at you in a way you didn’t recognize, then he clears his throat, making everyone go back to what they were talking before.

Later that night, you twisted and turned but couldn’t get yourself to sleep. Mostly scared of what could happen while you sleep. You were on the verge of tears of frustration when you felt a familiar feeling in your arm. There was the shadow again, making you smile to yourself.

“You sense when I’m needing help?” You whisper to the shadow twirling in your wrist. “Thank you.”

With a comfortable presence and the warm bed the House made, it wasn’t a long time for you to fall asleep.

When you looked around you couldn’t place where you were. It was dark, really dark, and cold. It got you bracing yourself even with the thick sweater on.

You hear whispers, coming from behind you.

When you turn around you have to force your vision to see clearly. There was a kid embracing themself in the corner of the place.

“Hello?” You call in a low voice.

The kid looks at you. Eyes big with fear.

You know those eyes. The wings in his back were just a confirmation.

In front of you was Azriel as a kid.

taglist (overlined users i couldn’t tag):

@humanpersonlasttimeichecked @valeridarkness @his-sweet-nightmare @leeknows-wife @mich0731 @kristalhi @marina568 @brekkershadowsinger @cafe-inaaa @lovierhys @kenmaisacinnamonroll @alt-ghost @marigold-morelli @thelightnddarkness @amysangel @thecraziestcrayon @fall-myriad @a-court-of-milkandhoney @hungryforbatboys @elizarikaallen @allison-rosewood-maximoff @gamarancianne @weirdo-fun

#Azriel #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #azriel imagine #azriel x you #acotar imagine #acotar

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jell-o101 · 3 months

Note

I totally get changing hyperfixations though with the whole Epic Mickey announcement. I know it probably won't ever happen, but in my case, if they ever bring back the Disney Fairies/Tinker Bell movies into some kind of new video game or show...

Yeah that would be the thing that would probably get me to change my current hyperfixation from Super Mario Bros. I think I just probably got into this movie and the games because there's just so much out there where the rabbit hole keeps going deeper...

It’s not really changing. It’s more like revealing that I used to like it a lot when I was 13 and am now getting excited at the idea of more people getting into the game and story. I was always a Mario Bros gal, I just needed a little nudge to DO fanart for it hehehe.

AS FOR THE TINKERBELL FRANCHISE, OH MY GOD. I WAS OBSESSED with the books (I was and still am a bit of a fae lore nerd lol) and went berserk when the films were announced.

I remember I was super into the idea of being some sort of fine arts themed fairy like Art Talent or Music Talent. I just like the idea of using a giant paintbrush or making a harp out of a leaf and cobwebs XBKHBQBKJXBIJX

Ugh I would kill for another Tinkerbell film

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lorcandidlucienwill · 6 months

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TOG characters meet ACOTAR characters part 1

It was the annual Yulemas celebration, and all of Aelin’s friends + Lorcan had convened in Terrasen’s palace. Everyone from Ansel of Briarcliff to Manon Crochan Blackbeak came. Even Yrene with her abdomen that was now showing had come. Aelin and Rowan’s home had never felt more full. It was an amazing feeling. She wondered if this was how it would feel to have children.

She pushed the feeling aside. As much as she wanted children, she wasn’t ready for that kind of commitment yet. Terrasen’s rebuilding came first.

Aelin was wearing a shiny silver dress while her mate wore green armor (sigh, when was he going to start wearing normal clothing?) that brought out his eyes. Fenrys on the other hand, was having way too much fun dressing up. He’d shown up in a full-blown white toga, paired with a golden laurel and golden waistband. He’d tied half his hair up and left the rest to cascade in waves around his shoulders. He seemed just fine as he went to annoy Lorcan, but Aelin could sense the sadness radiating out of him. Aelin just wished she knew how to fix it.

Lorcan was not in black (gasp!), but rather it seemed he had been forced into dark red robes by his wife, who wore a matching dark red dress. It never failed to amuse Aelin that one, his name was Lord Lorcan Lochan, and two, he willingly followed the small, delicate young Lady of Perranth’s every order. He had been teaching her how to read while helping rebuild Perranth, so Aelin would sometimes catch Elide reading children’s books out of the Terrasen royal library.

Chaol was awkwardly standing in a corner with Manon, of all the people. Dorian was dancing with Chaol’s wife, leaving the two standing near each other. Chaol looked slightly pale and constantly stared at Manon’s hands, as if waiting for the iron nails to unsheathe themselves. Aelin decided to spare her old friend and come in between them.

Once she was within earshot (since she was Fae, she was still quite far from them), she heard Manon hiss in his ear, “Agree to dance with me Chaol, so that Dorian thinks I’m playing nice with his friends.”

“Are you playing nice with his friends though?” Chaol dared to ask.

“Do I look nice to you, human? Come, let’s dance.” Manon grabbed his hand.

“Mind your manners, witch,” Aelin said coolly, stepping towards them. There was a glimmer of relief in Chaol’s eyes as Aelin interfered. “I’ll keep her from doing anything murderous, don’t worry,” Aelin said, patting Chaol on the arm. Then they began to dance.

Manon had very little grace, but Chaol made up for it with his own steering.

“No interest in dancing, my queen?” Rowan suddenly appeared in front of him, offering a tattooed hand to dance. Aelin snorted. “Still pretending to be a gentleman, I see.” But she accepted the hand and let him pull her to the dance floor.

Aelin swished and swayed around, and Rowan laughed. “Are you drunk already, my queen?”

Aelin shook her head. “No, the floor is just unsteady.”

“Why would it be unsteady?” Rowan asked. But then he suddenly tilted sideways. “Oh shit.” Aelin had no time to react when she and a majority of the guests at her party got sucked into a vacuum in the ground like a black hole. Meanwhile in Velaris… Gwyn rolled her eyes as she trained with Emerie and Nesta. “Merill has become more and more obsessed with her otherworld theory ever since you used the Harp. I don’t know how she found out about it, but…” Gwyn swiped low with her sword and aimed a kick at Emerie, who dodged it quickly. “She’s convinced she’s found a way she can actually look into other worlds. I told her she’s barking, and she got mad.”

Nesta snorted. “I’d be pretty irritated too if a little priestess called me crazy.”

Gwyn elbowed her, and the three of them laughed. Merill’s experiments were ridiculous anyway.

Lucien was just strolling through the streets of Velaris when he was hit by flying fae.

The Mother must really hate him, he decided. He’s just minding his own business on any other day and of COURSE he’s hit in the face by a body.

“That’s it, I’m done with this shit,” Lucien grumbled, pushing the body off of him. He found himself staring into the eyes of a beautiful female. Her eyes were a turquoise with a ring of gold around the pupil, with long flowing blonde hair that fell to her waist. She was wearing an elegant crown along with a silver dress so sparkly Lucien almost had to look away. But that wasn’t the strangest thing. No, the strangest thing was that…

“I can smell the flame on you,” he said. The female just stared at him, confused. Then she replied back in a foreign language.

Lucien recognized it from a class he had taken ages ago. He was probably the only one of his brothers who would ever recognize it, as he had had the most thorough education as the youngest child. He was pretty sure there would never come an occasion where he’d need to converse in such a dead language, but here he was.

“I can’t understand you,” she had said. “No one has spoken that language here in thousands of years,” Lucien replied back in that old tongue. His words sounded strange, like they were spoken by a different person.

The blonde girl gasped. “Oh no. I must have traveled between worlds.”

Lucien raised a brow. “Impressive. How’d you manage that?”

The girl shook her head. “This was not supposed to happen. The Wyrdgates are closed.”

“I have no idea what Wyrdgates are, but I’m pretty sure there are multiple ways to cut across worlds.” The girl stared at him. “Where am I?”

Lucien shrugged. “Prythian.”

“My friends- they must have fallen here with me. Where are they?”

Lucien shrugged. “I don’t know. I only saw you, as you literally knocked me down.”

The girl winced. “Sorry about that.”

Lucien smirked. “There are better ways to get my attention than sitting on my face.”

The girl smirked back but replied with, “You’re hot for sure, but I’m married.”

Lucien stood up, brushed off his clothes, then offered the girl a hand. “I was only joking. I’m a mated male.”

The girl took it. “What a coincidence. I’m also mated. What is your name?”

“Lucien. You?”

The girl grinned. “Aelin.”

Lucien and Aelin searched around Velaris for her friends. It wasn’t hard to find most of them. They were all dressed in strange attire and looked extremely disoriented. Lucien soon met Aelin’s mate and husband, a male who looked as if he’d fit right into the Summer Court with his white hair and tanned skin. He later found a male he could only describe as golden. Golden hair, golden skin, golden on his clothes. He gasped when he saw Lucien. Lucien had raised a brow. “Is something wrong?”

The golden male had replied with, “Wow…your hair. It’s so bright, and thick, and colorful, and long, and shiny!!!!!” He’d turned to the white-haired male and said, “I want red hair now, Rowan.”

Lucien had to stifle a laugh. “Thanks.”

“How do you maintain your hair?” The golden male, who Lucien soon came to know was named Fenrys, kept asking him about his hair care routine and it occupied them until Aelin found their other friends.

Lorcan groaned as he got off the ground. He was covered in snow, having landed in a nice, clean patch of it. He panicked for a moment, searching for his wife before he realized he hadn’t let go of her hand. Elide was right next to him, and she looked a little winded but otherwise ok. On Lorcan’s other side several feet down, he could see Manon, Chaol, Dorian, and Yrene getting off the ground. Yrene was frantically patting her womb, trying to ensure that her baby was still alive. Lorcan resisted the urge to shout that her baby was just fine. He had no idea what sort of enemies were here.

He got up and gently pulled his wife with him. Together, they began to walk towards the King of Adarlan. Just then, he saw Aelin walk around the corner with Fenrys, Rowan, and a strange male with red hair and a scar that added a dangerous edge to his handsome face.

Together, Lorcan and company walked towards Aelin.

“Who the hell are you,” Lorcan asked shortly of the redhead.

Aelin tsked. “Sorry about him, Lucien. He’s a miserable bastard, but don’t let him put you out. You ever need him to do something, just ask his wife, Elide.” She gestured to the woman whose hand Lorcan still held.

Lorcan scowled, but the male who Aelin referred to as Lucien looked him over and grinned.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Lorcan demanded. The male with glossy red hair and a wicked scar to go with the metal eye on one side of his face only grinned and replied, "You're taller than Cassian."

“Who the hell is Cassian?”

Lucien shrugged. “Nobody important. An annoying, bratty, overgrown bat.” Lucien turned to Aelin. “I’m assuming you’ll want a safe place to stay temporarily with all your subjects.”

Aelin raised a brow. “Subjects?”

Lucien snorted. “I don’t think ordinary citizens walk around with that kind of glamour or with crowns on their heads.” He gestured to all of them. “I have a residence in this city. I’ll take you all there.”

Lorcan wasn’t sure if they could trust the male, but he seemed decent enough. Lorcan could smell no ill will on him. He wondered at the scar on his face. Fae did not scar easily, and for him to have a metal eye like that…he must have survived unbearable cruelty. He immediately thought of his wife’s ruined ankle, a product of the tower she had been locked in for ten years, and he clenched his teeth. What kind of fucked up shit went on in this world?

#lucien vanserra #pro lucien vanserra #lorcan salvaterre #aelin galathynius #rowan whitethorn #fenrys moonbeam #elide lochan #manon blackbeak #dorian havilliard #chaol westfall #yrene towers #anti cassian #nesta archeron #gwyneth berdara #emerie of illyria #the valkyries #fanfic

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