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and that's the way I loved you jeremiah's version | cam's version

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Just gonna leave this parallel here …

And but a few chapters later …

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Cardan, book 1: I think of you. Often. It's disgusting and I can't stop. Now kill me, please.

Cardan, book 3: It is YOU I love. My heart is a shabby, worm-eaten, and scabrous thing. But it is yours. *runs out of the room*

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Cassian: Gwyn has green eyes right?

Azriel: Gwyn’s eyes are blue with a hint of light blue when the light hits just right.

Cassian: And when was the last time she smiled?

Azriel: Last night at 12:03 am.

Cassian: Right, and when’s my birthday?

Azriel:

Cassian: When’s my birthday, Az?

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sorry i was so weird but you invoked a topic i am incapable of being normal about

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“to whatever end?” she breathed. rowan followed her, as he had his entire life, long before they had ever met, before their souls had sparked into existence. “to whatever end, fireheart.”

— kingdom of ash

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Hello guys. Just stopping by quickly to drop this masterpiece Carasalexandra did for me! So here is Nesta as « Lady Death » Inspired by Collier’s « Lady Godiva ». Show the artist some love too. [Pls, no repost, edit or cropping]

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reminder: you don’t have to always do what you think people expect from you. you are not a book character with actions dictated by personality traits.

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*Azriel isn’t focused during training*

Azriel: Can you cut me some slack, Gwyn? I’m sort of in love. 

Gwyn: I’m sorry, but that’s really not my problem. 

Azriel: I’m in love with you. 

Gwyn: *blushes* Oh. That brings me in the loop a little.

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The British government is literally crumbling but it’s good to see this cameraman has the right priorities

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seeing the photos from Webb up against photos from Hubble just makes me… I don’t even know like, wow! Look at that!

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sorry I saw this beautiful fanart and needed to write something for this dynamic so here’s this silly little piece

Eris had never been particularly fond of children.

They were loud. Smelly. Annoying. Pretty rude sometimes, too. Being the oldest with six younger brothers hadn’t helped at all.

The other boys had caught on quick enough: Eris was the oldest. You followed father’s rules, but when he wasn’t around, Eris was the one to fear.

He was perfectly alright with that setup.

Until his mother went off and bore another high lord’s child.

Lucien. The kid was awful. The most annoying of the bunch by far, and absolutely, irrevocably, in love with Eris.

Avoiding Lucien had become a new hobby of his.

He wasn’t very good at it.

Eris had been enjoying the crisp afternoon, one of his rare days left to his own devices, planning to spend it with his hounds, far away from the manor and all his brothers—

But little Lucien followed.

He tried to sneak. Eris walked through the forests, casually gazing up at the redwoods and oaks, pretending not to hear the little giggles as Lucien followed close behind, darting from tree to tree. If not the giggles, crunching footsteps, and loud sniffs from the remnants of Lucien’s most recent cold every few minutes, then it was the shushing that gave him away.

Eris’s hounds were far more interested in Lucien, jumping and barking happily around him, and Lucien loudly shushed them every time.

The sprawling forest thinned in the slightest, opening to a trickling creek through the tree. A thick branch had fallen along it, and Eris slung a leg over it, sitting heavily with a loud sigh.

The footsteps shuffled to a stop behind him.

“Well,” Eris said loudly, pulling one of his daggers from his belt, “I certainly hope there are no monsters in this forest. I’d hate to have to slay a beast on my day off.”

A giggle came from the trees.

Eris couldn’t help how his lips tugged upwards. He whistled through his teeth, picking up a stone and sliding it down the blade.

“Aspen!”

The dog bounded over to him, his first, most loyal of the pack.

“Reveal,” Eris ordered, scratching Aspen behind the ears. The hound barked, tail a blur behind her, and shot into the trees.

All was quiet in the forest for a moment, save the rustle of wind through dry leaves and the sliiink of the stone against his blade—then a yelp, a bark, and a shrieked, “NO NO NO NO NO NO!!”

Aspen dragged a dirt-covered little redhead out by the pant leg and dropped him at Eris’ feet.

Two big, twinkling russet eyes blinked up at him.

“Gotchu,” Lucien giggled.

Sliiink. Sliiink.

Eris raised an eyebrow as Lucien’s smile faltered and he pulled himself to his feet, trying to brush the leaves off his shirt.

“You had lessons today,” Eris said, focus on the blade in his hand. “And yet you’re out here with me.”

“They’re so boring,” Lucien moaned, and flopped to the ground with a sigh to lean against the branch beside Eris’ legs. “This is way funner. Whatcha doing out here, anyways?”

Eris couldn’t fault him that. He’d hated his fair share of etiquette and history lessons, too.

Aspen trotted right up to Lucien and licked up his little round cheek.

He burst into giggles and grabbed the ghost hound around the neck, pulling her into a hug. “I like your dogs, Eris.”

“Same here,” he muttered.

He didn’t know how to talk to this kid.

This half-brother.

There was the age difference, for one thing; Eris was a fully grown adult by the time Lucien was born. Brother, yes, but little Lucien...he was barely six years old, and treated Eris as if he were a god.

And then there was the truth.

The dirty little secret, the sword hanging by a hair above Lucien’s head.

That was the problem with being a grown, conscious fae while his mother was still having children.

He figured out very quickly why Lucien didn’t quite fit in to the Vanserra clan—and he’d barely been able to stomach looking the kid in the eye since then.

“Whatcha doing?” Lucien asked again once Aspen calmed, curled up by his side. He scooted backwards, up onto the branch, until he made it to right next to Eris. He peered over Eris’s arm at the dagger.

“Sharpening my dagger,” Eris said simply, and continued to do so. Smooth, long strokes right along the edge.

Lucien stared, and they sat in silence for a moment. Lucien’s little leg started to bounce.

“I-I have a sword, too,” he announced, jumping to his feet and pulling a small wooden sword from his belt, waving it proudly at Eris. “Father gave it to me so I could fight Ronan. I’m gonna beat him next time he tries to fight me. I’m gettin’ real good.”

Eris grimaced, not lifting his gaze. “I bet you are.”

Lucien cocked his head, bright orange hair falling limp over his forehead. “Are you sad?”

That got him to look up. The kid was gazing so intently at him, his little eyebrows furrowed as he clutched his little wooden sword. Eris’s heart clenched—those were his mother’s eyes. Well, her eyes centuries ago, before Beron made sure they never twinkled again.

“I’m always a little sad,” Eris replied, giving him a small smile. “But we live with it, don’t we?”

A grin lit up Lucien’s chubby face. “I’ve never been sad. I’m always happy, I’m good at it.”

A lump caught in Eris’s throat. That...wouldn’t last long in this place. Hell, the kid still thought Ronan and Hagan and Vulcan were playing pirates, when they’d come at him altogether with swords drawn and he’d run off shrieking to the safety of their mother. Reality would sink in within a couple years.

Lucien reached out and gently tapped Eris on the head with his wooden sword. “Can I help you be happy?”

Eris hummed, flipping the blade to sharpen the other side. “I’m fine, kid. Thank you.”

“Good.” Lucien nodded, still fidgeting with the hilt of his sword. He gave it an experimental swing, big eyes narrowing into a fierce little scowl that made Eris want to laugh.

“You swing with too much elbow.”

Lucien huffed, swinging the sword again, this time right towards Eris, pursing his lips and letting out a quiet “swooooosh” as the wooden sword swung. He tapped it against Eris’s arm—and a grin broke out over his face again.

“Got your arm. Drop your sword, I cut off your arm!”

“Hm.” Eris kept sharpening his blade, a small smile plying at his lips. “You would have gotten my arm, but your sword is too dull.”

“Nuh-uh.” Lucien ran a little finger along the rounded edge of the sword. “I sharpened it last night!”

“Not very well,” Eris chuckled.

“Hey.” Lucien huffed again. “Don’t be mean to me.”

“I’ll be however I’d like to be.”

Lucien only giggled at the threat, then shoved his wooden sword towards Eris.

“Can you sharpen it for me, Eris?”

So much for a day to himself.

Eris sighed, grabbing the wooden sword and setting down his own. “Only if you promise to shut up for the rest of this walk.”

Lucien clapped his hands over his mouth and nodded. “You got it. I’m quiet.”

Eris frowned at the sword—this was ridiculous. One couldn’t just sharpen a wooden sword—much less with a stone.

Oblivious and obnoxious as ever, Lucien bounced on the balls of his feet and tried to smother his grin behind his hands.

Annoying little prick was being pretty cute. As far as kids went, that is.

Eris heaved a defeated sigh, and lowered the stone to the wooden sword.

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May we come across people with pure intentions.

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Gwyn threw Azriel a withering stare as she strode past him. “See you tomorrow, Shadowsinger,” she tossed over a shoulder.

.

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Art by _ink.eyes on ig and comm by me.

Reposts are not allowed anywhere.

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You don’t have to believe that Gwyneth Berdara will be a POV in one of the future ACOTAR books but there’s no denying she has SJM Main Character Energy…

Example 1: Feyre in ACOMAF

Example 2: Nesta in ACOSF

And Gwyneth Berdara in her first appearance in ACOSF:

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My top 10 Rowan Whitethorn sass moments

10. When he keeps messing Aelin training on Mistward

“You know,” she said slyly, “that’s twice now you’ve made a mess of my training with your tasks. I’m fairly sure that makes you the worst instructor I’ve ever had.”

He gave her a sidelong look. “I’m surprised it took you this long to call attention to it.”

9. When he's oh so concerned for Lorcan self-esteem

“Should I thank you for putting on pants?” Lorcan said, his voice barely more than a midnight wind.

“I didn’t want you to feel inadequate,” Rowan replied, leaning against the roof door.

8. Right after when he serves Lorcan the tea

"What is it, exactly, about Aelin that gets under your skin, Lorcan? Is it that she’s not afraid of you, or is it that I walked away from you for her?”

7. When he's literally serving the tea

“Making breakfast? How domestic of you.” Aelin leaned against the doorway, irreverent as always.“Shouldn’t you be sleeping like the dead, considering your busy night?”

“Can we not get into a fight about it before my first cup of tea?”

With lethal calm, he set the kettle on the stove. “After tea, then?”

6. Something sass doesn't even need words

The one with night-dark eyes and an edged grin looked Rowan over and drawled, “I liked your hair longer.”

A dagger embedding itself in the wall not an inch from the male’s ear was Rowan’s only answer.

5. And again

Her toes curled, but she gave him a simpering smile as he rose to his feet, every muscle in his naked body rippling with the movement, and watched him pad with feline grace to the washstand and ewer atop it.

The bastard had the nerve to look her over as he lifted the jug. And then give her a satisfied, male smile as he poured a glass right to the brim, halting with expert precision.

4. Lorcan and Rowan give me life

Any softness vanished from Lorcan’s granite-hewn features. “Why don’t you tell me why you’re in this shithole place, and then we’ll discuss my plans.”

“Aelin can decide what to tell you.”

“Such a good dog.”

Rowan gave him a lazy smile but refrained from commenting on the delicate, dark-haired young woman who now held Lorcan’s own leash.

3. His opinion on the Orynth Castle

"Well, now you’ve seen every hall and room and stairwell. What do you make of your new home?” “A little small, but we’ll manage.”

2. His high standards on the coronation party

...Rowan glanced to the open doors. Then to where Lord Darrow stood beside the empty throne.

Not an official throne—just a larger, finer chair that had been selected from the sad lot of candidates.

[...]

Behind the dais, hidden beyond a painted wooden screen, a small group of musicians began playing a processional. Not the grand, sprawling orchestra that might accompany an event of this magnitude, but better than nothing.

1. Probably my favorite

“I’ll need to retrain.” [...]

Aelin frowned “And pack on some muscle again.” A slight quiver graced her words, but she curled her hands into fists at her sides and smirked at her clothes—the Mistward clothes. “It’ll be just like old times.”

[...]

Rowan gave her a crooked grin. “Just like old times,” he said, following her out of the barrow and back toward the ebony river, “but with far less sleep.”

Edit:

It has been called to my attention that i forgot the best one, so here it is:

Rowan moved deeper into the entry hall, every step laced with power and death, coming to a stop at her side. “You can call me Rowan. That’s all you need to know.” He cocked his head to the side, a predator assessing prey. “Thank you for the oil,” he added. “My skin was a little dry.”