#a court of wings and embers
Inner Circle 🖤
cr: jessdraw.s on ig
@midnightsun21 @lazypostfandomer @shoddy-sonneteer @fanfiction-ho @suravanditha
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There’s something strangely terrifying about being in love, you now have something to lose every time you take a risk, yet the yearning for love and to be loved in return is a feeling I cannot shake.
- zoia :)
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ACOSF is such an interesting book to me in that I think there’s really just 3 reactions to reading it:
1. Ultimate Nesta/Nessian Stan who says UGH stop trying to get me to like fucking Rhysand (but secretly has moments of like hmm ok that was genuinely cute...).
2. Ultimate Rhys/ Feysand Stan who says UGH stop trying to get me like fucking Nesta (but secretly has moments of like hmmm ok that was some bad bitch energy...).
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Feysand’s bargain tattoo was an eye because they were always looking out for and looking toward each other.
Nessian’s bargain tattoo was an 8-pointed star because they were always each other’s true North, no matter the obstacles.
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New A03 Drabble Series Chapter: Cabin Fever.
Cassian kept saying in ACOSF that he wanted to take Nesta to the cabin and I'm sorry but I just don't see that going the way he thinks it will! But... still ends up being a fluffy one shot because I've done enough angst this week! (Also includes Gwynriel, Emorie, and Feysand mentions plus implied Elucien just for people who want to dive into or avoid certain ships!)
“Why is there… hair? Over the window?” Nesta asked the question as calmly and steadily as she possibly could. She tried to pull every ounce of judgement out of her voice. She really, truly gave it her best effort, but from the way Cassian looked down and gnawed on the inside of his cheek, she hadn’t succeeded.
“It’s…” Cassian shuffled a little on his feet “Mor’s.”
“Yeah, I got that.” She paused.
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New A03 Drabble Series Chapter: Shadows of Death
More angst oops. The story of why Azriel volunteered to chaperone Nessian up at the House of Wind. And no, it wasn't just for Cassian.
"Maybe that was why Azriel had never said a bad word about Nesta. Never seemed inclined to start a fight with her. She saw him, and was not afraid of him."
... and he saw her. (Is how I would finish that quote and what I am basing this around!)
Azriel understood Nesta better than most, he understood why she locked herself in her room. Understood why she didn't want to be a part of his family. Understood it better than he might like to.
Maybe it was a violation of the once mortal girl’s privacy, but it was also for her own good. Power like that could consume and burn and take over the one who bore it. So, he watched, he listened… and he did not want to know what he learned.
Which was that Nesta Archeron was just a girl. She was not a death god. She was not a feral beast. She was not evil or unfeeling or made of ice. She was… she was like him. She liked her privacy, her space, and she snapped when that was violated. She wanted to be left alone. She wanted to handle her trauma on her own. She did not want to speak to anyone.
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New Chapter to my A03 Drabble Series (S M U T)
I’m not going to post the full drabble here like I usually do because it is rated E so only click if you want that! (and I know you do...)
Happy Beginnings: Soft, tooth rottingly sweet smut scene. Cassian has been away in Illyria for a couple days, so he is not exactly amused when the House tries to keep him away from his very wet, very naked mate... all because it wants her damned book!(
Or the bathtub smut scene we were all robbed of in ACOSF)
Snippet: Nesta loosed one hand from her book and gripped the edge of the tub as Cassian set blunt teeth against the back of her neck, licking and sucking her pulse point like he was trying to fuse their hearts together. And with the way his fingers played her body like harp strings, she thought he might succeed.
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GUYS I JUST SAW THIS THING LIKE IMAGINE AN ILLYRIAN UBER SERVICE WHERE ILLYRIANS LITERALLLY CARRY YOU TO AND BACK FROM YOUR DESIRED DESTINATION LIKE HELL YES I WILL G L A D L Y LET YOU CARRY ME IN YOUR ARMS
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@lazypostfandomer @fanfiction-ho @shoddy-sonneteer @suravanditha @midnightsun21
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New Drabble added to my A03 Series: Guilty Canvas.
Full drabble posted below but here’s the A03 link if you’d rather read it there: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30357864/chapters/75097899
Summary: Feyre shows Cassian something she painted a long time ago and the two reflect on the lives they’ve built with the person they love.
Feyre shuffled on her feet, still unsure if this was a good idea. Three decades had passed since she’d completed this painting and no one had ever seen it. She couldn't imagine why anyone depicted would want to. She knew even Rhys wouldn't care to relive the realities of that day yet. But Cassian was different, more like her in that way. And Cassian knew that not all of her art was… happy. He had seen her painting her own hollow rib cage, had caught glimpses of canvases depicting fae drowning on dry land, blood-smeared battlefields and he never looked away. Only stood in the door, weight on his toes, happy to turn and leave if she wanted privacy. Then he caught her a few days ago in the act of painting Azriel dragging him off of the battlefield.
She thought that would be the one that finally sent him reeling. Cassian would never get upset in front of her, but she expected to hear thing break in his wake. She wasn't prepared for the utterly still, calm look on his face as he watched her immortalize his vulnerability. When she finished he only swallowed and asked her what the title was.
He’d swallowed again and nodded, staring at the painting before telling her thank you and I never want to see it again in the same breath. She saw it in his eyes though, once the cold shudder left there was a soft sort of acceptance, as if seeing how she saw it helped him. Perhaps allayed a bit of his guilt. And then she knew that she had to show him this as well. She waited a few days, but she knew. Because if she was to think about Cassian and guilt… she knew that there was a day he would never forget.
A day she had already painted.
No matter that everything turned out well in the end. No matter that he and her sister were happier than anyone could imagine. She knew that they all still had scenes in their heads that sent them lurching out of bed at night. Haunted them. And this was Cassian’s greatest regret.
Maybe one day she would show it to Nesta as well, but… Feyre knew that her sister might never be ready to face this. This reminder. This pain. Even if Nesta had smirked at the war-time painting Feyre showed her a few years ago- Nesta, blood-splattered in Illyrian leathers, holding the King of Hybern’s head like a trophy.
That was a moment of victory though. This… this was Nesta’s ultimate moment of weakness. And Cassian’s.
Cassian stood entirely still beside her. Still in a way he only ever seemed to be while he watched her paint, or when he was listening to Nesta down their bond in the least subtle way imaginable. The fae tended to be still creatures, but that trait somehow never rubbed off on Cassian. He was restless. Constantly shuffling to expel extra energy, power that begged to be released. Feyre took a step back, letting him have this moment, but not leaving. She simply stood by the door, there if he wanted to talk but easily dismissed if he would rather be alone.
And then the Lord of bloodshed fell to his knees in front of a 3-foot square of canvas, hand brushing against the careful strokes, making contact with the tiny recreation of the woman that he couldn’t reach that day.
Because Feyre had painted that moment exactly as she saw it. A throne blurred in the chaotic background; Elain just visible at the edge with Lucien’s cloak draped around her. A green and blonde blob angrily scratched into oblivion, and her sister knee-deep in the dark, frozen waters of infinity. One finger pointed towards the blurred-out king, blue-gray eyes sparking silver in molten rage.
On the other side of the canvas, Azriel, Mor, and Rhys blurred into a tangle of limbs and blood with Cassian himself sharp and clear. Wings ripped to shreds. Feyre swore she saw the Illyrian General rustle his wings just to make sure they really had healed from that day. As if he hadn’t realized how bad the damage was. Had never seen it.
But Feyre knew that wasn’t really what he was looking at. He was looking at his hand, soaked in Azriel’s blood, one dim siphon nearly extinguished at the top of his palm, reaching out. His eyes were closed, his power failing, his spirit broken, but his hand lifted, towards her. Always towards her.
Nesta’s hand was flung out in a death promise and Cassian’s was desperately reaching to keep a life promise.
A promise he made her.
Cassian turned away from the painting, tears streaming down his face, and asked Feyre the same question he always did when he saw one of her paintings. He was one of the only people who truly appreciated the importance of the answer. Who knew that she saw and titled every image in her mind long before she actually set brush to canvas.
“What is it called?” His voice shook, as if her answer would condemn or redeem him in and of itself.
“It doesn’t matter” Feyre said quietly, it was not her place to deliver his condemnation or redemption. There was nothing to be redeemed, and no reason to be condemned. She only wished he knew that. Might finally be able to see it. “all that matters is that once you pull yourself together, you’ll fly back to the House of Wind, where she is waiting for you” a nod of her head towards the Nesta in the painting “where you daughter is waiting for you. Where the life you built out of this is waiting.”
Cassian breathed in “What. Is. It. Called.”
Feyre stepped forward, pulling a strip of tape off of the bottom of the frame.
The Next Life
Cassian sagged and Feyre put a hand on his shoulder. “I know you think that you failed that day. But I think everything happened exactly as it had to for us to build everything we have now. Because without that day… Rhys, Nyx, and I would all be dead.” They both shuddered “Alaya would never have been born.” Cassian’s mouth twitched up as he could never stop it from doing when his daughter was mentioned.
“Thank you” Cassian said quietly.
“And you never want to see it again?” Feyre guessed.
Cassian shook his head “keep it. When she’s old enough… I want Alaya to see it. To see how strong her mother was, even as a human.”
“And to know that she deserves someone who loves her as much as you have always loved her mother.”
“From the second I saw her.” Cassian grinned “hate and love all wrapped up in one raging human” he chuckled “maybe we’ll keep that part from her.”
“Please” Feyre scoffed “there’s no way she grows up in this city without hearing the legend of her parents'… tumultuous courtship.” She smirked “Amren certainly filled Nyx in on Rhys and I’s… complicated beginnings.”
“We’ve really all gotten far too comfortable with each other.”
Feyre grinned and Cassian returned the smile. Cassian seemed lighter as an unspoken truth settled between them. Neither of them would change a second of what brought them here, to this moment, cloaked in love and family and knowing exactly where, who, their home was.
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Its so ugly. I have 3 different types of covers and ofc 2 of them had to be so bright and one hard cover.
This just makes me never want to read them.
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Cassian: Don’t correct me!
Nesta: Don’t be wrong!
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Shoutout to Nesta and Cassian for both having an iconic signature hairstyle so that every piece of fan art is immediately recognizable as being them from a mile away.
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New Drabble added to my A03 Series: To the Woman Who Didn’t Look up at the Stars and Wish
This one is sad, unfortunately, but I was feeling some angst today!
I've been wanting to write a drabble in the time between ACOWAR and ACOFAS for a while, to explore Nesta's mind as she made some of these decisions, and now that I know this all ends happily... I finally did it.
This drabble explores why Nesta no longer looks up at the sky, and the decision she makes to gain her release
There were different ways to destroy a person. Nesta knew this. She was an expert at it, because her favourite person to practice on was herself. Trying to love Cassian would mean destroying him truly, fully, and entirely. Because if she let him in, if she gave him an ounce of hope…he would never give up on her. She knew that. And he had to give up on her.
Doing this would only destroy him a little bit. Only for a while. And he would get over it, get over her, exactly the way he was always meant to. Because she could not be what he wanted, what he needed.
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little thing about cassian inspired by this one post saying that whoever lives beside rhysand's house has it hard
warning: bad words and my english i guess
My house burned a few months ago, so I had to move out.
The landlord said they would really appreciate me leaving since the war was not a very pleasing time to lend apartments. I agreed with them, packed my bags, the cat with burned fur, and paid for travel. I said my goodbyes to the sand that would get into my robes every day, and just like that, I was long-lost gone.
Adriata was a nice place to live till it burned to the ground.
I moved to the city of Velaris hoping to find a nice family that would love to have a private teacher for their child. And maybe a house that would not smell like fish.
I am a simple fae. I just want to live without sand in my pants.
The city was pretty and so was my new house. A little place that I could call home. It felt good to move stuff inside, but it felt even better to move myself after weeks of travel. Mister Whiskers, my bastard cat, sat on the bench and watched me come and go, bathing in the sun. His dark fur started to grow back and finally, he stopped looking like an ugly rat.
I spend my first day in the city of stars walking up and down the stairs, but there was something freeing in that so I didn't dare to complain. When everything was inside, I sat on the velvet couch and closed my eyes for what I thought was a second.
Closing eyes for a second always ends like this. I yawn loudly looking around my place and smile. My back hurts but it's a good kind of pain. I need to end cleaning up, then look for any rational job.
But first, the cat.
I call for him, but there's no answer. He is not screaming for food, not pissing my newest furniture nor doing any other inappropriate thing. I sigh and call his name once again. Silence.
I can't believe that I am going to play hide and seek with this rat first thing in the morning. I walk to the kitchen anyway and start my search.
Mister Whiskers run away. I blink in disbelief looking at an open window and pawprints. He had plenty of boxes to sleep in and still had to be a pain in the ass and leave the house ruining the only plant we have. Honestly, what else does a cat need other than what I give him?
I give out a sigh and find my shoes. I have to get the bastard back before he hurts himself in the city he doesn't know. I should have left this stupid animal to rot in Adriata's biggest litter box. He liked the beaches more than me, anyway.
The house is still a mess full of boxes and chests when I leave my new home in some pants I found and my nightshirt.
I go out and look around. Something moves on my neighbor's tree and when I get closer I see my cat hugging a branch, not knowing how to go down. I sigh once again. Unbelievable. Maybe I am more of a dog person? A dog would never do me like this.
As I am trying to find a way to rescue my stupid animal, someone walks into the property. The man has nice hair, big wings, and muscles like some kind of professional sportsman. He looks so nice I decide to give it a shot. After all, not every day you find out your neighbor can fly. It can be a little... surprising.
"Um, hi," I wave awkwardly at the huge guy. "Would you mind helping me take some bastard?".
He stops on the stairs and looks at me with brows up. Eventually, he waves back. He's even more surprised than I am, which encourages me to lean onto the fence and continue the conversation.
"What bastard?" he asks finally with something bizarre in his eyes.
"Weird eyes, black fur," I say jokingly and smile nicely because I am in my nightclothes and the guy with wings is my new neighbor. I hope he won't hate me for being a weirdo.
He glares making me uncomfortable, but before I can explain anything, Mister Whiskers cries from the branch as if someone was literally killing him. What a dramatic sack of fur. I roll my eyes.
"I just thought you can take my cat down from the tree because he's clearly an idiot and you have wings," I explain when the guy finds Mister Whiskers in his sight. "He can be a real bastard sometimes and I moved here yesterday, so I don't really have a ladder to take his ass down".
He laughs and it sounds almost as if the sun was cracking. It's a nice sound, I decide, then smile. The guy moves and takes down my idiot of a cat and hands him over the fence.
"Thank you, neighbor." I laugh when my savior sneezes. "I hope we'll be seeing each other, besides saving my cat. You're allergic, aren't you?".
The winged man leans onto the fence looking at me and shakes his head, "I don't really live here. It's my friends' house. But they fly too, so there always will be a nonallergic to save your kitty".
I giggle at the way he prounces kitty. Mister Whiskers purrs.
"Where are you from, cat lady?".
"It's Naya," I roll my eyes at the nickname, "I am from Adriata but it burned, so you know, I am looking for some peace. You look like a warrior, I guess you know what I am talking about".
"You don't know anything about the Night Court, do you?" he asks with a mischievous sparkle in his eyes leaving my greeting unanswered.
"I know the name of the High Lord," I brag, "and I heard they have a High Lady in here. It's Feyra and Rhysand," I guess and he nods smirking. I try to remember anything else, but the main reason I moved here was to find out everything on my own. To take my mind off the war.
"You are going to love living here, Naya".
His smile is the most interesting thing I saw in this city for now. It's warm and sunny but gives me shivers. As if there was something more to the man that saved my cat. Ruining the moment, Mister Whiskers gets bored from being in my arms and starts to cry. Suddenly, I find myself staring at the gentleman. And him also enjoying the view.
"You need to go?" he guesses and I nod. "See you, Naya".
He takes a few steps back but doesn't break the eye contact. I don't have the guts to that, either. I blink and realize I don't even know who he is. Who to look for.
"What's your name?" I call when he reaches the door turning from me. "I gave you mine".
He plays with my patience for a moment.
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Am I the only who thinks about how now that ACOTAR is going to be a TV show we'll have to sit through watching Tamlin and Feyre together probably for the whole first season, while Rhysand is just portrayed as the bad guy even though he's a million times better than Tamlin, and just gets so damn frustrated?
I just can't -
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Feyre Archeron Header
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New Drabble + A03 compilation (Golden Threads of Time)
Hey guys! So I post Nessian drabbles on my tumblr sometimes, and I decided to make a new A03 story to compile them all. Link below, the first 5 chapters are things I’ve already posted, but the 6th chapter is a new drabble so I’ll put a sneak peak for that below if anyone wants to read:
Golden Threads of Time Link:
Chapter 6 Summary: Post ACOSF- Nesta finds out that her mate chucked a priceless historical artifact into a river because he was upset. She is not amused. Azriel, Gwyn, and Emerie arrive to save the day. *Little dash of Gwynriel in this one*
“Nesta could say without hesitation that there was nothing she wouldn’t ask Cassian, nothing either of them wouldn’t tell the other. He was a piece of her very heart. And he was an IDIOT.”
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OUR QUEEN HAS MADE ANOTHER MASTERPIECE
(Credits to jessdraw.s on Instagram!!!)
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