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the-lonelybarricade · 1 year

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Meet Me at Midnight Part I

Summary: Their grandmother had said the wooden toy soldier was for practical use—that he could be used to crush open nuts. Feyre didn’t have need for such a contraption, so she’d kept him on the mantelpiece. Sometimes, her eyes felt drawn to it. And like the portraits her father hung in his study, sometimes she swore as she moved through the room, she could feel the wooden toy soldier watching back.

Day 5: Crossover - Acotar x Nutcracker

SURPRISE THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE FILTHY AND NOW IT IS ALL PLOT. The porn will come later because apparently this will be multiple parts. Probably 2 or 3. If you see any typos no you didn't.

Read on AO3 ・Feysand Month Masterlist

“Did you know the Night Court used to be known for its starlight?”

Startled, Feyre sat down her paint brush and swiveled to look at her sister, resting across their settee with a large book open in her lap.

Feyre didn’t like to be disapproving. Not in the way Nesta was, constantly snapping at them like her demands were of higher importance because she was the eldest. But Elain was staring at her with wide eyes as she held the book aloft, curious and open-minded in a way so few people were.

“We’re not to speak of such things,” Feyre whispered. Her eyes flickered warily towards the large window of their sitting room. It was shut, but the curtains were drawn back to reveal the stars above. It was never safe to speak freely in the night time. “Don’t waste your tongue on ill-truths.”

“This is a history book,” Elain insisted. “It says that the seat of power in the Night Court was a city called Velaris. And its occupant was a handsome, kind-hearted High Lord.”

A startled laugh escaped Feyre, one she instantly felt guilty of when she saw Elain’s crestfallen expression. She’d always been the one, among the three of them, to dream up tales of happy endings and handsome princes. Feyre stared at that large, leatherbound book and she knew that whatever was written inside had as much historical accuracy as the children’s books their nurse used to read them before sleep.

No one was permitted to write a word of objection towards the ruling Night Court. If the author of this history book had spoken the truth, that the Court was a place of unrivaled cruelty and darkness, then he would have been publicly executed. Or worse.

“It also says that Ama—”

“Shhhh!”

Elain immediately sealed her lips shut.

That was another word they were forbidden to say. Out of fear it might summon her, or grant her further power. Names were powerful invocations.

“She,” Elain corrected astutely. “Took the crown from the High Lord and put a curse on him so that he couldn’t reclaim it.”

It was a curious book, afterall, if it said such a thing about the Deceiver. It was remarkable the author had lived long enough to publish it. And Feyre worried about the consequences of being caught in possession of such a thing. Would their house be burned, to destroy the book and every person who’d cast their eyes upon it?

The Queen of the North had done worse for lesser folly.

“What kind of curse?” Feyre asked, knowing if she was wise, she would snatch the book from Elain and burn it herself.

Elain frowned, paging curiously through its contents. “It doesn’t say. Only that the High Lord’s mate is the only one capable of freeing him.”

Typical, Feyre thought. Everything magic seemed to boil down to a mate. By the state of the world, the convention was clearly not effective. Mates were rare. And Feyre supposed if she were to provide a fail-safe to a curse, she would choose something equally improbable.

“I think that history is a very generous word to describe that book.” Feyre nodded to the crackling hearth. “And you should throw it into the fire. Cauldron forbid someone with a grudge against our family discovers it.”

Her sister held the book protectively to her chest. “Grandmother gave it to me.”

Ah. Feyre remembered now. It had been so odd that someone would gift a book to Elain and not Nesta—who had instead been given a key. Their grandmother had refused to reveal what the key opened, which had angered Nesta so fiercely that she had immediately chucked it into the hearth.

It was probably still there, if anyone bothered to shift through the ashes.

And standing proudly on the mantle above the hearth was the gift Feyre had received—a small, wooden figurine. She hadn’t been terribly ecstatic, considering her father carved wood as a pastime. She and her sisters had plenty of figurines to show for it, and the small knight was simply another added to the collection.

Except Feyre did appreciate the paint on him. A navy blue suit with golden buttons. Boots to his knees laced with silver. Vibrant purple eyes.

She would have thought him dashing, if not for the knob of wood in his center that functioned as his mouth. His jaw could distend all the way to his stomach, and Feyre thought it was a frightening sight. Their grandmother had said it was for practical use—that he could be used to crush open nuts. Feyre didn’t have need for such a contraption, so she’d kept him on the mantelpiece.

Sometimes, her eyes felt drawn to it. And like the portraits her father hung in his study, sometimes she swore as she moved through the room, she could feel the wooden toy soldier watching back.

“Hide it,” Feyre said finally, snapping her eyes away from the mantel. Her face felt hot, but it was only from staring into the flames. Elain was watching through wide brown eyes, head craned to the side in that watchful way of hers. Always drinking in the world, never speaking to what it revealed to her. “If anyone finds you with it, they’d be able to charge you with treason.”

Elain slammed the book shut with a glare. “You and Nesta are both so paranoid,” she complained, tucking the book under her arm as she stood up.

Feyre watched her stalk towards the door and hardly flinched when it slammed shut. In a house with three sisters each as stubborn as the next, the sound was hardly unusual—to the unending exasperation of their father. Their governesses had once diagnosed that with their manners, none of them would ever be suited for marriage. That sounded just fine to Feyre.

She was happy with their small estate, tucked safely at the border of the day court. Their father had been able to broker a deal with the High Lord to bring the estate under his protective wards. Elain could call her paranoid all she liked, but Feyre had been in the office the day their father had written that letter to Lord Helion. She’d seen his white knuckle grip on the quill, and she’d snooped through his ledger afterwards.

However exaggerated the Queen of the North’s cruelty, their father was afraid of her. Desperately, truly afraid.

If Feyre was being honest—so was she. The past few nights, she’d dreamt of a horrible, pale woman leering over her. She scratched at Feyre’s bedroom walls and peered through the window as though searching for a way in. And always, there was a shadow in Feyre’s periphery. Watching. Waiting. Listening.

It was why she stood up well past the acceptable hour to finish her painting. And it was why, when she pressed her hand to the doorknob, she hesitated. She’d been having trouble sleeping in her bedroom, but maybe here against the caress of the steady fire and the watchful eye of the toy soldier, the nightmares wouldn’t come.

The settee was soft, if a little stiff. But the hearth was warm, as was the blanket she drew over her legs. It didn’t take long for Feyre to drift off, soaking in their combined heat beneath those watchful violet eyes.

She stirred when the clock struck midnight.

Feyre couldn’t say for certain, for she had been asleep, but she could have sworn it stopped on the eleventh chime. It was the very ridiculous strain of thought that could only be conjured on a half-conscious mind. But when Feyre sat up and peered over to the mahogany longcase, she could see the pendulum behind the glass, still suspended in the air. Like it had yet to fall back down.

Had the mechanism gotten stuck?

That seemed a far better explanation than her initial conclusion—which was that time had frozen still.

Better yet, she must still be dreaming. Feyre rubbed her eyes, like she might dismiss the strangeness of it all. When she dropped them, the clock was still standing proudly in the corner, the pendulum still askew.

And most curiously of all, there was now a man standing before her.

Nesta would surely have made fun of Feyre for the sound that escaped in her startlement, but fortunately Nesta was not there to witness it. Only Feyre, and the strange man standing before the flickering flame.

Light danced up the side of his face, pressing adoringly against his warm brown skin, sparkling in his violet eyes. He tilted his head in such a way that his raven black hair fell into his face, and as his lips unfurled into a smile, something familiar tickled the back of Feyre’s mind.

She didn’t know how he could be familiar. He was easily the most beautiful male she had ever seen—not a remarkable feat, considering she’d seen so few of them. But this one, she was certain, must be the most beautiful. And if she had ever seen him before, she would surely know.

“Don’t be afraid,” he said, in a voice that reminded her of molten chocolate.

Warm and rich and something she wanted to put her tongue against.

He laughed, and the sound evoked the same measure of delight. “You’re not afraid of me at all.”

“This is a dream,” Feyre said. “And you are the nicest thing I’ve dreamt of for days.”

“Not everything pleasant on the surface remains so,” he warned, but she could tell by the way his eyes crinkled that he was pleased by her assessment.

“If you ever met my sisters, you would know I understand that better than anyone,” Feyre said, with just enough lightness that she hoped it didn’t sound cruel.

“Perhaps.” By the twitch at the corner of his lips, she thought he was holding back another laugh. Feyre felt the strangest flush of pride that he found her joke amusing. “Even so, lady, I urge you to take caution. A poisoned sweet looks as lovely as any other.”

With a great deal of restraint, Feyre had moved on from staring at his lips, to rove over the long navy coat he wore. It was adorned by golden buttons and embroidery, graced by an epaulet on each shoulder.

“You’re my soldier,” she blurted, swept in awe as reassessed him.

He bowed, far more graceful than she would have expected from a wooden male, and reached for her hand so he could draw it to his lips. “At your service, Lady Archeron.”

“You know my name.”

He stared up at her through thick lashes from where he’d brushed his soft mouth against her knuckles. If he were truly the civilized male he was pretending to be, he would have released her by now. But he continued holding her hand, stroking his thumb across the back of her palm.

“Feyre,” he whispered, to prove it. Her eyes fluttered shut at the sound. She had never cared much for her own name, but if he continued speaking it like that she might reconsider. “I know so much more than that.”

“Prove it.”

He chuckled like he found the challenge endearing. “Allow me to sit with you.”

A glint of metal caught the corner of her eye, and Feyre’s attention latched to the long sword sheathed at his side. “Is that real?”

Metal sang against metal as he unsheathed it in answer. “Hold out your hands.”

Feyre obeyed readily, watching on stilted breath as he rested the flat edge against her palms.

“Have you ever held a sword, Feyre?” he asked.

“Father says it’s unladylike,” was her response. She watched him frown, but she shot him a conspiring grin. “So I’ve been sneaking into the guardroom to train in secret ever since.”

“You keep it, then.” He nodded toward the golden sword, which she was certain must cost a fortune even by her father’s standards. “It’s a useful skill to have.”

“Don’t you need it?”

“Not yet,” was his answer. “You can keep it safe for me.”

Considering this was a dream and she wouldn’t be able to take it with her when she woke up, Feyre felt no reason to argue with him. She glanced up, eager to thank him for his kindness, but in her haste she altered the balance in her palm just enough that the sharp edge of the knife cut into her skin.

She hissed, yanking her hands away so that the metal clattered to the floor.

Then, Feyre was gasping awake at the strike of a clock.

12:01.

The handsome male was gone, as was the sword that had clamored to the ground. She could see the toy soldier on the mantelpiece, standing just as she had left him. But… his sword was missing.

And on Feyre’s hand was a bright red slash, pooling with blood.

#We adapt #we overcome #we take a screenshot of the entire page and crop it to get our header #feysandmonth2022 #feysand #feysand fic #feysand fanfic #feysand fanfiction #feysand month #feysandmonth22

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westfalledits · 1 year

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feysand headers pleasee 🥹🫶

FEYSAND HEADERS

art credit to palesile on ig

• open and screenshot for better quality

• like / reblog if you use

• credits to @ thomasvtair on twt

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refugiodafada · 1 year

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The Archeron Sisters Twitter Pack Nesta, Elain and Feyre. ACOTAR Series

like if you save. © refugiodafada

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shadowisles-writes · 2 years

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Glass of Your Rearview (Part 2) [Feysand]

header by @the-lonelybarricade

A/N: I am so excited to be continuing the fic created by @the-lonelybarricade for this writing circle. You can read part 1 here and find the masterlist for every fic in the event right here.

Word count: 3012

Feyre’s milkshake nearly went through her nostrils from how hard she was laughing sitting across from Tarquin. It should have been embarrassing, but he was laughing just as hard, his deep voice filling the small diner with the sunshine he seemed to carry with him everywhere he went.

“I just-” Tarquin made a clapping motion with his hands. “Slammed straight through the wall.”

Feyre laughed harder as she imagined the scene. An eighteen years old Tarquin, drunk out of his mind and running into his dorm room through the wall that separated it from the kitchen rather than use the door. She remembered the walls being paper thin in their building, but she never expected anyone to break through one of them.

“How bad did that hurt?” She asked once she had regained her composure.

It was hard to stay cool while sitting across from a man as handsome as he was, especially since he had effortlessly made her laugh like a schoolgirl the entire night. His white hair framed a face of hard lines that were almost always smoothed into an easy, smiling expression whenever he was looking at Feyre. Ocean eyes contrasted with the darkness of his skin and captivated her attention to the point she was worried she’d never be able to look away from him.

“I had a minor concussion,” Tarquin shrugged. “Considering everything, I came out pretty unscathed.”

“I can’t wait to know what you’ll break the next time you get drunk,”

“Come on, it was five years ago, I’m not as much of a disaster now. I’m just very friendly when I’m drunk.”

“You’re a very friendly person, full stop.” Feyre corrected. Tarquin could get along with anyone, he was just the right amount of funny and charming to put someone at ease. “You make everything easy,”

“That a bad thing?” He cocked his head to the side.

His hand was in the middle of the table, as it had been for most of the evening, waiting to be held. Feyre liked that he had left it there whenever he didn’t need it, patiently waiting for her, never rushing for anything. He hadn’t rushed her for the date either. In fact, Feyre had been almost sure he wouldn’t be interested anymore by now.

Tarquin was the first guy to ask her out during their first year of college. They lived in the same building and hit it off instantly, but after the events of that summer (Feyre had done a great job of not even thinking his name for five years, she wasn’t about to break that streak now) she had to turn him down and take time for herself. And so, Tarquin had been a great friend for years and occasionally showed some extra affection to show he may still be interested but never asked her out again.

“No…” She slid her hand forward, her fingers brushing his. “No, it’s a good thing.”

Tarquin smiled and linked their fingers together, his thumb gently rubbing over the back of her hand. “I’m glad you called, Feyre,”

“So am I.”

This was easily the best first date she had ever had. People who said you should fall in love with your best friend may have been right all along. Not that Feyre was in love with Tarquin, but she could see herself getting there. She could picture the next dates, the good and the bad that would keep them together, the affection and the growing feelings. Tarquin could be the perfect fit for her.

It was with a smile on her face that Feyre slid out of her side of the booth and followed the neon pink arrow to the bathroom in a faraway corner of the diner. She walked down a set of narrow stairs before finally finding it and taking a few minutes in there. Feyre wiped her clean hands dry when she was done and adjusted her hair in the mirror. She couldn’t help the way the corner of her lips turned up

She was happy. It wasn’t something she usually allowed herself to think, but she was. Things were finally falling into place in her life, and Tarquin seemed to be the last piece of the puzzle. He completed it perfectly with his piercing eyes and dazzling smile. Feyre had never had such a good time on a date before, and it was making her giddy. Would he kiss her when he dropped her off at home tonight? Or would he hold her hand to walk her to the door and give her the choice of making a move if she wanted to?

Feyre was still thinking about the way tonight was going when she exited the bathroom and saw him. She stepped back against the door that had just shut like a cornered animal as Rhysand walked down the last step of the stairs. Even then, he was still so much taller than her. His dark hair was a little longer than she remembered, his violet eyes weren’t sparkling the way she was used to in brighter lights, and maybe he had gained a few muscles in the past years, but it was definitely him. Even without seeing his face, she would have recognised the easy grace with which he carried himself.

“Hello, Feyre darling.” He stopped when he was so close she had to tilt her head back to look at his face.

“Rhysand,” she breathed out his name for the first time in years, “how…” Feyre cleared her throat and steadied her voice. “I didn’t know you were back in town,” and in this diner.

God how she wished she could have seen him from afar on a street before running into him. Her brain was scrambled into useless mush the second he came into view and the wounds she thought had healed after his departure reopened with his proximity. If she had been prepared to see him maybe this wouldn’t hurt so much. Her chest ached in a way she had forgotten it could.

“All those years of friendship and you give me Rhysand?” He raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow, the corner of his lips tugging into a smirk. Feyre hated him for it. She almost corrected herself, but using his full name kept a distance between them that she desperately needed.

The silence stretched for several seconds before he gave in. “I got homesick.”

Liar. Rhysand had always hated this town, it was too small for his ambitions.

“Right.” Feyre glanced past his shoulder, unable to reach the stairs without making him move out of the way first. Her heart hammered in her chest and her cheeks burned, she needed to get out now. “Guess I’ll see you around.” She hurriedly pushed past him, her shoulder knocking into his before she took the stairs two at a time to get as far from him as she could get.

The walk back to Tarquin barely gave her time to recover, she was so tense she was grinding her teeth hard enough to give herself a headache.

“Everything alright?” He asked across the empty table, their milkshakes having been cleared soon after she had gotten up for the bathroom.

“Yeah, just getting tired,” Feyre lied and forced a smile.

She had been so sure about this. It took her five stupid years to get to this date, and he had ruined it in less than a minute. The power he still had over her was unfair.

“How about I get you home?”

Bless this man for always finding a way to give her what she needed and making things so easy. Her smile relaxed into something more natural as she nodded. “Thanks,”

The drive was silent but it was so short that there was no time for it to become awkward. Feyre didn’t argue when he got out of the car to walk her up to her door, though she was in no state for a kiss. She had her keys in her hand before she was at the door, preventing him from holding it and giving her something to fidget with.

“I’ll call you tomorrow?” Tarquin said once they reached her front porch.

Yes, tomorrow, after she had gotten some sleep and a chance to sort through her thoughts. “That sounds good, thank you for tonight,”

“Any time Feyre,”

Tarquin’s hand reached up to her jaw, and she did the only thing she could think of to avoid a kiss without outright rejecting him. She placed a hand on his shoulder and lifted herself to the tip of her toes to brush her lips against his cheek. To his credit, if he was disappointed, he didn’t show it at all. He only gave her one last soft smile before she unlocked her door and stepped inside her home.

The pressure on Feyre’s chest slightly released when she found herself alone and free of expectations. She let her smile crumble and her shoulders dropped as she got rid of her clothes to slip under the covers of her bed, teeth unbrushed and make-up still on. She just wanted the comfort of her blankets and pillows. If only her brain hadn’t chosen that exact moment to remember what had happened between her and Rhys the last time they had been on a bed.

Tears stung at the back of her eyes, and there was no point in holding them back. Feyre clutched her pillow tight and spent her night crying for all of the feelings she had repressed since he had left her.

Tarquin called well into the morning, after Feyre had showered and gotten herself together, but she still couldn’t bring herself to pick up. She let the phone ring until he was sent to voicemail, only to find out he had left one a second later.

“Hey Feyre, it’s me, I hope you’re good. I’m just calling because I wanted to say I really enjoyed last night, it was nice, and if you want to do something again soon just give me a call when you have time. Or text or whatever’s easiest. Hope I’ll see you soon, bye.”

She couldn’t just not reply. If she put it off, she’d leave him hanging for a whole day at least and he deserved better than that. She forced herself to type a text apologizing for missing his call and saying she felt a bit under the weather today so they could maybe meet up again in a couple of days. By then, she would be fine.

Feyre needed to make it a certainty. Things were looking good for her. She had been convinced of it last night and she wouldn’t let Rhys ruin everything so easily. Tarquin was perfect, he was everything she had ever wanted in a man, and she wouldn’t throw away a chance to build a relationship with him just because the man who had left her heart in pieces had suddenly reappeared.

And so, a few nights later, she found herself sitting in one of the local bars with Tarquin to enjoy their live music night. It was too loud to really talk except in between songs, but the set wouldn’t last the whole night and they enjoyed the vibe the small band was creating. Feyre relaxed after the first few sips of her drink, the ghost of Rhysand no longer present in her mind as she managed to focus fully on Tarquin.

This was what she wanted. Something comfortable, so easy it felt natural for them to be together. Spending her time with Tarquin was like coming home and curling up by a fire at the end of a long day. It was lovely and reassuring, the stability most people could only dream of. He was the steady rock in the middle of her ocean. Rhys, in comparison, was a storm. Unpredictable, exhilarating but ever changing. Rhys, she told herself, wasn’t what she wanted anymore.

She was confident in her decision until he strode in through the door. The all black outfit should have looked tasteless, but it fit him perfectly. Even dressed in something that others used to blend in, Rhys sucked up all of the attention in the room. Everyone noticed him, though most were subtle with their staring, but Rhysand only had eyes for one person in this bar.

Feyre felt his stare burn her skin. She tried to avoid his eyes, glad that Tarquin had his back to him so he couldn’t notice what was going on. Why was he doing this? Feyre needed to know. He was the one who left her all those years ago, so why was he back now out of all times, staring at her like they shared a secret. They didn’t share anything. Not anymore, anyway.

Unable to take it any longer, Feyre grabbed Tarquin’s empty glass and her and used the drinks as an excuse to make her way to the bar. All she had to do was ask him why he truly came back, and then tell him she didn’t want anything to do with him. It seemed easy enough until she reached his level.

“You look good, Feyre,” Rhys complimented, leaning against the bar close to her.

“Why did you come back?” She set the empty glasses on the bar and hoped the polite gesture would make the bartender serve her a little bit faster. It was a busy night, and she didn’t want to be stuck with Rhys for longer than what was strictly necessary.

“How long have you been with that guy?” He dodged her question and glanced at her table with disdain.

“That guy?” Feyre glared at him. “That guy is the one who picked up the pieces after you lied to me and left me like all you wanted was a quick fuck before you disappeared five years ago. So you can shove that tone up your ass.”

Rhys should have apologized, but the way she stood up for herself only made him smile. “I missed you, Feyre. I came back for you.”

Her blood chilled in her veins. For her? What gave him the right to say something like that when she had spent so much time fighting to get over him.

“What makes you think I ever wanted you to come back?”

“Nothing. London was my dream, but it sucked because you weren’t there and I missed you like hell every moment of it. I’m here now because you were never just a quick fuck Feyre. You were everything. You were my best friend, and I should have told you I was in love with you back then when we still had time to make it work, but I was scared and stupid. I’m here now to try to make up for it, whatever it takes.”

That was uncharacteristically honest for someone like Rhys. She didn’t know what to do with so many words, but it was still far from an apology and it was coming five years too late.

“I don’t need you here.” Feyre glanced back at Tarquin, who turned to look at her at that exact moment. She tried to give him a smile, but her lips barely moved up.

“You never needed me,” Rhys said. “But you could want me, and if you realize that you do, you should know he’s not your only option.”

Maybe Feyre’s eyes had screamed save me when she looked back, because a second later an arm wrapped around her body and the warmth of Tarquin’s chest met her back.

“Everything alright?”

“Feyre and I were just having a great time catching up,” Rhys looked him up and down before picking a piece of lint off his sleeve.

“Rhys and I grew up together around here,” she helpfully provided, her hand resting over Tarquin’s on her skin. She wouldn’t lie and say the main reason she was touching Tarquin wasn’t to bother Rhys, but she also had to admit it felt nice to have him so close to her. Safe, comfortable. This was what she wanted. “He moved to London five years ago and is just back in town.”

“It’s always nice meeting some of Feyre’s friends,” Tarquin politely said though he didn’t extend his hand in greeting.

“Yes, friends, that’s what we were,” Rhys chuckled, looking only at Feyre. He let the silence drag for a few long seconds before wrapping his fingers around his drink. “I guess I’ll leave you two to your night,”

His point had been made. Feyre turned to face Tarquin and his hands dropped back to his sides.

“So that was… your ex?”

“No— I mean, it’s complicated.” I was never his girlfriend but we almost fucked after he asked me to marry him. “But no, we weren’t— It’s just…”

“Complicated?” Tarquin finished for her.

Feyre deflated. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for things to get so weird tonight,”

“Is he the one who left you so messed up five years ago?”

How he saw through her so easily, she didn’t know. Perhaps it wasn’t that hard to connect the dots when she mentioned he had spent five years in London and Feyre had her heart broken around the time he left.

“Sort of,” she nodded, wanting to tell him the truth but not ready to go into details. There was too much history between them. She couldn’t unpack it for herself, let alone explain it to someone else.

“I’m going to be honest, Feyre, I waited a long time for a chance to be out with you like this, and I’m not here for complicated.”

“It’s not complicated now,” she swore. Tarquin was right, he deserved better than that and she was determined to give it to him. “I haven’t heard from him the whole time he was away, I was surprised to know he was back in town.”

He accepted her explanation without more questions, his eyes communicating a silent I trust you. The only thing Feyre wanted was to make sure she’d always be worthy of that trust.

Tags: @dealfea @chosenfamily-valkyriequeens @abooknerdlove @dwnofav @deedz-thrillerkiller16 @nosequeponer1 @velidewrites @the-lonelybarricade @hlizr50 @ofduskanddreams @headcanonheadcase @crazy-cool-girl-blog @thehaemanthus @thestarseternal @shadowsingerofnight @violet-shadows

#acotarwritingcircle #feysand #feysand fic #feysand fanfiction #acotar #acotar fic #acotar fanfiction #tarquin #feyre x rhysand #feyre x tarquin #feyre archeron #rhysand #feyre x rhys

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evafoxz · 3 months

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— the tortured poets department (couple’s version) 🪶

like/reblog if you save or use.

art credits: @adhara_black on ig (evajacks), @elenana.art on ig (feysand), @only_miraculous_doodles on ig (rowaelin), @larissapsrt on ig (alizehcyrus), @gessueter on ig (romaniris).

#the tortured poets department #ttpd #ttpd header #ttpd headers #evajacks #evajacks header #jurdan #jurdan header #alizehcyrus #alizehcyrus header #feysand #feysand header #rowaelin #rowaelin header #booktwt #booktwitter #bookstan #ts header

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spideyns · 2 months

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Acotar headers part 1

like if u save/use or credit @evrllarks on twitter!!!

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acourtofthought · 7 months

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Hi!! Hru? I have a question. Someone just shared some picture that sjm had pinned in her Pinterest board that could be a reference for Elucien. We also know she had some pins that might be referring to gwyn and how her story might be the little mermaid retelling. I was wondering if she had any pins on her board that referred to E/riel?

Bc she's never talked about them once and it's sos for E/riels lol and I heard sjm even called their relationship platonic or siblings kinda thing (even tho I don't have the evidence for that I just heard multiple times) and honestly that's how I feel about E/riel every time I read their scenes in the books.

Man, it would be the highlight of my month if someone was ever able to produce evidence of SJM saying E/riel were like siblings 😂 I've heard that from a few different sources but no one has ever been able to provide the receipts so I'll just have to accept it as a possible tall tale. But what an excellent tale it is. SJM may have had E/riel tags up however (and feel free to correct me if I'm wrong), but I don't know that it was ever tagged under the header of Elain and Az. The problem with possible Elain and Az tags is that they look a whole lot like Feyre and Rhys. People like to claim them as E/riel because some depict the female with flowers in her hair but the problem with that is Feyre was once referred to as a bride of spring and Feysand was a Hades / Persephone retelling. So those pins have just as much a chance of being Feyre and Rhys. But even if there was proof that a tag was Elaina and Az, when it comes to SJMs pins, that still isn't proof of anything. She had a pin under the tag of Mor / Az where a male and female were holding one another in a tight embrace. Does that mean a Moriel endgame is a certainty? (Probably not give Mor's preference). And for any possible E/riel tags (which could again also be Feysand tags), there are an equal amount of Elucien looking tags (which are less likely to be Feyre / Lucien tags considering the nudity that exists in one of them 😂) Also, there were quite a good deal of possible Gwynriel tags so wouldn't that trump E/riel tags as Gwyn was introduced after the possibility of Elain and Az? Meaning SJM knew E/riel wasn't going to amount to anything?

But really, I don't think her Pinterests boards were ever a guarantee of anything, they could have simply been inspiration for any relationships that existed between the characters (friend or romantic).

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safiraerklare · 2 years

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safira de prata & diamante dourado, laura reggiane

like if you save.

#bookedit #bookaddict #book quotes #comic books #love quote #jurdan headers #feysand headers #warnette headers #nessian headers #headers #bookstan header #books headers #books lockscreens #aesthetic lockscreen #aesthetic wallpaper #random lookscreen #motivating quotes #background #homescreen

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iftheshoef1tz · 1 year

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Since i answered some of your questions on someone else’s ask, @legionsofthehungry, i figured I’d make a separate post and condense a little!

Why did you decide to write about azriel and eris, a pairing many consider a crackship but could be categorized as a rarepair?

I definitely consider it a rare pair, not a crackship, since az and eris have had several (very memorable) interactions in canon. When i first read acotar last year and decided to delve into fandom for the first time since 2016, i thought i might want to write something, but i felt i didn’t have anything interesting to say for feysand or nessian, despite loving those pairings. I’ve always loved me a good ETL, and i discovered azris on reddit, where i first started interacting with the acotar fandom. It just felt right!

Was it something that came to you full-form? Or were you surprised at any point by the story wanting to go in a different direction? How much of the story do you have outlined in advance?

It cracks me up to tell this story (so i tell it all the time) but originally obpbl was intended to be only 2000 words. No, I’m not missing a zero, lmao. Then, i was like, oh, it’ll be 25k. Then, maybe 75k. And then i got to 150k and was like ?????? Guess I’ll never know!! Helena and Kyros weren’t originally intended to feature so heavily; kyros was originally supposed to be evil! But i realized i wasn’t particularly interested in writing that angle for the story and thought it would be more thematically interesting to have this golden retriever dude really upending azriel’s conception of the kind of people who live in the hewn city. And i meant to keep thanatos around for longer, but it felt kind of stuck when i tried to keep him around, so he literally had to go to the chopping block, haha.

As for planning, i originally wrote about 7-8 scenes in the first, like, week of writing, and then started fitting the pieces in around them, using those pre-written scenes as kind of structural pillars to build towards. But i took so many detours along the way - like the mating ceremony originally wasn’t going to happen before i daydreamed up the “are you a sadist, lady elain?” bit, and most of the interactions with ren were written and then HEAVILY edited after i decided on the events that just happened in chapter 35 back in august. I think i usually thought ahead in the plot about 7-8 chapter ahead of where i was writing, depending on what the characters ended up doing. (The gay sex cabin chapters were only supposed to be one long-ish chapter HAHA)

How long have you been a fan of acotar> did you read tog/crescent city? Are there other fandoms you’re a part of or would like to write about next?

I read acotar in October of 2021! I started cc earlier this year and devoured them (bryce quinlar can step on me and i would thank her), and I’m slowly working my way through tog because of writing/work commitments (chaol is my sweet dumb son and i love him; manon could step on me, preferably at the same time as bryce, and i would thank them both). I’m not really part of any other fandoms at the moment, though my last one before this was teen wolf, and i have been reading dramione fics on the side when i have the time/mental bandwidth. I’ve written one cc fic (High For This), and i am planning an eventual sequel, as well as a what-if about Sam Cortland with the summary inspired by Slaughterhouse 5 - Listen: Sam Cortland has come unstuck in time.

Do you have other hobbies you engage in or is writing something you devote most of your free time to (or even do professionally)?

Writing right now is mostly what i dedicate my free time to, but i also do needlework (my page’s header is something i stitched for a friend!), i love to bake, and i am learning how to make hand bound books! I’m very glad I don’t write for a living, to be honest. I teach music as my day job, and going to school for it sucked out a lot of the joy of making music, and i don’t want that to happen to my writing too. Although, I’ve been encouraged to write some original stuff, so who knows what’ll happen!

#obpbl ama #obpbl #fanfiction

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