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#idk how old elain is
angelamontoo · 6 months
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Wait I wanna hear about ur Mortimer Brewster hate.
I never cared for him personally but I wanna hear ur reason, if you don't mind.
Oh I probably shouldnt have called myself a hater, that's a bit too strong and negative a word for how I feel about Mortimer. Tbh with how unsympathetic and just plain boring a lot of leading men(aswell as other characters who we, the audience, are expected to have some automatic, unearned liking for)are in a lot of these old films, I can't truly hate Mortimer just cause hes at least consistently genuinely funny and interesting to watch.
Still, Mortimer has a lot of pretty unlikeable characteristics that it took multiple rewatches of the film for me to really notice, or at least think about fully. It's definitely partially my opinion being influenced by other AAOL fans who's post about why they hate Mort got me thinking more about just what a massive douche he is in the film, but plenty of it is stuff I kinda noticed myself and then focused on more with every rewatch while I was waiting for Einstein to appear.
The most obvious shitty trait about Mortimer is ofc the way he treats Elaine, ignoring her, berating her, stringing her along and being a condescending dickweed, all because of his own internal conflicts and as a Lorre fan, I'm obligated to be somewhat offended by how needlessly mean he is to Herman, but what really bothers me personally is the way he treats his aunts and especially Teddy. He talks down to his aunts like they're little kids instead of the people who raised him, essentially his mothers and has 0 gratitude for everything they've done for him despite Abby and Martha treating him like their golden child, being thrilled to cart them off to happydale with Teddy. Speaking of, the utter lack of empathy Mortimer has for his own brother, who has never done anything more harmful to anyone else than blow a bugle too loud, is vile. He has no moral qualms letting Teddy potentially take the fall for murder when he's never shown signs of violence before just because "everyone already knows he's crazy" and Mortimer was always planning to shove Teddy into a nuthouse when his aunts croaked anyway so it's no skin off his nose.
Also, while I'm happy that Herman makes it out of the film unscathed, the fact that Mortimer let's someone who he knows was at least an accomplice to multiple murders walk free just because he helps Mort unload his inconvenient relatives into somebody else's care, is proof that Mortimers eagerness to be rid of his family has nothing to do with him being worried that they'll hurt more innocent people. For all Mortimer knows, Herman's every bit as dangerous as Jonathan.
So yeah if I was gonna make a tiere list for leading men in Lorre films(not including the few where Pete fills that role ofc) Mort would probably rank relatively high for being fun to watch and having some sympathetic moments, but that is not saying much
Also thanks for this ask. My blogs mainly about pete characters ofc, but I like having an excuse to talk about some other characters I'm interested in from his films
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rudystree · 2 years
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ok before i start. yes i am stalking your blog. i like your blog! i’m bored and i’m stalking it. because once again i like it here! let’s get that out of the way in case this conversation goes sideways and i get a bunch of comments about how i’m a waste of space with no life stalking you.
i understand that people who hate on elaine take it too far 99% of the time. she’s literally just a girl, dating a guy and doing her best. she takes great photos and who cares if she’s in a room labelled cast only. i’m sure if she was unwanted, she wouldn’t be in there. i’m sure if the cast didn’t like her, she wouldn’t be photographed with them all the time.
https://rudystree.tumblr.com/post/679094452904673280/she-didnt-just-say-some-bad-words-she-said-many
but i came across this post and i just had to say something. because yes, elaine used those words a long time ago and it looks like she’s educated herself to be better. but the way you answered that ask (not mine by the way) is so condescending, rude and insensitive. i’m trying to be respectful but i’m not going to sugarcoat my words because the things elaine has said are not just words. and although u did acknowledge that they’re inappropriate i can’t help but feel like you’re diminishing how harmful they are. do you know that the n word can be traced back to slavery? that even after slaves were emancipated it was used to vilify black people and turn them into an uncivilized and animalistic race? that it’s been ringing in the ears of black people during lynchings and civil rights riots and the “war on drugs”? it is not just a word. but it is a word used by the kkk. and it’s a word that a lot of people who were storming the white house that day were yelling. i’m sure elaine has changed. i’m sure she would never use that word now. but if i’m giving her the benefit of the doubt i have to give that anon the benefit of the doubt as well. and by that i mean that i’m assuming that they’re not one of those people who send elaine death threats or talk badly about her physical appearance. because A LOT of people who dislike elaine are not those people. they’re people who are just hurt that so much love and attention is going towards someone who’s said those awful things and that people go to such extents to defend her when we can’t even get the same reactions from those people when we’re shot on the street by cops. im not saying elaine deserves all the hate. but you can’t say that every single person who dislikes her and brings up what’s she done is a jealous fan girl. and it’s not your place to say that we should be doing something that actually helps. we’re doing more than anyone else is and putting more into this cause than anyone else because we’re living it.
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Wow okay well first of all thank you for liking my blog! 🫶 & I love it when ppl stalk my blog hehe
I also appreciate you sending a very respectful message. But that’s the problem when you’re looking back at older posts, because the context in which I answered them was that I did NOT receive respectful asks about Elaine. These were people in my inbox telling me over and over again that she is a monster and deserves to die. For jokingly using inappropriate words as a teenager. I stand 100% behind saying that this is absolutely vile and disproportional.
Of course I am aware of black history, but again, her allegedly having used the n-word around a friend in high school doesn’t mean she actually hate-crimed anyone ffs💀
I hate to break it to you, but most people have said dumb shit when they were younger. Chase, Carlacia, Madison, Drew, etc., they’ve ALL said problematic shit. To assume that someone is undeserving of love, attention or happiness in life for things they cannot change is cruel. Obviously they don’t deserve endless praise for correcting their behaviour now. But you have to acknowledge it if you’re gonna keep bringing up the old shit.
If you keep looking down my blog, I’ve answered a billion times that I don’t condone her past actions and that anyone is free to dislike her. But constantly fucking obsessing over her every move after all these years of her proving that she is nothing like that anymore is absolutely absurd. It is 100% my place to tell ppl who incessantly bully her to shut the fuck up. They are welcome to bitch about her anywhere else, but not on my blog and not in her comments.
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azrielsdove · 3 months
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Ive really been loving all that you post. I've had this idea rattling in my head. It's a Azriel x best friend Reader. Where their friendship has mostly been platonic. Azriel and Elain were an item before she eventually left him for lucien, causing Azriel to spiral outta control. Azriels getting blackout drunk like every night, crying his eyes out saying how much he loved Elain, getting into fights hes just a mess and although readers there helping him shes fucking hurt that her friends suffering. I picture reader coming to help Azriel again one night dressed really nice and drop dead gorgeous, shes getting him into bed or whatever and hes just staring at her, like really looking at her. The bond snaps for him that instant and hes taking her in and asks her why are u wearing a gown? And she tells him she was on a date with Eris but ended it early to come help him. Breaks his fucking heart that shes dating someone (Especially Eris) but he then realizes shes always been there by his side. I imagine her not knowing about the bond or ignoring it cuz she just can't be Azriels 2nd choice ( but also cant hurt him) when shes been there the whole time and she feels she deserves someone who actually loves her not just cuz the mother said they should be together. Angst with maybe open ending? Or sad ending idk. Lol. Happy ending? I cant chooose. Lol.
Dearest Friend: Azriel x Reader
Warnings: Angst, Alcohol, Brief Mentions of Violence
***
You sighed deeply, knowing it was going to be another long night with your dearest friend. You hated that Azriel was hurting, but you were growing tired of the constant drinking and fighting. You dragged the large male out of the alley you found him in, calling out to Rhys to send someone to check on whoever he had been pummeling to a pulp when you found him.
“M’fine,” Azriel grumbled, pushing himself off of you to stumble down the road.
“I know you are. I am just helping,” you explained, used to the difficult task of getting him home. You brought him to the townhouse, as he was in no state to fly the two of you up to the House if Wind. He got angry when he was here, remembering the early stages of his feelings for Elain.
“I want to go home,” he protested, stopping in the doorway. You grabbed his hands and pulled him gently inside, shutting the door behind him.
“We can go home tomorrow, Az. Tonight we are going to stay here, closer to the ground.” He mumbled under his breath something about hating you and this place, but you just rolled your eyes and continued pulling him up to the room he typically stayed in.
You felt an air of sadness wash over you, looking to see Azriel staring at a door near the end of the hall. You knew that was Elain’s old room, before she moved to the River House with Rhys and Feyre. You reached up and placed a hand on his face, prompting him to look at you. “She’s not here,” you soothed, heart breaking at the anguish in his eyes. He nodded, head leaning into the touch of your hand. “Come on.”
You brought him into his room, sliding off his dirty clothes. He didn’t fight you as you slid warm, clean sleepwear onto him, the anger exhausted for the night. You pulled the blankets over him and tucked him in, pressing a light kiss to his forehead. “Get some sleep, Az.”
His hand on your arm stopped you, the pleading look in his eyes already telling you what he wanted. “Stay,” he whispered, pulling you down next to him. You took in a deep breath before sliding under the blankets with him, allowing him to hold you close. You had been sleeping like this a lot lately, your back pressed tight to his chest while he held you like you were his lifeline.
You wish he knew how true that was.
You had learned the shove the pull of the mating bond down long ago, realizing that Azriel would likely never feel it. The two of you had been friends for a few hundred years, and he had never made any inclination that he knew in all that time.
He pushed closer to you, burying his face in your hair. “Why wasn’t I enough for her?” Your heart broke just a little more, understanding the feeling all too well. You ran your fingers over his hands, shushing him.
“Enough of that, Az. She has a mate, that wasn’t a bond you could fight with. It has nothing to do with you.” You felt like you had said the same things over and over, constantly reassuring your friend that he did nothing wrong. Elain had tried to fight the bond with Lucien, making her own choice to go after Azriel. Unfortunately, the Mother creates bonds for a reason and even Azriel wasn’t enough to keep her from her mate.
Your countless failed relationships proved that as well.
“I wish she had been my mate,” he mumbled, sleep beginning to take over. You ignored the pain in your chest at his words, knowing he had no idea his mate was here in his arms. His mate he had no interest in.
“Go to sleep, Az.”
***
You smiled at the male across from you, raising your glass to your lips. With the now-accepted mating bond between Lucien and Elain, along with a growing alliance with the Autumn Court, Eris had taken to visiting Velaris often. You had arrived at the River House to ask about the male Azriel had attacked a few nights prior, not knowing he was there. You couldn’t deny the slight uptick of your heart whenever you saw him.
He had asked you to accompany him out to dinner that night, an invitation you gladly accepted. For the first time the attention of another male overrode the underlying pull of the mating bond. You had rushed off to get ready, forgetting the reason you even went over there.
Perhaps it was foolish, agreeing to a date with the Autumn Prince. You were tired of being alone, tired of waiting for the bond that will never snap for your mate. Eris was handsome, charming, and kept your attention full on him. You’d never met anyone quite like that.
“You look,” he spoke, surveying you over his whiskey glass, “divine.” You couldn’t hide the slight blush at his words, heat coursing through you. No other male had ever been able to affect you with such few words.
“I’m sure no different than the ladies you court in Autumn,” you responded, a teasing lilt to your voice. Eris chuckled, sipping his drink.
“Truth be told, I cant say i’ve ever had the interest in courting any of them.” You swore your heart stopped, mind going temporarily blank. “No one has ever caught my attention quite like you did.” He was looking at your curiously, as if trying to find some invisible string that tied you to him.
“I could say the same about you,” you got out, taking a mildly too large drink. Eris smiled back,
opening his mouth to say more when Cassian burst into the restaurant. He caught sight of you immediately, striding over to the table.
“He’s bad. He won’t accept any of us, he’s requesting you.” He looked apologetic, awkwardly glancing between you and Eris. You sighed, unable to hide the slow anger rising in you.
“Fine. Where is he?” You asked, standing from the table. You looked over to Eris, halfway ready to tell Azriel to screw himself so you could stay here. “Im so sorry. Our friend is…not well,” you explained, knowing he already knew the situation.
“Of course,” he said, waving you to go. “I just expect you to take me on an extravagant make-up date when he’s better.” The wink he gave you had color racing up your neck, a small smile on your lips.
***
Cass brought you to the townhouse, a sure sign that Azriel was wasted again. “I didn’t want to interrupt your date,” he began, “but he’s losing it in there. Crying and screaming about Elain, destroying everything he can get his hands on. Rhys can’t even get into his mind to calm him down.” You knew how dire this situation must be if Rhys was willing to infiltrate his friends mind without consent. You prepared yourself as the door opened, peering in to the damage he had caused.
It was bad. Very, very bad.
“Az?” You called out, stepping into the ruined home. “Are you in here?” You heard a low sob from the living room, turning to Cassian behind you. “You should stay out here, for now. I’ll yell if I need you.” He agreed, willing to do anything you thought may help his brother.
You made your way into the living room, finishing Azriel tucked into the farthest corner. His shadows were going wild, racing around the room in a chaotic show. You carefully walked over to him, being sure to not trip on any of the debris. You knelt down in front of him, running your hands up and down his arms.
“Hey, Az. I’m here now. What do you need?” Your words were quiet, soothing. He slowly lifted his head off his knees, eyes bloodshot. You clicked your tongue at the deep circles under them, the sunken skin of his cheeks. He was destroying himself.
“Let me help you up to bed, okay? I’ll bring you water, do you want me to send Cassian to pick up some food?” He shook his head as you pulled him up, looking almost small. You gently lead him upstairs, an area he had thankfully stayed out of during his rampage. You once again changed his clothes and tucked him into bed, heading downstairs to get him a glass of water.
You opened the front door to see Cassian sitting on the steps, waiting for you. “He’s in bed,” you said as he stood, “you are good to go. I’ll stay with him.” Cassian nodded, shifting on his feet.
“I’m sorry again. We may have had disagreements in the past, but Eris is proving to be a decent guy. I think he’d be good for you.” Your heart fluttered at his words, that small smile coming back onto your face.
“Yes, well, I suppose we will see.” He bid you goodnight and you closed the door, locking it behind you. You retrieved the glass for Az, bringing it up to him.
“Drink,” you commanded, pushing the water in his hands. He did so greedily, needing the cool liquid after his actions that night. You took the empty
glass from him, setting it on the nightstand. “Anything else?” You asked, voice missing the normal warmth it had when he was in this state.
Azriel looked at you closely, eyes slowly taking in your appearance. “You look…nice.” You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms over your chest.
“Yes, thanks for noticing. Are you good?” You were growing impatient.
“Why are you wearing that?” His question held a small tone of accusation, clearly unhappy that you were out while he was struggling.
“Honestly Azriel, do you take me as your mother? I was on a date, a very lovely night until you had to ruin it.” You couldn’t help the anger pushing out of you, years of being there for him piling up inside you.
“A date? With who?” He sneered, focused on the elegant but tight dress you had on.
“If you must know, I was with Eris. Now, do you need anything else?” You stared him down, focusing every emotion into that gaze. He began to shake his head, body suddenly stilling.
“Azriel?” Your anger began to be replaced by concern, the unblinking look on his face scaring you.
“You’re my mate.”
Oh. That. You couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of you at the injustice of it all. Centuries you longed after him, dreaming of this very moment. The very night your heart begins to long for another, the bond snaps.
Snaps while he’s drunk due to thoughts of another lover.
He states you down, unsure as to your laughter. “Azriel,” you sighed, “I know. I’ve known.”
He stood off the bed, the sudden realization sobering him. “This is great! You are my mate! This whole time, you’ve been right in front of me.” He raised a hand to your face, brushing your hair back lovingly. “My dearest friend, my mate.”
It was too much. You pushed back from him, shaking your head. “No, Azriel.”
“No?”
“I won’t be your second choice. Not when I have finally found someone I could be happy with, without the thought of you ruining it.” Your eyes filled with tears when you looked up at him. “You don’t want me, Az. You want her. You said it yourself, you wished she was your mate.”
His eyebrows furrowed, shadows becoming agitated again. “No that’s not what I meant, I-“
You cut him off. “Stop, Azriel. In the hundreds of years we’ve been friends, you’ve never once treated me as more than. You don’t want me, not like that. You never have.” Your heart squeezed tight at the devestaed look on his face.
“You can’t reject me,” he said, voice quiet.
You ran your hands over your face, a frustrated groan falling from you. “I’m not. I just don’t think this is truly what you want.” You looked up at him, standing tall. “I need you to want me for me, not because the bond has told you to.”
His shadows were swirling around, staying far away from you. The anger and hurt in his face broke you, but you stood strong. You would not be with a male you loved so deeply if he could not love you the same.
“Goodnight, Az,” you said, leaving his room and the destroyed townhouse before you broke any further.
***
I hope you like this!! I left the ending open, I feel like I always do HEAs so I wanted to try not not resolve the issue yet 🫣. Let me know what you think and thank you so much for liking my writing enough to request something ❤️
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tadpolesonalgae · 7 months
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Demon!Azriel x reader: Teeth and Talons - Part 9[***]
A/N: idk even know what to say about this one. I think I traumatise myself a little more with every chapter (in a good way…?)
Warnings: blood—like a lot of blood, obviously unsanitary but ✨magic✨, biting, blood play, smut, 5.7k words
-Part 8- -Part 10-
He’d breathed power into you. Power that your human body is not meant to carry. And while you can feel the tips of your fingers, the nails pressing onto your toes, and every tooth in your mouth, you know it won’t last. The sun is setting within you, and when the last ember of his magic dies in your womb, you’ll go with it.
“Where are you taking me?” You ask, padding quietly over that stone floors of the dormitories, hidden deep within the temple’s nest. Crypt is more like it.
He’s still wreathed in shadow, appearing no clearer than a reflection in muddied waters. His form ripples as he moves, keeping his gaze ahead—knowing you’re following on his heel. He’s keeping an eye out for something—someone.
That someone is waiting for you at the steps that lead out from beneath the holy building.
Robed in white and pale blue, silver circlet perched on her brow, Elain watches you with hard eyes. No—she’s staring at Azriel. He stops a little way from her, just out of reach of the carved, wooden thyrsus. Slender, pale fingers tighten around the staff, knuckles pressing out beneath the constraint of skin. “You have made your choice, then.”
It’s no question, but you nod. Cold, hollow eyes flick to you, “remember what I told you,” she says quietly, that strange glow appearing about her again. Brown melts to cocoa, mouth softening from its hard line. “You will always have a place here, remember that,” she says to you, “no matter what form you take. Do not forget yourself. Do not forget the human woman inside of you.”
————
Elain’s words are little more than a low buzz in the back of your skull as Azriel brings you to an outcropping on a weathered mountain ledge.
There’s no light in the sky tonight, the stars seemingly taking shelter within the darkness. The air is still, humid, but you’re on the wrong side of tepid. Your temperature has been rising gradually, in almost unnoticeable increments, but sweat is dampening your hair, trickling down the notches of your spine.
Azriel prowls forward to the flat rock face, canines slipping out as you hear a distinct ripping sound. He presses his taloned hand to the hewn stone, and lightening crackles in the air, fizzling in your ears, sizzling your skin. The mountain rumbles in response—Ramiel, Elain had called it—and strange symbols glow on the stone, as if lit by the light of a forge. A mix of runes and sigils that are too old to be recognised by any of your kind—perhaps even by his.
Then the wall gives way. Simply disappears. Revealing a looming passageway, sinking downward.
He turns toward you, eyes the colour of the descent that’s patiently awaiting. Why would it be eager? It know you’re going into its mouth one way or another, there’s no need for hurry.
A warm breeze licks up your spine, reminding you how your night robe is sticking uncomfortably to your skin, suctioned on by sweat. A shiver wracks your stomach, muscles seizing and spasming in the night. You take a shaky step toward him, toward the cave mouth, waiting to step foot on its cold tongue, but he stops you.
Instead, he takes you by the jaw, a razor-sharp claw presses in your mouth, a metallic liquid flowing across your tongue followed by a dull warmth. His canines press into his thumb before he pushes its pad to the incision on your wet muscle, blood mixing in your mouth. Your senses go dim, the cold biting into your feet little more than a slight pressure, the sweat on your skin little more than a light brush of misty fog, the night a little more than varying inky splotches.
A deep shadow towers over you, leaning down as you’re lifted from your feet. “Hold your breath,” he orders, softly. You follow the command, rasping in a ragged huff of night-warmed air. He steps into the rock’s mouth, and the mountain seals.
Cocooned within the damp passages, you curl into yourself, keeping air tight in your lungs. The walls press in, smelling of mildew and tilled soil. You keep tucked into him, instinctually recoiling from the passage way, the darkest grabbing at your ankles; tugging at your hair. Shadowy nails rake down the bloody chambers of your heart, eyes squeezing shut as Azriel pulls you tighter to himself.
“Release it.”
You exhale softly, feeling dizzy with the strain, like your torso will collapse with the slightest breeze. Like your ribs are full of cobwebs and dust. You head pounds the deeper he takes you, the temperate dropping steadily until you’re shivering. “Azriel…” you whisper weakly. He shushes you, fingers gently squeezing your skin, “a little longer.”
You swallow down the whimper, nestling closer, delving into his warmth as silky shadows encase your bare legs, wrapping over your arms; flowing over your chest like a thin blanket. Elain had warned you of this, had told you what to expect; how to prepare yourself for the crushing intensity of Ramiel’s stomach. How to cope with the insane pressure that’s strangling your bones of life.
Taking in a breath, you cast your mind back to the conversation, recounting the description she’d given you of her own Ritual.
————
“What happens in the Ritual?”
The tea is piping hot, almost scalding your throat as you swallow your first gulp. You gasp for air to cool your mouth, and Elain smiles softly, offering a glass of water which you take gratefully.
She sighs, leaning back in her chair, eyes going a little cloudy with memory. “It wasn’t…I struggle to speak about it,” she begins, hands cupping her mug as she peers into the milky tea. The edges of her mouth droop, shoulders sloping, “even with Lucien, it’s difficult.” She raises her head a little, meeting your gaze, something sad and remorseful flitting through her cocoa eyes.
“I thought I loved him at the time. Azriel, I mean. And I think he thought he loved me, too.” Her brow wrinkles, lips pursing as she tightens her hold on the cup. “They have a sacred mountain. It’s the only place the Ritual will work, though I never learned why. Something about a build-up of power, every Ritual performed requires a small sacrifice which infuses the mountain with magic. I don’t— I don’t know much about it, nor do I have an interest in learning.
“Even under his thrall, I knew there was something wrong with it. Like Ramiel was rejecting the very essence of my humanity. It was a discomfort deep in my bones, like something ancient and unseen was pressing down on me, making it hard to breathe.” She sucks in a deep breath, straightening, taking a sip of her tea. You don’t miss the shake to her delicate hand.
“I have no time frame to offer you; everything was so distorted I have no hope of untangling it. I’m not sure what happened, just that my mind was scrambled the second he took me inside. I can recall vague impressions: some runes on the passage walls, pathways leading away—deeper into the mountain, fractals spinning in the damp rock. What I’m trying to express, is it’s unlike anything created by man. Entirely other. As if fashioned with darkness in mind; forged for the occult.
“After the descent, the narrow passage opened into a vast cave that smelled damp. Musty and unused. I can’t remember the cave in great detail—it was very dark, you see. So dark only a creature like him would be able to navigate the chamber.
“I do, however, recall being set on a raised, stone platform. It was circular, and had no end I could feel within my immediate reach. That being said, I didn’t have much control left in my body at that point so my area of mobility was severely limited.” Her eyes are milky white.
You don’t dare speak, in case it washes away the last scraps of memory she’s dredging up.
“The Ritual… As I said before, it’s not something I care for. I have no interest in understanding how it works—I’m not entirely sure any of them know what happens, or how it was set up. I remember my younger sister telling me what she knew, but it was all rumour and myth passed on tongue, predating written language.
“He warned me it would be unpleasant. He gave me a choice of how it could happen, just two options.”
You hold your breath, tea forgotten.
“I could endure it as I was, experience the change on my own. Or I could…” she stammers, features becoming a little paler. A hint of colour dusts the crests of her cheek, though she refuses to lower her head. “Or he could relieve the intensity by taking it with me.”
Your brow furrows, “what do you mean, taking it with you? I thought the Ritual…” you trail off. You don’t really know what you thought. “You said something about becoming stronger? I thought that meant being changed into one of them,” you say, swallowing. “One of you.”
She nods. “The Ritual will make you immortal, so you can live like them; exist in the Underworld and the Holy Lands.”
“What’s…? That sounds…good.” You say, slowly, considering your words. “What’s the… I mean, I can’t see an obvious reason why not to take it?” Her brow narrows slightly, and you worry you’ve said something wrong. “Living forever is not as wondrous as you might think. Watching those you love grow old while you remain young? Watching their bones crumble with the weight of the world while yours stay strong? It is not a pleasant experience.” Her voice is sharper, terser than before, and you realise this might still be an open wound for her.
You open your mouth, “exactly how old are—”
“You’re getting off topic.”
You snap your mouth shut.
She releases her grip on her teacup to take a sip, drinking daintily. “He will most likely offer you a similar choice. It is up to you which path you take. I most certainly will not fault you for either.”
You wait, fingers fidgeting in your lap, but she doesn’t continue. You shift, “is there anything else?”
Milky eyes begin to darken, returning to their colourful state of warmth. Elain shakes her head, “as I said: I remember very little. Though I would advise you to take his offer, when he gives it to you.” She shivers, but there’s no breeze. “I imagine it would be quite unpleasant without the distraction.”
————
He takes you down further, runes decorating the rock wall.
He carries you by winding passages that seem to have breezes blowing inward, as if trying to suck in wanderers. He remains steady. Fractals spin at the edges of your vision, disappearing when you try to look directly at them.
Stairs wind down, going deeper into the mountain, until you’re surely below ground level. And still you go deeper.
He carries you down until the passage opens up, revealing a vast cave, a flat stone altar at its centre. The place Elain spoke about.
You’re here.
Azriel takes a step forward, then halts. Even with your poor eyesight, you can feel the weight of his gaze. Goosebumps prickle over your skin, and you nestle into him, greedily sucking in the warmth and power that’s humming around his person.
“Isn’t this it?” You croak, feeling like death. Sweat beads on your brow, perspiration slicking your already damp skin. His eyes narrow on you, judgement weighing heavily in your stomach.
Then he turns from the altar, grip tightening on you, lips pursing.
Desperation trickles down your spine, fingers trembling as you hold him tighter. “Azriel…” you rasp, “what…? Where are you…?” Breath catches in your throat and you manage a weak cough. Shadows swirl over your torso, wrapping tighter, as if keeping you together.
“You’re weaker than the others,” he says quietly, a soft growl dragging form his throat. Shame tightens in your gut at the reminder, and you look away from him. “You’re going deeper. Where it will be more concentrated.”
Darkness writhes at his back, building over his wings as they flare, magic crackling in the air. The rock trembles, then gives way, revealing another passageway. Leading down.
You whimper, pushing into him, away from the opening. “Azriel…” you pant, “please…I can’t—” Another round of wet coughs bubble from your throat, barely enough force to dislodge whatever’s getting stuck there.
His dark eyes flick down to you, then he shifts you in his arms, lifting and moving you so your legs are tucked around his waist, arms guided gently over his shoulders. If you had the energy, you could purr. Nestle closer into him, feeling the firm press of his chest against your own, the strong muscle lining his body, the soft, silky locks at the nape of his neck.
“Hold on,” he murmurs to you, one arm beneath you to keep you up, the other around your back, pressing between your shoulder blades then trailing down to grip your waist. Your spine arches, dipping as his forearm brushes the bone, holding just above your hip.
“I just want it to be over,” you whisper onto his skin, head resting on his shoulder, tears blurring your vision. “It will be,” he replies quietly. “Just a little longer.”
Tremors skitter over your skin, limbs going limp in his arms as you weigh onto him, relaxing into his strength. Feeling each smooth step as he takes you deeper. Darker still.
The air grows thicker; more stagnant. As if previously untouched.
You shiver in his arms, only focusing on where you’re connected, the shadows soothing your skin. “How much did she tell you about this?” He asks into the darkness. You know who he means.
“A little,” you rasp, feeling weakness sink into your muscles, turning them to mud.
He nods, probably for your benefit. “This is going to be different,” he murmurs, and his hands might have tightened on you just there. You have no energy to inquire, so you wait for him to continue. He doesn’t.
“You’re going to be fine.”
It doesn’t reassure you like you had hoped.
Silence swallows your senses, and you’re pretty sure you pass out for a little, because when your eyes next open, things have changed.
No longer in the passageway, but within the mountain’s stomach—wide and cavernous. A quiet splash sounds as Azriel moves, a faint metallic smell wafting about, a suggestion of iron. Light flickers on the walls, dimly registering in your eyes as he continues forward. Carrying you to your end point.
“You’re doing this with me, right,” you whisper. Your voice breaks at the end, betraying your quiet terror. Muscle stiffens beneath you, but he continues moving.
“Yes,” he says at last, equally softly, coming to a stop. His hold lessens on you, giving you the chance to pull away. You try and sit a little straighter, weary and tired. A fatigue that’s settled into your very bones. Even sleeping forever wouldn’t get rid of it.
You peer at him through the darkness, his arms supporting you as you do so. “What’s going to happen to me?” You whisper again, tongue trembling in your mouth, feeling at once dry and like lead. Your lower lip wobbles, but you bite down, keeping it stiff. Eyes flick across his features, searching for a hint.
Something passes through his gaze, but it’s gone too quickly for you to read. Instead, one of his hands cup your cheek, pushing away the damp hair that’s plastered itself to your skin. “I’ll make sure it feels good,” he says.
Then his mouth slants delicately over yours, and you recognise the feeling it brings in.
It’s like that first time with him all over again.
Heat sings in your blood, making it boil and bubble. Scorching your skin. His name whispers through your mind, lips forming shapes of letters you’ve forgotten.
The cave is vast, a dark liquid coating the floor, and he’s taking you deeper. Red washes the stone, fire burning in tall stacks at five different points within the chamber. Humid air washes down your throat, filling your lungs, smelling faintly metallic but everything’s so dim and dark it’s impossible to tell. How bright is the flame for your eyes to pick it out?
Heart pounds in your chest, and you curl into him, needing to feel his skin. Need to feel his touch, the soft dust of fur grazing your thighs and stomach, the scratch of claws through your hair. A small sound drags from your lips, sweat beading on your brow, head twisting to bury into him.
His hands tighten around your legs, pressing your shoulders closer, tucking you into his heat, his scent wrapping around you. If you had the energy, how wonderful it would be to have him. Taste, lick, swallow, gulp. Take, need, have, own.
“Azriel…” Letters rasp from your tongue and he’s doing something—moving you. “Azriel…I need you.”
Sweat slicks your robes, dampening further as he sets you down, breasts dragging over his chest, body dragging against his own, until your feet touch that wetness. Up to your ankles. Up to your calves. Metal and iron.
Blacked out eyes find yours and breath whooshes away at the raw sight of him. Some kind of veil has been ripped off, fire and shadow burning in his pitch black gaze, an intensity thrumming beneath his skin like a heart beat, loud and clear to your ears.
The flames burn hotter, glowing brighter, pale bones holding the massive fire bowls. Blood bubbles around your feet, the cave floor flooded with the dark liquid, the vastness of some past slaughter vaguely dawning in your mind. How much life is contained within the dark lagoon, the immense strain of power that’s glittering just beneath it.
“This isn’t…?” You look at him weakly, his hands on your hips, keeping your pressed to his front. “…where am I?” He blinks, and you catch the thin layer of film that slides across his eyes just before his eyelids snap shut, and open. “Undress.”
You stare at him, too sickly to muster up a reply. You just stare. “Where am I?”
When he leans down, fingers hooking in your robe, making to pull it off, you don’t have the will to protest. The scrape of his talons up the backs of your thighs setting the liquid heat in the pit of your belly bubbling. A reminder of his touch, how it feels to have his hands on you. How it feel to have him on you. It’s what you’re craving.
So you melt.
Eyes roll to the back of your skull and you stagger, shadows winding up your legs, sliding up your spine, bracing your torso as the arousal slams your mind into a stone wall. Hands grip onto him, nails stabbing at his tough skin as you cling for stability. “Azriel…” you pant, panic twining with your plead.
His eyes gleam in the ruby light, orange and gold flickering across his skin, “yes?” Fangs glint under the flame, catching the sparks on the white enamel. Grinning.
Your vision tilts, and your grip tightens, skin pressing onto him, arms winding around him, fingers dragging over him as you begin to push yourself into his body. You nose at him, taking in his scent and you can feel him shifting beneath your finger tips. Liquid arousal gathers between your thighs as leather dissolves to soft fur, the constraint of clothing turning to nothing. Warm, sturdy muscle surfacing. Should you look up you would be met with a beast. Fangs to slice into your throat, talons to dig into your flesh, eyes to pierce into your soul.
A moan spills from your lips, breaths becoming shallow as that incessant itch becomes deeper and deeper and you need him, need him, need him.
He laughs, deep and dark, tipping you upward by a hand to the throat. Feels you swallow. “Want me?” He asks. The ghostly brush of his lips over your own. Your brows curve upward at the cruel question.
Of course you want him. Can barely think of anything else.
Eyes flutter shut, tilting toward him. Elongated fangs graze your lips. Press closer, and they slice.
You tip over the edge.
Hands slide up over his shoulders, hooked talons wrap around your waist, trapping you against him. Mouth opens up, teeth slicing at your lips but blood tastes good. Thick and rich. Aches blossom on your tongue, stinging dulling and healing then reopening as his saliva heals and his canines create those delicious incisions as you kiss him. Tongue flicks out, pressing up the razor-sharp canine, hot, spiced liquid bursting between you, dripping down your chin.
You moan loudly into his mouth, his name playing on repeat in your head as you plead for him, arousal thrumming and humming and buzzing across your sin, zapping the sensitive space between your legs.
Nails drag through his hair, pressing up onto your tiptoes to be closer. His hands slide down over your rear and you moan into his mouth, blood and pleasure mixing and his claws rip through the white robe. Skin is bare and wonderfully free. Fur soft and silky and you could cry at the sweet sensation.
Azriel snarls into your mouth and you want to give him more, want him to bite into your flesh and take you apart in the most appetising way possible. With great control, you pull away, only in favour of moving his hot lips to the soft expanse of your throat. Urging him to bite, to drink, to feed.
The wet muscle laps out, pleasure and pain singing down your spine seconds later as he buries himself in you, hot, thick blood spilling down your shoulder, saturating the remains of your dress. Head tips back, lips parting in silent euphoria. He growls at the taste, pushing deeper, drinking more and more, until you’re swaying on your feet.
Hands release you, blood swallows you.
Falling back into the sanguine pool.
You moan as the rich liquid warms your skin, coating you, bathing you in power. Darkens your hair with wetness. Spine arches at the sheer immorality of the scene. The darkest depravity as you bathe yourself in blood. Gleams on your teeth, colouring your lips as you smile, tongue flicking out as you stare up at him.
His grin is like none other he’s given you. Pure beast, pure animal. Too wide, and too eager to be anything remotely human. You don’t care.
He steps forward, and you move back, pushing away from him slowly—teasingly. It’s never a good idea to taunt a wolf, but here you are, a lamb wandering into the butcher’s hands, trotting up and pleading for the carving knife. Bowing her neck for the severing slice.
The rock shifts beneath you, blood growing shallower, beast drawing closer. Herding you to the butchering block. You follow his guide, moving to be atop the hewn stone, where the hot liquid laps at your sides instead of swallowing you whole.
Dark lines pulse beneath his skin, veins of blackness thrumming beneath the fur lining his stomach, mapping a pathway down his abdomen. He reaches the foot of the slope, and begins prowling upward, slowly closing in on you. There’s not a single part of you that’s afraid of him, every inch of skin craving to be adored and devoured. Absolutely massacred.
His clawed hand encases your ankle roughly, pulling your leg toward him, blood dripping from your calves down into the pool. Teeth open over your flesh, bitting and kissing his way up as your spine arches at his own form of worship.
When you have fangs like his, you’ll return the favour.
Dark eyes pierce into you, your legs bend at the knees, flickering with interest. Your grin doesn’t belong to a lamb. He know that, too.
Starving hunger blazes in his gaze, a quiet moan exhaling from your lips as you open wider for him. Lips pull back from his teeth in a snarl, and he pounces. One hand slams down on your shoulder, rock biting into your back as he snarls, low and viciously. Blood drips off your chest, nipples peeking beneath his ravenous attention. Teeth bite into your neck, and you know he’s hitting that first scar mark, setting it deeper, making sure it sticks.
Rough stone slices into your skin, but you don’t care. The blood from the cave seeps into your skin, but you don’t care. Something powerful and wicked, ancient and entirely malevolent claws at your insides, rendering you anew, and you just. Don’t. Care.
You moan louder when you feel the weight of his length over your slick heat, a growl rumbling through his chest, and you could swear deep whispers fill the vast cave. Chanting, speaking in tongues. He pays them no mind, so neither do you. Not even as the blood really does begin to bubble, or as the fire drips from the golden bowls, beginning to form a ring.
Nails dig into his back, wings flaring in a display of dominance and ownership as the tip of his cock presses against your entrance. Your hips wind against him, begging for him to push in, to fill you so full there’s no room for anything else. Until everything is out of you, and you’re left empty and gloriously silent.
Azriel’s fingers thread through your hair, thumb smearing the blood across your cheek, and you catch the tip of his talon on your tongue. He groans at the action, pressing the plushness of your lower lip, angling the digit so his claw can slide inside. The wet muscle flicks over the pad of him thumb, eyes latched onto his as you slice and carve yourself upon him.
The head of his cock pushes inside, and your eyes roll back with pleasure, knowing what’s coming. So caught up in his web of sin you don’t notice as the sickness burrows deeper, curling within you, painting you in his self.
“Azriel…” you pant, “deeper.”
His eyes gleam with satisfaction and something far more sinister but you have no care to examine it in detail. All you care about is how big he is, how he’s filling you up as he presses in, keeping you pinned to the bloody floor of the dim chamber. His lips twist into a hellish smile, teeth slicked in red as they gleam with golden firelight. Fire that’s still spilling from the bowls, tightening the ring until it’s trapping you both inside.
Slowly, they begin to carve a five-pointed star through the pool.
The two of you at its epicentre.
His hips press tight against your own, and whimpers ebb from your lips, flowing to his ears as your iron-tinged scent wraps around him, keeping him locked in a haze of pleasure. He basks in the wet heat of your cunt, the soft press of your thighs tightening around his hips, urging him to move. He dips down once more, mouth opening over your own in a messy kiss—messy from the razor-like teeth. A mouth filled with tiny blades.
The world spins a little as his hips drawn back, then push in.
The dark cave pool heats, steam rising from its surface as the fire blazes brighter, finally completing its symbol. Trapping you within. No matter this is nothing like what Elain described. This is so much better.
He slams in to the hilt, and fire crackles in your heart. Lightening sizzling your bones, scorching your skin. Cooking you from the inside out. Pain blares in your marrow, inner lips stinging as your gums ache from tiny lacerations, splitting.
Splitting as fangs force their way through your flesh, ripping at tissue as teeth grow. Teeth matching his. Two canines protruding from your upper lip. You can hear his hearts beat, tripping in a triple rhythm of three.
You open your mouth over his shoulder, still pounding into you, and you bite.
He howls, the roar sending ripples through the bubbling blood, making the flames flicker. He coats your tongue, spilling into your mouth, filling your stomach as your bones and muscle shift. Tighten over one another, bonding to become stronger. Other.
The cave becomes lighter, snapping from blinding colour to pitch black, until they finally settle. The smell you’d be veiled from finally hits you, and you gag. The metallic stink shoves itself up your nostrils but magic crackles in the air and it’s gone. His magic.
Azriel pulls away, and pleasure tightens in your belly as you mark the puncture wounds stamped onto his shoulder. His hips slam up against yours and claws rake down his back.
His pupils dilate, and he’s shoving you down into the pool, one massive paw splaying across your chest, talons hooking you in place. A scream rips from your lips as the transformation passes over your lower body, unimaginable pleasure crashing into you, bludgeoning your brain as it’s sizzled and scorched. Vision blurs as euphoria rips at your skin, head tipping back, saturating your hair in the liquid magic.
There’s hardly time for breath before your muscles are acting for you, guiding you to what you need.
Claws dig into him, sinking into flesh as he’s flipped onto his back, allowing you to straddle his hips. You snarl down at him, revelling in the pulse of power that’s gliding through you, filling you with life and energy and anger.
So much fury that had the cave not been cast in red before, it would become bloodied to your eyes. All the repressed rage that had been slowly building, every snap of jealousy, every burn of envy. Everything gloriously sinful, awakens.
The mountain trembles as ire glitters in your blood, keeping Azriel trapped beneath you as you finally take. You take, and steal, and rob, just as he had done to you.
He snarls in fury but there’s so much power within you now, binding and raging at the sight of freedom he remains floored.
Your hips wind over his, cock buried deep inside of you, and the snarl cuts to a blissed out moan. Hands grip your hips, talons unable to slice your leathery skin as he helps lift you up to his tip, then slam you down. He bucks upward simultaneously, spurred on by the sharp jerk of your hips as you grind onto him. Pleasure sings and your head falls back, allowing him to use you—to give you the world.
Snarls and growls rumble in your chest, tongue flicking over your blood-coated teeth. His blood. And you smile.
Wild. Feral. Unhinged.
You look down at him, the red, toothy grin on your lips as claws slash out from your fingertips. Moans flow as you bring them down upon him, slicing into his skin, crimson droplets beading in their wake before the lacerations heal.
His eyes gleam with pride as you raise your nails to your mouth, tongue flicking out to taste him, pleasure buzzing in your head, fluttering between your legs. His satisfaction curls deep in your chest, sharpening the edge you’re riding.
Your hips swirl over his and it’ll only take a few more…
A few more and then—
You scream.
An otherworldly, beastly howl.
His eyes widen with hunger and awe as your head tips back, and you come on his cock, nails stabbing into the muscle of his stomach, burying in the soft fur that trails to his abdomen.
Words once again rip from your mind, leaving only feeling and wonder as he continues slamming up into you. Overstimulation wracks your body, but you can’t summon the will to order him to stop. Spasms tense your muscles, everything going taut then supple, Flashing so quickly between the two that it’s absolute heaven for him. Pounding up into your heat as you flutter and tighten around his cock, urging him to spill into you.
Your hips move of their own accord, as if able to sense how much he wants to fill you up, how desperately he needs to pump you full of is cum until you’re unable to move or breathe without some spilling.
You urge him on as you squeeze him, hips winding and bucking even as your mind goes blank, world spinning and tripping with the overload.
The pentagram flares with power, zapping your skin until you’re tingling all over and he roars. Hot, thick cum spurts into you and you moan. Vision blurs with pleasure, fangs biting into your lower lip until blood trickles down, dripping from your chin onto your breasts, splattering across his stomach.
The muscles flex as his hand slides into your hair, dragging your mouth to his as your fangs collide, carving up one another in the frenzy. You groan as his cock shifts inside of you from the movement, body answering as you grow, fur dusting the soft skin between your legs in luscious, thick swirls.
His lip pulls back from his teeth with pleasure, matching your shift, cock widening beneath the base as you continue roughly winding over him.
You’re still so dizzy and so dumbed out—tunnel vision leading you to the next high.
You grip him back, hands brutally gripping his silky, blood-slicked hair as you eagerly devour him, breasts dragging over his chest. Nipples grazing his skin, bodies pressed so tight against one another you could pass for one single, hellish creature.
Soft snarls bounce off the cave walls that had been previously untouched for centuries, smelling slightly damp but now filled with arousal.
Claws click together as you grip and grab.
Teeth and talons snap, biting and scraping over skin.
Humanity shredded to pieces.
General Taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @amygdtjhddzvb
Az Taglist: @thekingravkadeserves
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starsreminisce · 18 days
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I didn’t intend for this to be so long I apologize in advance😭
Have you or anyone mentioned this before?
What if when Elain and Lucien had their ambiguous meetup in WAR,.. what if Elain wanted to give Lucien a peck or a hug and be in the comfort of her stranger(!) mate and was drawn to him in a way she couldn’t fathom which is why she now keeps clear of him. It’s not hate, it could be confusion. People really exaggerate her being freaked out of the feeling of the bond. It is because SHE IS AWARE of it. We know this, Elain knows this, Lucien knows this, her sisters know this… there’s no need for readers to be all shocked pikachu face about Elain currently not wanting to be around Lucien. Nesta and Feyre or mostly anyone (especially someone like Elain who misses their old life) would’ve reacted similarly. If you’re only seeing the couple/pair and not the individual, isn’t it then harder to figure out what motivates that individual? Elain’s decision-making won’t have to do with someone else, that’s her own thing. What happens after a couple is formed is another thing (i.e. Feyre in TAR and MAF vs Feyre in WAR and SF where she makes plenty of decisions as a unit with Rhys aka when a couple gives into one another fully)
Yk, I can imagine it’s much scarier when you feel a pull to someone while knowing that somehow you both are connected biologically.. and they happen to be someone you just met. Feyre and Nesta were scared too when they found out they had mates! Heck they were a little intimidated when they first met the guys who were going to be their mates (duh they were among scary fae)
I think people tend to forget that Feyre and Nesta also took their time at different points of their own journey and in their relationships to figure out what kind of future they wanted. And they did this while away from their mates (i.e. Feyre accepted the bond before she gave Rhys her heart and body, so a more traditional romance approach, while she was alone at the cabin. And Nesta wanted to keep it strictly physical w/o the bond. Meaning keeping her heart/feelings out of it bc of her low self-worth. The aftermath of her fight w/ Cassian was spent with Emerie and Gwyn).
It’s actually perfect that Lucien is constantly away from Elain right now because otherwise it would all be much harder for her to process the situation she’s in. This exact courtesy given to Feyre and to Nesta by the author (all of this isn’t my thought I know this point has been made a lot!). Again, if we only think in terms of romance and not the individual then it’s going to be harder to understand why a character is making a certain choice
Idk how readers are interpreting these male characters but do they really think these males are they type to be like “we are now bound together, accept the bond or else; you must obey and come with me” I mean, SJM even found a way for Rhys to whisk away Feyre with her consent!
I think SJM likes showing different ways mates end up together and she’ll “select” a couple to demonstrate that. For example, Feysand= mates which one person isn’t aware of the bond because they grew up human, and it snapped for the fae without them revealing it to their mate and etc, etc. Elain and Lucien just happen to be the fated mates who had their bond snapped before they knew who the other was! Honestly SJM could’ve had any of her other couples go through with this. But also maybe there’s a specific reason- which she knows- for why she choose it for Elucien. Maybe it fits their characters best?
Authors are just puppet masters pulling at strings and coming up with possibilities y’all! There’s no need to act like these characters were done dirty because it was designed that way, pls for the love of the Mother. All that means is you have a problem with the story or writing and that’s not gonna change. So maybe it’s best for some people to look for other content?
Anyway- Elain is right now in the series taking the time to figure out what she wants (like her sisters did when they learned of their bonds!!) Maybe SJM could’ve elaborated with Feyre and Nesta and how they considered their options for the future? Lets be fr there’s a few details that SJM leaves out which tends to be important for the readers but not to her (maybe). But anyways the difference with Elain? She’s taking her time to decide and figure out the bond situation outside of her own book. As soon as Elain’s book is out why would she need to be away from Lucien any longer? Feyre had reason to be away from Rhys in MAF.- tamlin, her human life, etc. Nesta wanted to stay away from Cass at the beginning of SF because what even is a mate plus her self-worth issues. Do we wanna see this again with an Archeron in a whole book or rather it happening in the sidelines this time around? I mean with an Elain (Elucien) book they then have to be near each other at some point. NOW their story is beginning. I just expect it to have a happy ending:) <— Elain staying away from Lucien now but not later isn’t an original thought, I know this point has been made by many blogs!! Sooo I think this is what SJM is doing. Keeping them at a distance in the meantime. Because they won’t need it at some point.
It’s going to be different in Elain’s book because who wants a repeat of how Feyre and Nesta dealt with their bonds and their mates! We want some difference in the romance with each couple and how they handle big revelations! Authors love stepping out of their norm and showing variety, surely SJM will do that!
P.S this msg had a lot going on so if there’s anything you’d like clarification for pls feel free to say so :)
It's all good!
If there is one thing that SJM appears to have an issue with regarding fated pairs, it's the idea of instant love that often comes with fated mate tropes. She weaves into her narrative a desire to demonstrate why these pairs are perfect for each other and what her idea of a perfect match looks like.
As Elriel shippers and other non-shippers begin to realize, the bond itself serves as the primary conflict in Elain and Lucien’s story. It's something they both will tackle and eventually come to accept because this bond is now an intrinsic part of them. That's what I personally anticipate and look forward to in their story.
Upon rereading ACOMAF, I found my perspective shifted. Despite Feyre and Rhysand's bond snapping after Under the Mountain, Feyre still entertained thoughts of her upcoming wedding and pondered her future alongside Tamlin, all while feeling guilty and inexplicably drawn to Rhys. It wasn't until spending more time with Rhysand that Feyre began to recognize their shared desire to protect loved ones. This shift in perspective was crucial for Feyre, who grappled with her past actions, including the deaths of innocent faeries, and came to the realization that Rhysand had supported her far more than Tamlin had during her trials.
Rhysand's actions spoke volumes about his commitment to Feyre, even when she was unaware of his feelings. Conversely, it's somewhat frustrating when critics question why Lucien didn't do more for Feyre, especially when ACOMAF emphasizes the unique and profound nature of the mating bond. Lucien's efforts to support Feyre are acknowledged, but it's clear that Rhysand played a significant role in keeping her grounded. Similarly, Lucien's understanding of Elain's needs and his efforts to help her, such as demanding she be exposed to sunlight in ACOWAR, further illustrate the difference of their connection.
While there are limitations to the bond, it's unfair to hold Lucien to the same standard as Rhysand. Lucien and Feyre share a close bond, but they are not mates. Their relationship is distinct from Feyre's bond with Rhysand, which offers a unique level of support and understanding.
Similarly, Lucien demonstrated his understanding of Elain's needs in ACOWAR by demanding she be brought outside to the sun, just as Rhysand knew the music and images of the Night Court would help Feyre.
The passage of time is felt more keenly in Elucien's story compared to Feysand's and Nessian's. Feyre met Rhysand in Calanmai, saw him only once after a month, and then spent much of her time with Rhys Under the Mountain in a drugged state before returning home. It was only after two months that Rhys called in the bargain after Feyre reached out for help.
Nessian isn't exempt from this, either. There were four months between the war and Nesta and Cassian's confrontation, followed by another nine months before Cassian was sent to Nesta's apartment under orders for an intervention.
The difference lies in our experience of Elucien's time apart from each other. They are still included in other's stories, whereas we receive only a brief mention of the time lapse before the start of Feysand's and Nessian's story.
I often wonder if Nesta's and Elain's story drew inspiration from ACOMAF as some sort of "what if" scenario. For instance, what if Rhysand had decided to rescue Feyre himself, considering he kept hearing her vomiting, and that's what ACOSF explores? Or what if Rhysand hadn't winnowed away after their bond snapped after Under the Mountain, but instead blurted out to Feyre, rather than Mor, that she was his mate? Then Feyre went back to the Spring Court knowing she was Rhysand's mate. That is the essence of Elucien's story.
SJM does love to show the variations of the bond snapping. For instance, Kallias and Vivianne's bond snapped after they were married, Miryam was a slave present to Drakon, and Drakon set her free. Miryam had a relationship with Jurian, and while Jurian was seducing Clythia, that's when Miryam's and Drakon's bond snapped. We don't know when Tamlin's parents' bond snapped, but we do know that Rhysand's parents' bond snapped the first time they met, and Rhysand's father did not give his mother the freedom to decide what to do, even after he had saved her.
Elain is the only one among the sisters who knew about the bond firsthand. She knows that whatever she is feeling towards Lucien is a result of that bond. It's interesting to note that both Elain and Lucien, who spent most of their lives suppressing their needs and settling in their environments, have similar experiences. Lucien was severely punished for making waves, whereas Elain grew up with two sisters with big personalities who had no issues rocking the boat. Consequently, Elain does what she can to avoid being a problem. This is where the conflict of the bond comes in - Elain was engaged to someone she loved despite the short amount of time to be told “well, actually, your soulmate is this person. That person who told you that they love you actually hates you because of what you are now.”
This is also the first scenario where Elain actually gets to tell someone what to do. She isn't trying to argue against or support someone. For the first time, Lucien is giving her autonomy for the decision and the space to make it.
I personally believe that SJM was so confident in her match between Elain and Lucien that she mated them almost instantly, pulling back any further conversation beyond their initial discussion. In ACOSF, Cassian and Nesta primarily think of them as a package deal because whenever Elain does something, there's usually a comment about where Lucien is or isn't. It's also extremely telling that their only interaction in the book is with Lucien still looking at her with longing, while Elain acts the opposite towards the only person she cannot hide her real emotions from.
If Elain wouldn't reject the bond in someone else's book, including the novella that includes multiple people, then we should also be asking why Elain would act a certain way towards Lucien, except for the one thing that will absolutely cement that we know she doesn't like him.
It's been two years since it was revealed that Elain and Lucien are mates. The reason why she resisted this long deserves more than a hundred pages (roughly part one) of her book.
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thehighladywrites · 2 months
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oh god, recently i’ve been thinking about what artists acotar characters would listen to. for some reason eris and the smiths just clicks, elain and taylor swift, nesta and lana del rey. the other characters are so tricky though!!
anon yes!! also i have a horrible music taste, so forgive me for this😭
an addition to eris, he likes jacques
i think feyre would also listen to ts but idk her songs that well tbh. Maybe she’d listen to very mainstream songs, i also wanna add that she’d enjoy show me how by men i trust. Songs like that would probs be up her lane. Also lay it down by steelix
Rhys would def listen to some old ass band no one knows about and he’d claim it’s peak music and that anyone who disagrees has horrible music taste
This is so basic and predictable but i feel like az listens to the neighborhood, the arctic monkeys, chase atlantic. He listens to limp bizkit and bands like that. I think he occasionally listens to meg the stallion for an energy boost. He knows every single word of her songs, his fav being captain hook
Cassian listens to a bit if everything. Honorable mention: james joint - rihanna, anything mj, metro boomin
Lucien listens to bob marley, brent faiyaz, also gives me “i support my local artists” vibes, i think he’d enjoy emotional songs tbh. Ones that really portray what he’s feeling
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bookofmirth · 9 months
Text
What comes after this - elucien 1/5
Summary:
Elain is put to the test as the Night Court’s newest diplomat. Her first job? To travel to the Day Court and go head-to-head with her mate. Lucien has recently established his position in the Day Court and knows two things. The first is that he dreams nonstop of a mate who seems to want nothing to do with him. The second is that he cannot, under any circumstances, allow her to get the best of him at the expense of his new court.
Tags | politics, fluff, mating bond, idk if it will get smutty but I do have a definite Plot, no warnings thus far
Written for @elucienweekofficial prompt "courtiers"
read it on AO3 | tagging: @thelovelymadone upon request and @spell-cleavers because I told her this has Helion and LoA and it does, just for her! | 3.9k words
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Elain Archeron blinked in the brightness of the Day Court. She’d been to the Spring Court with its overabundance of gardens, the Dawn Court with its painterly skies, lived in the Night Court with its velvet-rich midnights, and somehow, she had not been able to fathom just how much more alive the light could be when it was at home in its namesake court.
Elain was jostled slightly in her carriage, one of the comforts of her human life that she hadn’t yet let go of. The Archerons had had more carriages than they needed, before the years they’d been forced to go everywhere by foot, unable to afford the care and keeping of even a single horse. The return of their ships - along with their father - had initially signaled a return to normal, but Elain hadn’t realized at the time that everything had irrevocably changed when that golden monster Tamlin had roared his way into their home.
Feyre offered to winnow Elain south to the Day Court, but the idea was too foreign for comfort. Elain had barely been able to enjoy the return of the warmth of her own bed and a wardrobe that wasn’t handed down from Nesta when humanity had been snatched away. And besides, she wasn’t entirely sure that she trusted magic. Feyre said that winnowing was perfectly safe, but Feyre also seemed to find the shadows and darkness of the Night Court a comfort. It was a darkness that Feyre insisted was soothing, but Elain couldn’t shake it while in her sister’s court, even when she sat under the full midday sun. The darkness there lay upon her like a too-heavy blanket, when all Elain wanted to do was slough it off and take her first true, deep breath in what felt like years.
But in the Day Court… Elain pulled back the small, flower-patterned curtains of the carriage window, closed her eyes to let the golden light dance on her lids. No, Elain would take her carriage. She would wear her human clothing and eat her human foods and cling to the last semblance of her old life for as long as she could. And she would bask in the sun of a foreign court, because she was nothing if not adaptable. She’d managed dinners and parties with the night looming over her, she could certainly do it in a court where things were laid bare and truthful by daylight.
Even this task, this trip to the Day Court, while it may have seemed outside the realm of comfort for Elain Archeron, was merely the same scene she’d been through a dozen times before, though set on a larger scale. If she could seamlessly make her way through a dinner with a lord on one side and his wife’s lover on the other, she could certainly manage her way through the political dilemmas the Night and Day courts had found themselves in.
The Day Court had something that the Night Court needed, and Elain was on her way there to ensure that it was done.
The carriage came to a slow stop and Elain clasped her hands in her lap to keep from pushing back the gauze curtains and looking eagerly from the window. It wouldn’t do to seem too eager, not as the representative of the Night Court and sister to a High Lady. She set her gaze forward on the lushly brocaded interior wall of the carriage and waited.
As the door opened, letting in fresh air and light with it, Elain gathered her skirts with one hand and extended the other, ready to be received by whichever footman had jockeyed for the position. She prepared her most convincing smile, the one that told everyone that she was glad to be there, that she would be perfectly polite, and that she would never, ever do anything unseemly.
Anyone present who knew Elain Archeron beyond the variety of smiles she wore would see how it slipped, just the smallest bit, when she saw the hand that clasped her own. She had spent her life fooling Nesta and Feyre with her smiles. They were armor, a mask, a shield that kept anyone from asking Elain how she truly fared. If she were truly happy.
But her mate? As she looked from Lucien’s hand to his face, frozen in a smile not unlike her own, Elain supposed that if anyone could see beyond the facade she had donned for this trip, it would be him. Which of course would complicate her task here greatly.
She’s known that he would be there, of course. Lucien had recently established himself in this, his home court, with his mother and new-found father at his side. He was the prodigal son, showing up just in time to keep the hounds from Helion’s back about his glaring lack of an heir. His arrival had been lauded and applauded and, when it became clear that Lucien’s powers indeed reflected the court of his true birth, and that they would, in time, rival that of even the most powerful High Lord.
Without a word from either of them, Elain stepped from the carriage, her hand in Lucien’s. As soon as she was steady on her feet, he resumed his position in the line with his family, welcoming Elain to the court.
Helion stepped forward, dark skin radiant in the sunlight, raised his hands, opened his arms, and brought Elain into an embrace. It seemed in keeping with what she’d heard of his generous nature, even if it wasn’t entirely appropriate for a political visit. Elain wondered if Helion would have greeted Rhysand or another High Lord in this way. But she was, she supposed, irrevocably connected to his family.
“Elain Archeron,” he said. “Please, allow me to welcome you to my court.” He gestured broadly to the facade of the palace they stood before, face radiating with pride. He pressed a hand to his chest and bowed ever so slightly. “And allow me to introduce you to my family.”
Elain’s heart warmed a bit at the way Helion phrased the introduction, at the realization that he’d not been able to introduce a guest to his wife and son before. Not publicly, not in such an unguarded, unrestricted manner like this. She felt her smile change to one of genuine appreciation of his joy.
“My wife and mate,” Helion said, “Solana. I don’t believe you have met.” He stepped aside, looking at Solana in pure admiration.
The Lady of… well, the former Lady of Autumn, Solana, stepped forward and clasped both of Elain’s hands in her own. A small smile broke over her face and she hesitated, patting the back of Elain’s hand, before releasing her.
“You know Lucien, of course” Helion said shortly.
And that son, the one Helion was so proud of, was her mate. Lucien Vanserra - with a slight panic, Elain realized that she didn’t know if he had kept Beron’s family name or not - stood straight as a poplar, hands clasped behind his back in a posture that seemed to keep him perpetually ready to bow. He waited to for a sign that he might speak, much more concerned with propriety than his father had been.
Helion said. “Before we begin with the formalities, I thought that you might settle yourself in. Find your rooms, and Solana can show you everything you need to know. And Lucien, should you need him, well. I suspect you know how to find one another.” Helion made a pointed glance from Lucien to Elain and back.
No one ever brought up her mate or mating bond to Elain. No one spoke of it even in those veiled terms, not where she could hear it, and Elain found herself tripping over her usual niceties. She curtsied quickly, probably not going low enough to be respectful, but enough to get the job done.
“Thank you for having me in your court. Lord Helion. Lady Solana.” She glanced at Lucien. “Lucien.” She looked quickly back to Helion. “Your home is… it’s stunning. I’ve never seen anything like it.” She blushed looking from Lucien to Helion. “I appreciate your offer, and I would like to refresh myself before we begin discussions.“
“Down to business, I see,” Helion chuckled. “Of course.” He gestured to Solana, letting Elain walk before him to enter the palace.
For it was palatial, the seat of the Day Court. If the city of Velaris was a collection of well-loved buildings scattered along the banks of the Sidra, then the place from which Helion ruled was what Elain had imagined when she’d dreamed of fairy tales and dashing princes as a child. She could hardly take it all in in one glance, and so she didn’t try. She walked through the large entrance, which could probably allow her carriage passage, and concentrated her attention on the hall before her. Anything else would be overwhelming.
Solana slipped her arm through Elain’s, guiding her. “I hope you don’t mind this.” She glanced down to their linked arms. “I don’t go for all that pomp and ceremony. Though growing up in the Autumn Court seems to have rubbed off on my son in more ways than one.” Solana looked down the hallway she had led them to so that Elain couldn’t fully read her expression.
“I don’t mind,” Elain answered. For all the kindness she showed others, it was rarely bestowed upon her. “If you let go I may get lost in the maze of these hallways.”
Solana’s laugh bounced off the walls like rays of light. “You’ll get used to it. Well,” she said, looking at Elain from the corner of her eye, “I don’t wish you difficulties in your negotiations, but the longer you stay, you’ll grow used to the palace and the more like home it will become.” She smiled, a small, secretive thing, and patted Elain on the hand.
Elain clamped her mouth shut and Solana led her through a series of hallways and sitting rooms, each one somehow featuring a wall of windows that let in the dwindling afternoon light. After a series of turns, peppered with comments on the history of the palace, Solana opened a door at what felt as far away from the main living areas as they could reach. She gestured to Elain, letting her walk into the room first.
Elain forgot the woman behind her and gapped at the room. A large, four-poster bed took up a large space on one wall, which faced a wall of windows that Elain was coming to realize had been planned into every possible room of the space. In the middle of that row of windows was a glass door, and beyond that, a private sitting area. Elain walked to the glass doors and pushed them open. Willow and wisteria blew gently in the breeze around the ivory-colored chairs and table. She closed her eyes to take the space in with her other senses. Leaves rustled, birds called, and if she concentrated enough, she could hear the distant sound of waves and smell the salty scent of the sea. The sun was warm on her hair as she rested her fingers on the back of a wrought iron chair.
Elain allowed herself to adopt one of her true smiles and turned towards Solana. “Thank you.”
***
It seemed that Helion wasn’t going to let Elain get straight to business.
A servant had come to her rooms to tell her the plans for the evening; the family generally took their dinner together and then went into one of the many sitting rooms to play card games, and Elain was invited to join them.
“Invited” didn’t seem like the right word, but Elain kept the protest to herself. She felt out of place, intruding on their family life when she was there for business. But if it helped her understand Helion better, then perhaps she could put up with an evening of casual relaxation en famille.
Even if she wasn’t, not really, part of the family.
Elain had prodded at the mating bond, that string tied to her rib, a few times during her preparations for dinner. It was quieter than usual, and she was grateful. Lucien’s presence - his mere existence - drove her to distraction most days, even when he was courts and continents away. She couldn’t afford to let him distract her while she was in the Day Court, one of the few tasks that Feyre and Rhys had trusted her with.
As Elain surveyed the dining room, she again wondered at the clash of sumptuous surroundings and the way that Helion had his arm thrown over the back of Solana’s chair, tipping her chin up to him so he could kiss her - at the dinner table, with guests - before returning to his meal. Lucien, at least, seemed aware of the impropriety, or perhaps, and Elain bit the inside of her cheek with amusement at this, he was a bit embarrassed by the freedom with which his parents loved one another. They reminded Elain enough of Feyre and Rhys that she was able to adjust to the freedom with which they loved one another, but Lucien, apparently, was less used to semi-public displays of affection between family members.
Elain had been startled out the stiffness of her manners by Helion and Solana’s welcome but was gradually warming up to them. It was hard not to admire the way that Helion and Solana expressed themselves freely and openly, when Elain had grown up in a household where doing so meant being ridiculed by her mother.
The meal spread before them all on the table: platters of spiced meats, flatbreads piled high, bowls dripped luscious sauces onto the silk tablecloth. It was the kind of meal that Elain had dreamed of during their years in the cabin, but, much like the reality of the Day Court palace, the reality far surpassed anything she could have imagined.
Lucien, seated next to Elain, had made polite small talk throughout the meal. Meanwhile, Elain had been able to feel the pulsing insistence of the bond more strongly than she had since she’d arrived, and she didn’t know enough about it to understand why. Feyre had told her tales of things she and Rhysand had gotten up to, activities made more pleasurable thanks to their mating bond. But sitting at this dinner table, with Lucien and trying her best to be professional and diplomatic and a lady, damnit, Elain could not imagine that she’d done anything to set that golden thread thrumming the way it was.
The last time Elain and Lucien had seen each other had been Solstice. Elain counted the years between them by the gifts he gave. The first year it had been the gloves, then the earrings, and last Solstice he came to the Night Court just long enough to leave her a cutting from a tree he’d found on the Continent, a tree that was now providing the first shade of its young life in Elain’s little garden in Velaris. He hadn’t even been there long enough for Elain to see him, but she knew instantly who the gift was from.
Elain had heard that distance made the heart grow fonder, but she didn’t understand how that was possible when Lucien was so busy respecting her space that she was barely able to see him one year to the next.
“If we are all done eating, let’s go into the solarium,” Helion was saying. “Elain, you and Lucien can discuss the itinerary for the next couple of days. I’m sure you will have much to say to one another.” He smiled at her, one of the sly smiles she and Nesta used to exchange when they planned to play a trick on their governess.
Elain smiled politely. “Of course. I look forward to chatting with your son.” She turned to Lucien. “Although if you’d like, I’d take a written itinerary as well.”
Lucien wiped his mouth with his napkin and set it on the table. “Unfortunately, I am learning that this family likes to talk about everything. So if you don’t mind, Lady Archeron, I will go over the plans with you and we can settle them to everyone’s best interests.”
Lucien rose from his seat and offered his hand to Elain. With a tight smile, she let him lead her from the table, down a candlelit hall, and to what Elain assumed was one of many solarium on the property. Helion and Solana followed closely behind them, her head resting on his shoulder and a content smile on her lips that made Elain’s chest ache. She had felt that way, and recently. But she could never tell Lucien that, not when it had been in her dreams, with him miles and centuries away.
Lucien gestured to a plush, cream-colored chair near a fire. The dwindling sunlight cast brilliant colors across the sky, which they could take full advantage of in the glass-ceilinged room. Elain sat in the proffered chair, her back straight, ready to being negotiations.
“You can relax, Elain,” Lucien said. “I’m not going to bite.” He settled into his own seat on the other side of the fire, ankles crossed and fingers laced. The ivory-colored silk of his jacket was embroidered with golden thread and Elain noted that, despite the whirlwind appearance of the dinner table, she couldn’t find a single spot of food or drink on him.
“I’m not sure about that,” Elain replied. “There is more than one way to take a bite out of someone.”
The corner of Lucien’s mouth lifted. “We’ve barely sat down for our after-dinner chat, Lady Archeron. I surely thought that sort of conversation would be better suited for when the sun had fully set.”
“If you only derive pleasure in such pursuits in the dark of night, I wonder at your being the heir of the Day Court.”
“Oh,” Lucien said, leaning forward. He uncrossed his ankles and draped his hands over the arm of his chair. His eyes shone, the magical one seeming to examine her even more closely, and a wisp of hair fell over his forehead. “They aren’t limited to the dark. Though I assumed that you would feel more comfortable there. Where no one might question that tight little smile you have on your face.”
Elain inhaled sharply and sat up straighter. Damn him. “I’ve heard tales of your witty repartee,” Elain said. She glanced around the room and caught Helion and Solana relaxed into one another, comfortable as if they were the only people in the room. “I thought you’d be more careful than to use it with me. Given the power I’ve been given on this trip.” She cleared her throat. “Given the position our courts seem to find themselves in.”
“It is good to know that my reputation proceeds me,” Lucien replied. “I never know what bits of information people will let slip to my… to my acquaintances.”
“Oh yes, Feyre told me that your sharp tongue sometimes makes up for a lack of conviction.”
Lucien flinched.
Elain grimaced internally and tried to keep all signs of it from her face. She watched as Lucien straightened his vest, which was already hugging the planes of his chest and in no need of adjustment. The bond that had been taut and vibrating between them suddenly went dark, quiet. Elain mourned it like a limb.
A butler walked by with a tray of champagne flutes and Elain took one, gratefully deploying the polite manners she knew she was capable of in the right conditions. Those conditions being that her mate wasn’t there looking so tall and well-dressed and with that hair he’d braided back with a silk ribbon, saying things that seemed perfectly acceptable on the surface but which she knew contained meanings intended to set her off balance.
“What I mean to say is that, if we can just get to the matter at hand, then I might make it back home in time for my nephew’s birthday.”
“Ah, yes,” Lucien said, seeming grateful for the change of subject, for the excuse to back away from the precipice of insults and accusations. He leaned back in his chair, crossing his ankles again as he reached for a glass of champagne without looking up to the tray. “Nyx. When is his birthday?”
“Two days.”
“And you were meant to leave in three.” He said it as a statement, but the words were laced with question. Are you leaving early? Can you really not stand to be here?
“Yes.” Elain finished the last of her champagne. “So if your itinerary has any room for me, or for us, to finish early, I would appreciate it. But without sacrificing true discussions, of course.”
A expression of indifference had settled over Lucien’s face again. “Well then, tomorrow we have breakfast, followed by a horse ride.”
“Horses?”
“Yes,” Lucien said. “I assume you ride. We’re going to take a trip to the coast. To see the territory in question. So that you, and the Night Court, has a better sense of what you are asking of the Day Court. Of us.”
“What other plans do you have on that list?”
“Well, after we visit the coast, we need to discuss what you see there. The next evening, we have invited some of our citizens to a ball.”
“A ball?” Elain perked up and cocked her head. “In a ballroom?” Her mind raced through the trunks of clothes that she had brought with her. Silk and embroidery suited for court life, and the opportunity to truly shine amongst people. It was precisely the opportunity she needed. Elain might not have known how to handle the easy intimacy that Helion shared with his wife and son, but she knew how to handle a room full of artistocrats and merchants.
“Yes,” Lucien answered, the whisper of a smile returning to his face. “The invitations are open to the court, and we wanted you to understand fully what you are asking of us, to meet the people who would be affected.”
Elain paused, making a noise to acknowledge his words. “You cannot change the date of the ball, I suppose. If I had to leave the day after tomorrow, early.”
“No, I’m afraid not.”
“What did you have planned for the next day?”
“Oh, the next day, that one is the worst,” Lucien said. “We were planning on staying here and delving into the true discussion of just how our courts can work together. We feel that negotiations can begin only once you’ve seen the territory and the people. Without a true understanding of the repercussions of what you ask, negotiations will be meaningless.”
Elain tapped her foot. “Let’s start with the ride to the coast tomorrow, then. And we can see how things go.”
“Tomorrow, then?” Lucien stood with hands clasped behind his back, a gentlemanly posture but one that showed such contrasting restraint compared to the warm welcome his parents had given her.
“Tomorrow.”
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agoldenluckycat · 1 year
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Lucien x Reader x Tamlin
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Okay this got away from me. I literally just started writing this as a shit post, complaining about the lack of Lucien x Reader x Tamlin content and well then I made a whole smut thing. So here it is for your enjoyment. It’s not proofread because like I said, I wrote this in one sitting like I had to get it out, I’m not even sure it’s any good. Anyway I hope you like it, cuz I do lol I am going to write this all out as like a legit story at some point because it won’t leave my brain but here’s like a rough outline I guess with the fun smut part lol
Lucien x Reader x Tamlin, Lucien x Tamlin, Tamlin x reader, Lucien x reader. Calanmai event, afab reader, reader uses she/her, female sex organs, dirt talk, poly, threesomes. 🔞MINORS DNI🔞
I hate the fact that there are so few Lucien x reader x Tamlin fics. Like I know we all hate Tamlin, and I am not a Tamlin defender, but the blonde bitch has potential. And you KNOW he and Lucien “shared a woman” or just straight up fucked each other, like cmon you don’t live that many years together without fucking at some point.
I mean imagine there was a maid/neighbor/friend in the Archeron house (maid would be after Tamlin had made them rich again) who Feyre spoke to Ianthe about like she was a sister, someone who was close to them and Ianthe mistook her as a sister and had Hybern plop her into the cauldron too!
And what if SUPRISE! She was Lucien’s mate (Elain was Azriel’s and they could be happy together whatever) and she was so excited about it. Was so into him!!! And she has the ability to heal! The Cauldron gave her a gift too.
And eventually Rhysand hires her as the Night Courts head healer or whatever. He trusts her, Feyre loves her already and she is living the bliss life with her mate, Lucien.
Then Rhysand comes back from his monthly Tam Tam visit and is like “if we are gonna win this war we need the spring court to get back on its feet”
No one wants to go over there, I mean who would? But she volunteers. Lucien knows Tamlin, knows how the Spring Court runs and she doesn’t have much trauma with Tamlin (aside from the selling them out to Hybern but by Rhysands description of him, it seems like he gets his boo boo and is hella depressed about it)
Naturally Lucien is like, babe, I love you and I’ll follow you anywhere but wtf? And she is like it’s getting fucking crowded in here and I wanna do something important in this world. So they go to help rebuild the Spring Court.
It’s a mess, lots of manual labor, Tamlin is always in his beast form and rarely speaks to them at first, plus he seems annoyed they’re fucking all over his court.
They finally get everything to a somewhat presentable and manageable place. Tamlin sees his home and the work they both have put in, especially her, and something in him changes.
It all changes totally when one night she gets attacked by a Naga, somehow, idk use your imagination, and Lucien is running towards her but he knows he won’t get there in time. She’s been learning to defend herself but she’s not nearly ready enough for this.
In the last moment suddenly beast Tamlin comes outta no where and kills the Naga, then hovers over her protectively Beauty and the Beast style until Lucien can get to her. There is a moment of thanks and understanding between the three of them and from then on they all seem a bit closer.
They are spending the hours together, all three of them, Lucien remarks to her one night as she lay in his arms that it feels like old times between he and Tamlin. That makes her happy. Her husband (yes they got married at some point idk when) confesses then that he and Tamlin had a VERY CLOSE relationship and the idea intrigues her but she simply lets her husband talk of it what he wants and she doesn’t make anymore comment than necessary. They spend the next few months helping Tamlin come to terms with a lot of what has happened. Turns out she’s not just good at healing physical wounds but can give others the tools to heal their emotional ones.
Soon Tamlin is laughing with them, helping them, he’s finally falling back into his role as High Lord of the Spring Court. Then there is talk of bringing the Calanmai back. The people who have returned to the Spring Court now that it’s back up and doing better want it and if the Spring Court wants tithes they need to offer it.
Lucien’s solution is to be the stand in for Tamlin as he knows his soul will call to his mate. She bites her lip at the idea of her husband filled with this magic making him even more ravenous in bed than he already is. However, Tamlin states he is high lord, he should show his people strength and decides he wants to do it.
When the night comes though, she and her husband are drunk on wine, his hands up roaming her body when Tamlin finds them. She sees the way his eyes look at her and then at Lucien and she knows instantly. It takes her husband a moment to realize, he catches on for Tamlin’s desire for her first and his protectiveness flares. It’s only when he notices the desire for him as well that he understands. He looks to her and she nods her approval.
A heady pleasure fills her and the next thing she knows, she’s being carried by Tamlin into the cave, her husband following behind them. As soon as she is laid on the soft mat, the two Fae men are hovering over her, kissing her body and tearing at her soft red, practically see thru dress. They stop for only a moment and spread her legs, Tamlin slips one finger in her and Lucien does the same. They’ve done this together before, she thinks as they move their fingers inside of her wet heat in tandem. Then Tamlin grabs Lucien’s face, their lips collide and his tongue is diving into his mouth. She nearly comes then and there from the sight of the two men fingering her and making out with one another.
Eventually they’re all three naked and she is flipped over on her hands and knees. Her husband’s cock slips past her lips and she begins to suck. She laves her tongue along the familiar vein on the underside and let’s the drool fall from her lips. Just like he likes it.
Then she feels Tamlin, he’s behind her now, his hands grasp her hips, hard and he slides into her, clearly trying not to hurt her but also trying to keep his desire in check and he begins to pump into her.
“You don’t have to be gentle Tam, she likes it rough” Lucien purrs as he grabs her hair and begins to fuck himself on her mouth. As though his words were all he needed, Tamlin starts a brutal pace, slamming into her over and over, his fingers toying with her clit as he does.
The pleasure is mind numbing. Her husband is praising her, calling her a good girl, talking about how well she takes them. Then he calls to Tamlin “she feels amazing doesn’t she?”
“I’ve never had a pussy as delicious” Tamlin purrs as he watches his cock slide in and out of her “no wonder you moan so loudly every night”
The two men chuckle and slick pours from her. Lucien knows she loves praise, knows how much it gets her going and he’s egging Tamlin on.
“Fuck…you’re such a good girl…I love how you look with my cock around your lips….ah…whatever you want from me my love you can have it” Lucien moans out to her as his cock hits the back of her throat.
She knows him well though, knows how to get him there and soon he’s cumming in her mouth. His hips stutter and his hand in her hair twitches. As the cum fills her mouth she swallows it down. He falls onto his haunches in relief but his erection has not gone down.
Tamlin takes the opportunity and flips her over on her back and then re-enters her. “Finally I can see that fucked out face of yours and these beautiful breasts” he says as he grabs a handful of her breasts and massages them.
He’s been edging her the whole night and she’s a blubbering mess. Moaning out like an animal in heat. However things come to a whole new level as she watches her husband come up behind Tamlin and force him down on his hands. Tamlin’s pace slows till he stops, still inside of her as he lifts her hips to follow him as he presents his ass to Lucien.
She watches in awe as her husband sides into Tamlin and the two men groan in pleasure. Tamlin sits up his back to Lucien’s chest and they kiss, tongues tangling as Lucien begins to move his hips. In turn Tamlin’s hips move into her. Then Tamlin returns his attention to her breasts as he wraps his lips around one and Lucien’s hand comes around Tamlin’s shoulder to grasp the other.
Tamlin had picked up his pace in fucking her as Lucien fucks him. She doesn’t last long though and comes hard, screaming. Tamlin continues to fuck her through her orgasm and the sensitivity. Lucien’s hips are working in time as well.
Then Tamlin captures her lips and kisses her like he kissed Lucien. His tongue chases after hers and she hears Lucien moan at the sight and feels him start fucking into Tamlin harder. They both cum not long after that, Tamlin’s seed leaks out of her and Lucien’s out of him but they’re back at it again not a few moments later.
They keep like this for hours. She peaks so many times she looses track. Eventually she passes out, tucked between the two Fae men. Her back pressed against Lucien’s tucked into him like always and Tamlin’s head resting under her chin, his body pressed against her front and arms wrapped around her waist.
She wakes in she and Lucien’s bed with the two men. She starts to move but stops, her whole body is sore and tense. It seems in her waking she woke Lucien as well.
He kisses her head “good morning my love”
“Good morning, my mate” she hums happily.
She looks down at the blonde man resting between her breasts and then to her mate. “Can we keep him, Lu?”
He chuckles at her words and nods “if he wishes to be kept yes.” Lucien then tightens his grip on her nuzzling into her hair “He chose us last night because we are the only ones he truly trusts. I do not want us to do anything to break that trust.”
She nodded at his words knowing their true meaning “then it will be his choice”
Lucien hummed in agreement.
“I’d like to be kept”
The voice startled her and she looked down to see an awake Tamlin. “I want to be kept by you both” he said nuzzling between her breasts and pressing his body against hers.
“Then it’s settled” Lucien smiled “we will need to set some ground rules, boundaries and such, she is my mate so there will be a nature inclination for her to favor me and me, her but…”
“I think we will be very happy together” she smiled, like she’s just won the greatest prize and kissed the top of Tamlin’s head, then turned to kiss Lucien deeply.
They sat in bed like that for a bit, hands wandering, caressing and giving soft kisses.
“I think our goddess needs a hot bath” Lucien finally said “you’re probably very sore”
She giggled “happy but yes, very sore”
“Well that will not do.” Tamlin smiled as he kissed her neck. “I’ll go make you a bath, Lucien can carry you to it.”
“I’ll carry you anywhere you want, my love” Lucien whispered in her ear and then bit down on the top.
“Lu, be gentle” she all but moaned.
“Yes my lady” he smiled and kissed where he’d bitten.
“let’s get you in that bath” Tamlin said as he stood and made his way to the bathroom.
“Only if you both join me” she smirked.
“As you wish” Tamlin chuckled and Lucien pulled her in for a tight hug.
Yes, she would be very happy.
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acourtofthought · 4 months
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I’ve been thinking about this for a while, I think I’m up to something. Lucien was forced to leave his home twice already with basically only what he had on his back. We know that Tamlin basically packed his stuff and shipped them off and those are all the belongings he has. So I always wonder what is Lucien’s financial situation. It’s impossible to try to figure that out since he has a salary and can afford to rent an apartment in Velaris but he has no land or like property and he’s sharing an old mansion with two humans rn. He always speaks about being the seventh son of a high lord as nothing to brag about, he loses a lot of his titles so I always assume that he is very aware that he doesn’t have much to offer Elain in terms of property/living situation or even a court. I always assumed that comparing himself to Graysen (a very wealthy nobleman’s son), he thought he’d come up short. And if he is aware of the thing between Azriel and Elain, he might also think that he has nothing to offer compared to Azriel who is basically a high lord’s brother and right hand man. Elain is also surrounded by wealth and practically anything she could want, so I think Lucien would find himself at a disadvantage from this perspective too. Even if he wanted to take her, where could he? In an apartment in Velaris that’s not even on the nicer side of town? Or his shared manor in the human lands? He’s currently not doing well with Tamlin either. I really don’t think he’d ever just claim Elain, especially knowing that she was meant to be a wealthy noblewoman. And I find it especially interesting from this perspective that he keeps calling her Lady. Lady is the female version of lord. It is interesting to me that Lucien is showing respect towards her with that specific title. Not to mention that no one seems to care about Lucien’s heritage (the known one or the Helion one). It just feels like Lucien doesn’t see himself on the same level as Elain and her family. Idk this was a big ole rant you might have some ideas about it though so I thought I’d share 👀
I love how much thought you put in to this!! I'm thinking Lucien has money as he chose an elegant apartment in Velaris and dresses well but I agree that to him, that's maybe not the same thing as having roots and anything to offer someone. To him, what could he offer Elain? It's a little bit of the Cassian / Nesta situation. Cassian knew that Nesta grew up intending to marry a prince and regardless of the income he makes from Rhys, he had no title to offer her. Similarly, though Lucien is the 7th son of the High Lord of Autumn (or at least to it's Lady), Beron tried to have his other sons kill Lucien and chased him out of the court, Lucien doesn't stand to inherit a territory in Autumn. Yet he knew Elain was engaged to someone of some importance in the human lands, she was destined to become a Lady there. He hops between the Night Court, Spring Court and the human lands. I imagine he doesn't think any female would want that sort of nomadic lifestyle. I'm not even sure if Lucien knows what's going on with Az but I do think his struggles with his own self worth ("And a whole lot of nothing") and not feeling like he has anything to offer anyone has played a role in his hesitation to bridge the gap with Elain. I think when you add that into what happened to the last female he loved, that she was murdered by his "father", there have been a lot of things Lucien has struggled with upon realizing that Elain was his mate. That he was given this amazing thing (the bond) and what can he even offer to the person he probably wants to try to offer everything to. No home, no real title, and to some degree he probably fears for her safety and his ability to protect her against a High Lord. It doesn't matter how powerful someone is, the High Lords are supposed to be "power itself" and right now, Lucien doesn't realize he could stand up to Beron and actually win.
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pinklayla123 · 1 year
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Elain can see the future (twin ravens are coming) and possibilities for the future (her telling Cassian it will not take much more for him to die) and she can kinda see the present (she saw Briallyn turn old at around the same time she decided to take a bath in the Cauldron, and she located the Suriel) so the question is, can she see the past? If so, this could have interesting implications for the plot moving forward, for acotar but also cc.
As of now, the theory is that some people from acotar went to Midgard and the shadow/starlight powers there can be traced to the Dusk Court. The details of all this are kinda murky, since it was so long ago. There are also many things in the acotar that we don't know, like the history with Koschei/Bone Carver/Weaver and the Headless Hunt, and how all this might have lead to people going to Midgard. Since so much of this information is unknown and lost to history, could Elain possible See all this if she directed her energy towards actively finding out what happened?
This could be especially helpful to Bryce since she doesn't know anything about the crossing, so if Elain can See into the past, she might be able to ell Bryce exactly what happened that led to the people moving and it might hep her with the Asteri moving forward.
Idk if it's possible, but I think it would be very interesting to see if Elain could use her powers in this way, and that brings up another question. Is the reason we haven't had even an inkling of her pov is simply because she knows too much?
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ae-neon · 1 year
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Idk what this is but we need Varian content and we need him away from the IC so here
A cool breeze carried in from the turquoise sea, blowing in from the open arches. Nesta was thankful for the paperweights she’d found set on every library desk in the palace. The Summer Court was a place made to welcome, down to the smallest convenience.
Welcome to all but one.
The old guilt did not stir, relief having extinguished it long ago. If he had loved her, if he’d been the right one – she should not have been relieved to go where he could not follow.
Her pen scratched away at the paper, concise lines filling the page. A revision of Tarquin’s human housing proposal, now made to include laws which took into account generational inheritance with human’s shorter lives and often numerous offspring
It was night, or perhaps early morning, and most of the palace and the city beyond had quieted except for the taverns and dancehalls down by the coves.
The floating faelights in the library gave off the sunlight they soaked up in the day and Nesta had come to prefer working nights during her stay.
She closed off her amendment and sorted her pages into a neat pile to be handed over to the High Lord when he had the time to properly go through them.
Nesta walked through the open arches onto the second floor balcony, slipped her shoes off her feet then moved through time and space to the shoreline.
Winnowing had become easier once she’d stopped fearing the dark, falling feeling.
She folded the length of her light blue dress under her and sat in the sand, reaching up to undo the pins that held her hair up.
Three years. It had taken her three years to exhaust herself playing the part. Three years waiting for Cassian to say those words and fill the hollowness that haunted her. But it had been like watering a desert.
Most of the time the guilt had threatened to eat her alive and yet she’d find herself on rare occasions simply observing him – the way he loved, really loved, the others. She gave and gave, more of her body and her smiles and her secrets, and he held them, kissed her, teased her, told her he would die for her.
But it was always hollow, never enough. Nesta had wanted him to live for her instead.
She’d managed to fill that hollowness, quench that thirst, with other things – friends and work and books. And once, even a lover.
She’d caught herself, known she’d reached the end when she found herself staring at Nyx, wondering if a child might bridge that small yet insurmountable gap.
Then she’d dreamt of her mother and woke crying.
Days later she’d left.
Five years on, she knew she would never go back. That the mating bond had been a cruel punishment, a curse by the Cauldron itself.
And yet, even it had been presumptuous in it’s attempt to bind her. She who defied Death and Life and Magic itself.
So she unravelled it, undid rather than break, freeing him from the shackles.
She’d done the same for Lucien and Elain a year later – though it seemed to have brought them closer since.
The sea crept up to her, tide rising. And Nesta did not flinch.
“It amazes me every time I hear it.”
“And what do you hear, Admiral?”
“She calls to you, sings, like a mother to her child.” Varian settled next to her, offered the wine bottle he was drinking from.
Nesta smiled faintly, “Is that not what we all are? Children of the Mother? Or do you worship stranger gods?”
“I have seen too much of Her wrath and wonder to doubt...” his piercing eyes, blue as the deep, peered out at the dark ocean before turning to her, “And you. How can any of us doubt when we have you?”
“If only you were as diligent in your attendance as you were with your flattery.” Nesta looked away, unable to fight the tug at her lips, “Your sister has threatened to strip you of rank.”
“Let her have it.”
Nesta arched a brow, doubtful, “You? Give up the sea?”
“The crown.” Nesta had never seen him wear one, his coiling brown hair always cut close to the scalp and going unadorned, “The sea still has need for me.”
“Oh?”
He hummed, a little drunk, “There is a lady, young and not well travelled, but whose destiny will no doubt take her far – likely to the ends of the earth. And I want to be there to see it.”
Nesta grinned but shook her head. Lucien had joked that after Cassian and Eris, if Nesta acquired another General as a suitor, she might be accused of attempting to amass an army. Lady Death indeed.
Varian lay back in the sand and crossed an arm under his head, eyes closing and Nesta found herself following the movement when he left his other arm open for her to rest her head.
She’d given up on the stars years ago but their beauty could not be denied.
“The UnderSea is reporting activity near the Siren’s Pass.” He spoke softer, more solemn.
“Ah, is that what this is about?”
He tilted his head and opened his eyes to peek at her, “Time away from you is torture.”
Nesta lifted her hand to place it over his heart, feeling the steady beat beneath. A heart that lived and beat for her.
Her silver eyes searched his face and the emotion there flooded her, enough to drown a desert.
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angelamontoo · 1 year
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Watching aaol again for the first time in a while and
Man! Mortimers really such a jerk to Elaine even before the whole bodies/serial killer nonsense starts
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bloomingdarkgarden · 8 months
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Hello,
First things first, sorry for any grammar mistakes. English is not my first language.
Second, I would like to say I am beyond happy that I found your page, and the fanfiction. I have been reading since I was a little girl, and this fandom was the first, where I was ridiculed for liking two characters together (Elain and Azriel). So at first it really turned me off from anything relaring to them, since I didn't want to be bullied. But after discovering you, I have to say I love them even more! I actually would like to know what SJM thinks herself about this ship war and how Elriel shippers are being treated and made fun off. But, lets leave it for another time.
Third, I think I have never read anything so lovely as your writing. The world you created, the words and actions you put into these characters are nothing short of breathetaking. What made you love Elain and Az in the first place?
To me I think, it's the potential of the way they would fight for each other. Feysand and Nessian, sure, they're mated and all, but these two, oh boy. The way they burn Prythian to the ground for the one thay chose.
Anyway, thank you for this hope you give us. For this beauty. And I hope one day to read an original book written by you 🩷
'There will come a poet whose weapin is his word. He will slay you with his tongue' 🩷
Hi beautiful,
Thank you for such kind words regarding the story. I’m sorry you have experienced ridicule over faeries. All I can say is that people take these books astoundingly seriously considering how many massive plot holes there are. I don’t have the ammunition for it, only the bandaids. You are welcome to hide under a a rock with me away from it all. There’s tea there. And naked pictures of bat boys.
It’s hard to say what made me fall for Az and Elain. But I love this question.
I think it’s has something to do with defying expectation.
She’s been spoken for and consistently underestimated most of her life. There’s something intrinsically interesting about her staring wide-eyed into her own fate and turning away to choose another destiny entirely. Elain has a tendency to shock people and I find that telling.
There’s truly something beautiful to me in the dark fragility between them. I find it absolutely hypnotic. Something about sharing comfortable silence at odds with their mutually charged need and desire. The delicacy is 🤌
For me it has nothing to do with them fixing one another. But merely existing with their demons, somewhere sweet and dark and entirely their own. I think it really hit home for me when Az was the one out of everyone to recognize Elain’s powers.
All she has ever wanted is to be seen. She said that once, regarding Greyshit. And the day Az recognized her Sight he saw her truly.
"-as if the understanding, our understanding… it freed her from whatever murky realm she’d been in."
That was the darkest period of Elain’s life. And it was Azriel who saw her and delivered her from it. While her mate was in the room, at a loss. That's not something a girl ever forgets. Ever.
"𝙋𝙚𝙧𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙨 𝙝𝙚, 𝙩𝙤𝙤, 𝙝𝙖𝙙 𝙨𝙪𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙧𝙚𝙙 𝙖𝙨 𝙀𝙡𝙖𝙞𝙣 𝙝𝙖𝙙 𝙗𝙚𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙚 𝙝𝙚 𝙪𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙩𝙤𝙤𝙙 𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙜𝙞𝙛𝙩 𝙝𝙚 𝙥𝙤𝙨𝙨𝙚𝙨𝙨𝙚𝙙.”
This raw, organic understanding.
Why everyone has to be mates is beyond me. That sort of pre-ordained shit reeks of conservative undertones / ownership and makes me 😬. Maybe just because I am a polyamorous bisexual faerie myself idk. I would be cool with it if it were one out of every 20 couples in ACOTAR or something. There are lovely fun tropes with it, but also problematic ones.
Why can’t we just have good old fashioned, star defying, cast-system-breaking-jack-and-rose-titanic-etched love affair idk.
If it happens with Elucien I'll be happy too, but that's another bag. I worship Lucien's ass. I just worship elriel's asses marginally more. I want the world for all our character's asses.
In my heart, Elain’s trembling fawn era is OUT. Elain’s dark-laced self-evolved reputation era defying the gods with a very bad bf no one wants her to have is IN.
Damn the Cauldron. Damn the Stars.
Lets 🫰 fucking 🫰 go 🫰
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writtenonreceipts · 1 year
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I saw this on Twitter and I can't stop imagining it, so I thought I'd send it to you 💕💕 In case you feel some inspiration you could do a one-shot (Imagine rhysand calls the emissary from some territory to his office to fix some things but the emissary got interested in him and thinks uhu let's be alone now, then she goes into the office and sees the huge painting of rhysand's wife staring at her)
i hope you like this? idk how i feel about it...
find my masterlist here
warnings: none
.*.*.*.*.*.
Picture Perfect
The portrait appeared from nowhere.
One day the wall behind his desk was bare wood paneling that had been imported from Autumn over a hundred years ago and the next Rhys entered his office to find his wife staring down at him. 
The artwork was exquisite of course.  Everything Feyre did was remarkable.  For the past decade or so, she’d been using her art in an exploratory way.  From the therapy session with the citizens of Velaris to traveling to the different Courts to capture their own unique people and landscapes—Feyre had been growing her talent.  And he loved her for it.
Still, he had not been expecting to walk straight into his office that morning to find her baring down at him.  Even through the paint Rhys could see the amusement Feyre had added to her eyes, the small tilt of her mouth in a smirk and the golden hues of her hair.  She’d never liked doing self-portraits, even with all of his inquiries for one.  Either he’d annoyed her enough in the last few years or she was trying something new.
It didn’t quite matter to him when this was the result. Seeing his mate in her element and enjoying her art made it all worth it.
Rhys was seated in his office going over paperwork relating to new trade routes that they were trying to establish with the human lands. Vassa had long settled into her role as Queen and given her reputation as the Firebird combined with Jurian’s propensity for...violence...the mortals easily accepted them.
Rhys wished Feyre were still in Velaris, but Elain had recently had her first baby so Feyre and Nyx in tow went to Day Court to coo over the new addition. Nyx was mostly eager to try and win all his cousins over to the cause of xxx.
The new routes would require a stop through Spring which Rhys wasn't eager about. The new emissary, while eager, could be a bit over bearing in her work. Ever since Lucien’s true parentage had been revealed the former Vanserra was called back to Day where he was busy learning from his father in courtly duties.
"My Lord?" Ceriddwen appeared at the door to Rhysand’s office. The wraith shadowy black hair was pulled back into a long braid, her simple dress practically dissolving into shadow.
"Yes? WHT happened?" He looked up from the current map he was trying to make sense of.
Cerridwen pauses as though contemplating what to say. "Well, the Spring Court emissary is here. Emissary Nadia Verone."
Rhys tried and failed to hide his feelings about that. Again. Would this emissary never be satisfied?
Cerridwen smirked at his response. "If I may high lord? You are as your mate would say, simply irresistible. "
Snorting Rhys stood from his chair and adjusted his jacket.
"Hilarious," Rhys murmured. "Fine. Is she in the Foyer?"
Cerridwen nodded.
"Thank you," he said. The wraith immediately vanished.
Rhys ran a hand through his hair and then tugged on the bond. All he got was a shot of ten-year-old Nyx laying in the floor next to a rather chubby baby with a head of fiercely red curls. It was followed up by a wistful sigh from his mate.
Darling, he sent to her.
I forgot how cute babies are, she sent back to him.
Yes, they're adorable, we can make another when you get back. Darling, he tried to draw her attention back to the question he had now but was interrupted by a very specific tug on the bond that had him pausing in the hall to collect himself.
Menace.
Feyre only chuckled through the bond in response. He should not have been surprised.
He made it to the foyer where waited the spring court emissary. Nadia Verone was a lesser fae who had grown up in spring court. She was willows with long limbs and a thin face. Her dark brown hair matched her near obsidian eyes. Rhys had had a few dealings with her father, a decently ranking fae of the court. One would assume that Appointing Nadia to the emissary position had been a smart choice. However, he problem was that she was rather young. And she was rather...flirtatious. he had seen her on occasion at various at feasts or events bustling around with her friends tittering on the gossip ring.
Perhaps it was simply an approach as being an emissary or perhaps it was simply who she was. But Rhys had long decided that the females gaze lingered too long on him and she always found herself around him when Feyre wasn't around.
"Emissary, " Rhys greeted, "how can I help."
"High Lord, " Nadia responded. She gave a seeing bow and smiled a bit like a cat on the hint. "Thank you for seeing me."
"What is the problem?" He asked. Better to get this over with as quickly as possible.
"Lord Tamlin needs and update on the trade routes," Nadia said, she tucked her arms behind her back in an innocent sort of way.
Rhys found himself doubting the need for the update. Tamlin and he avoided one another as much as possible, even though emissary contacts. Rhys said he would have the signed forms delivered by the end of the week. He still had five days.
"Really?" Rhys mused, he kept his aloof mask of high lord in place, betraying nothing.
Nadia nodded absently as she twirled a lock of hair around a finger. She'd not come dressed in usual emissary garb: no simple tunic and pants, rather she'd chosen to wear a dress of a gossamer fabric. It was something far more akin to what Elain had worn in her time in Night.
"Yes, he's been undertaken a bit more in rebuilding the human lands and the timeliness has moves up." Nadia smiled innocently and Rhys new she was lying.
If such a big change happened Tamlin would write him or force Lucien to pick up one more act as spring emissary. He wouldn't have a youngling deliver the news. And not like this.
"I can show you the trade routes he'd like to use.”  Nadia was already moving past Rhys to head back towards his office.
“Perhaps,” Rhys tried to direct the emissary back towards him, but she didn’t listen.
Fine then.  
Rhys stuffed his hands in his pockets and trailed after her.  He didn’t quite know what she was getting at--it really wasn’t like Tamlin to play games like this by sending one of his emissaries to flirt their way through a Court.  And the Night Court had maintained a certain reputation between the High Lord and Lady.
“Emissary Verone,” Rhys called as he walked behind her. “I’m sure if High Lord Tamlin was this concerned over the trade routes, he would have sent word over at our last meeting.”
Nadia paused just outside of the office door, hands clasped politely behind her back. “Oh, but he just sent word to me.  Very new and everything given how things are developing with the mortal Queen.  Her first child just turned five and she’s been making changes in her laws of succession and security for their kingdom.  She can be...hard to work with.”
Only to those who didn’t know her.
Rhys merely raised a brow and opened his office door. “Vassa is a capable leader.  She’s worked tirelessly for her people, and ours.”
“Oh, of course,” Nadia agreed as she brushed a bit too close Rhys.  One of her hands passed absently along his chest, the touch a bit too familiar.
He really wanted Feyre here.
“I meant nothing by it,” Nadia continued as she entered the office. “She certainly doesn’t have the experience or capabilities as some--”
Nadia’s voice cut off abruptly as something caught her attention.
Rhys moved around the side of his desk and was about to take a seat when he noticed Nadia’s distraction.  He glanced over his shoulder where the emissary was looking.  Feyre’s portrait stared meaningfully down.
“Isn’t it lovely,” Rhys said dryly. “My mate painted it, of course.  I’m always in awe of her capabilities.”
Nadia said nothing as she stared at the portrait and slowly shifted to one side and then the other.  Rhys had to cover a smile, knowing full well the effect that Feyre’s eyes could have on someone.  Especially with the force and power that had been painted in them.
“Emissary?” Rhys asked.  He pointed to the notes and papers on his desk. 
To her credit, Nadia leaped from her seat with plenty of grace.  Her skin was flushed as she turned to the door, her eyes down cast.
“No, sir, High Lord,” she said quickly, “it should be fine.  Everything is in order, I think.  I should leave.  Duties in Winter.”
The emissary practically ran from the room.  She didn’t even acknowledge when she’d be returning.
Rhys sat in his chair for a minute before reaching for the bottle of scotch tucked beneath the table.  He didn’t bother finding a glass before he turned to that portrait.
You planned this somehow, didn’t you? he sent down the bond, knowing with certainty Feyre had been listening in.
A low chuckle was his only response.
.*.*.*.*.*.
tagist:
@aelinchocolatelover  // @sexy-dumpster-fire // @bamchickawowow // @ireallyshouldsleeprn // @courtofjurdan // @sassys-world // @sleeping-and-books // @superspiritfestival // @chieflemming // @julemmaes // @lysandra-ghost-leopard // @firestarsandseneschals // @emikadreams // @rapunzel1523 // @booksofthemoon // @highladysith // @fangirlprincess09 // @rowaelinismyotp // @vanzetanze // @cassianscool // @stardelia // @my-fan-side // @sjmships // @tillyrubes10 // @rhysandswhore  //  @story-scribbler  // @post-it-notes33 // @live-the-fangirl-life // @strangevil321 // @pastasiren // @lemonade-coolattas @foreverfallingforthestars // @feysand-loml // @realbookloverproblems // @ghostlyrose2 // @swankii-art-teacher // @foughtconquered // @bri-loves-sunflowers // @captain-swan-is-endgame  // @mystic-bibliophile // @cretaceous-therapod // @thenightgodess-feyrearcheron //  @thisloveseternal // @gracie-rosee // @magnifique1807 // @liars-lmao // @goddess-aelin // @thegloweringcastle // @tangledinsparkles // @the-lonelybarricade // @millsarcherfeykat // @sideralwriting // @nerdperson524 // @the-fae-are-taking-over // @sushisempai // @jenibearx3 //  @the-introverted-bibliophile //  @starfall-spirit //
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gwynrieldefenseatty · 2 months
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Wait I’m more of a casual acotar reader but I didn’t realize there was ship drama going on in this fandom lol. Not trying to start anything and I might be super uneducated on this but I saw an argument that Gwyn will heal azriel’s darkeness or something and I’m confused??
What darkness? Like yes he tortures people for a living I guess and I’m sure it leaves you with issues but idk he seems okay to me? He’s got insecurities for real but don’t they all?
Also Gwyn is a badass warrior not his therapist?? She doesn’t have time to babysit him? Sorry I love Gwyn I just feel like she has better things to do than chase after some emo boy who needs to work on himself first. Or does she have some kind of healing power or something I’m just confused why a Valkyrie would waste time on “fixing” a 540 old fae male. Girl’s got shit to do!!
If anyone should “fix him” shouldn’t it be Mor bc his insecurities probably came from that 500 yr unrequited love right??
Idk I feel like I would be annoyed if Sarah put Azriel with Gwyn when she could have literally anyone? Why are she and emorie just getting IC leftovers lmao she should go out and explore prythian and get to find someone of her own choosing not just bc he’s There. SJM said this series centered around the women and the men are just Ken’s in the background and honestly that’s amazing. I hope Gwyn gets a book but I hope it has nothing to do with the NC and she gets to see the rest of the world 🥰 (and also so we get to read more about the other courts teehee)
Hey! I don't under any circumstances believe Gwyn is going to "heal" Azriel. The only person who can "heal" Azriel is himself. It's heavily indicated that Azriel has a lot of self-loathing about himself being Illyrian. Also, dude wants a mating bond more than anyone I've ever read about. He wants to be loved by someone, probably because he never actually felt loved since he was trapped in his father's dungeons. Although he saw his mom once a week for an hour, it didn't make up for the rest of his time alone. I know it's a common argument used from another side of this shipwar that Elain will heal him and his shadows don't need to be around because "they are safe/comfortable when she's around." But according to canon, that doesn't add up to what Azriel's bonus chapter (and thus himself) says about his shadows. He called his shadows his companions. And that they will always be with him. So why do they disappear if he's comfortable? It doesn't add up. But to your point, "Also Gwyn is a badass warrior, not his therapist?? She doesn’t have time to babysit him?" WOMEN. ARE. NOT. OBJECTS. TO. FIX. BROKEN. MEN. Regardless if you ship E/riel, Gwynriel, or Azriel with anyone else, it is not his partner's responsibility to fix him. I'm a firm believer that Azriel's book is next in the ACOTAR world. He is at his lowest and needs to heal. There needs to be a conversation with Mor and his love/lust with her. The Illyrian uprising that has been hinted at for a while (and how perfect would it be for Azriel, who hates being Illyrian, to have to help fix this problem) While yes, SJM says she writes about badass women, she also wrote a book on Chaol's healing journey, while including Yrene and Nesyrn. (You know, two side characters and also giving them love interests)
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theladyofbloodshed · 1 year
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SJM is a feminist qwueen.
Elain is Elain felt wrong at so many levels. Couldn’t understand why. But here’s my reason for hating it.
Elain is Elain means that Elain is not much. Not worth considering a threat or an opportunity. Not a villian, not a hero, not useful, just not much. Why would that be? What’s different? Nesta and Elain are both made by the cauldron. She’s eager to help (in ACOWAR).
She’s not doing what males do in SJM fantasy world. Not swinging a sword (like Aelin and Mor). Not rude and dismissive of authorites (like Feyre in the high lords meetings). She’s being normal and wearing dresses. And that’s completely fine.
But apparently not by SJM, the feminist queen and her fans. Because guess what, that’s not feminism. That’s internalized misogyny. You only like feminist heroines when they do something that males do. How dare she stay in the house and bake? Be queit and proper like a lady. Wear dresses!??? Go put on some fighting leathers and swing a sword. Only then will we value you. We are feminists. Can’t have a girl acting all girly and expect people to think she has some good qualities. Qualities worth appreciation. Nope, we will value you when you fight, put on some muscles and ditch those dresses. And get out of the kitchen!
Until then, Elain is just Elain.
Never tell me that young girls reading this are not getting a bad impression. I saw a 14 year old pick up this book today. SJM and her internalized misogyny, that the fans label as feminism ✨ is going to shape some young minds into believing a lot of fucked up things being right. Forgiving your abuser and sexual assualter (Aelin-Rowan, Feyre- Rhys), mistreating people with trauma (Nesta being locked up) and of course, the smaller problem discussed above. I am not old enough to have children yet, but I regret the fact that I read this crap and I beg all you fans out there to never have your children read this crap. It is honestly surprising that these books have not been deemed inappropriate yet. I have read a lot of dark romance and this is not it. The theme is clear in dark romance. Characters in those books are held accountable for their actions. The constant cycle of making the fans beleive that Rhys, Rowan, Cassian etc. are not wrong and you should want a partner like that..now that is harmful.
P.s. English is my third language. Idk if I made any mistakes, but do let me know if I did so I can take care of it next time.
It was such crap. If Rhys was actually held accountable for his words then yeah, okay, he can say that. But if Feyre ever questions him, it happens once then it's waved away by Rhys. Within a few minutes of meeting the sisters, he dismisses Elain as unimportant and Nesta is Illyrian at heart and he can never forgive her - for something that never ever involved him.
For me, it wasn't really about the fact that Elain is typically more feminine. Beyond the colour of their dresses where Elain favours pink, I'd say Nesta is also very typically feminine (for the time period). She doesn't like pants, her hobby is reading, she was saving herself for marriage. To me, what Rhys said aligned with Feyre's view of Elain from the first book where she said that it wasn't that Elain was being mean and not helping, she just didn't grasp that she might actually get off her ass and help. And Rhys is fine with that. Elain can be oblivious but that's okay and he won't ever push her <3 It's so hard not to compare how Elain and Nesta are treated. Both lived in the cabin. Nesta said mean things, Elain didn't. Nesta helped, Elain didn't.
At the end of it all, these men should stay far away from these women. The men all need therapy and should be taught how to be a better partner <3
p.s. your English is brilliant
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