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#the prison acotar
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A fictional man: *is dark haired, morally grey, has a traumatic past and a teasing grin*
Me:
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fiercehildr · 7 months
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New commission drop and this time it’s xaden (fourth wing), auren (the plated prisoner), gwyn (acotar), jacks (ouabh) + raihn (tsatwon) and their newly found smut book. 👀
The amazing artist who created this crazy cute crossover is @morilatte ♥️
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moonssalad · 8 months
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Moving to the House of Wind and not being able to go anywhere else by your own choice unless by the TEN THOUSAND steps down from the House or being sent back to the human lands where humans arent friendly with the fae isnt a choice.
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acourtofantumbra · 8 months
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I would love to just... even one time... have some kind of profound explanation for the parallels that are coming up during this Throne of Glass reread. Like what do I even do with this?
I haven't seen anyone draw this parallel between Elide's extra sensory bad vibes of the Stone Marshes in TOG and Nesta's vision in the Prison in ACOSF... but it's CERTAINLY there. (Edit: I fully believe some SJM scholar out there has not only found this, but drawn far superior conclusions lol & I encourage them to enlighten me please!!)
What does one do when "even Death itself bows to the 26th string" and Fae trying to claw their way through stone comes up in BOTH?! Asking for a friend.
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lovers-sunlight · 4 months
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BOOKS I READ IN 2023 (and their ratings)
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I think it's worth mentioning that I've always rated books based purely on vibes and how they made me feel. I do not base my ratings on the quality of the stories or how well written they were.
BOOKS I READ IN 2022 (and their ratings)
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sajirah · 3 months
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The Prison Chapter One
The Prison
In honor of me being newly unemployed and House of Flame and Shadow dropping in less than 2 weeks I wrote a thing. You can read it here or on AO3. Enjoy.
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-o0o-
Feyre was a murderer.
That was why she was here after all, staring out at the island that was soon to be her prison. She probably deserved it. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t absolutely petrified to be here.
“Any advice?” She asked the marine unlocking her shackles.
He glanced up at her, considering, and then said, “Pretty thing like you? Find the meanest, nastiest fucker on that island and convince him to protect you.”
Feyre didn’t need the soldier to explain how exactly she was expected to ‘convince’ said man. She’d already had plenty of nightmares of exactly that scenario after her sentencing. The worst part was his advice was probably one of her better options.
“Thanks,” she replied quietly. I think.
He didn’t reply, only pulled off her shackles and then took a strong hold of her arm. She didn’t know why he bothered. It’s not like she could hijack this boat and sail it back home all by herself. She didn’t even know how to drive a car, let alone a boat. She supposed she’d never learn now.
The captain stepped in front of her then, weary and clearly wishing he was anywhere else.
The feeling is mutual pal.
“Feyre Archeron, you have been sentenced to life on The Prison. Do you have anything to say before your sentence is carried out?”
The woman in question stared at him blankly. What was even the point? He was going to throw her onto an island of rapists and murderers no matter what she said. She’d already screamed and cried and swore at her trial. What more could she possibly say?
The captain had the gall to look annoyed. As if she were the one ruining his day.
“Right,” He turned to the marine holding her arm. “Toss her and let’s leave this fucking place.”
Toss her?! “Wait, what?!-” But it was already too late and before she could react the marine was hoisting her up and shoving her overboard.
Icy seawater hit her like a ton of bricks. The shock froze her limbs for precious seconds as her mind tried to reorientate itself. Kick! She thought frantically. After a few terrifying moments her body obeyed.
Salt stung her eyes as she broke the surface and sucked in oxygen but she still managed to see the blurry shape of the boat as it passed her and glided off towards the horizon.
“Fuck you!” She shouted after it. It was petty, but who was going to care about her behavior now? Her dead mother? Her absent father? Her sisters she hadn’t seen since she’d been hauled off by the police?
The island loomed large a quarter mile behind her. She supposed it didn’t matter to the courts if their prisoners actually made it onto the island. Just that they’d been dumped within its vicinity so there was no hope of them ever escaping.
How far even was the mainland from here? Thirty miles? Forty? Fifty? It had taken at least a few hours to get here. They’d left at 9 am sharp and if the sun was anything to go by it was barely noon. Not that any of this mattered. She was never going home.
No one escaped The Prison.
For a few indulgent moments Feyre considered letting herself drown. As terrible as it seemed, it certainly had its appeal compared to eking out a miserable existence on an island full of dangerous criminals. After all, they didn’t send just anyone to The Prison. Only the worst of the worst for this place. Murderers. Serial killers. Violent rapists. Enemies of the rich and powerful.
It was dizzying to think she was considered one of them now.
She let the moment of self pity linger and then let it go. Right. She’d never been a quitter. She wasn’t about to start now.
Resigned, she pointed herself towards the island and started swimming.
-o0o-
Feyre arrived upon her new home’s doorstep looking, for all intents and purposes, like a drowned cat.
It had taken her at least an hour to swim to shore, fighting six foot waves and avoiding what she desperately hoped were not sharks. She couldn’t be sure but she swore something had bumped up against her in the water at some point and hadn’t she read somewhere that sharks bumped into their prey before they circled around to take a bite out of them?
Shivering, she glanced down the beach, hoping against hope none of her fellow prisoners had seen her, but almost immediately she spied two men melting out of the tree line.
Well fuck.
Adrenaline flooded her veins and she scrambled to her feet as one of the men crept closer, holding his hands up as if she were a spooked horse. He was older, hair grayed and skin weathered by the sun. Clothes barely more than rags. Was this what awaited her if she managed to survive as long as him? Rotted teeth and preying upon new arrivals like scavengers?
“Easy there doll. We’re not gonna hurt ya…”
Either he thought she was a moron or he was one himself because Feyre knew exactly what that man had planned for her and quite a lot of hurt was involved.
“Bet you’re real hungry after that swim,” the other man said. He was younger than his companion, but in many ways he looked worse off. Starved and mean looking. “We’ve got some food over at our camp. We’ll share it…”
Even if she were desperate enough to take him up on his offer, his hollow cheekbones and bony wrists led her to believe that statement was a load of bullshit.
She waited, muscles coiled and tense as the men drew ever closer. Suddenly the skinny one reached out, attempting to make a grab for her but Feyre was ready for him. She kicked the sand and it arced up and sprayed straight into his eyes. He howled, clutching at his face, and stumbled forward but she was already bolting out of reach and into the forest.
“Wait, come back!” The older man shouted.
“I can’t see!” The other roared. “I’ll fucking kill her!”
But Feyre was already putting as much distance between her and her would-be captors as possible, not knowing which direction she was going except that it was ‘anywhere but here’. She heard the older man crashing in the underbrush just behind her, shouting at her like she were an unruly dog set loose.
She didn’t even realize his shouts had stopped until she was halfway up the hill. She dared a glance over her shoulder and saw nothing but trees and ferns.
Good.
She kept climbing.
-o0o-
It’s getting dark.
That was all Feyre could think as she wandered the woods in search of food and shelter. So far she’d found a tiny stream of questionable quality and a crooked stick. She supposed she could poke someone’s eye out with it if she was very lucky and her attacker were very still but she wasn’t holding out much hope in that department. Unfortunately the other items on her survival list had yet to be discovered.
Though with the way the sun was going down she was starting to worry. The temperature was dropping rapidly and though her clothes had long since dried they weren’t exactly made to keep one warm in near freezing weather. When she’d first realized they intended to send her off to her final destination in only her prison uniform she’d nearly fought them.
“You can’t be serious!” She’d raged at the officers escorting her onto the boat. “How am I supposed to survive without a coat? A knife? A lighter?”
The officers had been silent but their message was loud and clear: You don’t.
They expected her to die out here. They expected them all to die out here. Well clearly they hadn’t met Feyre. If there was one thing she was good at it was survival. And spite.
Especially that last one.
Still, if she didn’t find shelter soon even sheer undiluted spite was going to have trouble keeping her warm.
It took another hour before she found what she was looking for.
In the dying light, she spotted a little burrow under a rocky outcrop. It would be a tight squeeze, but it was better than her current options which were…nothing. It wasn’t exactly the Four Seasons, but it would mostly protect her from the elements and, more importantly, keep her out of sight. The last thing she needed was another of her fellow prisoners happening upon her while she slept.
As she wormed her way into the muddy crevice, she wistfully reminisced upon her bed back home.
To think, just a year ago she had been sitting in an upscale dining hall, celebrating her sister’s marriage. If someone had told her then what her future held she never would’ve believed them.
And still, she couldn’t fully regret the actions that had led her here.
Perhaps if she hadn’t seen the bruises littering Nesta’s arms things would’ve been different, but she had. And once she had seen them she couldn’t unsee them, no matter how many long sleeved dresses and cardigans her sister wore afterwards. Feyre still had the image of purple fingerprints dotting her sister’s wrist branded into the backs of her eyelids. Nesta never said a word about them. No matter how many times Feyre and Elain begged her to. She had been the very picture of the quiet, demure wife.
And Feyre had hated it.
Perhaps it would’ve gone on indefinitely like that, Nesta’s stoic silence and her sisters’ outspoken concern, but then it had happened.
It had been over something innocuous, his breakfast not being done on time, his coffee being too hot, or his newspaper not being laid out on the table the way he liked. Whatever it was, all Feyre remembered was the way her sister had reacted to her husband’s ire, braced and waiting for a blow. She’d seen it in her eyes. The hatred. The fear. The self loathing of having her sisters here to witness her humiliation. And then he’d grabbed her by the chin, fingers pressed deep enough to leave marks and Feyre had seen red.
Perhaps she truly deserved to be here for what had happened next. For the sheer satisfaction she had felt as she’d watched him bleed out around the butter knife in his eye socket. All she had known then was that this man would never touch her sister again.
She had never lost a moment’s sleep after doing what she did. When she had closed her eyes in her cell after her arrest the only thing she had regretted was the looks of horror and disbelief on her sisters’ faces. She hated that her final memories of her family were those.
But she still couldn’t regret it. No amount of wealth was worth broken bones. Nesta may have been willing to live in gilded luxury for the price of her battered body, but that wasn’t a trade Feyre agreed with. Better her sister live a rich widow who hated her. Better she was thrown to the rapists and murderers.
And I’d do it again. Every time. Feyre thought as she curled into the mud and let her exhaustion lull her to sleep.
Elsewhere, in the gathering dark, something stirred. The other prisoners retreated to the shoreline. They knew better than to enter the forest at night.
There you are. A voice whispered into Feyre’s dreams. I’ve been waiting for you.
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velidewrites · 1 year
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A Court of Thorns and Roses Locations
⤷ THE PRISON
For @foundress0fnothing
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ladywatereton · 8 months
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Holly Black reveals snippet of sequel to The Stolen Heir:
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“Oak!” Hyacinthe shouts. The prince lets his arm with the dagger in it sag. Somehow being yelled at by Hyacinthe brings him back to himself. Maybe it is just the familiarity of his scorn.
When he isn't hit again, he lets himself lie there, breathing hard.
“She wants you to sit down to supper with her,” Hyacinthe says. “I'm supposed to get you cleaned up.”
“Wren?” Oak's sense of time is still very unclear. “I thought she was going to have me punished.”
Hyacinthe raises both his eyebrows. “Yes, Wren. Who else?”
The prince looks at the guards, who are glaring at him resentfully. If he'd been thinking more clearly, he would have realized he had no cause to try to murder them. They weren't necessarily working for Valen nor Bogdana, weren't necessarily leading him to his doom. He probably would have figured that out sooner, had his head not hurt so much. Had Bogdana not come and threatened him.
“No one mentioned supper,” Oak complains. One of the guards, the one with the club, snorts. The other two wear scowls that remain unaltered. Hyacinthe turns to all of them.
“Find something else to do. I will escort the prince.” The guards depart, one spitting on the stone floor as he leaves.
“I warn you,” Oak says. “If you are also planning on hitting me, it will have to be quite a blow to have any effect on the swelling and bruises already coming in.”
“Is there no situation where you might bow to wisdom and keep your tongue between your teeth?” Hyacinthe asks, reaching out a hand to pull Oak to his feet. For a moment, the prince is certain he's going to open his mouth and say something Hyacinthe will not think is at all funny. Something that probably won't be all that funny.
“I haven't found one yet, but we can both live in hope,” Oak manages as he lets himself be levered up.
✍🏻Via "Newsletter."
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wishfulimaginings · 1 month
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Reading GOLD by Raven Kennedy
That was my spoiler warning lol
Peoplesss!! Unhinged Slade is my favourite Slade!!!
He's gone on a "revenge rampage" and a " killing spree" and his wrath is like "yeah, we get it" or " can i get some of that?" And honestly thats so inline with their reputation! I understand now why everyone everywhere is afraid of them. Slade n his Wrath are **unhingeddd**
As opposed to Rhys n his IC , I don't get how or why people might be afraid of them. I hope Sarah takes a few dark turns in Az's story because if there's a character that is fucken in the head it's Azriel. I wouldn't mind a revenge rampage from Nesta though.
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Have all my fictional boyfriends attached to a spinning wheel so I can turn it to whichever one I'm currently fixating on, depending on which of their media's I'm currently consuming
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petrichorblue94 · 30 days
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We all agree that Wren x Oak is giving Hel x Balder right? (I barely know anything about Norse mythology with the exception of A Witch’s Heart, Marvel and the myth about Loki and Sigyn). And in Witch’s Heart Hel and Balder were a thing.
(if you loved the second acotar duology you’ll love the witch’s heart)
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highladyofterrasen7 · 2 months
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Me wondering how they can be thinking elain will face challenges on ramiel
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If anyone faced challenges there it was nesta, not elain 💀
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Without spoiling anything. This is how I feel after reading the end of Chp 24 of CC3
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sajirah · 3 months
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I made myself a fic cover because I have no chill.
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I was comparing Midas to Tamlin
I just like i-
I am sorry Tamlin honey you were a sweetheart in comparison to this monster 🥰
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laequiem · 1 year
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"I wish (author) would write this scene from (character)'s POV!"
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