#cc void

[queenie-ofthe-void]

Famous CC rockstar Eddie Munson processes his yearning for Steve by writing enough rock ballads to make a Best Of album.

Once they actually start dating, the songs turn so soft and sappy the boys force him to create an alternate, secret persona to release pop acoustic love songs.

[fairly-curtain]

wato didn’t die, as a tumblr artist im legally unable to process it, what r u talking about

smth smth rip the filler episode content, it would have done so much for this community

the scene thats only in the video so kenadian (and also i) can tag Kww

[offtorivendell]

How long has Koschei been stirring the Cauldron?

Posted for @elriel-month 2025, "Free" prompt.

Disclaimer: this is just a theory that makes no claims of being canon. It's also not a theory that's specific to Elriel, but still heavily revolves around them and their potential, so I think it fits for this month. My thanks, as ever, go out to @wingedblooms, @silverlinedeyes, @psychologynerd, @lovelydreamlight, and @elrieldreamer for always chatting crack theories with me. Love you all. 💜

Spoilers: the entire Maasverse is referenced, please read with caution if you aren't up to date.

Before we crack on, the following posts may be worth reading (but are by no means required), just so you know where I'm coming from with all this:

All about the Cauldron's oily magic, Azriel and Elain being separated for plot reasons, and discordant mating bonds - here and here

The Archeron sisters descend from Starborn fae - here

Powerful parallels between the Archeron sisters and Theia (and Bryce) - here

The Asteri may be tampering with mating bonds - here

Elain's Sight may require both darkness and song - here

What if Elain and Nesta wore iron bangles to stifle their latent magic while human - here

Three brothers x three sisters, an anti rainbow - here

I hope to discuss Koschei's hypothetical scheming behind the scenes, which I suspect has been going on in order to prevent Wyrd from being freed. This will involve the Archeron sisters, Elain, Azriel and Lucien, and Rhys' odd behaviour. This post will be long, and a little convoluted, I'm sorry, but I hope it all makes sense in the end.

Let's begin!

Merrily, Merrily, Merrily, Merrily...

Are Merrill's powers "but a dream," similar to Elain?

As I have mentioned before, these two lines, both from Azriel's ACOSF bonus chapter, have bugged me for years:

Fury was a moonless night on Rhys' face.

Just this taste in the dead of the longest night of the year, where only the Mother might witness them.

You can read the main theory post, but to sum up the relevant points:

I believe that Merrill may be working for Koschei as some sort of double agent (though he could be unaware of her other affiliations) either because she is the trapped/enslaved ghost of a murdered faerie, or she is trying to save the soul of a murdered loved one

I suspect that she has been spying on Feysand's inner circle, reporting everything back to Koschei, and facilitating control over them in some way

Years ago, I suggested there may be a possibility that Koschei was once known as Fionn, the High King, and that he may have been the original shadowsinger (or tied to shadows in some way), and a daemati; I also noted that there were some interesting parallels between Azriel and Koschei in the text. I have since expanded on those thoughts in this theory, and I cannot wait for more lore on this topic. I haven't posted my "Lightsingers in the Library" theory yet (though I've spoken about it before here and here, and I hope to get it done eventually), so to briefly explain where it may come in: I suspect that there is some link between daemati and Singer powers, in that they can all get a read on - and maybe even influence - the minds of those they're targeting. I think Clotho may be a Singer (either a shadowsinger or lightsinger), given she appeared to follow along with Feyre and Rhys' mental conversation in ACOWAR, and I also find it suspicious that Rhys appeared to used his daemati powers to trick Feyre in much the same way I think lightsingers (and shadowsingers!) might lure their own "prey."

I smiled slightly at Rhys, who kept looking ahead as we spoke mind to mind. Don’t they know by now that they can find you down here? Of course. But I never go to the same spot twice in a row, so it usually takes them so long to find me that they don’t bother. Plus, they know that if I’m here, it’s because I want to be alone. Poor baby High Lord, I crooned. Having to run away to find solitude perfect for brooding. Rhys pinched my behind, and I clamped down on my lip to keep from yelping. I could have sworn Clotho’s shoulders shook with laughter. - ACOWAR, chapter 20

I could almost see what would have happened: The shop ladies would have been polite—a bit nervous—and given us privacy as Rhys sat on the settee in the back of the shop while I went behind the curtained-off chamber to try on the red lace set I’d eyed thrice now. And when I emerged, mustering up more bravado than I felt, Rhys would have looked me up and down. Twice. [...] Then he’d have tugged me a bit closer before leaning in to brush a kiss to my navel, his tongue— I swore as I slammed into the post of the stairwell landing. And I blinked—blinked as the world returned and I realized … I glared at the eye tattooed in my hand and hissed both with my tongue and that silent voice within the bond itself, “Prick.” In the back of my mind, a sensual male voice chuckled with midnight laughter. My face burning, cursing him for the vision he’d slipped past my mental shields, I reinforced them as I entered my room. And took a very, very cold bath. - ACOMAF, chapter 38

So if Koschei is a daemati and/or shadowsinger, or he has access to one (or both!), then I am extremely worried for all of the warnings Rhys gave Feyre in the original trilogy, with regards to always guarding her mind. Chekhov's daemati hasn't come into play yet, and I am scared for Rhys and co. Do you remember back in ACOWAR, when the twin Ravens infiltrated the Library and targeted Feyre and Nesta? We learnt that they entered the mind of the priestess who let them in, but left her alive for some reason. Rhys, in a state of distress - ie. not at his best, so very potentially not on guard for an attack in the moment - then entered the priestess' mind after the fact, in order to see what had happened. Did Koschei/the hypothetical daemati take this opportunity to stow away in his mind?

I promise I'm not making excuses for Rhys, but I've said before that it would not surprise me if his "out of character" behaviour, whether that be harshly berating Azriel over Elain, or lying after Feyre said "no more lies, Rhys," turns out to be orchestrated by Koschei, or something Valg-like, having infiltrated his mind and quietly pulled some mental threads here and there.

Did the priestess who let in the Ravens unwittingly act as a middle man for a powerful being who wanted to get into Rhys' mind? And who might it be? My money is on either Merrill or Gwyn - and to clarify, this does NOT make them evil, it would make them HIS VICTIMS - because of the following passages. Merrill first.

She knocked on the shut wood door. “Enter.” Nesta opened the door to a rectangular cell of a room, occupied by a desk on the far side and two bookshelves lining both long walls. A small pallet lay to the left of the desk, a blanket and pillow neatly aligned. As if the hooded priestess with her back to Nesta sometimes couldn’t be bothered to return to the dormitory to sleep. - ACOSF, chapter 13

Merrill turned at that, and Nesta was greeted with a surprisingly young face—and a stunningly beautiful one. All the High Fae were beautiful, but Merrill made even Mor look drab. Hair white as fresh snow contrasted against the light brown of her skin, and eyes the color of a twilight sky blinked once, twice. As if focusing on the here and now and not whatever work she’d been doing. She noted Nesta’s leathers, the lack of any robes or stone atop her braided hair, and demanded, “Who are you?” - ACOSF, chapter 13

Merrill laughed, that phantom wind around her whispering. “Do you not know who I am, girl?” “I know that you are keeping us from our work,” Nesta said with that flat calm she knew made people irate. “And I know that this is a library, but you hoard books like it is your own personal collection.” Merrill bared her teeth. “You think I do not know you? The human girl who was shoved into the Cauldron and came out High Fae. The female who slew the King of Hybern and held up his head like a trophy as his blood rained upon her.” Surprise lit Gwyn’s face at the graphic description. Nesta didn’t allow herself to so much as swallow. “The wind whispers to me even here, under so much stone,” Merrill said. “It finds its way in through the cracks and murmurs the goings-on of the world in my ear.” Merrill snorted. “Do you think you are entitled to do as you please now?” Nesta’s power rumbled in her veins. She stomped on it, shoved it down and strangled it. “I think you like to hear yourself talk too much.” “I am descended from Rabath, Lord of the Western Wind,” Merrill seethed. “Unlike Gwyneth Berdara, I am no lackey to be dismissed.” To hell with this witch. To hell with restraint and hiding. - ACOSF, chapter 29

Firstly, there are some parallels with Elain's own magic, and maybe Mor's, that make me think Merrill may also be able to access the murky realm/space between/Void in a similar manner. I include Mor in this, as in addition to her witchy potential, I have long thought that Truth and Sight could function in much the same way. Since Mor's introduction in ACOMAF, many people have noted that Truth-Teller could be named after her, but I suspect it's deeper than that, as Truth-Teller translates literally to "soothsayer." A Seer—Elain. But I digress.

“I was a dreamer born into the Court of Nightmares,” Mor said. She twirled a curl around a finger, and I wondered if her story might be the worst of all of them as she said simply, “So I got out.” - ACOMAF, chapter 16

Seer. The word clanged through me. She’d known. She’d warned Nesta about the Ravens. And in the chaos of the attack, that little realization had slipped from me. Slipped from me as reality and dream slipped and entwined for Elain. Seer. - ACOWAR, chapter 33

Gwyn’s hair seemed to glow brighter with her song, skin radiating a beckoning light. Drawing any listener in. But Merrill’s warning clanged through the beauty of Gwyn’s voice, and Nesta cleared her throat. Gwyn whirled toward her, glow fading even as her freckled face lit with surprise. “Hello again,” she said. - ACOSF, chapter 13

Merrill, as I discussed in this theory, was blinking as she appeared to refocus on Nesta in the "here and now." This parallels Elain leaving the clutches of her Sight, which @wingedblooms and I suspect is linked heavily to the space between, but it also sounds strikingly similar to the following scene with Nesta and Rhys...

Gwyn, however, stilled, those large teal eyes looking even more unearthly as they widened. No fear tinged her scent, but rather something like surprise—awe. Rhys threw her an easy smile, one Nesta would have bet was crafted to put people at ease in his oh-so-magnificent presence. The casual smile of a male used to people either fleeing in terror or falling to their knees in worship. “Hello, Gwyn,” he said warmly. “Good to see you again.” Gwyn blushed, shaking herself out of her stupor, and bowed low. “My lord.” - ACOSF, chapter 28

Nesta leaned into Cassian. Not much, but enough for a trained warrior like Rhysand to note. A dark, silken hand brushed inside her mind. A request. She debated ignoring it, but found herself opening a small door through the steel, spiked barrier she kept around herself day and night. The door was essentially a peephole, and she allowed what she supposed was the equivalent of her mental face to peer through it to the dark, sparkling plane beyond. What? You are to treat Gwyn with kindness and respect. The thing that stood beyond the fortress of her mind was a creature of claws, scales, and teeth. It was veiled from sight beneath writhing shadows and the occasional passing star glinting in the darkness, but every now and then, a glimpse of a wing or a talon shone. Mind your own business. Nesta slammed that small viewing hole shut. She blinked, slowly registering Emerie asking Cassian about tomorrow morning’s lesson, and what she’d miss today by leaving an hour early. Rhysand’s eyes glittered. - ACOSF, chapter 28

We still don't know much about Nesta's silver flames/death magic, but as far as we do know, she does not have Elain's abilities to See without scrying tools, and she cannot communicate mind to mind on her own steam. It's also odd that Rhys has met Gwyn before (though he does not appear to know her well, given Gwyn's awed reaction), because when would that have happened? The above passage from ACOWAR, chapter 20 said that most of the priestesses didn't bother to seek him out when he does visit the library, because they know he goes for his own reasons/he's too hard to find. The only other instance I could think of was Gwyn's arrival, but Mor took her to the library sanctuary, not Rhys. So, was Gwyn's mind the one the Ravens infiltrated, hypothetically allowing Koschei in, to then further his advances into Rhys head when the time came?

Where Nesta had been in contented silence before we found her, Elain���s silence was … hollow. Empty. Her hair was down—not even braided. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen it unbound. She wore a moon-white silk dressing robe. She did not look, or speak, or even flinch as we entered. Her too-thin arms rested on her chair. That iron engagement ring still encircled her finger. Her skin was so pale it looked like fresh snow in the harsh light. I realized then that the color of death, of sorrow, was white. The lack of color. Of vibrancy. I left Cassian and Rhys by the door. Nesta’s rage was better than this … shell. This void. - ACOWAR, chapter 15

It's interesting that we know the colour of "death" and "sorrow" is white, and while Merrill has hair as white as fresh snow, Gwyn's nickname name means white/bright; Gwyn is also cognate with the Irish name... Fionn. Meanwhile, Gwyn ap Nudd is the Welsh king of the faeries, ruler of the Otherworld and leader of the Wild Hunt (about which @merymoonbeam has so thoroughly theorised), while Fionnbharr is the king of the Daoine Sidhe, and occasionally the ruler of the dead in Irish mythology. As an aside, Merrill's name means sparkling sea, which also ties her to Koschei, who is "as old as the sea," or older (per Vassa). Again, I'm not saying that either Merrill or Gwyn are - or will become - evil, but I am considering them as potential pawns in Koschei's game. In Gwyn's case especially I don't think she would be aware, though I could always be wrong.

"The High King is not pleased..."

Another passage that has jumped out at me - I think I've talked about this on one of the Reddit subs, but I can't find it - was this scene Under the Mountain, in ACOTAR.

I’d never become accustomed to the Attor, but I had come to accept its malignant presence. Seeing my escorts stiffen awakened a dormant dread, and my mouth turned dry as we neared the bend. Even though we were veiled and hidden by shadow, each step brought me closer to that winged demon. My feet turned leaden. Then a lower, guttural voice grunted in response to the hissing of the Attor. Nails clicked on stone, and my escorts swapped glances before they swung me into an alcove, a tapestry that hadn’t been there a moment before falling over us, the shadows deepening, solidifying. I had a feeling that if someone pulled back that tapestry, they would see only darkness and stone. One of them covered my mouth with a hand, holding me tightly to her, shadows slithering down her arm and onto mine. She smelled of jasmine—I’d never noticed that before. After all these nights, I didn’t even know their names. The Attor and its companion rounded the bend, still talking—their voices low. It was only when I could understand their words that I realized we weren’t merely hiding. “Yes,” the Attor was saying, “good. She’ll be most pleased to hear that they’re ready at last.” “But will the High Lords contribute their forces?” the guttural voice replied. I could have sworn it snorted like a pig. They came closer and closer, unaware of us. My escorts pressed in tighter to me, so tense that I realized they were holding their breath. Handmaidens—and spies. “The High Lords will do as she tells them,” the Attor gloated, and its tail slithered and slashed across the floor. “I heard talk from soldiers in Hybern that the High King is not pleased regarding this situation with the girl. Amarantha made a fool’s bargain. She cost him the War the last time because of her madness with Jurian; if she turns her back on him again, he will not be so willing to forgive her. Stealing his spells and taking a territory for her own is one thing. Failure to aid in his cause a second time is another.” There was a loud hiss, and I trembled as the Attor snapped its jaws at its companion. “Milady makes no bargains that are not advantageous to her. She lets them claw at hope—but once it is shattered, they are her beautifully broken minions.” They had to be passing right before the tapestry. “You had better hope so,” the guttural voice replied. What manner of creature was this thing to be so unmoved by the Attor? My escort’s shadowy hand clamped tighter around my mouth, and the Attor passed on. Don’t trust your senses, Alis’s voice echoed through my mind. The Attor had caught me once before when I thought I was safe … “And you had better hold your tongue,” the Attor warned. “Or Milady will do so for you—and her pincers are not kind.” The other creature snorted that pig noise. “I am here on a condition of immunity from the king. If your lady thinks she’s above the king because she rules this wretched land, she’ll soon remember who can strip her powers away—without spells and potions.” The Attor didn’t reply—and a part of me wished for it to retort, to snap back. But it was silenced, and fear hit my stomach like a stone dropped into a pool. Whatever plans the King of Hybern had been working on for these long years—his campaign to take back the mortal world—it seemed he was no longer content to wait. Perhaps Amarantha would soon receive what she wanted: destruction of my entire realm. My blood went cold. Nesta—I trusted Nesta to get my family away, to protect them. Their voices faded, and it wasn’t until a good extra minute had passed that the two females relaxed. The tapestry vanished, and we slipped back into the hall. “What was that?” I said, looking from one to the other as the shadows around us lightened—but not by much. “Who was that?” I clarified. “Trouble,” they answered in unison. - ACOTAR, chapter 41

The brilliant @wingedblooms has discussed Nuala and Cerridwen at length before, theorising about their wraith powers and how they may fit in with Elain and her future arc, so I won't rehash all her work (here and here), but I really do love the association of shadows and weaving, and how it ties to the Void tapestry/fabric in ACOFAS (see @silverlinedeyes for her theory about Elain wearing Void). Will Elain and Azriel eventually harness light and dark, weaving them together to traverse the space between, as I have suggested before?

But I digress. The pig creature's mention of a "high king" - the only instance before ACOSF introduced us to High King Fionn - caught my eye, and I haven't been able to drop it. Am I right that the once (and future, if he gets his way) High King Fionn¹ is still in play somehow? As Koschei, at least in part? Theia's light was split into three, could she - or Silene, or whomever the Fae warrior once was - have done the same to Fionn to weaken and imprison him? Have the Bone Carver and the Weaver returned to him, or, alternatively, Amren and Lanthys? I suspect the latter, and this is another theory I hope to post about in more detail at some point. But basically, three brothers for three sisters; three lights of salvation and three of death? As above, so below, right?

¹ I think Silene was missing certain details with regards to her family's history.

Was Fionn, as Koschei, controlling the King of Hybern, with or without a Valg parasite? I find it really suspicious that Feyre immediately dropped back to "king" and assumed the Attor and pig creature were discussing the King of Hybern, especially after ACOSF introduced an actual High King. Was SJM setting up her long-term game plan a decade ago, whether or not she decided to pursue it? Stolen spell books sound very appropriate for Koschei the Sorcerer. The King of Hybern was never a High King, and it's now fairly accepted that he may have been possessed by a Valg. I know there's definitely a possibility that I'm reading too far into this, or it's a plot seed that has since been pruned, but I still think the Attor and the pig creature were ultimately working for Koschei, not the King of Hybern. Just like I suspect of the Ravens, who referred to their "master," not their king.

“May the Immortal Light shine upon thee, sisters"

I was speaking to @wingedblooms and @silverlinedeyes a while ago, and I think it's possible that the runes on the Archeron cottage could have been hiding their magic.

I kicked my boots against the stone door frame, knocking the snow from them. Bits of ice came free from the gray stones of the cottage, revealing the faded ward-markings etched around the threshold. My father had once convinced a passing charlatan to trade the engravings against faerie harm in exchange for one of his wood carvings. There was so little that my father was ever able to do for us that I hadn’t possessed the heart to tell him the engravings were useless … and undoubtedly fake. Mortals didn’t possess magic—didn’t possess any of the superior strength and speed of the faeries or High Fae. The man, claiming some High Fae blood in his ancestry, had just carved the whorls and swirls and runes around the door and windows, muttered a few nonsense words, and ambled on his way. I yanked open the wooden door, the frozen iron handle biting my skin like an asp. Heat and light blinded me as I slipped inside. “Feyre!” Elain’s soft gasp scraped past my ears, and I blinked back the brightness of the fire to find my second-eldest sister before me. - ACOTAR, chapter 2

Feyre was blinded by light and warmth as she entered, which sounds very similar to the way the light of the Starborn - from whom it's very possible the Archeron sisters could be descended - can blind an Oracle, which I have discussed here. Like the iron bracelets I've discussed before, suggesting that they might suppress Nesta and Elain's magic, were the runes there to protect the family? And - given the similarities noted between Elain and her father, and the fact that Elain appearing to be leeched of life in the Hewn City could be due to the land or a portal trying to revive itself - could Papa Archeron's meagre (we assume) human portion of Starborn light have been powering the runes that protected his daughters, leaving him constantly tired, depressed, and drained? And was the same thing happening to his daughters?

Koschei has been playing the long game

I know many of us have discussed the lake of starlight in the Spring Court at length, so forgive me if this has been covered before, but has anyone suggested that it could be linked to Mama Archeron teaching at least Nesta how to swim, after their cousin drowned in childhood?

Nesta focused on her breathing again. She knew how to swim. Her mother had made sure of it, thanks to a cousin who had drowned in childhood. Murdered by faeries, her mother had claimed. I saw her dragged into the river. Had it been a kelpie? Or her mother’s own fears warped into something monstrous? - ACOSF, chapter 33

Has the Archeron sisters' line, possibly both maternal and paternal, been targeted by Koschei for generations? Is it because they are human descendents of the Starborn fae, and/or the faerie warrior who trapped Koschei at his lake, many thousands of years ago? And Vassa? Was/is she to be Koschei's salvation, if his plan works out?

“So I’m your huntress and thief?” His hands slid down to cup the backs of my knees as he said with a roguish grin, “You are my salvation, Feyre.” - ACOMAF, chapter 19

Cassian and I waited, not daring to interrupt. “Clever, that Fae warrior. Her bloodline is long gone now—though a trace still runs through some human line.” He smiled, perhaps a bit sadly. “No one remembers her name. But I do. She would have been my salvation, had I not made my choice long before she walked this earth.” I waited and waited and waited, picking apart the story he laid out like crumbs of bread. “She could not kill them in the end—they were too strong. They could only be contained.” - ACOWAR, chapter 23

She had saved my life once—Under the Mountain. In exchange for my sparing Lucien’s. Did she wonder where her lost son was now? Had she heard the rumors I’d crafted, the lies I’d spun? I couldn’t tell her that Lucien currently hunted the continent, dodging armies, for an enchanted queen. To find a scrap of salvation. - ACOWAR, chapter 43

Mama Archeron died of typhus - and another cousin of hers died of malaria "after visiting Bharat," by the way - and both the Archeron fleet and fortune were lost in a storm on their way to Bharat, sending Feyre, Elain and Nesta (and Papa Archeron) into a poverty from which it would be very easy to perish. Nesta herself said that she wanted them to die to get their father to act. This could all tie in with what we read in ACOTAR:

“Didn’t …,” Tamlin interrupted, his deep voice surprisingly gentle, “didn’t your mother tell you anything about us?” I prodded the table with my forefinger, digging my short nails into the wood. “My mother didn’t have the time to tell me stories.” I could reveal that part of my past, at least. - ACOTAR, chapter 8

I know I'm not the first to wonder at Tamlin specifying Feyre's mother (and not parent or nanny/governesses), but it seems important that...

Mama Archeron knew how to swim²

Mama Archeron saw faeries drown her cousin in a river

² Feyre went swimming in a pool of starlight... did Mama Archeron ever meet a faerie herself (and go swimming, maybe in a pool of starlight - that's less likely, I know)?

You guys know I've been thinking for years that Koschei has been working to prevent 3x3 from happening, such that I think his storms sank Papa Archeron's fleet in order to try to kill off the Archeron sisters through poverty. The pig creature did say that "the High King is not pleased regarding this situation with the girl" - was this because he wanted Feyre (and by extension, her sisters) far away from the action? But Wyrd - who is also playing her own game - had a different, more chaotic, idea?

What if, once Feyre had been Made against his wishes, Koschei had to change tack? He may have wanted the sisters Made after all - better the enemy you know/keep your enemies close, after all - to use them for his own means, but to do that he needed to stop Elriel, and therefore Wyrd, from realising their full potential. Does he plan to insert himself into their union in some way, or use either Elain or Azriel for his own means, due to their hypothetically compatible powers?

The Cauldron's swirling eddies

As I'm sure you're all aware, I've been a believer in the true mates theory for a while, and while my thoughts on the nuance surrounding it have evolved over the last four years, I have believed, since ACOSF, that the mating bond between Elain and Lucien is likely due to Koschei using the Cauldron, possibly through the king of Hybern.

She refused the knife Cassian handed her, though. Went white as death at the sight of it. Azriel, still limping, merely nudged aside Cassian and extended another option. “This is Truth-Teller,” he told her softly. “I won’t be using it today—so I want you to.” His wings had healed—though long, thin scars now raked down them. Still not strong enough, Madja had warned him, to fly today. The argument with Rhys this morning had been swift and brutal: Azriel insisted he could fly—fight with the legions, as they’d planned. Rhys refused. Cassian refused. Azriel threatened to slip into shadow and fight anyway. Rhys merely said that if he so much as tried, he’d chain Azriel to a tree. And Azriel … It was only when Mor had entered the tent and begged him—begged him with tears in her eyes—that he relented. Agreed to be eyes and ears and nothing else. And now, standing amongst the sighing meadow grasses in his Illyrian armor, all seven Siphons gleaming … Elain’s eyes widened at the obsidian-hilted blade in Azriel’s scarred hand. The runes on the dark scabbard. “It has never failed me once,” the shadowsinger said, the midday sun devoured by the dark blade. “Some people say it is magic and will always strike true.” He gently took her hand and pressed the hilt of the legendary blade into it. “It will serve you well.” “I—I don’t know how to use it—” “I’ll make sure you don’t have to,” I said, grass crunching as I stepped closer. Elain weighed my words … and slowly closed her fingers around the blade. Cassian gawked at Azriel, and I wondered how often Azriel had lent out that blade— Never, Rhys said from where he finished buckling on his own weapons against the side of the wagon. I have never once seen Azriel let another person touch that knife. Elain looked up at Azriel, their eyes meeting, his hand still lingering on the hilt of the blade. I saw the painting in my mind: the lovely fawn, blooming spring vibrant behind her. Standing before Death, shadows and terrors lurking over his shoulder. Light and dark, the space between their bodies a blend of the two. The only bridge of connection … that knife. Paint that when we get home. Busybody. - ACOWAR, chapter 69

“I was just checking on dessert,” Elain explained as they approached the doorway and Azriel. Nesta met the shadowsinger’s stare and he gave her a nod. Then his gaze shifted to Elain, and though it was utterly neutral, something charged went through it. Between them. Elain’s breath caught slightly, and she gave him a shallow nod of greeting before brushing past, leading Nesta into the room. - ACOSF, chapter 58

It wasn't a rainbow that emerged from the other side. Not even close. It took her a moment to process what she was seeing: a gradient beam of starlight. Where the rainbow would have been full of color, this one began in shimmering white light and descended into shadow. An anti-rainbow, as it were. Light falling into darkness, droplets of starlight raining from the highest beam into the shadowy band at the bottom, devoured by the darkness below. Like the fading light of day—of dusk. - HOFAS, chapter 39

But what if light blasted from either prism, meeting in the middle? What would happen in the collision of all that magic? - HOFAS, chapter 39

Twin bursts of that light flared from either prism, gunning for each other. Bands of light falling into darkness, her power stripped to its most elemental, basic form. They shot for each other, and where they met, light and darkness and darkness and light slamming into each other— - HOFAS, chapter 39

Such light and darkness—the power lay in the meeting of the two of them. She understood it now, how the darkness shaped the light. But all that colliding power... it was the boost she needed. - HOFAS, chapter 39

Given SJM's love of/focus on the importance of trios in her work, it would just make so much sense to me that the Archeron sisters each held a third of a new protective power (to replace the portions of Theia's light that Bryce took, leaving Prythian unguarded), becoming a living Archesian amulet, if you will, and that their relationships with the three Illyrian "brothers" would fall under fated or prophecised, rather than cliche. There is a decent amount of evidence that Azriel and Elain showed interest in/comfort around each other from their first meeting in the human lands, and so much about her bond with Lucien seems suss (to me, and of course no shade at Lucien); the balance between three brothers and three sisters is also so important.

@psychologynerd has posted this brilliant theory, which discusses the possibility that the mating bonds between each of the three hypothetical (at least, for the moment) pairs could reflect an alchemical marriage, and I am so on board with that idea. It matches my own thoughts on the importance of Elriel's romance not just for each of them to experience a partner who I think is best suited to them, but for the potential of a carranam bond to exist. And it is for this reason I have long suspected that, while Wyrd (or Someone) gifted Elain her Sight, or activated some genetic potential she always carried, Koschei was very likely pulling some strings between Azriel, Elain and Lucien in order to stop Elain and Azriel from getting together and realising the true potential of their powers, both individually and as a unit. Because if true mates are carranam (or if these three pairs are both true mates and carranam), then they would each be a force to be reckoned with separately, and formidable as a whole. Imagine just how useful all of their powers would be, stripped to their most "elemental, basic form." Besides Elain and Azriel's unique and powerful magics being enough to put a target on their heads, this would make them even more sought after, by someone who knew what to do with raw magic.

Koschei and his ilk wanting to prevent that by using the Cauldron to mimic - @merymoonbeam, I think, has discussed the Cauldron's ability to recreate spells - a mating bond between Elain and Lucien makes sense in this context. Nesta and Cassian were so at odds with each other that maybe they were a lower priority target for that reason - or maybe it was due to Elain and Azriel's specific magics, as I've suggested - but beyond Graysen and Mor, who they've each moved past as of ACOSF, Elain and Azriel have no external barriers to becoming involved romantically. So Koschei took care of it. Or at least, he thought he had done, until Elain and Azriel got perilously close to throwing caution to the wind on the most recent Winter Solstice, the longest night of the year.

Rhys's face drained of color. "You believe you deserve to be her mate?" Azriel scowled. "I think Lucien will never be good enough for her, and she has no interest in him, anyway." "So you'll what?" Rhys's voice was pure ice. "Seduce her away from him?" Azriel said nothing. He hadn't gotten that far with his planning, certainly not beyond the fantasies he pleasured himself to. Rhys growled, "Allow me to make one thing very clear. You are to stay away from her." "You can't order me to do that." - ACOSF, Azriel's bonus chapter

Rhys jerked his chin toward the door. "Get out" Azriel tucked in his wings and left without another word, stalking through the house and onto the front lawn to sit in the frigid starlight. To let the frost in his veins match the air around him. Until he felt nothing. Was again nothing at all. - ACOSF, Azriel's bonus chapter

Thank you to @psychologynerd and her anon, who brought the first of these two passages to my attention - I'd completely missed it, even though I've spoken about the second quote before! I have wondered for a while whether the longest night of the year might increase Koschei's reach, strengthen his magic, and/or weaken the wards holding him trapped in his lake. Which brings us back to Merrill and her blinking herself back from an apparent absence, and fury being a "moonless night" on Rhys' face.

As I noted in my reblog of @psychologynerd's anon, Rhys draining of colour actually reminds me of Elain in a couple of scenes, which I have discussed above:

When her skin was as white as fresh snow, which Feyre made sure to note was the colour of death and sorrow

In the Hewn City the night before, when Cassian gave his unsolicited fashion opinion

It made me wonder whether something was trying to get at Elain's magic, so could it signify the same thing for Rhys, with his voice of pure ice? Then Azriel felt nothing, was again nothing at all - Void. It could definitely just be imagery that SJM has chosen to represent their individual struggles, but what if that's not the case? I really do think and hope that "far larger forces" are at play here.

Because Nuala gave us some interesting information about the Winter Solstice in ACOFAS.

Nuala went on, “It’s a time of rest, too. And a time to reflect on the darkness—how it lets the light shine.” “Is there a ceremony?” The half-wraith shrugged. “Yes, but none of us go. It’s more for those who wish to honor the light’s rebirth, usually by spending the entire night sitting in absolute darkness.” A ghost of a smirk. “It’s not quite such a novelty for my sister and me. Or for the High Lord.” - ACOFAS, chapter 1

Is Nuala suggesting that absolute darkness is not so fun for those with a magical proclivity for shadows? She named Rhys, but this could extend to Azriel... and Elain?

It also creates a lovely parallel with this moment in ACOSF:

But even the silence weighed too heavily, and though the shadows kept him company, as they always had, as they always would, he found himself leaving the room. Entering the foyer. Soft steps padded from under the stair archway, and there she was. The faelights gilded Elain's unbound hair, making her glow like the sun at dawn. She halted, her breath catching in her throat. - ACOSF, Azriel's bonus chapter

Azriel was spending his evening sitting in the darkness, and it was certainly not a novelty for him, until he saw "the light's rebirth," one Elain Archeron glowing "like the sun at dawn." In addition to the play on Rosehall/Rose + Hall between ACOFAS and ACOSF, this further cements in my mind that SJM was using ACOFAS to help set up Elriel (though I could of course be wrong), and the fact that forces beyond Rhys and Prythian politics may be keeping them apart.

That just leaves the original couple!

How do you solve a problem like Feysand and Nyx?

I've wondered this before in a few different places; what if Koschei wanted to accomplish one or both of the following tasks:

Force Nesta to return the death magic she stole from the Cauldron as she was Made (thus depleting it)

Kill Feyre, Rhys and Nyx before the latter was born, thereby preventing the realisation of a potentially catastrophic (to him) combination of magics

I am far from the first person to note that, when Feyre met the Bone Carver in the original trilogy, and he appeared to her in the form of her future son, he did not have wings. Someone as perceptive as Feyre would have noted that in a second, especially as the Carver did give himself wings at a later date.

“I’d have to agree,” Rhysand said. He stepped inside, the light bobbing ahead to illuminate a dark-haired boy sitting against the far wall, eyes of crushing blue taking in Rhysand, then sliding to where I lurked in the doorway. - ACOMAF, chapter 18

Up and up into the darkness we walked, through the sleeping stone and the monsters who dwelled within it. At last I said to Rhys, “What did you see?” “You first.” “A boy—around eight; dark-haired and blue-eyed.” Rhys shuddered—the most human gesture I’d seen him make. - ACOMAF, chapter 18

Hybern was stirring, frantically assessing what and who now stood before them. The Carver had chosen the form of an Illyrian soldier in his prime. Bryaxis remained within the darkness roiling around it, the living tapestry it would use to reveal the nightmares of its victims. - ACOWAR, chapter 69

So he orchestrated a winged baby in some way (possibly using the daemati backdoor I discussed earlier to ensure Rhys didn't consider wings when he and Feyre had sex in Illyrian form). If he simply wanted Nesta to return her stolen Death magic to the Cauldron, he had created a scenario where she could make a new bargain with Wyrd or the Cauldron to return most of her powers in order for the knowledge to save Feysand's lives. However, Koschei/Someone wanting to off Feyre, Rhys and Nyx - who would be the realisation of both their powers combined - would also make sense, and parallel his hypothetical goal of separating Elain and Azriel, using her mating bond to Lucien; it would permanently destroy the hypothetical 3x3 of light and dark, Chaos and Void, that Wyrd worked to return to Prythian's world. Goodbye, anti rainbow.

We know that Theia's light was a form of protection for Prythian's world - was it really light from the Asteri, as we were told in HOFAS, or was it actually from Wyrd/Chaos? Do Wyrd and/or Koschei want Elain (and likely Nesta and Feyre to complete the whole)³ in place of Theia's then fragmented, and now absent, magic? Did the Cauldron, through Wyrd, gift Elain His abilities, and what was Nesta left with besides her silver flames? If I'm right about Koschei being Fionn in some way, this would tie in very nicely with @merymoonbeam's theory that Fionn was a Seer (which ties right back in with my post discussing Elain's Sight being associated with shadows/the murky realm, and my old crack theory that Koschei/Fionn was the original shadowsinger). It's all coming together lol.

³ I would assume that if this is the case, Wyrd/Chaos and Koschei would want the trio of Archeron sisters for different, likely opposing, purposes.

Too crack? Just crack enough? We'll have to wait and see.

If you choose to comment on this post, please remain respectful. Thank you for reading so far! 💜

[autumnwhistles]

(note: this is purely from a character perspective, not a comment on CCs.)

grian and scar have now both been in opposite positions to the original 'cactus ring', and it's so interesting to compare their attitudes to sacrifice on both ends. whether or not scar threw the fight in the cactus ring, he did offer for grian to kill him before it began. grian declined this, but was clearly fighting with the intention to win during the fight itself – he's giving scar a chance, but not sacrificing.

in secret life, scar's on the other end of things. he's fighting another winner – who herself has been sacrificed for previously – and, like grian, is going into what he assumes to be a fair fight... but which is in his favour due to the others' willingness to sacrifice themselves for him. this is a common pattern for winners: in whichever order, they take the win once, and are once willing to sacrifice themselves to let another take it.

cut to wild life.

this time, it's grian in the final two once more, yet again against an – albeit more distant – ally. he's got a win under his belt already, so you might expect him to do what pearl did, what scott did, right? sacrifice their chance at glory to let another taste it for the first time.

and yet:

"I'm going to have to kill Joel"

"Can I win this? I worked so hard on this series, I'd love to win it!"

because here's an important thing about life series!grian: though he's willing to even the playing field, he's not willing to sacrifice – not when it matters. pledge your loyalty to right a wrong, yes; give lives to gain allies hours, yes; refuse others' sacrifices to fight on fair terms, yes. but in the end, no matter how much he wants to stick with friends, no matter how bad he feels about it, no matter how may "i'm so sorry"s he gives – he will put his own life first, in the end.

there's a reason he's the reason for so many of his allies' deaths, after all. and in its contrast, the wild life finale showcases this beautifully.

(and for the record, i don't see anything wrong with this from an out-of-univere perspective – it's been 5 seasons and 3.5 years since Grian's last win, and even if it hadn't been, it's the CCs place to judge fairness, not ours.)

[ts4wishbuildercc]

Ts4 Blood elf village (Eversong Woods)

from World of Warcraft ♦

(functional fan build)

by Ts4Wishbuildercc

In this village there are three houses: the Inn, Wizard Sanctum and the Warrior's House. Blood elfs were a little difficult to build so sry for details...

Blood Elf Gardens:

all functional: Fountain and little park

Inn: ❤

Ground floor: (I might be rebuilding the pillars later, still not happy with my interior and work...)

First floor: (A middle platform with a chess corner)

Second floor: Party hall with a bar and a bedroom +functional sabacc table (you have to click under the table to start playing game)

Wizard Sanctum: ♥

Wizard platform Tower: (functional - warning but only for mages and their teleportation spell translocatto) They have their secrets too...

Ground floor: (must rebuild..)

First floor: Bedroom (still not happy with my work..)

Warrior's House: ♥

Ground floor: (on photo is worse than original XD)

First floor: Bedroom (in the house is a small kitchen and a bathroom too)

Yard: (with a small bathtub for your little toddler elf)

Im not a creator of cc. I just build with them. Many thanks to all amazing creators❤️

Sorry that it took this long. Some mods may be missing. I'm really not that sure. I have been unable to fond some of the crystals from Satisims. If it is too badly done then let me know, I can update the list.

Hope you like it. For Blood elves I want build another two places if it goes well..

Here Is the download link:

. Falthrien Academy :

. Blood elf city -Silvermoon (mini, but try functional version) XD

"Sela'ma ashal'anore!"

[disastercit]

missing cc so i decided to digitally color this drawing i made in a little notepad back in early march

(cw: canon-typical suicide mention)

[mortuary-collective]

who cheered

[forsenics]

needles

pairing: bob reynolds x sloane bolton

summary: after being tasked with living with the new avengers and reporting to valentina on what they do, tensions are high between sloane and the team. she decides to give bob something to apologize for past mistakes.

warnings: cursing, mental distress, bob being slightly ooc, mentions of past trauma and abuse, undressing.

author’s note: this is legit my first fanfic i’ve written that’s made it out of the drafts. i love bob and sloane so much,, they deserve the world

rainy days inside the watchtower weren’t uncommon. there were plenty of things to do inside; watch movies, train in the gym, sleep, read, play video games, or in sloane’s case, knit.

it was something her grandmother taught her when she was young; all freckles and lost baby teeth and giggles, before the world turned her into a broken, quiet woman, who chose silence over the awkwardness of words.

her grandmother had sat her down, one sunny thursday afternoon, stuck some knitting needles in her hands, and taught her how to spin yarn into clothes. it took her four days to learn how to cast on, knit, purl, frog, and from there it was like magic. all sloane did for the next eight months was knit. she made scarves, hats, bags, and one ambitious sweater, with a hole in the armpit.

she loved knitting. she loved sitting in one spot and feeling the minnesotan sun pass over her after she spent countless hours poking her fingers with the ends of her needles.

she still did it now, even though her tension was awkward and the needles never sat right in her hands and her yarn kept getting tangled up in itself.

she could hear her grandmother’s voice as if she was whispering in her ear; ‘keep your hands relaxed, keep the strand of yarn over your shoulder for good tension. don’t drop your stitches.’

sloane sat crosslegged in a chair on the terrace, stormy grey clouds covering the sky, making for a somewhat gloomy atmosphere. a dark fleece blanket covered her lap, in which rested a half-knit leafy green panel, her knitting needles, and a handful of stitch markers that rested around her pinky finger.

her wired earbuds nestled in her ears, blasting some rock music as her fingers dexterously worked the stitching, slipping loops over the needles, the cable knit pattern revealing itself in the detailed ribbing.

she hadn’t told anyone in the complex she could even knit in the first place, and none of them really knew she could. she stuck to herself most of the time, figuring the team didn’t want to spend time with someone they considered to be a double crossing, traitorous asshole. the most interaction with them she got was sparring with john in the gym, making small talk with bucky at the coffee machine while watching him take his metal arm out of the washing machine, or alexei needing someone to listen to his new marketing strategies.

it wasn’t that they hated her; it was just uneasy terrain. sloane worked directly for valentina as her bodyguard, so right off the bat she was protecting the life of the one person they all not-so-secretly wanted to kill.

it didn’t help that she was an incredibly awkward person socially, opting out of conversations when she could, staying quiet even when spoken to, skipping team dinners and movie nights to stay in her room. it took alexei barging in and dragging her into the living room with an iron grip to get her to start spending mandated time with them.

she still didn’t speak much, but she opened up, little by little. gym sessions with john became more frequent, more time spent in the kitchen drinking coffee and talking to bucky while his arm took a spin in the drain cycle, alexei making sure she joined them for team dinners and movie nights. ava even started asking sloane if she wanted to join her and yelena for runs around new york city.

yelena had been hard to get close to. at first, it was a lot of glares, russian inflected mumbles underneath her breath, even excluding her from group dinners and movie nights, narrowed eyes and pursed lips whenever she was in the room, eyes full of disdain of who sloane protected and what valentina did to the one person she could never get close to; bob.

her relationship with bob was guarded, awkward. their face time was limited, they rarely were ever in the same room unless forced to be. they never spoke to each other, unless it was small, uttered ‘good mornings’ or ‘goodnights’. it was palpable in every room, every hallway. it seeped into the gym, the elevators, the bedrooms. everyone could tell something was going on between them.

people had tried to ask. bucky, alexei, even ava, one lonesome night, when sloane had skipped out on the movie alexei picked out for them, after seeing how happy everyone looked sitting with each other, bob leaning his head on yelena’s shoulder, her arm wrapped around his back. something dark had spread in her chest, tightening in it like a knot, her eyes burning as she told everyone, ‘yes, i’m fine,’ as the door clicked closed in place.

nobody, except maybe yelena, knew why things were so heavy between them. nobody knew that she was there when bob signed his life away, giving in to all the experiments that would be forced upon him, she was there when valentina paraded him around as her best experiment, as the sentry; she was there, sniper rifle pointed at his head when his gloved fingers curled around her boss’s throat, and she was there when the woman ordered her to shoot him down, defenseless, in the middle of his forehead, when he was bob again. nobody knew how her complacency haunted her, how she could’ve freed him the night they met, how she could’ve taken him with her, far, far away from this fucked up place, back to minnesota, away from everything.

her lips were pulled between her teeth as she ignored the icy feeling of guilt in her veins. her shaky fingers worked the yarn, slipping the stitches onto her needle, looping the yarn around her fingers and pushing it back onto the other needle. ignoring the feeling spreading in her chest was hard, but if she forced herself to focus on the needlework, it died down. the music blasting in her ears helped to numb it down even further.

she only had a few more stitches to finish before tying off the sweater. it was a beautiful piece of work, really. a leafy green cable knit sweater made of the softest hand-dyed alpaca wool she found, in a small vendor shop a few months ago during a mission in guam. only took her two weeks to make, between the missions and mandatory movie nights.

and there were no holes in the armpit this time.

she sighed, finishing off the last stitch, pulling the yarn through and cutting it with a knife she always kept on her. all that was left was to weave in the ends. her heart thumped. she was a lot closer to finishing this than she thought, and now the idea of giving it away played dastardly scenarios in her mind. would he throw it away, maybe even refuse it straight up? maybe even accept her gift, but it would collect dust in the drawer.

maybe she deserved that.

maybe she did, she thought morosely, needle resting between her fingers as she meagerly slipped the loose strands of yarn in between stitches, hiding them. maybe she deserved to be alone in a house full of people. maybe she deserved to be hated by all of them, valentina’s little pet.

another fuckin’ nobody, she remembered john saying to her once.

it stung more than she cared to admit.

the sweater was finished before she could even really comprehend it, the ends woven in so much it would take an incredible amount of wearing to get them loose. her stomach dropped. now came the hard part. now came actually giving it to him.

her feet padded softly against the cold floor, hands clutching the folded sweater as she walked down the hallway. appropriately, her room was unneighbored, while the new avengers were spaced out in different hallways, they were still next to or across from each other in some regard. she’d imagined the several different ways this scenario could play out, but now that it was here, it was a totally different beast.

she reached his room, one hand leaving the softness of the yarn to knock on his door, the other holding the gift went behind her back. with a dry throat, she parted her lips and spoke. “bob.. it’s sloane. may i come in?”

her question gave him room to deny her entry, and in fact she expected him to do so. her heart felt like it was thundering behind her ribs, constant hammering she could hear in her ears that she blamed on tinnitus. she expected him to say no. she expected him not to answer. what she didn’t expect, was the door to open, with bob standing on the other side, sheepishly. “ye-yeah, come on in.”

they didn’t speak to each other. they hadn’t in several months. sloane walked into his room as he went to his bed, sitting down as her fingers curled around the doorknob, though it rest a few centimeters from closing, as if asking a silent question. “oh— uhh-“ bob uttered quietly, nodding after catching on, and the door closed with a click, leaving them in front of each other.

bob’s room was small. the lighting cast a comfortable yellow-orange glow around the room, making for a calming atmosphere. there was a small bookshelf in his room, trinkets spanning the length of his dresser, which also held a stack of books on it. it felt homey. she liked it.

sloane’s chest felt too tight, her throat felt too dry. even though it was the softest fiber she’d felt, the wool of the sweater felt too itchy.

bob’s fingers played with the hem of his sweater, unable to really look up at her since she’d been made to live with them, months ago. there was a tightness in his chest too, which he was unable to describe. his index finger looped around a loose string, pulling it from the fabric, as he parted his lips.

“so— did you need anything from-“

“i just wanted to come in and-“

they both spoke at the same time, after a bout of silence, words jumbling together to form incoherent sounds. their faces both flushed from the embarrassment of stomping on each other’s words.

“i-i’m sorry, you-“

“oh- you go ahead-“

again, they jumped on each other’s words, sloane exhaling something that wasn’t quite a laugh. bob’s face turned redder, and he looked away. “y-you go ahead,” he invited, the lack of eye contact making sloane’s heart sink, as she fought to find the right, exact, perfect words to say.

her mind kept blanking. she couldn’t form any words, mind racing a mile a minute, just like her heart. it was silent in the room, suffocatingly.

“um,” she started, licking her lips and swallowing. “to be honest, there’s a lot i need to say, and not a lot of words i know how to use to say it,” she started, glancing down at the floor, unable to see or feel bob’s blue eyes slowly bring themselves up to her figure.

“when i was growing up, my grandmother taught me how to do a lot of things. knitting was one of them. i remember she used to take me to bingo nights, she stuck needles in my hands and let me work.” bob nodded. “i remember, growing up, i could never really make a sweater just right. there was always a hole in the armpit. could never get the decrease just right.”

her mind screamed at her to hurry this along, that he was bored, and that he was just acting polite to get her to leave sooner.

“um, this is for you.” she said quickly, awkwardly, taking the leafy green sweater from behind her back, and thrusting the neatly folded clothing item at bob, who stared at it with wide eyes. “it’s, uh, alpaca wool, really soft, hand dyed. yelena helped me measure the sweater so it would be the size you like. yarn’s stretchy too. b-but, uh, it has to be hand washed,” she recited, cheeks burning pink as he stood up, slowly inching towards her.

his eyes glossed over the sweater like it was made of pure gold. nobody had ever done something like this for him before, nobody had ever made something like this for him. the yarn was a bright, inchworm green color, the stitching so detailed it marveled the sweater he was wearing. slowly, hesitantly, like it would melt in his large hands, he picked up the sweater from her outstretched arms, eyes wide as they traced the ribbing, the stitch patterns, the hems. his throat tightened, heat burning between his eyes as tears beaded at his vision.

sloane watched his reaction, breath held unconsciously as he picked up the sweater, eyes practically sparkling. she swallowed the lump forming in her throat, speaking up, quietly, again.

“if it’s, uh, the wrong color or size, i can just redo it-“

“it’s perfect,” he said, with a hint of trembling words. he really liked it. he liked the color, he liked the feel of the fabric. it wasn’t itchy, it was really soft, like cashmere, something he knew he wouldn’t get overstimulated by. his fingers pinched the fabric, marveling at the cable pattern.

“oh.” sloane replied quietly.

there were so many things racing through bob’s head, so many thoughts that buzzed past that were barely comprehensible. why would she do this for him? how long did this take her? why did she spend all this effort on it, like he mattered enough to be someone to make a sweater for? why did she dedicate so much of her time to making him this sweater? his throat clenched.

“uh- how-how much time did you.. spend on this?” he asked, eyes glued to the yarn.

the ghost of a smile curved her face. “oh. like, two weeks.”

his eyes bulged, and he looked up at her, tears dotting his vision. “two.. weeks?” he repeated, his sparse responses making sloane worry.

“y-yeah, if you don’t like it, i can-“ she started.

“n-no, no, i love it,” he hurriedly replied, “i-i love it.. i just don’t know why you’d go through all the effort of making this for me..” his voice trailed off, cracking. sloane blinked.

“oh, it wasn’t much trouble. it was pretty fun to put my focus into.” he still looked confused, somewhat upset, so she continued. “it’s an apology sweater.”

his eyebrows quirked up, and he brought his gaze up to her, though her eyes were fixed on the sweater. “apology sweater?”

“y-yeah,” she shrugged sheepishly, “to apologize… for everything.”

bob’s heart dropped. “you don’t have anything to apologize for..” he mumbled, eyes falling down to the item in his hand. a tear threatened to spill down his cheek.

“yeah, i do.” sloane replied, nodding. “i was complacent.” admitting that to herself made her heart hurt more than she cared to admit.

“n-no,” bob said quickly. “you weren’t. you were doing what you had to, to stay alive.”

his words stung deep, like pouring lemon juice over still-open wounds. he was right. too right.

“i’m sorry i was so complacent,” she started, voice dipping to a tremble, “i’m sorry i never did anything. i’m sorry i just stood and watched her do all that shit to you… i’m sorry i never got you out.” it first time in many years her voice carried some semblance of emotion. it tore through her words and pierced through bob’s chest, shutting up that voice that only said, she isn’t sorry, right up.

swallowing back the tightness in her own throat, and the burning behind her eyes, sloane continued. “i’m sorry i let her manipulate you, i’m sorry i let her lie to you. i wasn’t- sh-she didn’t—“ she paused, to cool herself down and let the emotions ebb from her voice, “she lied. i wasn’t brought to manipulate you, i’m her bodyguard. i was just there to protect her, that’s all. anything else that happened, happened because of my own volition.” she continued further. “i chose to come down to the lab, i chose to come down to see you all those nights. she made it very clear not to get attached to any… subjects, but i disobeyed her orders anyways.” she left out what had happened when valentina had discovered that sloane started visiting bob’s cell frequently at night, what had happened when she finally caught them. what she’d done to sloane for disobeying a direct order.

that job wasn’t a promotion. it was survival. sloane did whatever valentina asked to stay alive. the director of the CIA could’ve killed her any moment she stepped out of line. and she made sure sloane knew that, after breaking one of her most important rules. she swallowed.

“i should’ve helped.” she said finally, eyes low and watering. she couldn’t get that message out of her head, that she should’ve done something. her life wasn’t worth much as it was.

they stood in a silent impasse, knowing that whatever they said, the other would have something to combat it. it was awkward, for a little while.

then, bob spoke.

“it wasn’t your fault,” he said, looking down at sloane, standing a few inches taller than her. the soft bass of his voice made her cheeks flush, her eyes never leaving the knit fabric. “you couldn’t have done anything without risking your position and your life. i couldn’t ask you to do that for me.”

slowly, she dragged her eyes up from the fabric, up to his chest, his neck, his jaw, and then, finally, achingly, his eyes.

“you didn’t have to ask,” she said quietly, lips thinning into a sad smile. “i would have done it anyways.”

seeing the emotion painting her face was enamoring. for the longest time, sloane had tried her absolute hardest to never show any emotion ever. emotions made her weak, careless and reckless. without the fear of hurting someone, herself, or any friends, she was able to push herself beyond limits she never knew she had.

but now, it was different. now, emotions fueled the hearth living underneath the layers of nuance and neutrality, the molten fire cracking through her hard exterior.

they locked eyes for a long time, something lingering in the air between them, some kind of static, and electric charge. then, as he did before, bob broke the silence.

“i like the sweater,” he said, softly. “it’s a nice color. really soft. i might go try it on.”

“oh,” sloane nodded. “yeah, have at it. do you, uh, want me to…” she jerked a thumb towards the door, bob’s eyes following her gesture.

“oh, n-no, it’s fine,” he shook his head, a small smile on his lips when he realized what she was implying. “i’ll just go in the bathroom.”

she nodded, watching him shuffle into the room, closing the door behind her. her eyebrows raised at hearing the lack of a click.

there was shuffling of fabric as he lifted the sweater off, the movement swinging the door open a handful of inches.

sloane sunk down onto his bed, respectfully keeping her eyes away, until the door moved open an inch. glancing up, she could see a sliver of skin peeking out from behind the crack of the door.

bob’s muscles strained and flexed as he carefully put the knit sweater on, adjusting it before glancing into the mirror, looking at the sweater only. he couldn’t really look up yet. he was still there, sometimes. smiling at him viciously in the reflection, saying the cruelest of words. he wouldn’t look up this time. he wouldn’t let him ruin this thing that sloane did for him.

the door creaked as it opened, bob stepping out with the blue sweater in his hand. sloane’s eyes darted down to her feet, pretending she wasn’t overtly ogling him as he padded into the room. then, slowly, she looked up.

he looked… comfy. the green sweater fit loosely around his frame, yet provided the space for his muscles to be outlined faintly in the fabric. it was thin enough to allow air in, but thick enough to trap the warmth inside, the perfect blend of wool. the leafy green color brought out those beautiful blue of eyes his. the warmness of the green seemed to cool down the hue of his hair, and somehow brought out the shadows under his cheekbones, the sharpness of his jaw. he looked…. handsome.

sloane battled a smile and lost, her cheeks curving upwards as he placed his crumpled sweater on his dresser, wringing his hands as he stood in front of her.

“it looks good on you, the green.” she nodded upwards at him, eyes sparkling. bob smiled, cheeks turning pink. “oh, thanks. your work is amazing,” he complimented, causing sloane’s face to turn red in return. “i-its’s nothing, really. but thank you, i appreciate it.” she replied politely.

“i-it’s not nothing,” bob said, hesitating before he sat on his bed next to her, body positioned towards her. “this is beautiful. it’s comfortable, the stitching is so detailed. you put a lot of work into this. thank you,” he said politely, blue eyes tracing the frame of her face, the soft auburn brown hues in her hair, the darkness in her eyes.

the color filtered back into her face, burning red as he complimented her. “thanks,” she replied, lips curving into another smile, a wider one, a genuine one, something that curled her lip up to show the pearly white teeth poking out from underneath, something that caused her dimples to peek out from hiding. it made bob take a double-take, blinking. “you’re smiling,” he blurted.

sloane’s smile faltered for a second, embarrassment leaking into her veins. “it’s—it’s not bad-“ he stumbled over his words. “it’s pretty. i-i-i like it. you have a nice smile.” his face erupted into a shade of red when he realized he’d just admitted he thought her smile was pretty. but instead of scoffing, or getting up in protest, she just… smiled harder, corners pulling up into the most genuine, dimple-revealing smile that she’d ever expressed, a soft giggle escaping her lips. “thanks, bob, that’s really sweet of you.” she said in gratitude, placing her hand behind her on the bed, close to in between the two of them.

“y-yeah, of course,” he responded meekly, his own hand crossing the space between them as well, pinky finger resting inches away from sloane’s.

they sat there in comfortable silence for a little, fingers drifting slowly towards each other like the opposite poles in a magnet. eventually, their fingers met, each action halted due to the surprise they felt in meeting each other’s skin.

sloane’s eyes pulled upwards from their fingers, now resting against each other, to find their place in bob’s eyes, which did the same. slowly, he wrapped his pinky finger around hers, causing her to smile, gently.

“d-do you… uh… sorry…” he started, shutting down his own sentence in fear of having just ruined a possibly intimate moment.

“no, no, what is it? please keep going,” sloane encouraged, nodding. bob swallowed. “uh… do you think it wo-would be possible to… maybe teach me how to knit? so i can make my own sweaters?”

the shy eagerness of his question made her heart soar. she nodded before she could even form the words to answer. “yes—uh- y-yeah, i’d be happy to teach you,” she responded, her face growing hot.

“i’d like that,” bob replied, looping his finger around hers, to secure it. sloane’s smile pulled into a loopy grin. “yeah,” she said, “me too.”

[eepy-deebser]

hey. Hey realmblr. Do we all agree the joke with all of Pangis situationships is that he’s in denial and a player? the joke isn’t that it’s gay, it’s that he’s a freak right

Joy & whimsy

[ferretpajamapants]

various old the behemoth merch (mainly bbt LOL) I found going through archives 💔💔 I WANT THEM SO BAD

[x-lee-cya]

okayokayokay. insane, (probably, hopefully, i pray to god its not) not-at-all-true casino cups theory.

so in one of/the scene where mugs is talking about the bros’s reaction to elder’s death;

^ this one (pls ignore the shitty formatting, im making this post on a whim lmao)

theres a truly GIGANTIC spade on/around/behind mugsy’s face/person. and we all know very well what spades mean - we all know very well what character REPRESENTS spades/has had spades used to represent them 24/7 in cc-

so does this. does this imply that in somehow, someway… mugman caused elder’s death?

edit: AND ALSO JUST NOTICED BUT THERE ARE TINY HEARTS AROUND THE SPADE. HEARTS.

ahhHHHAHAHAHHHHHHHHHHHH

[spiritofboredom]

I think David totally toned down his rebel backstory for the kids. I mean, he had no hesitation punching the new guy Bonquisha was dating.

[majokkid]

Secrets of the Clow, Part II: Inner Workings

As promised in my previous post on the topic, here I will break down how I organized my personal deck inspired by Sakura Kinomoto’s cards throughout Cardcaptor Sakura and Cardcaptor Sakura: Clear Card Arc and what creatively liberties I took in order to ensure the most complete representation of the various card fairies depicted in these works.

I hope that by sharing this process you can start thinking about how you would formulate your own cartomancy system!

This post is part of my Magi Praxis series. If you have any suggestions for future topics, or you have attempted anything I have shared and want you share your experiences, please send me a message! I am always happy to go back and provide further explanation as well. ☆

When creating this particular deck, not only did I want to have a non-dogmatic framework to build off of, but I found this was the perfect opportunity to immerse myself further into a system I have been helping my partner cultivate and improve over the last several years. You can find their work outlined here.

Emanant Void Magick is a meta-magick system developed by deconstructing, extracting, and recontextualizing concepts from chaos magick and Hermetic Qabalah. Where groups like the Golden Dawn used Qabalah to interpret, deform, and bind unrelated systems of magick into a single syncretic monolith, the explorations of Emanant Void Magick instead seek to merely provide tools to generate new systems: rather than imposing structure through dogma, Emanant Void Magick provides the magician with building materials with which they are free to innovate.

Like Qabalah, Emanant Qabalah maps out a sort of creation story for reality but, unlike traditional Qabalah, proposes that each step of manifestation is itself a complete whole and that manifestation does not stop at the manifest, Malkuth, and now moves beyond manifestation to incorporate postmodern philosophy and metaphysics. Emanant Qabalah provides twelve steps of manifestations, each grown from the Void or Non-Being and organically emerging from the previous iteration. Of these, the seventh, ninth, and twelfth steps have a particular property of being in the form that can be “walked” in what in mathematics is called a “Eulerian trail”: in this, each path of the tree is crossed only once and all paths are touched while traversing from the first to the final sphere. 

Qabalah is of particular interest to cartomancy since Éliphas Lévi connected the meaning of the Tarot to the Qabalah and the Tree of Life. In Tarot, the sequence of trumps is associated with the “Fool’s Journey”, connecting the meaning of each card in a sequence. The Eulerian trails of Seventh, Ninth, and Twelfth Trees also provide clear associations for the Fool’s Journey while also suggesting novel systems of divination inspired by this structure. Eventually, the plan is to complete a 93-card deck that illustrates the full 12-sphere tree but the 42-card system I developed and prototyped was a major undertaking in itself.

As I mentioned previously, I tend to refer to my deck as Lenormand Plus™: at 42 cards, this deck is significantly smaller than a standard Tarot deck and slightly larger than the traditional Lenormand. While the organizational structure is heavily inspired by Tarot, I was inspired by how Lenormand is read—with the goal in mind to ultimately read my cards in a Grande Tableau—but I also wanted a system that could easily utilized for smaller, more utilitarian/traditional readings and pathworkings. For the purposes of this deck, I utilized an iteration of the Emanant Qabalah Tree up to the 7th sphere, the point where the Self (the Agents) encounters the Other (the Knaves).

The Agents correspond to the sixth sphere. These cards represent aspects of the Self. There are four representations, one for each of the elements, and Cardcaptor Sakura fans will recognize these cards as Windy, Watery, Firey, and Earthy. The Agents tend to be very straightforward and forthcoming but like all of the card fairies they can be mischievous when left to their own devices. The Knaves correspond to the seventh sphere and represent the Other. There are four elemental representations for these cards as well and can be viewed as shadows of the Agents or obstacles the magician can encounter—whether that is another person, an event, or a concept. The Knaves are Struggle (Fire), Through (Air), Rain* (Water), and Wood (Earth). Unlike the Agents, the Knaves have more of a trickster energy as their purpose is to challenge the magician.

* Note: This is where some of my creative license starts coming into play, in terms of which cards I ultimately decided to depict. There are several cards in this deck that contain influences from two or more of Sakura-chan’s cards throughout her magical journey. For example, my Rain card includes aspects of Storm and Snow.

The elemental suits are organized like so:

This is probably where most of the consolidation in terms of card representations takes place. When I have documented readings I have done with these cards on my blog, I tend to acknowledge when individual cards contain aspects of more than one of the card fairies from the source materials.

Then we have the Path cards. These are most similar to the trumps or the Major Arcana of a traditional Tarot deck and even though I used the Emanant Qabalah system, it follows the traditional Fool’s Journey incredibly well (up to the representation of Death). There path cards are as follows:

0. Song (The Fool) I. Silent (The Magus/Magician) II. Repair (The High Priestess) III. Flower (The Empress) IV. Sword (The Emperor) V. Light (The Hierophant) IV. Sweet (The Lovers) VII. Move (The Chariot) VIII. Libra (Justice) IX. Dark (The Hermit) X. Shot (Wheel of Fortune) XI. Shield (Strength) XII. Seige (The Hanged Man) XIII. Shadow (Death)

And that’s how I organized my personal deck! While I took a lot of time and consideration into creating this structure, I am continually surprised and humbled by how the cards decide to manifest in my daily life and practice. With time they only become more nuanced and powerful and it has been an absolute joy to work with them! ☆

[offtorivendell]

Light and dark and grey... an anti rainbow?

Or, why three brothers with three sisters may actually be prophetic, and not just "lazy writing."

Spoilers: ACOTAR series and CC HOFAS.

Posted for @elriel-month 2025: "The eyes and ears of the Night Court" (sorry it's belated).

I've always liked the connection between the following two passages. Firstly, the Book of Breathings' mad, possibly prophetic, ramble in ACOMAF:

Life and death and rebirth

Sun and moon and dark

Rot and bloom and bones

Hello, sweet thing. Hello, lady of night, princess of decay. Hello, fanged beast and trembling fawn. Love me, touch me, sing me. Madness. Where the first half had been cold cunning, this box … this was chaos, and disorder, and lawlessness, joy and despair.

Rhys picked up the Book of Breathings. Light and dark and gray and light and dark and gray— - ACOMAF, chapter 57

And the Truth-Teller scene in ACOWAR:

And now, standing amongst the sighing meadow grasses in his Illyrian armor, all seven Siphons gleaming … Elain’s eyes widened at the obsidian-hilted blade in Azriel’s scarred hand. The runes on the dark scabbard. “It has never failed me once,” the shadowsinger said, the midday sun devoured by the dark blade. “Some people say it is magic and will always strike true.” He gently took her hand and pressed the hilt of the legendary blade into it. “It will serve you well.” “I—I don’t know how to use it—” “I’ll make sure you don’t have to,” I said, grass crunching as I stepped closer. Elain weighed my words … and slowly closed her fingers around the blade. Cassian gawked at Azriel, and I wondered how often Azriel had lent out that blade— Never, Rhys said from where he finished buckling on his own weapons against the side of the wagon. I have never once seen Azriel let another person touch that knife. Elain looked up at Azriel, their eyes meeting, his hand still lingering on the hilt of the blade. I saw the painting in my mind: the lovely fawn, blooming spring vibrant behind her. Standing before Death, shadows and terrors lurking over his shoulder. Light and dark, the space between their bodies a blend of the two. The only bridge of connection … that knife. - ACOWAR, chapter 69

And then I read HOFAS, and began to write this post, but forgot about it for over a year:

It wasn’t a rainbow that emerged from the other side. Not even close. It took her a moment to process what she was seeing: a gradient beam of starlight. Where the rainbow would have been full of color, this one began in shimmering white light and descended into shadow. An anti-rainbow, as it were. Light falling into darkness, droplets of starlight raining from the highest beam into the shadowy band at the bottom, devoured by the darkness below. Like the fading light of day—of dusk.

But what if light blasted from either prism, meeting in the middle? What would happen in the collision of all that magic?

Twin bursts of that light flared from either prism, gunning for each other. Bands of light falling into darkness, her power stripped to its most elemental, basic form. They shot for each other, and where they met, light and darkness and darkness and light slamming into each other—

Such light and darkness—the power lay in the meeting of the two of them. She understood it now, how the darkness shaped the light. But all that colliding power … it was the boost she needed. - HOFAS, chapter 39

Does this parallel give credence to Elain and Azriel's (still hypothetical) link to the Dusk Court, and my long standing theory that they may play a part in reviving it? Because "Sun and Moon and Dark" sounds a lot like "light falling into darkness," and "the power lay in the meeting of the two of them" brings to mind the solstice scene in ACOSF proper, where Elriel share a charged glance. In addition to "Sun and Moon and Dark" being the obvious anti rainbow parallel, "Life and Death and Rebirth" and "Rot and Bloom and Bone" are each (anti) rainbows of a different sort, in that they are both gradients of the stages of life.

As for my thoughts that all three pairings - in the much maligned, though some consider fated "three brothers x three sisters" theory - are carranam? It's also reminiscent of Hypaxia's scene in HOSAB (male and female, above and below etc, the power that lies in the place where they meet), which reminds me of carranam, too (and about which @silverlinedeyes has posted). There is just so much potential for Elain and Azriel's magic to work together for the greater good (here and here).

@psychologynerd has written a brilliant post about the mating bonds potentially being alchemical marriages (it's well worth a read), and I agree with what she has laid out.

To plagiarise myself in relation to the anti rainbow:

"It is interesting to me that the Book gives three separate greetings, three separate instructions - "love me, touch me, sing me" - and if Rhys hadn't interrupted, there may have been three repetitions of "light and dark and gray," too... one for each sister or pairing? To love, touch and sing, however, I suspect should be taken as a whole; especially if each couple is carranam, which...

May make their magic "sing," per TOG

Requires some sort of physical "touch"

May even be strengthened by "love"... unknown

Once again I want to shout that it would make so much sense, in terms of plot and lore - for the three sisters and three brothers to each be a part of a whole, a weapon to be assembled by Wyrd in order to be freed, and that that is why the hypothetical creation of the Elucien bond could have been an attempt to thwart Her in Her quest."

I plan to post more about this later in the month, but it still seems to me that Elriel are meant to be a part of a greater whole, in the same way as Feysand and Nessian. Either as a weapon for Wyrd, or some sort of defence system: a living Archesian amulet, perhaps. Given that Theia's magic was split into thirds and intended for the protection of Prythian, it would fit.

[theghostoficarus]

she's pretty...

[gigis4]

HI3 - HoV Outfit

Download it here -> [SFS] [MF]

and the eyes here -> [SFS]

For anybody who was wondering what's next, im currently working on bronya and yaes original outfits, shigures tonight's my time, and all vita outfits including the kids.