#not to mention Elain

[flowerflamestars]

I don't know if my continued Rhys Efflorese babble gotten eaten so here it is again. (if I'm repeating myself I'm very very sorry)

Rhysand being so certain that Cassian and Azriel's Illyrian honor and loyalty will keep them on his side without having even a shred of awareness about what Illyrian honor even MEANS much less what it might mean if they feel that HE'S the one who betrayed them first. I'm not sure that Rhysand even has any concept of Illyrians beyond the asshole camp lords that Night put in charge. (Why were they freezing in the mud, huh, Rhys?! WHO PUT THEM THERE?! Why might they not be will to share their whole selves with the Prince of Night, huh Rhys?)

It says a lot about how much faith and respect they had for Shahar (I can't remember how to spell her name right now) that even though she didn't live among them as one of them, they still very much considered her theirs and believed she could (and would) make the future better for them. (This is a thought I had while reading Starlight: the House of the Wind is possessed by the ghost of Rhysand's sister and she's fucking Pissed at him)

Rhysand is very bad a cost-benefit analysis. Particularly because he doesn't seem to have any concept of what a 'cost' actually is, especially when it's someone else who'll be paying it. Or even what a benefit is really. (Dude, you have two business savvy, policially knowledgeable, intelligent humans who are personally invested in keeping Feyre safe. This would be a FANTASTIC opportunity to learn about the state of the human lands and kingdoms and formulate plans based on new information instead of, you know, deciding you already had a perfect plan despite the fact that you haven't talked to a single (not Feyre) human in at least 500 years.(*insert the "no it's the children who are wrong" Simpsons guy meme here*) Or that maybe there's this guy right here with friendly acquaintances all over the place that could be very useful if you weren't, you know, a shithead. But nope, slightly bruised pride too much cost)

Rhysand's desperation for Feyre to only see him in a very specific light is greatly aided by Feyre's equal determination to only see him in that exact light.

Rhysand thinking that, even after learning he fucked off to the continent and got arrested for gambling debts, bringing shit-head papa Archeron into the situation will keep ANYONE in line (kinda love that even though we're all, like, Everyone Gets a Name but then none of us will can shithead papa Archeron anything but shithead papa Archeron)

Rhysand hoping this situation that he doesn't want to deal with implodes while not comprehending that it will implode into A WHOLE NOTHER SITUATION

Do you think he's a bit baffled when Feyre comes to the conclusion that her sisters hate faeries? Like he's perfectly pleased with the situation and happy to roll with it because it'll drive a further wedge between her and her sisters do you think he looks at the perfectly polite chats with Cass and Az despite the glowing siphons and giant bat wings (plus the Shadows in Az's case) and the House Full of Blood Magic/ Lucien FUCKING Venserra situation and think "Whelp, I guess you've got an immortal lifetime to learn some observation skills" (not that she'll learn good observations skills from HIM anytime soon)

Rhysand thinking that Feyre loves and cares about these people and that therefore they are a THREAT to HIM instead of that meaning that he should maybe he should care about, or, a least, try to get along with them.

Elain just keeps smiling a playing the perfect hostess is nearly as infuriating as Nesta snarling in his face. Then she puts Cassian's knife to his throat. That's probably one of them most WTF moments of his life. (someone please tell the Illyrians that Elain held a knife to Rhysand's throat. They deserve knowledge that this tiny human girl was willing to pull a knife on a High Lord for her people (a people they are now part of))

Did he notice that Elain served him some funny tasting tea and just think nothing of it because human food is all shit to him? (Also Cassian had almost zero reaction to Nesta saying that Elain had tried to poison Rhysand, his High Lord/'brother')

(in your Nesta/Eris story, the Valkyrie priestess says something along the lines of "Rhian's sniveling brat son may think the world revolves around him but it doesn't" and "Shahar would be disappointed in him." These statements feel applicable this Rhysand (or all Rhysands really))

Rhysand is about to get a crash course in how loyalty is a two-way street. The Archerons' people (now including a bunch of awestruck Illyrians) are so ride-or-die for them because the Archerons are just as ride-or-die back.

All three of the Bat Boys are in the process of completely loosing their shit in different directions.

Side-note: When Elain offers Cassian tea and calls him sir and Cassian's like "WTF I'm not a sir" and Elain's like "It's a courtesy given to any man with a title" and Cassian's just "naw I don't have a title" and then in her head Elain's like "WTF in what world is General not a title?" It just makes me wonder about Cassian's (and by extension, Azriel's) actual place in the Night Court's (barely existent) court hierarchy.

Side-note the second: While mentioning the Night Court's barely existent government system the thought of Amren having secret peons in place helping keep the court running. It might have started as a bit of a game 'How much functioning government can I make before Rhysand actually notices" however I think it got boring pretty quick through a combination of, 'he barely ever notices anything not shoved directly under his nose' and mild concern that Rhysand might actually notice and stop her and the court will implode even faster than it already is (and she's gotten stupidly attached to some of these colorful insects and would like to keep them around a bit longer) (Side-side note: I'm SO hyped for Amren to meet the rest of the Archerons)

Side-note the third: if there's Archeron ships in Night then there's probably Archeron ships in Summer too right? That could spin the whole Summer-book theft debacle in... interesting ways. (I'm imagining Tarquin talking to Feyre about Archeron ships bringing in supplies to rebuild the city at greatly reduced transpiration fees or something and Feyre's just mentally like "wtf my sisters hate faeries why would they do that" (because she's still operating under that particular delusion) but (because Rhys thinks it's a good idea) she plays along like she knows about it or something and uses it to gain more of Tarquin's trust before, you know, Rhys's whole *brilliant* plan takes place. Imagine how abso-fucking-lutly pissed OFF, Nesta, Elain and Lucien would be. Like, the whole situation would already piss them all off but add in deliberately taking advantage their family's reputation and kindness to do it? Rhysand had better stay well out of stabbing distance. (Side-side-note: Tarquin's, like, less than one hundred right? The dude spent more than HALF is fucking life Under the Mountain. Give him a fucking BREAK.) (Side-side-side-note: Just popped into my head. What if there were babies BORN down there. Like, that's their whole life down there. I just realized that this isn't actually much of a what-if scenario because really we just have to look under Rhysand's OWN fucking mountain to see how that goes.)

I think that's all of the babble for the moment. <3

Oooo so much good stuff here! I'll try to go in order 💜

Rhys is canonically shitty about Illyria and the Illyrians! I almost feel like I'm hitting the bottom of the barrel to give it emotional nuance- Effloresce Rhys has wrapped together all his grief and ego into just. Complete bullshit. Nesta sees this immediately! ( Cassian and Az have. Had to live within this, which I'll get to)

But yeah, that's the center for him in so many ways: he has to The Most Right, Fully in Control, Always in Charge and also does not take responsibility for shit. Ever.

So he belittles it. A warrior culture? Savages. Mor blatantly using Cassian when they were young? Oh that drives Cassian crazy. Azriel is wildly fucked up? No, it's the fault of his childhood not his continued life! Cassian gets close to his literal soulmate? Are you fucking around with Feyre's sister, Cas?

One of my character things for Rhys is that he wants Everything just barely more than he wants nothing. He is SO voraciously is the center of his own world while being so utterly careless with that world. So there is no balance. There's just what Rhys wants.

And he wants Feyre so Feyre is also always right. And just. Canonically does not seem to value her sisters as people so much as auxiliary manifestations of her own self.

They're like her irksome pets Rhys has to deal with.

Cassian's actual rank is going to come back, but I would say that you could easily call Rhysands perspective on the Archeron alliance making 'huh, the dogs AREN'T smart enough to be afraid of bears, and I, a person, find this quaint'

(Elain is going to kill the fuck out of someone over this.)

Poison doesn't matter because Cassian chose a side basically the second he crossed the wall. Even without Nesta. (You could possibly say he has always had a side, and it has always been Nesta.) Further, Lucien absolutely clocked that blood! All these things add together, really.

As for Amren, she's less focused on a functioning government as she is invested in a broad outcome. She keeps her vows. She is, perhaps, playing an elaborate game of wondering what Rhys does and does not know.

Oooo Summer is a stop on the Elucien honeymoon diplomatic carpet bomb, actually. They're not actively trading there, but they're not unknown. Rhys is definitely still hunting the book to use Feyre's Super Specialness.

Tarquin is young and progressive! I know the books utilize this to be like 'oh, he'll give Rhys a chance', without ever clarifying if Tarquin or anyone knows the actual degree of Rhysands willing or unwilling cooperation with Amarantha. It doesn't make a ton of sense. I like to take it in another direction.

[stargirlfeyre]

The High King Lucien theories are laughable to me because this man couldn’t even stand up to one High Lord in the name of protecting his friend….

But you think he’s able to overpower and unite seven to exist under him? Seven High Lords with centuries on him and one who is the most powerful High Lord that has ever lived are all going to get together and decide to follow…Lucien?

Not a lot of people in this series takes Lucien seriously and unfortunately I don’t think his fans do either.

[acotar-girly]

Night’s sister- Part 1

Summary: You’re Rhysand’s little sister, who escaped the spring court when your mother and older sister were murdered. The only living Princess of the Night Court. Rhys is High Lord, and your close sibling relationship is something everyone, even enemies (unfortunately) are aware of. You live with Rhysand. You haven’t met Cassian and Azriel yet, as Rhys is trying to keep you safe and protected. You’ve only ever heard stories of them, and you’ve never worked up the nerve to want to meet them. You’ve been kidnapped, by Rhys’ enemies, while he’s fighting in a war and he left you at home.

TW: kidnapping, graphic SA, graphic violence, gore, describing torture, (but also somehow a lot of fluff later on???)

-please tell me if i’ve missed any triggers and i’ll add them.

My eyes flutter open and I let out a low groan of pain. I force myself to focus on my surrounding through sheer willpower. My mind is cloudy, fogged by the pain that aches, burns, and throbs my body. I’m dimly aware of my lack of clothing, being stripped bare to just undergarments. My wrists are manacled by heavy black chains to opposite walls and I hang in the middle, my knees almost brushing the ground. I instinctively reach for my power, but it’s dampened and held down by another force. Scraps are all i have left of my once overwhelming power. It’s pressed down, either by a powerful fae or by a drug such as faebane.

A cool hand tilts my chin upwards and I let out a weak snarl, trying to tilt my head away in a pitiful attempt to get away. The person chuckles, as though finding my attempt to scare him away funny. The male in front of me presses a soft kiss to my lips, one hand keep my chin in place and the other stroking my hair. I shudder, but I’m too weak to pull away. He leans away finally, still stroking my hair, but his other hand moves to my cheek and caresses the unbroken skin there. I realise, that although I’ve been tortured to the point of unconsciousness, not one cut or bruise or burn scars my face. The male must see the realisation, or read my mind, because he laughs softly, amused.

“We couldn’t mark such a pretty little face like that” he cooes, enjoying toying around with me, seeing the fear creeping into my face, my anger and defiance dissolving.

Bella?

My mind drifts to the familiar voice that passes through the rubble of my mental shields, and the male notices my attention shift. He invades my mind once again, eyes narrowing, passing through the shields I desperately try to put up with what little power I still have.

Bella please

The voice pleads. Not the male in front of me. Another voice. Pinewood and citrus. The ocean. Home. I wonder dimly, how long the voice has been calling out for me, without a response. I wonder how long he’s been calling out to my unconscious mind, going crazy with worry. All at once, the memories rush down. The battle. Rhys. The kidnapping. The torture.

Rhys?

I manage to send back, the effort making my body sag. My voice, even in my mind, is exhausted and laced in pain. I hear the male laugh in my mind, the violation making me shudder. It’s like he’s mocking my poor attempt. Like he knows i won’t be able to tell rhys anything important before he interrupts me and my brother

Bella.

Rhys says into my mind, voice relieved.

Where are you? Are you okay?

He questions instantly, his tone back to one of worry.

I’m scared rhys

i manage to whisper back, my voice sounding childish. Broken and scared.

Bella, where are you?

He asks urgently

I’m-

the male steps in, interrupting the conversation in my own mind, cutting me off.

She’s more than okay, High Lord

He croons in my mind, to Rhys.

who the fuck are you?

Rhys snarls, his anger invading my senses, even with what’s probably all of Prythian between us.

and why are you in my sister’s mind?

The male smiles at me as though he expected this, lazy and amused, his teeth glinting, as he sees the pure undiluted terror on my face and the trembling of my body under his touch. My eyes are wide and afraid, and pleading. In response to rhys’ question, the daemati in front of me sends Rhys a mental image of me, chained between two walls, stripped bare to undergarments that aren’t mine. My wings bleed and droop, resting against the cold marble floor, stained in my blood, my body littered with cuts and bruises and burns. He caresses my cheek, the soft gesture making me sick, and I’m sure he’s still showing Rhys my state, because he tilts my head upwards sharply, my red rimmed, crying and afraid eyes meeting his own. Into his mind. Where I’m sure Rhys is looking down at me through the male’s eyes.

Let’s talk, High Lord.

The daemati says, grinning cruelly.

[animezinglife]

Late Nights in Summer

Lucien tends to Elain after she has a bit too much to drink.

Genre: Fluff/Romance/Subtle Angst. Mild suggestive humor (brief). Post-canon, established relationship Elucien fic | Masterlist Simple, fun little one-shot I wanted to get off my chest. Briefly-mentioned OC. Thank you as always to @lucienarcheron, @zenkindoflove, @crazy-ache, @teddyhoneybear, and @thelov3lybookworm for their continued support.

Lucien wasn’t sure what to expect when Tarquin had called him in about Elain, but it hadn’t taken him long to figure out. With one glance he'd known: her hair and the clothes she’d worn out with Cresseida disheveled, head resting on the pillow of Cresseida’s sofa, and snoring.

Loudly.

The princess of Adriata stood behind where his mate lay and raised her hands in mock surrender.

“I told her to slow down,” she said, and Lucien smirked, crossing the room and kneeling at the side of the sofa. Elain wasn’t accustomed to drinking to begin with, much less the strong, deceptively sweet drinks of Summer that could take a fully grown male out of commission if he didn’t pace himself. Despite her snoring, though, Elain’s face was serene, and he brushed a strand of her hair off her face and tucked it behind her ear. 

She snorted in response. Cresseida bit back a laugh.

Resting a hand on her shoulder, he glanced up at the princess. During his and Elain’s earlier visits to Summer together, Cresseida had acted aloof towards his mate, keeping a distance and not going much farther than to offer her the usual, courtly formalities. It had bothered him even though he’d quickly pieced together that it hadn’t been personal–more of a lingering suspicion towards the Night Court in general. Yet over time Elain had thoroughly charmed Cresseida and Tarquin both, and this wasn’t the first time they had explored Adriata’s nightlife together. Though it was the first time they had left the males behind altogether, on account of “Welcoming Acelia to the family!” as the princess had put it.

“Where’s Acelia?” he asked, and the princess rolled her eyes, her smile softening slightly.

“Where do you think?” she asked, and Lucien nodded in understanding, knowing the small female had been returned home to Tarquin safely. The High Lord’s mate was as small as Elain in stature, though as a Summer native herself, he suspected she’d fared better than his own. 

“Thank you,” he said quietly, and the princess nodded once as he gently turned Elain and lifted her into his arms. Even though the sweet scent of Summer booze was strong, her own scent of jasmine and honey still filled him, and as if in response to his nearness she stirred awake, their bond humming as her eyelids fluttered open. She pulled herself closer and nuzzled his neck, and at Cresseida’s amused expression, he said his goodbyes and winnowed them back to their quarters.

Elain had been ecstatic about their guest suite, its walls invisible from within and facing the sea. The wards that protected the room from the elements and external threats only allowed the fresh, gentle breeze and sounds of the waves to flow through. Vines with tropical flora wove their way around the columns of warded wall, the view extending out uninterrupted to their terrace and private bath with edges that seemed to drop into the ocean itself.

They’d spent most of their previous night there and most of the following morning in bed. Time seemed to move more slowly in the Summer Court, and while Tarquin himself was a punctual high lord and a gracious host, it was rare that any among his court rushed on a daily basis.

Lucien and Elain had found themselves thoroughly enjoying that fact.

Presently, he smirked as her nuzzling turned into a long, wet kiss, and he carried her towards the bed and sat her down gently. His mate propped herself up lazily as he knelt to remove her shoes, and he didn’t miss the heat in her gaze as her hand found his hair.

“I love this view,” she slurred dreamily, and Lucien allowed himself to glance up at her, the corners of his lips twitching upwards. 

“They did give us the best suite in Summer,” he quipped, and she shook her head, steading herself with her grip on his hair and leaning down closer. Fruit and rum danced on her breath as she met his eyes, focusing on that scent to distract himself from the way her legs parted before him. 

“Not that,” she said, her cheeks flushing beyond the effects of the booze. “I like you right here.” Her voice emphasized the last two words with a suggestiveness Lucien was certain she would’ve had more reservation making had she been sober. He held her gaze as he slid off her sandals, his hands tracing up her legs lightly until they rested on the sides of her knees. He moved them together gently, resting one hand atop them and smoothing down the hem of her skirt that had risen from the motion with the other.

“If only you hadn’t had so much to drink,” he teased, pressing his lips to her exposed knee. “I’d stay here as long as you liked.” 

“I’m not that drunk,” she insisted, wavering slightly as he rose and sat down on the bed beside her. 

“Sure, you aren’t,” he said gently, brushing her hair over her shoulder and reaching for the pins in her hair. She always took them out before bed, and as he started on them one by one, she swayed slightly and rested her head into his touch. The warm caress she sent down the bond didn’t surprise him–what did was the sharp tug that followed, so strong it pulled his body towards hers in response. He raised a brow as she giggled, angling herself so she could place her hands on either side of his face. She leaned into him so closely he could taste her breath on his own, her eyes narrowing slightly…and trying desperately to focus. He spoke again as her gaze lingered over his mouth, allowing a fraction of defeat. “You’re not making this easy, love.” 

It amused him, this once-human mate of his who’d surprised him more times than he could count. Whether from her resilience, her warmth, her wit, or her sharp tongue, there hadn’t been a dull moment with Elain Archeron ever since they’d begun to know each other.

There was no doubt to any who saw her that Elain was High Fae: she was beautiful–devastatingly so--and the gentle, warm power that had lay dormant for so long seemed to glow from within her even now. But it wasn’t that fact alone that made it impossible for Lucien to take his eyes off her; hadn’t been from the moment he’d first seen her the day she’d been Made.

It was the vibrant spark in her fawn-brown eyes–the innately, undeniably human spark that had held him in its grip and refused to let him go. 

Even now, despite her current state, its embers shined through, holding him there as she lightly traced his jawline.

His nose.

His mouth.

His eyes fluttered closed as her fingertips found his scar, gently brushing over his eyelid and resting her thumb against the height of his cheekbone–where the scar met its greatest depth. 

Lucien had hated that scar for a long time. He’d considered glamouring it; had once even sought information on healers who might be able to rid him of the disfigurement. 

He had wondered–despite his senses and intuition telling him otherwise–if that scar and his eye had been partly to blame for the distance Elain had initially put between them. Though those fears had long since proven a fragment of his own insecurities and vanished, and when Elain had asked him to tell her the story behind it, he’d done so. He wouldn’t have blamed her for running–not when she’d already been given a bond she’d never asked for.

And yet…

Lucien didn’t stop her as she leaned closer still, closing the distance between them to press a kiss to the spot her thumb had lingered. Despite himself, he sighed into her touch; her scent. He let her fingers find his hair again as she ran them through his red strands and accepted the chaste, lingering kiss she placed at the corner of his mouth.

“Kiss me,” she murmured against his lips, tugging lightly at his hair in encouragement. “Please, Lucien.” 

Something in her tone sobered him, and his eyes opened slowly to take her in. Of course he wanted to kiss her. He wanted to kiss her and never stop, giving in fully to their bond–to her–and tangle with her in bed until they were both spent and had nothing left to give. 

There would be time for that, and he thanked the Mother every day for the time they spent together.

For now, he could oblige her one request.

Gently resting his hand beneath her chin, he closed the distance between them again. He savored the kiss she returned, tasting the drink on her lips and at the scent that so potently warmed to him as her body called to his. But as she tried to part his lips he stopped, forcing himself to break it and instead place another long, chaste version against her temple. “I’ll always kiss you,” he murmured, and she hummed against him and slid her hand over his heart. He covered her hand in his, feeling their heartbeats move in sync. 

He wanted her. He always wanted her, whether he kissed her or made love to her or simply felt her presence near.

But he would only have her when it was fully her choice and nothing could blur those lines between them. He'd made that decision long ago, even though it would have never been a question to begin with.

Elain knew as much. He could sense it now as some conscious part of her seemed to withdraw slightly, even if it did nothing to stifle either of their want.

She tilted her head and met his gaze, the embers like sunlight dancing in her eyes again. This time, the spark and feeling she sent down the bond were playful.

A dare.

A private, blissful challenge.

“Tomorrow,” she said, tapping a finger against his chest. He felt his smirk return as her blush deepened. “When I’ve slept this off, I want more than a kiss. I want you."

He didn’t bother to jest or retort, and instead pressed another peck to her lips. 

“It’s a deal.” 

[valentiinexo]

noticed something on my acofas reread that adds to the thought that it wasn’t elains black dress that was the issue, it was actually hewn city:

“There was no light in this place. There never had been. Even the evergreen garlands, holly wreaths, and crackling birchwood fires in honor of Solstice couldn’t pierce the eternal darkness that dwelled in the Hewn City. It was not the sort of darkness that Mor had come to love in Velaris, the sort of darkness that was as much a part of Rhys as his blood. It was the darkness of rotting things, of decay. The smothering darkness that withered all life.” (acofas chapter 6)

now let’s compare that to what was said about her in acosf:

“Elain in black was ridiculous. Yes, she was beautiful, but the color of her long-sleeved, modest gown leeched the brightness from her face…It sucked the life from her.”

suspicious how similar those are. what’s going on with hewn city that’s being hinted at here?

[llamagirl28]

Another BG3-related ask: who would the BoC ROs pursue if they’re playing BG3? 👀

Oooh fun!

Elaine - Karlach

Isac - Lae'zel

Sofie - Astarion

Agravain - Shadowheart

Gawain - Wyll

Galahad - Shadowheart

Nimue - Astarion

This is more of, who would they pursue on a first playthrough because all of them would take an interest in multiple characters lol

[acourtoflight]

“No, but we need to summon Lucien,” Azriel said, just a shade tightly, as if he didn’t like it one bit.

[unlikelysaintdelele]

I am 63% of the way through Part 1 of ACOSF on the graphic audio (it's 32% in the full ebook). I just got past the scene where Nesta snaps at Elain and says something along the lines of "You're finally becoming interesting." I don't know if I just don't remember this being mentioned before or if it has genuinely been glossed over in the fandom but... Elain offered to find the dread trove? She just came in and said she'd do it? There was no hesitation from her.

I don't recall hearing about this and I feel like this alone is so telling of her character and her future that surely someone would have pointed it out already. I mostly see people posting about her response to Nesta, calling her sister out, but not about the fact that she said she'd look for the dread trove. Actually, it seems like Elain was determined to track it down before Nesta even stepped into the meeting, based on Feyre's response.

Elain has grown so much since being made. How do people find her boring? She wants to be an active part of the Night Court and the world around her. Better yet, she is not backing down from Nesta's wrath, she is holding her ground. She is not weak just because she is soft. Her willingness to fight, in her own way, tells me of her strength, and of the potential for her to be a main character.

I am so excited for her book, I want to tear my skin off.

[feyrescourt]

When will the EL’s see the transparent ass parallel between rhys’s parent’s bond snapping moment, and el*cien’s…..

[badly-drawn-bbu]

Idea: Billie purposely singing Christmas songs with very different lyrics from the original.

BDBBU Holiday Spectacular 2023 PT. 12!

prev // next

[ennawrite]

How similar are Ruhn & Azriel’s shadows?

Because despite having trauma from fire(light), Ruhn’s shadows never hid from Lidia(light).

In fact, there’s the whole dream thing where it shows us how well shadows & light can work together. But we don’t get that from Azriel and a certain character who’s been described as light so many times.

I fear that Azriel’s shadows disappearing around her isn’t a good thing. His shadows are a part of him, just like Ruhn’s are a part of him. I think if Ruhn’s shadows balked at Lidia, we would have gotten a whole different story about them lol

Anyways, the point is, Azriel shouldn’t have to lose a part of himself to be with Elain. He shouldn’t have to lose his powers to be with her. It just doesn’t make sense imo

His shadows make him a good spymaster, they help him gain intel and drift through places unnoticed. They’ve been with him for five hundred years. Who would he be without his shadows?

[rosenecklaces]

speaking of made up shit the obsession with Rhys little death sister is such an effect happening in this fanbase that I don't get. First of all why can't she just rest and stop being paired to a living breathing grown ass man she most likely didn't even met that much and second why is people cosplaying as her in self insert fanfics. is there a fandom mass grieving tradition that I'm missing or

[gwandas]

Your last reblog about Gwyn being what some people think Elain is... people are confusing "soft" with "not a warrior". Literally all of the women in acotar are feminine and soft. Sarah doesn't write masculine, muscular women (especially if they're going to be promoted to main characters).

Aelin is a great example. She spent her whole life physically training to be an assassin yet she can put on a pretty dress and pass off as a lady. Wouldn't anyone wonder why this lady is a little bit muscular? No, because she isn't.

Elain is just the only one that's not a warrior (though I'd argue that Feyre has stepped back from that, too). It's fine to like that about her, I'm really getting annoyed by training scenes tbh (mainly because I just don't understand shit in them lol), but to claim Elain is the only "soft" and "feminine" character in the series is just... stupid?

Some of her stans making these passive-agressive posts about "protect soft/feminine women" and "sooooo different, she's not picking up a weapon" is giving "not like the other girls energy". There's plenty of authors who write female characters that are not warriors, but they wont read them because they want to bitch and moan that authors (the 5-6 authors they pay attention to) don't write "soft" characters for them.

I agree 100%. Even Nesta, while not soft, is still feminine and it is insane to me anyone would claim otherwise. Book 1 Feyre is the only time an acotar female character wasn’t traditionally feminine and that got snuffed out immediately in acomaf.

I side eye the conversation around Elain so hard. The obsession with the “soft/feminine” characterization turns me off bc they act like it would be this subversive, interesting choice from SJM when… it’s not. Not only would it not be new from SJM, there’s nothing subversive about a female character performing the societal expectation for women. It honestly reads as conservative tradwife rhetoric to me most of the time.

[tilseptemberends]

Feeling especially frustrated by the hypocrisy of e/riels telling eluciens that they give Elain no choice in her own life by shipping her with Lucien. Meanwhile, they'll shove every bit of agency she has in the actual series out of their minds.

Even if something isn't directly e/riel they draw her with Truthteller, a blade that she had to be talked into taking and immediately gave back without a second thought. Or with the necklace from the bonus chapter. A gift that she gave back after the person who tried to give it to her told her TO HER FACE that their moment together had been a mistake. (And I don't blame her for giving it back, I would have been super hurt if I were in that position.)

I used to like E/riel. I'm a multi-shipper, I have no problem enjoying tons of ships with the same characters just swapped around. But trying to enjoy e/riel is exhausting. Why do some things in canon count while others don't? Why insist that Elain has a choice while going out of your way to make Azriel the only choice?

And they'll attack other characters in the series for no reason. I was shocked when I found out that people were hating on Gwyn. I really connected with her story so it really hurt to see people trashing on her for the sake of a fictional relationship.

If you are going to insist on giving Elain a choice, then stop taking away her other options. These are fictional characters, if you don't like what happens in the book then I promise there is fan art and fanfiction out there for you. I can think of a ton of ships that I enjoy well after they were firmly made not conon by the media they come from.

[shardminds]

all is for love, is for mind

pairing: elain archeron x lucien vanserra rating: g for god this is tame wc: 1k and a bit also available on ao3!

warnings: literally none, this is sappy as hell (some mention of canon typical past 'trauma' i.e. greysen, hyburn, the aftermath etc)

Lulled by the song of the wind as it called through the valley, Elain watched the clouds form impossible shapes, carried on the same breeze that cooled her heated skin, and asked the only question she had left. “What does love feel like?”

a/n: wrote this between flu med induced naps. you’re welcome. canon in the way that i took actual canon outside and shot it then rifled through its chest like a crone trying to divine the future but then only keeping the parts i needed to write this. if you see any typos, that's on me.

Somewhere between the border of Summer and Autumn, in a sprawling tall grass meadow littered with wildflower blooms that swayed to the cool breeze, Elain thought of only one thing. 

A simple question, really. Elementary to most. She thought she had the answer once. But old memories seen through human eyes had turned tattered around the edges in her mind, like sketches touched too many times, her fingers dark with charcoal smudges every time she dared to think on them too long. Tainted by the actions that followed — Hyburn, the Cauldron, the dark. Each time she saw a little less, each day she missed them a little more. 

She’d been happy, as a human. After their fortune returned and favour saw fit to grace them again — she knew now of its origin, how the glamour of belonging had shadowed all else. Part of her wanted to thank Tamlin. Another, less familiar part, would only ever crave his suffering. Perhaps she felt the dark ache of guilt about it now, knowing the suffering Feyre endured to ensure her ignorance, but she had been happy before Hyburn came — happy and blissfully unaware of circumstances beyond the wall. 

Her garden thrived, she found comfort in old friends and new, a good man she adored knelt before her father to ask for her hand. Life was simple then. She gave everything she had to Greysen beneath groaning boughs of ash trees, in the circle of his arms, skirts pushed to her waist. Rough scratch of gnarled roots against her back, the only memory that hadn’t faded with time. To touch the smooth bark of those same trees now— Elain had many regrets. 

And then there was this; a life she’d never asked for, that she’d never wanted. Irrevocably changed in the dark waters of creation. Everything she had, ripped away to nothing. She never saw that garden bear fruit, her friends never enquired after her (not that she would ever know), and her betrothed — his eyes held such violence as he tore out her heart and threw it to her feet, wet and thumping. 

Those memories were still fresh, in all their visceral clarity. 

A warm cloak, chestnuts and bonfires and petrichor, auburn and russet and gold. Mate he said, the most beautiful male she’d ever seen, as if the word meant anything in the wake of such encompassing loss. 

At first, it was darkness. Impenetrable. Elain could barely move with it. And then, a heartbeat. It followed her like a shadow, in the walls, in the floor, seeping through the stone to taunt her every moment, both sleeping and waking. But she could not bring herself to resent it, as much as she longed to. 

Her mind told her stories, a great many tales, of things that had and could and would happen. Faces and locations unfamiliar to her plagued her fitful dreams. There was no shaking them. 

She was cared for like glass. An object so delicate, as if to speak too loudly would shatter her completely.  

Through it all, he was there. In her head, in her dreams, a chord weaved taught between her ribs. She avoided him, and yet he stayed. She sought the favour of another, but he never wavered. He listened when others did not, fought for her cause whilst others watched helplessly as she wasted away. Even when he wasn’t there, Elain could see him, feel him, in the visions the dark had gifted her on her rebirth. 

Once, she’d seen him visit her father’s grave. Kneeling, he placed four white chrysanthemums in the dirt. The vision drifted, as they often did, into something else, but Elain was haunted by those flowers. Grieving flowers. The stark white of them against dark earth such a bright contrast in the starlight. They’d arrived at the battle together, their acquaintance obviously a result of that, but why? For her? For himself? 

She had Rhysand take her there the next morning, only to be met by four wilted stems at the foot of the headstone. 

Rhysand held her as she cried. Her sister’s mate, for all his faults, at least understood this.

The next time he arrived, announced by Cassian as they entered the river house, Elain sought him out, like a sunflower to the sun. Resisting such gravity was impossible, as much as she’d once tried. Whatever this was, whatever it could be, she wanted to try again. Thankfully, the rest came easily. 

Lulled by the song of the wind as it called through the valley, Elain watched the clouds form impossible shapes, carried on the same breeze that cooled her heated skin, and asked the only question she had left. 

“What does love feel like?” 

Lucien Vanserra, in all his sun-kissed glory, rolled to his side to face her, head resting on his palm. His golden eye caught by the light, glinting with promise.

“What do you mean, Elain?” 

“To love, or be loved,” she said, shifting to meet his gaze. “How does it feel?”

A furrow formed in his brow, never marring the beauty of him. Not even his scars had the power to do that. She doubted anything would. “Don’t you know?”

She turned away, back to the clouds overhead and their mercurial patterns. Yes? No? Her love for her sisters was sometimes fraught with tension, with too many things they hadn’t quite forgiven yet, but it was better than it ever was before — more equal, more permanent. The love she once had for Graysen had been relief, to be wanted after such hardship had been a gift at the time, but his cruelty had revealed it for what it was; possession. She loved the Inner Circle in their own way — their acceptance of her into their family in the wake of such devastation was a kindness she had never been afforded as a human, but they did not know her past the surface. She did not want to be a fragile thing forever. She didn’t want to be fragile at all. 

Lucien, for some reason, felt different. Lucien and his patience, his understanding. He saw through the veils she hid behind and did not flinch away. He gave her space when she needed, fought when she wanted, and took her from the dark place she’d been secluded to, partially by her own merit. He’d shown her Summer, Spring and Autumn. Winter, Dawn and Day. Velaris was beautiful, truly, but it did not feel like home. At least, not without him. 

She felt the bond simmering between them, a golden thread of light binding two souls. It begged to be acknowledged, accepted. She thought about it often, these days. How easy it would be to hand him a still-warm pastry — crisp apples wrapped in a choux crust, topped with almond flakes — and kiss him after, sugar sweet and breathless. How easy it would be to kiss him at all. 

“Elain.”  He said, soft palm meeting her cheek, easing it to face him once more. His russet eye full of something intangible, like if she tried to catch it, it would slip between her fingers like smoke. 

“Hmm?” 

“Like this,” He smiled, softly. “Love feels like this.”

[bookofmirth]

I've searched literally every ask I've gotten in the past three years because I know I've said it before and I wanted to reblog it, but:

Elain is not the only person who can find/wield Dread Trove items. She never has been. The main requirement for finding Dread Trove items is being Made - it is not related to specific powers. So who is Made?

Elain

Nesta

Feyre

Amren

Miryam

Amren and Miryam's circumstances are a little different, but they were all Made if different ways - Elain and Nesta in the Cauldron, Feyre by the High Lords, Amren made herself, and Miryam... I forget and don't really care. The only reason Feyre didn't try to find the mask and harp in acosf is because she was pregnant. She is still alive and can still find/use those objects, because she is still Made. The main reason that Elain didn't try to find/wield those objects in acosf, despite offering, is because Nesta and Az prevented her.

The point is that all of these characters are Made, and are still Made, and Elain is in no way the only person who can find and/or use these objects.