#the first Lord of the court

[illyrianbitch]

Of Our Own Devices

For @erisweekofficial Day 1: Bargains

Pairing: Reader x Eris

Summary: Desperate to reunite with Lucien since his exile to Spring, you find yourself paying an unexpected price to his older brother.

Warnings: some mentions of death & injury, swearing, spitfire reader and a cunty eris. <3

Word Count: 3.2k

Part Two

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

The storm had rolled in with frightening speed.

It was one of the rarer, powerful storms of Autumn. The type that caused the sky to turn to charcoal, produced lightning that illuminated the canopy of fall leaves and made them seem like flickering, live fires. 

You stumbled into the dimly lit cabin, drenched from the rain that had come pouring down in sheets. The cabin was one you had never seen before— a hidden refuge of Eris’s that you weren't aware existed. Despite its small size, it was surprisingly beautiful, furnished with deep, velvety fabrics. Eris had pulled you into the home without a word. 

Crossing your arms across your chest, you turned to him, watching as he shed his outer layer and hung it on a hook near the door. He moved to the cold, empty fireplace next, and with a flick of his fingers, he summoned a flame from his hand.  The flame danced briefly in his palm before he extended it toward the blackened wood in the hearth. 

Seconds later, a crackling sound filled the room, bringing the fire to life and filling the space with a warm, golden glow. Eris watched the flames for a moment. Then he stood up, facing you once more. 

"You promised me I'd be in Spring by tonight," you said. 

Eris tsked, brushing past you as he sat himself on a velvet, red couch. His scent lingered in the air—a smoky, strong aroma. A shiver ran through your body. You attributed the reaction to the influence of the rain on your warm skin. 

He didn't bother to meet your eye as he responded. "I promised no such thing. I said I'd take you to Spring tonight."

"Then take me."

He raised a brow and for a moment, you almost expected him to make a childlike comment, a brutish joke about the sentiment those words could hold outside of the context. But he didn't. His eyes, however, told you that he was thinking about it. It was unnerving, how you could read him so well, how years at Lucien's side had come with an unexpected consequence: becoming familiar with his brothers, too.

"It's a storm. Winnowing is risky in this weather," he said smoothly, voice as cool as ever. "I’m not risking both our lives just because you're impatient."

The wind howled outside the cabin, rattling the wooden shutters as you took a deep breath— in through your nose, out through your mouth. The eldest Vanserra noticed the frustration immediately, and your efforts to calm yourself dissipated as a small smirk tugged at the corners of his lips.

“I’m not staying here,” you snapped. “I’ll walk if I have to.”

At first glance, the couch appeared almost pristine, but as the firelight grew and you paid closer attention, you could make out traces of dark grey, black, and brown hairs—the hair of his hounds.  The detail settled somewhere inside you. You weren't sure where.

“If you do that, you’ll either die of exposure or run into my father’s men. Either way, not a great plan.”

You froze, your hands tightening around the fabric of your cloak as you grasped your arms, fingernails digging into the material. “So my options are to stay here with you or die?”

He shrugged lazily, but the motion still held a sense of regality to it, an eerily elegant form. It made you even angrier.

“Seems so," he said, a smile forming on his lips. It was as warm and genuine as a snake’s kiss, much like the disarming charm you had come to expect from Eris.

You'd never spent this long with him alone, never needed to manage his calculated gaze or purposely chosen words without the buffer of Lucien. You would've gladly gone your entire immortal life without doing so. But you missed Lucien— your heart ached without him, longed to be near him, to have his laugh echo in your ears. And this was the only way to be with him again, even for a few days.

And Eris knew that. He knew it all. You assumed it was why he bothered to take you in the first place. It gave him the pleasure of knowing he had power– control.

Your blood boiled.

“Are you enjoying this?” You stormed toward him, standing over the couch as he stretched, clearly unbothered by the storm—or your anger. “Trapping me here, knowing I have no choice.”

“Trapping you?” He laughed softly, sitting up slightly to meet your gaze. “You came to me, Vixen. If you want to go, the door’s right there.”

The sound of the wind howling through the trees outside made his offer ring hollow. You struggled to rummage through your thoughts, through the anger, frustration, and disgust that he managed to stir in you.

The stupid, stupid nickname was all you could focus on, now. Memories of a younger you flooded your senses, memories of a younger Eris, one much less rigid, much more open, almost. An Eris you crushed on. You'd never admit the truth to anyone— that the reason you and Lucien had become so close, despite your natural connection, was because once upon a time, he was glued to his older brothers hip. And so you'd glued yourself to Lucien's.

Eventually, the years evened things out, and your feelings flowed from the eldest Vanserra to the kindest one. To Lucien.

Lucien. Your mind reminded you. This was for Lucien. Don't piss Eris off, don't ruin your chances at seeing him again. Don't engage—

"Stop calling me that, you arrogant prick."

Your hands dropped to your sides, instinctively curling into fists as Eris peered at you with a burning, amused stare. His amber eyes gleamed like a predator toying with its prey.

"I see Lucien's absence has impacted your ability to maintain that temper. Those breathing exercises not working well for you?"

Something twisted deep in your gut.

"Now that I think about it, I think I'll take my chances with the storm."

Before you could make a move to leave, Eris was standing, his chest now inches away from you as he peered down at you. You didn't move, then, only straightened your shoulders and met his gaze.

Eris wasn’t the beefy, broad-shouldered type that other males in the court might have been. He didn’t have large, bulging muscles meant to intimidate. Instead, he was a lean kind of strong, with a pointed nose and sharp features that cut through the dim light of the cabin. He exuded a different kind of intimidation, one that stemmed from his inherent authority and the staunchness of his posture. He carried himself like a prince—elegant and commanding, every inch of him a testament to his future role.

Beron was merely keeping the throne warm until Eris was ready to claim it for himself.

"We both know you're not going to do that."

You tightened your fists further. "And why not?"

"Because you aren't stupid, Y/n."

Eris cocked his head, his eyes narrowing as he studied your face with a cold, calculating gaze. His features were sharp and chiseled, the faintest freckles dotting his high cheekbones. 

"You're not going to risk losing your chance to see Lucien."

 He leaned down and his breath fanned your face, warm and mingling with the scent of cedar and smoke. His eyes danced across your face, moving from holding your gaze to traveling further down, lingering on your lips—on the scowl you wore on them—before he met your eyes again. The fire's flames grew larger, consuming the oxygen in the air that had already seemed to be thinning. 

You said nothing as he continued, "Uncurl those fists, take that soaked cloak off, and wait. "

You stayed quiet, taking a deep breath before you stepped to the side, purposefully brushing your shoulder against his broad chest as you moved. Despite your urge to resist him out of spite, you reluctantly removed your cloak and tossed it on the clean floor of the cabin.

Eris scoffed. "Really? Must you act like a child?"

The floorboards cracked as he walked and, faintly, he mumbled something about how his hounds were better mannered. Eris picked up your cloak, dusting it off with a gentle hand before hanging it up next to his own.

"I'm curious," he began, glancing over his shoulder as he walked towards the couch. "Does Lucien know?"

You glared at him. You were growing tired now, the exhaustion of the trip slowly growing deep in your bones.

"What are you talking about?"

Eris smirked, his gaze lingering on you with a knowing glint as he settled back on the couch. "I'm talking about how you're in love with my sweet, sweet little brother."

You stiffened, a wave of emotion crashing over you—cold and awakening, a nauseating mix of embarrassment and fury. 

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Eris's face remained insufferably composed, a cocky grin playing at his lips. His eyes gleamed with a self-satisfied spark.

"No need to lie. It's just us two here," he purred. "I've always enjoyed how honest we can be with one another. It's why I preferred you over Jesminda."

A sharp, uncontrollable heat seared through every nerve in your body, a wave of anger surging like a wildfire.

"Keep her name out of your mouth."

It felt like a disgrace to have him say it, to hear her name immortalized on the tongue of the brother that allowed her to die. The brother that had killed her, according to Lucien. His sobs still echoed in your mind, the image of a broken male etched into your memory. You'd had only five minutes with him before he fled, five minutes of frenzied packing, desperate promises, and anguished confessions of what his father—and his brothers—had done.

Eris's gaze lingered as he analyzed you.

A beat passed.

Then another.

You were beginning to feel naked, as if he had stripped you of every defense you'd managed to muster around him. You turned away, unable to bear the weight of his stare any longer.

"I didn't kill her. I didn’t help.”

Your face went slack, caught off guard and momentarily confused. You pulled yourself together quickly, straightening your back, hoping he hadn’t noticed your reaction.  As you turned a little, your face almost sad now, you could’ve sworn you saw something in his eyes—something akin to regret, maybe even compassion.

Your voice was low, not bothering to hide the sadness, mourning, the raw anger, as you responded.

“I don’t believe you.”

The trace of care in his gaze vanished as he shrugged, the same indifferent gesture he’d made earlier. “Have I ever lied to you?”

You stared at him, taking him in with the same analyzing gaze he'd offered you. 

It was strange how alike he and Lucien looked, how alike yet so different all the same. But the longer you stared, the more you began to feel stuck— hypnotized, tempted to walk closer to him, to ask him what it was that went on in his mind, what caused those flickers of emotions you couldn't name across his face. 

But another moment passed, and all you could see was a male who Lucien hated, a male who was selfish, who reveled in the pain caused by chaos.  Your mind drifted to other rumors and stories you’d heard about him. You settled on one in particular. 

"You left an innocent female to die in the woods because she didn't want to mary you. Butchering your brother's lover doesn't seem outside of your past-times."

A cold shift washed over Eris’s face. His disinterested expression hardened into a mask of disappointment, then flared into a simmering anger. It was a contained fury, like a finely tuned flame.

"Don't tell me you believe the lies of Night Court trash. Surely you're smarter than that. I know you are."

"Fuck you," you snarled. "You know nothing about me. I'm not going to let you play some twisted mind games with me. I'm not a doll."

He shook his head. "You are not."

A beat. Then a smirk grew on his lips. "But you are just as pretty as one, if we're still being honest. You're wasted in your one-sided love, Y/n."

You said nothing, turning to walk to the other side of the cabin. The corner held a bookshelf with carefully arranged volumes, a finely crafted wooden table, and a collection of artifacts on the windowsill.

Eris just laughed behind you, a sound so smooth and soothing that it felt sinful against your skin.

You resisted the temptation to snoop, to explore the cabin and bask in the rare vulnerability of the brother who had always captivated you in the most wretched of ways. It felt strange seeing him like this—relaxed, almost at ease— as if simply crossing the threshold of this modest cabin had stripped away the invisible chains and burdens only a prince could bear.

You stayed still and stared out the window, focusing on the sounds of the storm. You hoped that the rain would drown out the sounds of his breathing— sounds that rang too loud in your mind. You didn't want to know why he seemed to do that, why he lingered so deeply in your head. 

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

The storm raged on for a few more hours.

The time was spent in tense silence—at least for you. Eris remained on the couch, reading through a novel about the history of the continent. You would've never thought him to enjoy such a thing, to want to know about those outside of his court, of mortals, humans, no less.

And when the rain finally stopped, he rose wordlessly. With a brief gesture toward your cloak, he led you out, winnowing you the rest of the way in silence.

When you finally reached the border of Spring, a wave of relief washed over you.

The vibrant greens of the new season were almost blinding after the gloom of the storm. You took a step forward, eager to escape the tension that had gripped you for hours. You'd be with Lucien soon, be able to hug him, to tell him of all the things he'd missed in your life since his exile. 

But before you could move any further, Eris's hand closed around your arm. You turned to him with a glare, meeting his glowing gaze and infuriatingly calm smile.

“Are we forgetting payment?”

You strengthened your glare, gritting your teeth before you pulled yourself out of his grasp, reaching for the small bag hidden within your layers. 

Eris stopped you with a casual wave. “I don’t want your money.”

You stiffened, straightening your posture. The sounds of Spring echoed behind you, their vibrant melodies almost taunting as you lingered on the border. Eris’s smile shifted into a smirk, his eyes glinting with something dangerous, something that made you swallow instinctively. 

“I’m surprised you didn’t ask sooner.”

You thought back to how he had offered to take you to Lucien, how this entire arrangement had been his idea. You should've held back, should've been more wary of his motives. But you'd been too excited, been too blinded by the joy of being with Lucien once more. 

“What do you want, Eris?” 

He took a moment to take you in fully, eyes scanning you from head to toe, and then he took a small step back.

“A bargain,” he finally said.

 “A bargain?” 

He nodded. “You will not tell Lucien it was me who brought you here.”

You frowned, a crease forming between your brows as you blinked at the male before you. Perhaps you'd heard him wrong. “What?”

“If he asks, you’ll say you bought off a hunter in Autumn, a mercenary. Whatever you’d like,” Eris continued.

You drew your brows tighter. 

“I thought you'd want to revel in the fact that he might somehow owe you. Prove your power, even."

Eris shrugged nonchalantly. “Then maybe you don’t know me as well as you’d like to think.”

He extended his hand, his palm open and the gleam of his ring-clad fingers catching the light. You hesitated for a moment, body still stiff with unease, with confusion. 

You scanned his face. Eris loved played games. This was no different. There was no point in reading into it. So you rolled your eyes and prepared to shake on it, reaching for his hand.  He pulled it slightly out of reach.

“What now?” You groaned.

He hummed in amusement.

“And when I come to get you to return to Autumn, I want your help.”

You raised a brow. “My help?” you asked, incredulously. "How the hell would I ever be able to help you?"

Your family had no title, no powers beyond a tame ability to fight and heal. You survived in Autumn because you were ordinary—and ordinary meant no one looked for you. Noticed you. 

“I want to call in a favor,” he clarified.

“What favor?"

"We'll see," Eris said with a smile and a tilt of his head. “I think you could help me out dearly."

You let his words settle for a moment. His eyes, glistening with a dangerous glow, seemed to hold something predatory, something that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. There must've been an underlying threat in his proposition, something sinister you had yet to notice. After all, he was a male known for his ruthlessness— 

You stiffened.

He was a male. There was one easy way for males to assert their dominance, to gain pleasure, to accept payment. 

You took a step back instinctively and Eris’s gaze tracked your movement before returning to meet your eyes. A shadow flickered in his eyes, reminiscent of the dark, unsettlingly soft gleam you’d seen in his cabin when he first glimpsed your saddened expression. Seconds later, his face shifted to one of mild amusement. He rolled his eyes with an empty chuckle.

“Settle yourself, Y/n. Not that kind of favor. I can bed females without resorting to bargaining for their affections,” he said, his tone dripping with condescension.

A flush of embarrassment crept up your cheeks. You looked to the ground for a moment, taking a deep breath as you regained your composure. When you finally met his gaze again, he was already extending his hand towards you once more.

“A favor in the future in exchange for this time with Lucien,” he purred smoothly. “And your silence. Consider it our little secret.”

The smirk that grew on his lips was maddening and you could feel the heat of his gaze, the flickering fire of his amber eyes urging you to comply. Every instinct told you that binding yourself to him was a terrible idea.

You glanced back over your shoulder, looking to the green, sunny expanse behind you. Lucien was there, somewhere amongst the greenery, and with a simple bargain you'd be with him again. 

Without a second thought, you turned back to Eris and took his hand.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

happy eris week yall!!! rising from the dead specifically to post this lol, i fear i love this pairing so lets see if i decide i wanna write anything else for them. thank you for reading!! (i miss writing so so so much)

i might make this into a miniseries, so lmk if you’d like

to be tagged <3

permanent tag list 🫶🏻: 

@rhysandorian @itsswritten @milswrites @lilah-asteria @georgiadixon

@glam-targaryen @cheneyq @darkbloodsly @pit-and-the-pen @azrielsbbg

@evergreenlark @marina468 @azriels-human @panther-girl-124 @bubybubsters

@starswholistenanddreamsanswered @feyretopia  @ninthcircleofprythian @velariscalling @azrielrot

@justyouraveragekleemain @marigold-morelli @mrsjna @anarchiii @alittlelostalittlefound-blog

@melissat1254

@m4tthewmurd0ck @beardburnsupersoldiers @isnotwhatyourethinking @tothestarsandwhateverend @raginghellfire

[sigsfigs]

featherfowl

[thwispsings]

the idea came to me in a migraine induced dream but now im obsessed with the concept of a mu qingfang who knew the abuse bunhe was going through at the hands of og!shen qingqiu/shen jiu and did his best to treat the kid whenever he could (and bring his concerns to zhangmen shixiong, which were obviously very much ignored) and his constant worry over the situation means that when the qi deviation happens he is suspicious of shen qingqiu’s changes for all different reasons and very much protective of luo binghe -who is a sweet child and an earnest disciple who seems to always find the most incredible medicinal herbs to bring to his mu shishu as thanks for the care bestowed upon him- which means that when the whole shen qingqiu dying thing happens instead of bad mouthing luo binghe or fighting him at every chance he does his best to come over and keep an eye on things to try and help him and make sure luo binghe won’t kill himself trying to bring shen qingqiu back because he remembers that earnest kid and he’s witnessed luo binghe’s devotion to this shen qingqiu first hand and knows there is no way that the kid who cried when ning yingying found a bird with a broken wing and begged mu qingfang to fix it and the kid that would always borrow medical texts and try to find new herb combinations as if it was a game between him and qian cao disciples is actually doing anything nefarious to shen qingqiu’s corpse.

anyways in this essay i will-

[somnas-writes]

Sharing my writing on this website feels weird but

Imagine an Azriel that doesn’t exist. He’s a ghost in the eyes of the world, he isn’t known publicly, by the courts or even by his closest friends.

His job is the night courts spy, his job is to be sneaky and unknown, so why would he be a public figure? Why would there be records of his existence?

There are rumors about a male made of shadow, it’s a horror story maids tell the children of lords, so they behave. It’s an urban legend among the higher fae, the night courts monster that has no problem going undetected through your wards.

The high lords have a suspicion that a shadow spymaster exists, but they’ve never seen him nor do they have any proof.

Azriel who makes appearances as often as the planets align, whose existence is only confirmed to the Inner Circle of the night court. Even then, they rarely meet face to face, only relying messages through letters and notes.

An azriel who doesn’t exist, but desperately wants to.

[mika-no-sekai-blog]

Word count: 1900+

Warning: a bit of depressive/sad thoughts, but otherwise just fluff (I put all the action aside for next part😉)

Part VI | Part VIII

Muffled sounds from downstairs woke you up before the dawn. You were early bird, but this was too early even for you. You sat up, rubbing your eyes. Your eyelids were too heavy to keep them open. Blindly fumbling around you found a blanket and wrapped your shivering shoulders in its warmth, reluctantly dragging yourself from the bed. Yawning you went down the stairs.

"What are you doing so early?" Half of the words was swallowed by another yawn.

Golden haired male turned around in surprise, big box in his hands, another two on the table. His emerald eyes shined in excitement.

"Did I wake you up?" he smiled brightly. "I'm so sorry, I was trying to be quiet." With that smile it was hard to believe he was really sorry.

"Ughm," you curled up in your armchair, resting your head comfortably on a small pillow, and closed your eyes again.

"Happy Solstice," he hummed happily, kissing top of your head.

"Sol- what?" You were still half asleep, not fully comprehending what he was saying.

"Solstice," he laughed and put the box down next to the fireplace. "Did you forget?"

"Oh." You searched your sleepy mind. Solstice. Right. You were talking about it last night. Tamlin wanted to celebrate it with you. "Oh," you were instantly awake, your full attention trained on him. You stood up, flustered. "I'm going to change. I'll be back in a minute."

You ran up the stairs, throwing the nightgown aside you slipped into your dress and brushed your hair quickly. Heaving you returned down.

Tamlin's brows raised, amused smile decorating his handsome face. He whistled. "That's what I call speed," he laughed, the sound so beautiful that it made you smile, too.

"Don't make fun of me and show me what we are going to do," you playfully poked him, curiously examining the contents of the box he held now. You gasped. It was full of lovely and delightful red and gold coloured glass decorations. You had never seen anything like that. "Where did you take this all from?"

"Well.. about that.." he said sheepishly, reluctant to give you the answer. You reached in and carefully picked up one of the beautifully painted glass balls to examine it closely. You got your answer as soon as the slight smell of magic hit your nose. You returned it back to the box, trying hard to keep the smile on. "I wanted to surprise you and get everything ready before you get up," he said apologetic.

"That's okay," you said nervously. "Do you want a cup of tea?" You needed space. Magic was the last of the things you wanted to deal with first thing in the morning.

"You mean your delicious fragrant tea?" he was trying to lighten the situation. "Always."

With a nod you went out to get some of the herbs you picked up the other day. Since Tamlin walked into your life, you were running out of herbs faster than usual, but you didn't mind. It was a pleasure to prepare tea for somebody else, especially when the person enjoyed it. One would say that High Lord definitely preferred wine or other fancy drinks that Fae in his position inclined to, but Tamlin was eager for your ordinary tea.

Once you were out, you also checked the remaining herbs that hung under a small shelter behind the cottage, already feeling better. With a gentle smile and hand full of chamomile, mint and lemon balm you headed back. You halted on threshold, surprised.

Room was full of green garlands decorated with fairy lights, red ribbons and shiny little decorations, and in the middle of that stood Tamlin trying to hang up mistletoe on the chandelier. It was so beautiful that your pulse went up and breath caught in your throat.

Tamlin noticed you and smiled flashing his white teeth. His green eyes were just as shiny as the fairy lights around him. "Do you want to help me with this one?"

Unable to speak you just nodded and leaving herbs on the table you stepped closer to him. He handed you small sprig of mistletoe, his big hands falling to your waist, holding you firmly. With small nod he lifted you up as if you were a feather. You fastened mistletoe with red ribbon, but it wasn't easy task because your fingers were trembling. When you were done, Tamlin put you back down, but his hands stayed on your waist.

He looked up to check on your work. "You know, there's a certain tradition in human lands," he hummed.

"What tradition?" you breathed out.

"If you find yourself standing with someone under the mistletoe, you have to kiss them, otherwise you will have a bad luck." He looked back down at you, gleaming green emeralds full of hope. Your heart stuttered at the sight. Swallowing you nodded once.

Small smile appeared on his face. Watching you carefully Tamlin leaned down. His gaze moved to your lips for a second. An inch. There was only an inch between your lips now. His hands tightened on your waist, thumbs drawing small circles. Your heart throbbed almost painfully against your ribs, you stopped breathing. Millions of unfamiliar emotions suddenly emerged, middling together. It was all so overwhelming and confusing that it made your head spin.

Tamlin's soft lips connected with your cheek in a tender kiss. He stayed like that for few breaths and then he straightened up, smiling at you gently when he noticed your flustered state. "Are you okay?"

"I-I.. yes.." you blinked, blushing fiercely. You averted your eyes shyly, fingers covered the place his lips touched. For some reason you felt.. disappointed. What did just happen? And what did you expect he would do? "I should.. I'm going to make that tea," you backed awkwardly, collecting the herbs you left on the table. You could feel his amused gaze following your movements.

"I was thinking," he said while taking a seat at the table. "Today is a special day and I basically invited you to the dinner. How about I prepare the feast myself? I mean I'm not a cook, so it won't be the best food of your life, but.. I want to surprise you."

"Okay," you quickly agreed.

"You don't mind if I use your kitchen?"

"Not at all. I have no idea how this feast should look like anyway," you shrugged. "Do you need me to help with anything?"

"Nope, I will manage," he laughed. Again.

You noticed that Tamlin had been smiling more often lately. He also gained some confidence and with every day he looked more like High Lord than a beaten beast he was when you met him. He was recovering. Soon enough the time he didn't need you anymore, would come. The realisation was painful.

Clearing the throat, you turned to him with two cups of tea. "So if you don't need me, I will go on a stroll. We are running out of mint again," you tried to sound happy, but even to you your own voice sounded broken.

Tamlin narrowed eyes on you. "You don't have to go today," he murmured, searching your eyes.

"No, it's fine. I need fresh air anyway."

Tamlin frowned, the claws visible under his skin, but he didn't say anything and so after the breakfast you took your basket and left.

Lost in thoughts you didn't pay much attention to where you went. You lost track of time. When a small clearing with pond appeared in front of you, you sat down on the bank, hugging your knees. The thought of him leaving because he didn't need you anymore was still bothering you. It hurt in a way you've never felt before.

By the time to return home came, you made peace with the thought. It still hurt, but it was inevitable. Tamlin was High Lord. He had too many responsibilities to slob around with you in the forest. His land needed him, Fae living here needed him. He had to return home and rule. You lived alone before. You could do it again.

On your way back you grabbed some herbs. As you got closer to the cottage air filled with smell of something delicious and your stomach twisted in answer. You skipped the lunch, so naturally you were hungry. All windows were wide open. Tamlin most likely used magic to help himself while cooking to impress you with feast. You smiled at the thought.

Leaving the basket and herbs under the shelter behind the cottage, you stalked back to the front. The door opened before you could even touch it.

"Welcome home, Y/N," Tamlin welcomed you with a bright smile. He changed his clothes and freshly bathed he looked somehow neater than normal. He took your hand leading you inside.

The room behind him with all the decorations was just as stunning as the first time you saw it. And now there was a small addition to it. The table was buckling under the abundance of delicious looking food.

"What do you think?" he asked closing the door behind you.

"It's.. amazing," you couldn't stop looking around, your eyes lingering on small details.

"I'm happy you like it," he purred, holding a chair for you. You sat down and he took his place across from you. "So shall we start?" You nodded, already looking forward to try the nice smelling and deliciously looking food in front of you. And you weren't disappointed. It tasted even better than you imagined.

"It was so delicious," you sighed happily putting the cutlery down, your stomach full. You had never eaten so much in your life.

"I'll take that as a compliment," Tamlin winked and finished last bite. He wiped his fingers into napkin and reached to his pocket. A small velvet box tied with ribbon appeared on his palm. He held it out to you. "Happy Solstice, Y/N."

You blinked in confusion. "What is it?" you asked warily.

"It's a present, another tradition."

"But.. I have nothing for you."

"It's okay," he shook his head. "You've already given me so much. It will take hundreds of years of Solstice gifts to repay you for everything you've done for me. Plus you are here now," he added so quietly you almost didn't hear it. "Even my family never celebrated anything with me."

It felt like farewell. All of the sad feelings you fought with earlier in the forest returned at once, tears stinging your eyes. You took the box from him carefully and set it down on table.

"Will you open it?" he leaned closer, green eyes shimmering with expectation.

Swallowing the lump that created in your throat, you looked up at him and then back down at the box. You were nervous when you pulled the ribbon. Opening the lid slightly you peeked in. There on white pillow sat a small rose made of white gold and pink shiny stones. It was so beautiful that you went speechless.

"May I?" Tamlin spoke next to you, his breath fanning your ear. He stood above you, reaching for the necklace. Smell of rain filled the air. Before you could answer, he fastened the delicate chain around your neck, small pendant hanging between your collar bones. His long fingers caressed back of your neck lightly.

"It suits you," he smiled, kneeling down next to you.

The moment your eyes met with his, you surged forward, hugging him tightly. He stiffened for a single heart beat, then letting out a long breath, his body relaxed under you and arms wrapped around your waist.

"Thank you," were the only words you managed before turning into crying and sobbing mess.

Taglist:

@impossibelle @sevikas-whore

[fortheloveofexy]

I'm thinking about how like, aside from perhaps Renee, none of the Foxes had ever truly tried to connect with Andrew before.

Sure, there were people who wanted to connect with him - Aaron, at first, then Nicky. Even Kevin, in his clumsy way, is trying to build an emotional bond with Andrew. But nobody is able to fully reach him because nobody is speaking to him in a language he understands.

Nobody, that is, until Neil comes along.

[erisweekofficial]

Hey everyone! Eris Week is around the corner so we wanted to make sure you're feeling confident for next week. This is a bit long, but we promise it's helpful. 👀

BEFORE THE EVENT

☑️ Be sure to reacquaint yourself with our rules and FAQ. The rules are the same, but we've added clarifying language. ☑️ Ensure all your Eris Week posts have @erisweekofficial tagged in the main body, and tag your post with #erisweek2024. Bonus points if you let us know what day the post is for. ☑️ If this is YOUR FIRST EVER ACOTAR EVENT WEEK, give yourself a crown in the tags. (see the tags of this post as an example) We tried doing this ourselves last year, and it was tricky, so please add a crown to your posts so we can highlight your work. ☑️ Add content warnings/tags when appropriate. If you're curious about how to tag on ao3, read this guide! Or this one! ☑️ Consider adding these AMAZING dividers by @tsunami-of-tears to your Tumblr posts. Be sure to credit her! ☑️ Please make sure to add any Ao3 content to our Collection (ErisWeek2024) It's moderated, so fics may take an hour or two to appear! We'll do our best to stay on top of it. Directions on how to share to the collection are here. ☑️ If you're posting to Instagram, feel free to add our account (erisweekofficial) as a collaborator. Directions can be found here!

DURING THE EVENT

☑️ Give the mods 24 hours to reblog your work. We all have day jobs, so we're not ignoring you—we promise!!! Ping us if we miss you! ☑️ Do not disparage other participants, add hurtful comments to their work, or ship bash. If you see others doing this (or have any other concerns), feel free to reach out to the Eris Week Blog. We have a professional community manager on board who can help you out! ☑️ HAVE SO MUCH FUN!!!! Please reblog, like, share, give kudos to, and comment on everything! Tell the creators how much you appreciate them 🧡

🐶 PSST… For newcomers, barking is considered a compliment here, so if people bark in the comments of your post, that's a good thing.

See you next week!

[cryingoverfictionalcharacterss]

One thing Feyre does a lot trough the series, after she leaves Tamlin, is that she constantly compares Tamlin to Rhysand. One of the things that made a big impression on her is how Tamlin said to her how there wasn’t a HL but then Rhysand made her one(undeserved). 

But the funny thing is that in the 4-5 months she spend in the SC (after UTM) as Tamlin’s consort she was WAY more loved and respected than she is as the HL of the NC for 3 years now.

[cienie-isengardu]

Iroh's "I looked away"

“The Storm” [s01e12] provided us a great insight into Zuko’s character, one that undoubtedly helps to understand his motives and anger but also how Ozai’s physical and psychological abuse influenced the banished prince. There are plenty of things to talk about, many little details that build layers of a complicated relationship between Zuko and his father, uncle, or even his crew and how perception of Zuko changes once we learn the truth behind the scar. But the episode also shows us a great deal of insight into Iroh’s character and though I do love how “The Storm” challenged our perception of those characters, rewatching ALTA makes Iroh’s “I looked away” much more devastating to me. 

Because it is not just about his guilt over abuse Zuko was forced to endure. A guilt that won’t disappear no matter if he could or couldn’t do anything to prevent it, but… Iroh truly looked away from Fire Nation as a whole, didn’t he? Understandably, he was grief-struck after Lu Ten’s death and he did not fight back Ozai for the throne, as I suspect he either did not care anymore for it or did not want a civil war to destroy Fire Nation from inside. But he still was The Dragon of West, a very respected general and powerful political figure that others weren’t willing to openly challenge, including Ozai himself.

And no, I’m not wondering why Iroh did not interference with Agni Kai before Zuko’s face was burned to “teach him respect” but about the fact that he did not say anything at all against using the division of new recruits as a bait - and from the episode alone, we know he agreed with Zuko on that matter. It wasn't the right strategy - even if it has merit from a military standpoint, it definitely wasn’t moral or good for Fire Nation’s wellbeing. Beside Zuko, who openly challenged the strategy and called it betrayal, the only person that questioned it at all was an old unnamed general (“But the 41st is entirely new recruits. How do you expect them to defeat a powerful Earth Kingdom battalion?) while Iroh simply kept quiet and this detail makes me think the “I looked away” is as much about Iroh looking away from Ozai’s cruel abuse toward Zuko as about Iroh’s passivity during the war meeting, and in greater scheme, Fire Nation’s politics. I doubt Iroh could change Ozai’s mind and sure, I do not have an idea how the relationship between Fire Lord and ex-Crown Prince looked like, but the point is, Iroh did not even try to question the strategy and choose to sit quietly and dunno, it makes me wonder, did Iroh give up at this point of his life? Was he so afraid of the consequences for speaking his mind that he allowed Ozai and Fire Lord’s court to subdue him so much? Because if he did, his words to Zuko “[...] But you must promise not to speak. Those old folks are a bit sensitive, you know?” is as much warning to Zuko as to himself. 

Iroh said to the crew that Zuko was right but it wasn’t his place to criticize the strategy, but who else was supposed to speak against this plan, if Iroh himself chose to stay quiet on the matter? If all generals - then and three years later - didn’t have any respect for life, whatever for their own subjects or civilians of other nations? And I think this is what truly kills me about this situation, that 13 years old boy had courage to speak against this dehumanization of Fire Nation’s citizens when Iroh, our good uncle Iroh, kept quiet and looked away again and again from what was happening until he couldn’t do that anymore because too great damage was already done.

(And isn’t it ironic that Iroh gave little Zuko a knife with the description never give up without a fight - words Zuko adapted as his life motto - but Iroh himself gave up? First at Ba Sing Sai, after Lu Ten’s death, now here during a war meeting and maybe, just maybe it is Zuko that unexpectedly pushed him back on the right track to actually do something, to make a choice and fight for what he believed was right instead of passively watching all the abuse done to an innocent child and young soldiers serving loyalty to their country. Was Iroh already a White Lotus then or did the travel with Zuko give him an opportunity to join it because he couldn’t anymore look away from how messed up Fire Nation became?)

[dairyfreenugget]

I have a disorder where I accidentally make characters look very dragon-like in this AU

[illyrianbitch]

Of Our Own Devices — Part Two

For @erisweekofficial Day 2: Legacy

Pairing: Reader x Eris

Summary: Eris Vanserra carries a legacy of cruelty, a reputation forged in whispers and fear. But something doesn't quite fit anymore. You’re beginning to think that the male doesn't truly match the legend he's left behind.

Warnings: brief mentions of abuse, cruelty, injury, battling to death, introspection? like a lot, readers head is soooo big from these big thoughts

Word Count: 3.1k

did someone say eris week mini series???? technically can be read as a stand alone, just squint

Part One | Part Three

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

When Eris Vanserra was born, his mother wept in the bathroom for hours after.

Her trembling hands muffled her soft cries as her handmaidens swaddled a newborn Eris in fine cloth. Beron hadn’t been there for most of the birth—hadn’t held her hand the way her father had held her mother’s. He came only at the end, just in time to praise the heir as he left her womb, presenting him like a trophy before promptly leaving for court business.

She was still young, felt like a child herself— at least in her own mind. So, while she loved her son dearly, his birth had cemented her fate to a male she didn’t love, a male whose hands she feared more than death itself.

His mother loved him, this Eris knew. Even at a young age, he felt that love. It burned in him like a comforting flame, the same warmth as the heavy blanket she would tuck around him at night or the sunlight that seeped into his skin on warm afternoons.

And yet, even surrounded by that love, Eris grew up lonely.

His loneliness led him to finding a home in curiosity, in sticking his pointed nose into matters that often didn’t concern him, picking out small details he'd unconsciously store for later. He was a collector from the beginning—of people, of excuses, of emotions he had yet to name.

Perhaps that was why he was so sickeningly fond of you, so starkly different from the others, equally curious, equally lonely.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

It wasn't Eris who people met first.

It was his reputation.

Eldest son of the High Lord, equal parts cunning and cruel, a loyal soldier with the venom of a viper. Anguish seemed to follow him, seemed to follow any with Vanserra blood, but there was something distinct about Eris, something divinely alluring. Terrifyingly sinful.

It was all true. So you weren't sure why it bothered you so much when your patrons talked about him, when his name was thrown into conversations surrounding the High Lord.

Your family's tavern was always filled with stories. Its dimly lit, worn wooden tables had overheard more whispered secrets and slurred confessions than you could ever count. Most nights were like this, with drinks spilling over into the laps of locals, the hum of conversation swirling in the air like smoke from the hearth. Tucked in a corner of the court’s lands, it was a place for those not high enough to feast in grand halls but not low enough to beg in the streets. It wasn’t glamorous, but it was home. A comfortable middle ground.

You placed a handful foaming drinks before the three males at the bar, taking a moment to analyze their appearance. They were relatively large, muscular builds hinting at some form of laborious profession. The callouses on their hands told you that they handled weapons often. But their clothes weren't nice enough to be one of Beron's men, weren't tailored enough to be one of Eris's either. Perhaps they were border patrollers, the lowest and grimiest of the forces.

They thanked you with lingering, appraising eyes as you moved away to fetch more drinks.

“I heard,” one of the them said, leaning closer to his companions, “that the eldest boy has a new game he plays with those who cross him. A real spectacle.”

The male next to him, the oldest of the three, nodded eagerly. “They say he’s got a private arena where he forces traitors to fight each other to the death. It’s supposed to be brutal—nothing but blood and screams. And Eris just sits there, like it’s a grand show.”

You clenched your teeth, turning around to face the wall behind you, forcing yourself to attend to the pile of glasses waiting to be wiped down. You tried to focus on your task, hoping to drown out their disturbing conversation, but it was no use. You could feel your grip tightening on the material of the rag, knuckles white as they continued to talk, their voices growing louder and louder with every drink they took.

It was a lie. A rumor. Nothing more.

Yes, Eris was cruel. He was manipulative and calculated. But you'd seen slivers of something else, something brighter, kinder, even. While you believed that a male should face the consequences of his actions, there was no honor in perpetuating lies that simply weren’t true.

It made no sense, anyway. Eris had done plenty of questionable things. There were multitudes of actions to choose from, many things worthy of criticism. There was no need to indulge in falsehoods. The image they painted of Eris—a male reduced to a sadistic spectator in a grotesque spectacle—seemed far removed even from him.

“A grand show?” the third scoffed. “He’s not just watching. He’s placing bets on who’ll survive, like it’s some sick sport. It’s all for his amusement. I’ve heard he gets pleasure out of the carnage. Let's his hounds ravage the bodies.”

A knot tightened in your chest and you gripped the glassware harder, cloth bunching in your grasp. Before you could register the motion yourself, you spun around, the movement abrupt enough to make the males flinch.

"You have no idea what you're talking about," you sneered. The males stiffened, large angry eyes boring into yours. You continued. "Bold of you to traverse around spreading rumors of a High Lord's son. Be grateful he isn't around to correct you himself."

You blinked, the anger draining away as quickly as it had surged, leaving a wave of embarrassment in its place. You took in the male’s faces—initially stunned, then quickly morphing into anger. It was an expected reaction from those who felt their pride wounded, especially from males who had just been scolded by a low-court fae like yourself.

You straightened, trying to regain your composure as you cleared your throat.

The largest of the men leaned forward, his eyes narrowing with a sneer. “Well, well, boys,” he drawled, his voice dripping with disdain. “I think our pretty little bartender might be one of the Princeling’s whores.”

You weighed your options as you stood there, hand still gripping the glass. For a fleeting moment, you were tempted to shatter it over his head. The thought of the glass breaking, of the shards embedding themselves in his skin, was almost satisfying.

But you didn't. Your father would be angry, would be disappointed above all. You needed the business.

You took a deep breath and your grip on the glass loosened.

“Allow me to apologize,” you said. “It seems I’m more sensitive about our court’s reputation than I realized. I don’t know what came over me. How about a round on the house?”

Their faces shifted to smug satisfaction as they accepted the offer with eager grins and, soon, their cups were filled once more. As they happily downed their next round of drinks, you slipped out from behind the bar.

The door’s bell chimed softly as you stepped outside, itching to find the heir that was imprinted into your mind.

Strangely enough, you knew exactly where he'd be.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

You found him in a clearing south of The Forest House, an expansive area bathed in the warm light of the afternoon sun. It was a dedicated space for the hounds, adorned in various obstacles that Eris used during their training—wooden jumps, tunnels, and agility courses set up with careful precision. You'd seen the area of land a handful of times before, times when Lucien found Eris to argue or hurl curses.

You approached carefully, watching as Eris kneeled by one of the hounds, gently tending to what seemed to be a cut on its paw.

After a moment, he finally looked up, his gaze meeting yours. The corners of his mouth quirked upwards and a playful glint manifested in his eyes.

"Even after all these years, a vixen without a fox at her side is still a strange sight."

You gritted your teeth, taking a deep breath as your eyes roamed the face of the male before you.

It was an unnecessary jab.

Lucien hadn’t been by your side for centuries now. Though you had visited him as often as you could, the friendship you once shared had changed. He had changed. You had, too. You'd grown into your life at Autumn—managing the tavern that bore your family’s name and living vicariously through the stories that came your way.

The last time you had seen Lucien was marked by a change. You'd looked into his eyes and somehow understood that things were different beyond what had been anticipated.

"Why do you do that?" You asked. "Be a dick when you don't need to be?"

Eris stood, brushing his hands clean as the hound trotted away to rejoin the rest. He narrowed his eyes at you for a moment, a scrutinizing, analyzing moment. Then he offered you a shrug, something so casual and dismissive. You were sure it would've warded off anyone else, that his disinterestedness would have begun to tired them already, turn them the other way.

"Maybe it's part of my charm," he finally responded, "Or maybe I'm just a dick."

He made no attempt to hide the amusement in his voice as he emphasized your insult. Eris had been called many things— you'd heard them, even delivered a few of the titles. But so far, you were the only one to call him two things: a dick, and a prick. Perhaps it was delusion, but you swore that he seemed to enjoy it when you said such things, seemed to smirk in a way that wasn't just cruel, but impressed.

You rolled your eyes. "Most wouldn't wear that title with such pride."

He narrowed his eyes for a moment, the corners of his lips twitching upwards. "What's the use in denying my nature?"

You sighed, a sound of frustration, of annoyance. "Do you not grow bored of your little games?"

Eris rolled his shoulders and straightened his back. He always had immaculate posture, his stature was often so perfect that it was almost uncomfortable to witness. It emphasized his wealth, somehow— emphasized his power. He towered over you even more now.

"Did you seek me out solely to criticize me?"

You bit the inside of your cheek. "No."

"Then why?"

You still weren't entirely sure why you had come.

"Perhaps I was bored."

Eris raised an eyebrow. "Do you not have any friends?"

You bristled. "I have plenty." You paused, allowing your gaze to settle on the view before you, on the open land and the animals that in the open expanse. You turned back to Eris. "It's you that doesn't seem to have any. Your only companionship recently seems to be those hounds. I'm surprised you're not running on all fours."

Eris's expression shifted. He let out a small chuckle and you fought against the twitch in your lips, cursed the warmth that blossomed in your chest. But the amusement dissipated from his face soon after, replaced be a resolve of cold indifference. His eyes seemed tired in this light.

"As much as I…enjoy our little talks," He began after a moment, "I didn't ask for company. You should find someone who wants it."

A small sense of rejection passed through your skin like a cold, morning chill. You were never foolish enough to think Eris would welcome your presence with open arms and a smile, never naive enough to consider yourself anything more than semi-peaceful acquaintances. But still, there was something deep within you that wished he’d show you something beyond the disregard he showed others.

That wasn't a fool's wish— because you knew it was possible.

You'd seen it.

Strangely enough, you had. In the stolen glances when he thought no one was looking, how he lingered after you stumbled, offered a hand before quickly retracting it. There had been flowers at your door after your mother passed of Autumn fever, an unusual number of wealthy patrons who had frequented your father’s tavern for months afterward, tipping generously despite only having a drink or two. They all adorned attire of a specific, deep green that you’d come to recognize easily—the shade often worn by Eris’s personal guard.

His name was never attached to any of it, but you could trace it back to him. You'd always wondered why he'd never taken credit, never basked in somehow proving your presumptions about him wrong.

Twenty-nine year old you, freshly bonded to Lucien after he'd stumbled across your father's tavern, would be shocked that centuries later, she'd be spending more time alongside his cruel brother than Lucien himself.

You’d had an image of Eris back then—an image painted by Lucien’s words. It was accurate, to an extent. You never doubted your best friend’s judgment, never questioned the stories of cruelty and ambition that followed Eris like a shadow. He had, indeed, made Lucien suffer. There were reasons he disliked his brothers so deeply, reasons you knew were valid.

But you were curious by nature, always craving to understand things deeply, intricately. And Eris Vanserra called to you like a riddle from an ancient tale—dangerous, alluring, and impossible to ignore.

Above all else, you wanted answers. Throughout the years, Eris had never called upon your bargain, never asked for a favor, never even mentioned the price you’d paid for that first visit with Lucien. Not once.

It unnerved you.

"I don't understand you," you said, without realizing the words had fallen from your lips.

You hadn't intended on voicing it so blatantly. You weren't quite sure how Eris would respond, how he would interpret your words. It was a tossup, really, between a snarky response or something condescending, something to make you feel silly, naive.

Silence.

Eris shifted, turning his body to look out into the horizon before him.

"Not everything in life is meant to be understood."

You paused.

Eris was complicated. Unfortunately for you, you loved complicated. It wasn't boring. It made you think, made you wonder. You gravitated towards the eldest Vanserra more often than you'd like to admit. It was easier now, you decided, since Lucien's watchful eye wasn't around. He didn't have to witness your betrayal first hand, didn't have to see as you attempted to find something in his brother. You weren't sure what that something was, but you were certain you were searching for it. You had been for years.

"That's not true. I can understand things if I try hard enough."

Eris played idly with the rings on his hands. "You set yourself up for disappointment, Vixen," he said to the empty air before him, not turning to look at you. "Why does everything need to have a deeper meaning?"

You studied his face further. Noting the lines etched around his eyes and the set of his jaw. He was beautiful. You weren’t one to deny it—all of the Vanserras were. But where Lucien had been handsome, radiating a gentle charm that made you blush with every lingering gaze, Eris was more akin to the sharp edge of the season’s chill—striking, with an air of regal severity. His amber eyes alone seemed to hold the crisp, unyielding essence of autumn itself—beautiful, but not without its bite.

"It doesn't need to," you replied. "But it often does. I think details are important."

He didn't respond as he turned to face you. You glanced up at him, his eyes fixed on yours with an intensity that seemed almost tangible.

"You've never lied to me," you stated. It was a statement more than it was a question.

"No," Eris replied.

His gaze didn't waver. You were almost impressed that you'd managed to hold his stare for so long. No one had ever looked at you like this before—so deeply, so penetrating. You understood now how his mere gaze could make people crumble, understood the rumors of how he only took his partners from behind, how he never made eye contact.

You pushed away the burning thoughts that arose.

"Is it true?" Your gaze bounced around his face. "Do you force your traitors to fight for your amusement? Place bets on them like animals?"

Eris's eyes flickered with something dark, but he didn't move.

"Do you think it is?" he countered.

You shook your head. You were certain of your answer, but you needed to hear his. "No. I don't."

The corner of his mouth twitched upward, and he gave a small, almost imperceptible nod. "Then it’s not," he said simply.

His expression revealed nothing more as you scanned his face. He didn't seem startled by your question, didn't seem confused at the context. He was aware of the rumors, of the stories circulating like the last morsels of food at a feast—passed around, savored, and eagerly consumed.

"It doesn't bother you? That these lies exist?"

A hint of confusion crossed his features, as if the question itself was somewhat absurd.

"Why would it?"

You blinked, momentarily retracting into yourself.

As a hound trotted up to Eris, his attention shifted. He crouched down, meeting the beast at its level. The gentle manner with which the hound regarded him, the affection in its eyes, stirred something inside you, deep within your gut. Your father had always said that a male’s nature could be understood through how animals responded to him.

Eris clearly cared for his hounds, and they, in turn, cared for him.

You found yourself wondering if, deep down, Eris was ever troubled by his reputation.

Lucien always had been.

He cursed the blood than ran through his veins, spent every moment trying to prove himself to be better than the legacy of his family— he did everything he could to avoid the curse of a wicked kin.

But then there was the male before you.

Eris, the rightful heir and firstborn son, was different.

You had always assumed he was bestowed with the legacy of the kingdom, that he was born for the role of High Lord, eagerly embracing the title and its accompanying glory. He seemed built for it, seemed to thrive under its weight.

You watched as more hounds approached him, watched as they surrounded him like a loyal fleet.

Could it be possible, you thought, that perhaps it wasn't all gifted. That it was possible Eris was burdened with the legacy of a Court?

You realized, then, that you'd never truly acknowledged that what he had become allowed for a kinder brother to grow in his wake.

The thoughts came faster, hazy, so many that your vision began to blur. It all made you itch, made you uncomfortable, made you overwhelmed and desperate for more.

None of this felt right.

You stared at Eris for a few more moments. When he stood up straight once more, about to turn toward you, you turned and ran to your horse.

You could feel his stare burning into you as you left.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

reader panicking when she has deep intellectual thoughts about sexy man as he tends for his dogs. shes so me fr

permanent tag list 🫶🏻: 

@rhysandorian @itsswritten @milswrites @lilah-asteria @georgiadixon

@glam-targaryen @cheneyq @darkbloodsly @pit-and-the-pen @azrielsbbg

@evergreenlark @marina468 @azriels-human @panther-girl-124 @bubybubsters

@starswholistenanddreamsanswered @feyretopia  @ninthcircleofprythian @velariscalling @azrielrot

@justyouraveragekleemain @marigold-morelli @mrsjna @anarchiii @alittlelostalittlefound-blog

@melissat1254

@m4tthewmurd0ck @beardburnsupersoldiers @isnotwhatyourethinking @tothestarsandwhateverend @raginghellfire

[romanticatheartt]

So let me get this straight...

People are mad, that Feyre is a High Lady because Rhysand saw the potential in her and didn't hesitate to make her a High Lady? And the reason you're mad about it, it's because Viviane deserves more to be one because she was ruling Winter Court for 50 years?

BE MAD AT KALLIAS!!! He's an idiot for not making her the High Lady till now!!! Why you have to bring Feyre down for it???

And y'all hate Feyre for having a child because she said she didn't want one once upon a time and said she'd like to have Rhysand all to herself? But Vivian and Kallias mating bond snapped exactly around the same time Feyre's and Rhysand's bond snapped, I don't see people criticise Viviane for having a child with her few months of husband/mate...

[ducksbeloved]

beak deep in the passenger seat...

[wondereads]

Achillean Book Recs for Pride 2024

The Raven Cycle by Maggie Stiefvater

Young Adult, magical realism, 4.12 star average (my rating: 5 stars)

Six of Crows by Leigh Bardugo

Young Adult, high fantasy, 4.52 star average (my rating: 5 stars)

Ace of Spades by Faridah Abike-Iyimide

Young Adult, mystery thriller, 4.27 star average (my rating: 5 stars)

Cemetery Boys by Aiden Thomas

Young Adult, contemporary fantasy, 4.34 star average (my rating: 4.5 stars)

Winter's Orbit by Everina Maxwell

Adult, space opera, 4.07 star average (my rating: 4.5 stars)

Scum Villain's Self-Saving System by Mo Xiang Tong Xiu

Adult, fantasy romance, 4.29 star average (my rating: 4.87 stars)

Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation by Mo Xiang Tong Xiu

Adult, fantasy romance, 4.44 star average (my rating: 4.7 stars)

Heaven Official's Blessing by Mo Xiang Tong Xiu

Adult, fantasy romance, 4.5 star average (my rating: 4.67 stars)

Blood Debts by Terry J. Benton-Walker

Young Adult, contemporary fantasy, 3.88 star average (my rating: 4 stars)

The Buried and the Bound by Rochelle Hassan

Young Adult, contemporary fantasy, 4.07 star average (my rating: 4 stars)

So This Is Ever After by F. T. Lukens

Young Adult, fantasy romance, 3.93 star average (my rating: 4 stars)

The Darkest Part of the Forest by Holly Black

Young Adult, contemporary fantasy, 3.87 star average (my rating: 4 stars)

The Foxhole Court by Nora Sakavic

New Adult, sports/thriller, 3.85 star average (my rating: 3 stars)

The City of Dusk by Tara Sim

Adult, high fantasy, 3.72 star average

The First Sister by Linden A. Lewis

Adult, space opera, 3.93 star average

Lord of Eternal Night by Ben Alderson

Adult, fantasy romance, 3.43 star average

The Husky and His White Cat Shizun by Rou Bao Bu Chi Rou

Adult, fantasy romance, 4.37 star average

A Dowry of Blood by S. T. Gibson

Adult, gothic fantasy, 4.12 star average

Darker by Four by June CL Tan

Young Adult, contemporary fantasy, 4.11 star average

Once & Future by Cory McCarthy and A. R. Capetta

Young Adult, sci-fantasy, 3.57 star average

Hell Followed With Us by Andrew Joseph White

Young Adult, post-apocalyptic horror, 4.2 star average

[thrumbolt]

Each time Feyre shows up at Hewn city she's treated differently by Rhysand and it must be so bizarre to the people there lmao

First they see her, she's Rhysand's whore and plaything. Then, just a few months later, she's introduced as the High Lady of the Night Court? What will she be next? The court jester? Nobody knows, just play along.

[thedeadthree]

-`. OCS AS TYPES OF SUFFERING.

TAGGED BY @chuckhansen, @queennymeria, @shellibisshe, @leviiackrman, @nightbloodbix, @lavampira, @marivenah, @faerune, @socially-awkward-skeleton and @corvosattano to take this uquiz for a few dears !! ty ty!!!!!!

TAGGING: @ruinbringer, @griffin-wood, @duskfey, @jendoe, @aponibolinayen, @pinkfey, @unholymilf, @gwynbleidd, @adelaidedrubman, @carlosoliveiraa, @grapecaseschoices, @flyntz, @jackiesarch, @katsigian, @quickhacked, @full---ofstarlight, @avallachs, @risingsh0t, @dameayliins, @starforger, @vanoefucks, @yennas, @bloodofvalyria, @malefiicarum, @ravensgard, @theviridianbunny, @mrdekarios, @shadowglens, @fenharel, @nokstella, @swordcoasts, @leondaltons and you!!

-`. DESPAIR.

The tunnel never had a light. You wish for nothing because you know you'll receive nothing, and your hopes died out long ago. The only thing that keeps you going is the thrill of emptiness you feel when things don't turn out your way. It's bitter. It's proof. Proof that you don't feel this way for nothing.

-`. THE BLACKHOLE.

There's a hole where your heart used to be and nothing is filling that hollow void. You could drown in a world curated for you, and still nothing seems to fit. It eats you alive knowing you're unsure how to satiate the hunger of your soul. It's barely hunger, it's more like a blackhole.

-`. THE TAKER.

Your expectations are ones you can barely meet. You compare yourself to others, but with a hypocritical light. You'll never find what you're looking for if you're laying down half of what you receive. It stings to be given less than expectations you've set, but if they were more reasonable, do you think even then you'd be happy?

-`. YEARNING.

The pain in your chest bubbles knowing that what you want may never be yours. You're lost in a fantasy world, or consumed by what you wish you were or had as opposed to what you do. It's hard to appreciate what's around you when you're appreciating the hope of what could be instead.

-`. THE GIVER.

Your energy depletes as you hand it out to anyone passing by your basket. People walk by and take, but no one ever leaves. You're constantly running on low when people keep asking you to give. You'd give your soul away for free, and then what left do you have of yourself if you can't say no?

-`. LONELINESS.

Your heart feels full of the connection you feel you lack. No matter how many people are around you, strangers or not….someone is missing. You don't know who, what, or if you'll ever find them. You're unsure if there's a person out there who'll really satisfy your life, so really what's the point of continuing to look?