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I always feel like the iron coffin overshadows the absolute batshit insane series of events that is the end of Empire of Storms (understandably tho)

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I get that some people think it's funny to call SJM books "faerie porn" and that's fine, but...

It's gotten to a point where, when people talk to non-SJM readers who ask about the books, SJM readers will say with their whole chest "oh they're faerie porn books haha it's literally just porn!"

And it's started to get really grating for me. I've been reading SJM since Throne of Glass came out. These books are SO much more than the sex scenes, or even the romance (tbf romance is a common thread in all of her books, though same with a lot of male-written fantasy and those books don't get called romantasy, but I digress).

These books are something utterly unique and magical within the fantasy genre. I've been reading fantasy since I was in first grade (I'm 29) and I can honestly say that I have not come across anything like these books. Yes, SJM has flaws. Her books, especially early ones, have flaws. But overall, they are feats of world building, master classes in plot pacing and foreshadowing, and filled with enthralling characters and worlds and histories.

Diminishing them to the few sex scenes (a few of which are admittedly wild), most of which are also very emotionally significant to the characters, is doing Sarah and all of her books a disservice. And honestly, it's doing other potential readers a disservice when they decide not to read SJM due to the internet referring to it as porn and not "real" fantasy.

No one says that about authors like Patrick Rothfuss, but the second book in his hit fantasy series spends a significant amount of time focusing on the main character learning all about sex from a random forest faerie (don't get me started). Many male adult fantasy authors include sex scenes, some of which are extremely graphic, but no one calls their work porn — no, it's often referred to as "real" fantasy.

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Part One Here

It was only a couple of days before his shadow zoomed into his room to alert him that Gwyn was speaking with Bryaxis. It was the middle of the night, and Azriel grumbled as he pulled on his leathers. One of the rare instances where he’d been dead asleep, and Gwyn had to inadvertently ruin it. He made his way into the library, and weaved through the stacks, Gwyn’s voice becoming louder and louder. Azriel silently hid in the shadows, wondering what was so important that it must be spoken of in the middle of the night. 

“Do you sleep at all?” he heard her ask. After a moment in which Bryaxis must have responded, he heard her say, “Well, I suppose in some ways that’s lucky. You get to avoid the issues I have.” She was silent for a moment. “What you said… about my… mate… how did you know?”

Azriel felt his eyebrows raise. Gwyn had a mate? Since when? If Bryaxis spoke of it, perhaps that’s what surprised her the last time. There was an uncomfortable feeling in Azriel’s chest as he thought of Gwyn having a mate, though he couldn’t explain why, exactly. 

“I think I knew when I first saw him, though there was… a lot happening,” she was saying. “But I’ve never told anyone before. I thought maybe I was mistaken.” Her voice was soft. “No, I don’t wish it weren’t so. He’s a good male. Strong and kind.” She paused, listening, and chuckled. “Well, maybe you don’t think so, and I could certainly see why.” The longer Azriel stood there, eavesdropping, the more bizarre the conversation became. And the longer he stood there, the more that uncomfortable feeling in his chest grew. And a piece of him was almost offended for the unknown male. A mating bond was sacred. Why wouldn’t Gwyn tell this male? He became more agitated before deciding he was done for the night. He stepped from the shadows, and saw Gwyn whirl around to see him. She turned back to the pit. “Looks like our visit is over tonight.” She softly laughed again. “I’ll make sure to sing louder for you next time.” She walked towards Azriel, eyes sparkling. He crossed his arms over his chest, cutting an imposing figure. 

“We talked about this, Gwyn.” His voice was low. 

“You mean you talked, Shadowsinger. No one said I agreed.” He let out his breath in a huff. “How long have you been here?”

“Long enough,” he said. 

She tilted her head at him. “You seem… vexed with me, Shadowsinger. Moreso than usual.” Azriel said nothing, turning to escort her back to the dormitories. “You can tell me, you know. Honesty is the best policy and all that.”

Damn him, Azriel couldn’t control it. The words were going to fly out of his mouth whether he wished them to or not. He stopped in the middle of the aisle and turned to her, seeing her waiting face. “You have a mate. Why won’t you tell him? Those bonds… those bonds are rare, and sacred. Don’t you think he deserves to know?”

He felt Gwyn’s eyes on him, studying him. He could almost feel her weighing her words carefully. “There are many reasons I haven’t chosen to divulge the information yet, Azriel.” The use of his given name struck him. She hadn’t used it before. It sounded less like a curse, and more like a caress coming from her. “Some reasons are mine, and mine alone, and maybe I will tell him one day. But I can say,” she took a deep breath, “I have it on good authority that he cares for another. I respect him enough to allow his choices, and I refuse to be chosen solely because of a bond. I’d rather be loved.” Her words struck him in the heart. It was everything he wanted, needed Elain to say and to practice. He needed Elain to want to choose to be loved, to choose him. Gwyn cracked a small smile. “Besides, I’ve met him and he is otherworldly. And I’m just me. He needs someone who he can be proud of.” Gwyn started walking past him, leaving him speechless. This female… he couldn’t figure her out. People were easy to unravel. They were easy to manipulate, to discover inner motives. But not Gwyn. She was a puzzle to him and with each new piece he handed her, he found something new to wonder over. 

“Gwyn,” he called, striding to catch up to her. She looked up at him. “Any male would be lucky to have you as his mate. And if they aren’t proud to have you, they’re not worth your time.” The dazzling smile Azriel received lit something in his heart. 

“Thank you, Shadowsinger.” She smiled, and something in him softened to know he put that smile on her face. 

“Now will you please stop talking to Bryaxis? I don’t trust that it won’t betray you and try to take you.” Gwyn laughed, though what was so funny he had no idea. 

“Bryaxis and I came to an agreement. If I sing while I work, Bryaxis will be content. I won’t have to go near the pit, Shadowsinger.” He felt a weight lift off his shoulders. He had wrestled Bryaxis back into the pit; he knew what Bryaxis could do, the harm it could cause, if provoked. And he wanted Gwyn nowhere near that sort of danger. “I can make my way from here, Shadowsinger. I need to shelve a few books anyways,” Gwyn said.

“Alright,” Azriel said softly. “Goodnight, Gwyneth.” 

“Goodnight, Shadowsinger,” she replied, making her way through the stacks to her books, leaving Azriel to make his way out of the library, pondering the strange feeling Gwyn left him with. A few words and she could coax a smile from him without his notice, or cause his heart to stop in his chest just by having a conversation with a creature. Azriel wasn’t an outwardly emotive male. Inwardly, he felt everything, but a childhood of torture had taught him to effectively wear a mask. One that, somehow, Gwyn made him feel was unnecessary.

#gwyn x az #gwyneth berdara #gwyn x azriel #gwynriel #bryaxis #gwynriel fic #i cant decide if i want to write full fic of this

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What do you think? Tbh I agree.

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I love Nesta because she is the most imperfect character I have ever read. It’s such a beautiful thing. She doesn’t cope well. She doesn’t manage her emotions. She’s angry. Sometimes mean. Sometimes standoffish. She’s not easy to be around. She’s quiet and silent and we know virtually nothing about what she’s thinking and yet we can already tell she has worlds trapped behind her teeth. She bites, and claws her way out. 

There is some sort of beauty in that truth, in the ugly realness that exists because she exists, not as the hero of the last four books who is in charge of saving anyone. She can’t save herself as it seems. She’s suffered, over and over, and it wasn’t something that made her stronger or more morally righteous, it made her ache and bleed. It’s so refreshing to see a character who is allowed to be in pain, who is allowed to feel horrible and be horrible and say horrible things. It’s even more refreshing to see her shamed for this and then be so unashamed. 

She’s just so interesting to read!

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being a fic writer can be hard because sometimes you’ll get a random scene in your head and be like “oh this is neat! can i get some context?” and the characters go “lol no, figure it out” and so you need to shake your own brain like it’s a piggy bank like come on, there’s gotta be some more quarters in here . . .

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Batman Begins (2005) dir. Christopher Nolan

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Six of Crows Series - Leigh Bardugo Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Kaz Brekker/Inej Ghafa Characters: Kaz Brekker, Inej Ghafa Additional Tags: Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Post-Book 2: Crooked Kingdom, POV Inej Ghafa, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Captain Inej Ghafa, Hurt/Comfort, Domestic, Angst, Hopeful Ending, Recovery, Haphephobia, Panic Attacks, Dissociation, Holding Hands Summary:

“It didn’t take much.

One handsy man aboard her ship, one slaver with too much guts and not enough of a brain in his head, and she was returning home with shaking hands and a deep-seated desire to stay as far away as she was capable from any man.”

Or, Inej rebuilding after a bad voyage.

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“Oomen’s eyeball” this, “Kaz would paint East Stave with his entrails” that. We always talk about Kaz going unhinged every time Inej is threatened or hurt, but the fact that Inej clearly is just as protective of Kaz, albeit much more subtly, is so underrated.

Like, my girl was thankful she had been the one captured and possibly tortured by Van Eck because the thought of someone finding out Kaz’s weakness and torturing him with it was too much for her to bear. She was on the brink of going on a murder spree when she watched Kaz being beat up by the Dregs and she was not about to hesitate. She found out a fraction of what Pekka did to Kaz and she literally carved the man’s chest and chased him off of Ketterdam with the promise of worse things to come if he ever showed up again.

It’s even more jarring coming from Inej because Kaz is unapologetically violent and murderous but Inej is so not the same, yet don’t you even dare touch her man because she will, and I quote, pile your the bodies to the rafters for the stadwatch to find. They are so devoted to each other. Idk I just love my two murder babies going absolutely feral if the other one is threatened.

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Something sparked in Azriel’s chest, but he only nodded his thanks and left. He could picture it, though, as he ascended the stairs back to the House proper. How Gwyn’s teal eyes might light upon seeing the necklace. For whatever reason . . . he could see it.

The Shadows, The Mother, The House of Wind, Rowan, Rhys, Cassian, Lucien, Bryce, and basically anyone who knows the mate language:

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i would follow you

Azriel took his time flying from the River Estate to the House of Wind, enjoying the wind flowing through him and around him. In the weeks following Blood Rite, Azriel was trying to deploy spies closer to Koschei to determine his end game. Rhysand was still vehemently against Azriel himself going, something that chafed at him. He understood his brother’s protectiveness, but knew his efficiency was limited.

As he approached the House, he saw two figures sparring in the training ring, and two winged figures to the side. As he got closer, he saw a flash of red hair in the ring. Gwyn, he thought. That made the winged figures Cassian and Emerie, leaving Nesta sparring with Gwyn. He was fairly certain there wasn’t training today, though. He banked and landed, walking to join Cassian and Emerie. Cassian had a slight frown on his face as he watched Nesta and Gwyn. Azriel could hear grunts as hits connected; Gwyn and Nesta were a blur of fists, kicks, and blocks. Neither were pulling back. “Extra training session?” he asked Cassian.

He grunted in response. “Of a sort. Mor, Nes, and I were in the House, and Gwyn came up and said ‘It’s time to talk about that forgiveness.’ Nes just looked at her, went to change, and here they’ve been. Haven’t listened to me at all. Mor went to get Emerie. Emerie,” he drawled, “says this has been coming so she won’t intervene. They’ve been at it for over an hour; I thought they’d tire by now.” Azriel quirked his brow. Nothing Cass said made much sense.

Emerie snorted. “Not likely - Gwyn is angry. And nothing fuels her quite like anger.” If Azriel weren’t so good at controlling his features, his eyebrows would have hit his hairline. He didn’t know the priestess to become angry. Frustrated, but never angry.

Gwyn and Nesta broke apart, circling each other. Oh yes, Azriel could see the anger on Gwyn’s face now. Her teal eyes that normally reminded him of the sea were cold as ice, an expression he much more often associated with Nesta. He heard Nesta begin to speak. “I’ll admit, I didn’t expect forgiveness to look like fighting,” she said.

“Well you didn’t let me fight at the Breaking. Better late than never.”

“I will not apologize for choosing for you to live.” Nesta’s voice was hard. Azriel heard Emerie’s sharp inhale, and he felt a twinge in his chest. The Valkyries had informed them of the basics of the events in the Blood Rite, but he hadn’t realized Gwyn had come to the crossroads of not walking away alive.

“What happened,” murmured Cassian. Emerie took a steadying breath.

Quietly, as if she didn’t want the other Valkyries to hear her, Emerie recounted what happened on Ramiel. “At the Pass, Nesta said she’d fight off Bellius and the other males. Gwyn wanted to stay with her. But she’d lost too much blood and it would kill her. Nesta knew that. So she knocked her out, and I carried her the rest of the way up the mountain.” Cassian swore softly.

The priestess is loyal, his shadows whispered. Loyal, indeed. He wondered if they bond that they had formed on Ramiel... He wondered if it was forged of the same steel as his, Cassian’s, and Rhysand’s.

“I do not seek an apology for your choice, Nesta.” Gwyn made for a swift attack that Nesta blocked. They circled each other again. “I told you what happened to me.” Azriel felt a shiver down his spine. That was a day he hadn’t been able to scrub from his memory, especially after seeing the priestess again. He wasn’t a fool - he could deduce what had been done to her, what he’d intervened in. He’d been quietly impressed at her strength since then, her desire to train. “My choices were stolen from me. And you… in making your choice, you took away mine.” He saw a tear slide down Gwyn’s cheek, and he saw pain on Nesta’s face. Gwyn kicked at Nesta, and their flurry of movement started once again. There was silence between them for a few moments as they each got in hits and blocks.

Gwyn put down her fists, and looked Nesta in the eye. “I lost Catrin,” she panted. “I will not lose another sister again.” Her hand cupped Nesta’s cheek, and brought her forehead to meet Nesta’s. “I would have followed you, my sister. My commander.” The air felt heavy. He glanced at Cassian, seeing his widened eyes.

“I know,” Nesta said, tears escaping her eyes. “I’m sorry.” Azriel knew those words did not leave Nesta often, lending a particular gravity to the exchange.

“You will not take away my choice again.” Gwyn’s voice was quiet, but hard. “I will live or die by my own choices. And if I should die by my sister, it will have been an honor.” Gwyn pulled Nesta to her in a hug, and Azriel saw Emerie run to them to throw her arms around them. He felt as though he was witnessing something sacred and private. He looked at Cassian.

“I wouldn’t have pegged Gwyn the type to settle a disagreement with fists,” he remarked dryly. Cassian snorted.

“Me either. I thought Nes was exaggerating when she said our favorite priestess had a temper.”

Just when Azriel thought he had the priestess pegged, she’d throw him a curveball. She was competitive. Loyal. And, apparently, fiery. She intrigued him.

The threeway hug broke apart. “So,” Gwyn said brightly, “who’s up for cake?” Emerie barked a laugh.

“You went from pummeling each other and now you want cake?!”

Gwyn shrugged her shoulders. “My score is settled, and now I want cake.” All three females chuckled, Nesta shaking her head, and started making their way towards the door. Nesta veered to give Cassian a kiss, and Azriel could hear him asking if she was alright. He caught Gwyn’s eye. “Hello, shadowsinger.” Her eyes sparkled.

“Hello, priestess.” He responded. His shadows danced at her proximity.

“Hello, shadows,” she said with a smile. He could feel joy in his shadows, and a few left to twirl around her, making her giggle. “Come join us for cake. Life is too short to miss out on cake!”

Truthfully, Azriel wasn’t overly fond of sweets. But that sparkle in her eye was hard to resist, and he felt a pull to her that he decided not to ignore. “Alright. Lead the way.” Her smile brightened, making his heart skip a beat. Maybe being stuck here instead of being sent to spy on Koschei wouldn’t be so horrid after all.

#gwyneth berdara #gwyn acotar #gwynriel #gwyn x nesta x emerie #gwyn x nesta #gwyn acosf #gwyneth berdara fic #nesta archeron #nesta x gwyn friendship

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teach me how to fight, i’ll show you how to win

I built this Gwyn experience based on my own experiences. People respond to this type of trauma in different ways and I found a lot of myself in Gwyn, so I gave her a piece of me in this. I was exceedingly tempted to write a part in Azriel’s POV also... I still might just for fun.

Gwyn closed the book she was reading hard, blowing out a sign of frustration. The information she was searching for wasn’t easy to find. In truth, she hadn’t suspected it to just be laying around, but she would have thought in such a vast library, she would eventually find what she needed. But it had been weeks and she was still no closer to the information she needed. She rose and shelved the book she had been searching through. With such little luck, she was going to have to finally cave and ask someone… but there were only three people she knew that would have the answers she needed. Cassian, Azriel, and the High Lord himself. And of those three, Azriel was likely the best source of this particular information. She began to make her way to her room, intending to change from her robes to her leathers. It was late, but her mind was still restless. The list of mistakes Cassian and Azriel had developed after the Blood Rite had given the Valkyries much to work on, and working through some of the exercises at night helped to tire Gwyn and quiet her mind.

Making her way up the stairs to the training ring, she considered the best way to go about acquiring the information. There wasn’t really a subtle way of asking for what she needed. It would likely be best to be outright and hope for as little judgment as possible.

The training ring was empty, and the air was biting. Gwyn began her stretches. Dagger work had been her focus lately. She won the Blood Rite using her cunning, but she wanted to be able to defend herself in close quarters should the need arise. The Blood Rite, and the circumstances surrounding her having entered it, had been in the forefront of her mind since it had happened. In some ways, Gwyn was powerful. She was strong and she was cunning. But in other ways, the Blood Rite had proven to her that she was still weak despite her vow to never be so again.

She stood and grabbed a practice dagger from the weapons cache, beginning to work through the steady movements they were learning in training. About halfway through her first set, that prickle of awareness tickled her. She turned around and saw someone flying into the House - based on the wingspan, she was guessing Azriel. As the figured neared, she learned she was right. He landed on the balcony lightly, his shadows dancing around his shoulders. He looked tired, worn. Gwyn gave him a small smile. “Hello, shadowsinger.” He strode in her direction.

“Hello, priestess,” he replied. “Can’t sleep?”

“Not quite. Too many thoughts are running through my head,” Gwyn said. Azriel came to a stop a few steps in front of her. A shadow darted out and cycloned around her. She laughed lightly. “Hello, little shadow.” Azriel’s face hardened.

“Leave her be,” he commanded. Gwyn quirked her eyebrow at him.

“I don’t mind,” she said, “truly. They’re delightful.” Azriel couldn’t hide the flitter of surprise that ran across his face.

“My shadows have been called many things. Delightful, however, is a first.” His shadow returned to his side. He jerked his head at her dagger. “What are you working on?”

“Just the basic exercises for now,” Gwyn replied. She chewed her lip, considering if she wanted to ask Azriel for that information now, or wait.

“Out with it, Berdara,” he said. She looked at him, and he quirked his lips in a half smile. “You wear your thoughts on your face. What are you mulling over?”

Gwyn eyed him for a moment, debating with herself. After a moment, she came to a decision. “I have a question,” she started, “about the use of a dagger for a particular task. I tried to find the answer in the library, but had no luck. And the only people I think would know are you, Cassian, or the High Lord.”

Azriel crossed his arms. “This is interesting already, Berdara. So am I the lucky winner?” She looked at him, quirking her head.

“I think you would be the best to ask, yes. It’s no secret, even in the library, what you do for this court… what your job is.” Azriel’s eyes hardened. Gwyn took a step towards him. “You work in spywork, that much is true, but that’s not why you’re the most feared male in Prythian. It’s said you also do what needs to be to… obtain answers from people.” Azriel uncrossed his arms.

“Gwyn…” he started. She held her hand up for silence.

“I do not judge you for what you do. We are all the sum of our parts, not defined by individual actions but rather by the whole of our being. But… to accomplish your work, you’d have to have an intimate knowledge of the body. Where to apply pressure. What areas are more sensitive than others.”

Azriel had a wary look on his face. “Yes, that’s true,” he said. “But I can’t fathom why you’ve brought this up.” Gwyn gave him a small smile.

“At Sangravah…” Gwyn’s throat tightened. She cleared her throat to continue. “At Sangravah, I was violated. My choice was taken from me. I would do it again to save those children. But… when we were taken in the Blood Rite and I woke up surrounded by strange males, all I could think was that I would not have my choices taken from me again.” She looked into Azriel’s eyes. “I want you to teach me how to use a dagger on myself, efficiently.” Azriel sharply inhaled. “I will die before I allow another male to take me against my will again.”

Azriel ran his hands through his hair, and down his face. She had surprised him, she figured. “You won’t have to worry about that. We can protect you, make sure it doesn’t happen again.” Gwyn felt a spike of anger.

“I will not be coddled, Azriel.” He straightened, hearing his given name from her. “I make my own choices, decide my own future. And I decide this for myself.” She stepped closer to him. “I remember every moment at Sangravah. I remember his hands on me. I remember his breath across my face. I remember him using me. And I will be damned if I let it happen again.” He looked into her eyes, studying her, as she did the same to him. She could see the war behind his eyes. “Either you teach me, or I will ask Cassian or the High Lord.”

The seconds passed by slowly, turning one minute into two, into three. “Fine,” he said. She let out a breath of relief, not realizing how tense she was.

“Good,” she replied breathlessly. She turned to return to the middle of the ring.

“I will teach you on one condition.” She stopped in her tracks. This was not supposed to be conditional. She turned her head towards him to find him stalking towards her, and she turned to face him. He stopped toe to toe with her. “You give me a chance.” She crinkled her eyebrows, puzzled. “You give me a chance to find you, and to save you.”

Gwyn’s heart skipped a beat, and she softened. “Azriel, you saved me once. Once can be enough.”

“No,” he spat vehemently. “I will always find you. You grant me that… grant me the time to find you, and I will teach you.” Gwyn considered his words, her heart tumbling. She wasn’t expecting this reaction from him - disbelief maybe, but not this... this protectiveness. 

“Alright, shadowsinger. I will give you time. But in the event that enough time passes, I retain the right to make a choice as I see fit.” He nodded, and she held out her hand for him to take. As he did, she said, “It’s a bargain.” She felt the tattoo ink itself on her palm, an eye in shape. She would learn in the future the gravity of the bargain she had struck - that it had built a bridge between her and Azriel wherein he could feel her, could read her emotions and communicate with her. But for now, a piece of her settled at the knowledge that, whether it be by her own hand or his, she would never yield again.

#gwyneth berdara #gywnriel #gywn berdara #azriel x gwyn #Azriel #gywnriel fic #Gwynriel fanfiction #gwyn acotar