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littlemisssatanist · 1 month

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my acotar unpopular opinions

taking this time to come out as an acotar reader. yes i've read all the books and i've spent way too much time thinking about it. i enjoy the books in the sense that i enjoy hating on many of the characters and loving a few of the others.

be forewarned inner circle fans. you will not like this.

rhysand is not a 'morally grey' character. he's a rapist and a groomer. he sexually assaulted feyre utm, he groomed her (reminder that she was 19 in acotar), and he withheld important medical information from her. 'you'll always have a choice' my ass.

nesta telling feyre about her pregnancy was not a bad thing. why do people act like it is? 'oh she did it to hurt feyre' hurt her by doing what? revealing the lies that her beloved husband had woven? revealing the fact that she'd die giving birth? the fact that rhysand told literally everybody but feyre?

mor is not the champion for women everyone thinks she is. this i will give to sjm it is truly impressive to make a character like women and still be a pick me. i'm not even going to go into her whole weird ass relationship with her dad (i still don't understand why she wouldn't just kill him. 'oh rhys needed the army' rhys is supposed to be the most powerful high lord ever. either admit he's a fucking loser or give me an actual good reason for this) or the fact she's seemingly incapable of doing anything to help the women in the court of nightmares, but everytime she was mentioned, i had to let out a heavy sigh and rub my temples.

on a similar topic. i liked eris. like a lot. out of all the acotar characters sjm has written, eris is by far my favorite.

the inner circle needs to sit the fuck down. they are the most hypocritical bitches i've ever met. they like to think themselves high and mighty. reading them make fun of lucien's band of exiles while their name is literally 'court of dreamers' was the most infuriating thing ever. and then they have the gall to be insulted when called out. don't dish what you can't take.

out of all the inner circle, the only one i don't hate is azriel. this is simply because he is the only one who hasn't opened his big fat mouth and done something bad (except if you maybe count his whole thing with elain). cassian is on my hit list. it's on sight with cassian.

nessian is sjm's worst ship and i will stand by that. lucien/nesta could have been so much. 'nesta would have ripped lucien apart' and cassian was your first choice? not even azriel was considered? like be so for real right now. sjm didn't see the potential of lucien/nesta and i will forever mourn that.

sjm is a terrible writer. i'm not saying this to be mean but she seriously just sucks at it. that being said i admire her ability to still make millions of dollars off her shitty writing. as a woman, i am rooting for her. as a reader, every day i wake up a shoot a prayer to the heavens begging the gods to not let sjm write any more books from the inner circle's pov.

lucien/elain is better than azriel/elain. argue with the wall.

eris/azriel is better than azriel/elain. you can kiss my ass.

NESTA/ERIS IS BETTER THAN RHYSAND/FEYRE. i know this because i have been enlightened.

feyre is a victim to rhysand. that being said, she is also a major bitch. both can be true because these things are not mutually exclusive. i wish she could make friends outside of the ic like nesta did, but i know that's unlikely.

feyre's pregnancy storyline was completely useless and went against her whole character.

acomaf retconned everything about tamlin and feyre's relationship in order to make more money. idc.

tamlin gets a ridiculous amount of hate. rhysand is hypocritical. so tamlin locking feyre in a house because she wants to ride out with him into potential danger is terrible and abusive, but rhysand locking nesta in the house of wind for... *checks notes*... having sex and spending money on alcohol is helping her? what?

#anti rhysand #anti sjm #anti inner circle #anti acotar #rhysand critical #inner circle critical #acotar #acotar critical #pro nesta #anti nessian #pro eris vanserra #anti mor #this might be a controversial one

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shadowdaddies · 2 months

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I have a request! Reader accidentally hurts themself in an embarrassing way and Rhys/cass/az(idc which one) sees the injury(bruise, cut, etc) and freaks out asking “who did this??” And reader has to awkwardly admit that they did it.

Idk if that makes sense but I thought it was a cute idea for a drabble and I really like your writing 🥰 Feel free to make any changes!

thank you love!💜 I went with Cassian for this one, as a clumsy person myself this resonated with me lol

Falling for You

Cassian x Reader fluff

warnings: mentions of injury, a bit suggestive

Lunging towards Cassian, you swung your sword in an arc, only for the wooden practice blade to hit the training mat. Cassian’s foot swiped your ankle, knocking you flat on your back as his own weapon found your throat.

With a teasing click of his tongue, your mate smirked down at you. “I believe you yield, my love.”

Scowling, you swatted the wooden blade away, standing up to stalk over to the weapons rack, shoving your tools inside. Warm hands wrapped around your waist, Cassian smirking as he pressed a kiss to your neck.

“Come now, sweetheart. Don’t be a sore loser,” he purred.

With mock offense, you turned to face your mate, poking him in the ribs. “I’ll be sore if I want to be,” you retorted.

Mischief danced in hazel eyes as Cassian pulled you impossibly close, fingers tilting your chin so your nose brushed his. “Mm, but what if I offer you a massage, maybe a bath to help with that soreness?”

Butterflies erupted in your stomach, the scent of your arousal instant at his rough voice. A dark chuckle left your mate’s lips, the general giving no warning before he tossed you over his shoulder.

“Cassian!” you yelled, swatting at him with a giggle while he carried you towards your bedroom. Your only response was a light smack on your ass, drawing another gasp as you settled in his hold.

Carrying you into the bathroom, Cassian set you down on the tile floor, directing you to undress while he moved to turn on the bath water.

You shucked off your boots, peeling your pants and shirt off when you looked up to see Cassian staring at you, horror etched on his features. Frantically looking over your body, your eyes found Cassian’s. “What? What is it?” you questioned.

Your mate visibly swallowed, his voice thick as he gestured weakly to your leg. “Did I... did I do that?” he muttered, silver lining his eyes that bored into your skin.

You looked down to where he was pointing, finding a bruise you knew all too well, the blackish-purple skin marring a large part of your upper thigh.

Embarrassment flooded over you, blush rising to your cheeks as you scrambled for words. You had hoped the injury would heal in time for Cassian to never know, but the way that he was looking at you right now, you needed to tell him.

Sighing, you pinched the bridge of your nose. “No, Cass, you didn’t do that...” you whispered. The moment those words left your lips, his demeanor changed.

The Lord of Bloodshed stood before you, eyes alight with fury. “Who did this to you? I will make them wish they were never born,” he growled, and you couldn’t help but giggle at his misplaced wrath.

“Calm down, love. No one else did this to me. I did it myself... on accident,” you muttered, lips pursed as you avoided eye contact.

Arching a questioning brow, Cassian’s hand gripped your chin, turning you to face him. “What happened, sweetheart?” he questioned, voice soft with concern.

You paced the bathroom, stopping at the tub where you dipped your toe into the warm water. With a smirk, you stepped into the small pool. “It doesn’t really matter,” you hummed, sending a playful splash towards Cassian. “Why don’t you come join me in the bath?” you purred, arching your chest above the water in an attempt to distract him.

Your mate smirked, and you knew that you had caught him as he removed his leathers, stepping into the tub with you. Wading to where you sat, Cassian’s broad hands found your waist, his neck dipping to your shoulder.

Warm lips found your sweet spot, sucking softly on the sensitive skin there as you sighed, rolling your hips against him. Suddenly he stilled his movements, lips moving against your neck. “Where did you get that bruise from, love?”

An exaggerated sigh escaped you. “Don’t laugh at me,” you muttered, gaze turning stern when Cassian pulled back, looking at you with a bemused expression.

“Nyx tied my shoelaces together,” you pouted, arms crossing over your chest. “And I didn’t realize it, so when I tried to walk, I tripped.” With a huff, you glanced to Cassian, the male biting his lip hard to keep from laughing.

His joy and amusement spread through the bond, forcing a smile of your own at his happiness. A small laugh escaped you at the ridiculousness of the situation, Cassian bursting with booming laughter shortly after.

Your stomach hurt, tears in your eyes from how hard you both laughed, gasping for air as you finally settled down. Cassian moved to the edge of the tub, pulling you in his lap and pressed a kiss to your hair.

“I love you so much,” he whispered.

Leaning up, you pressed a kiss to his jaw. “I love you too,” you murmured.

“Maybe we can buy you some button up shoes, something child-proof” Cassian mused, earning an elbow to the stomach as you giggled in his arms.

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pinkrasberryfish · 2 months

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So…

The dynamics of ships… why is Elriel a good fit for the ACOTAR series? Why is it just as intriguing and beautiful as Feysand or Nessian? I’ve written hours and hours of Elriel fan fiction, exploring dynamics and tropes, and I feel like I’ve barely scratched the surface of their potential.

It’s established that our High Lady is a fighter. Feyre can physically fight for herself. She beat the Weaver which showed her mate that she was worth of the engagement ring and fought the Wyrm while her mate watched. She defended the Rainbow. She even won the war with Hybern through fighting. There are countless times where Rhys has sat back and let his girl go out swinging.

Then we have Nesta. Nesta is feisty and learns to fight for herself. She wields the mask, becomes a Valkyrie, and even goes through the Blood Rite. Cassian didn’t swoop in and save her… he let her fight.

Now Elain. Our girl needed rescuing. She did not fight her way out of the Hybern camp through cunning and brute strength. Azriel swooped in and saved her. And you best believe if she had been plunked into the Rite, Azriel would have come and saved her immediately. She is never incited on physical fighting missions like the Battle of Adriata and the closest she has gotten to blood was stepping out of shadow to stab the King of Hybern.

Now.

Does that make you uncomfortable? Does Elain needing help make you think less of her? Is she weak because she’s not like her sisters? Is that why everyone is wanting another story with a Valkyrie falling in love with a bat boy?? Because our other heroine is too weak and needs to be shipped off to a controlling high lord in spring ??????

This is what frustrates me.

Physical protection and physical fighting is not the only way to show strength.

Nesta was WRECKED after the Cauldron. She was self-destructive and cruel. Elain seemed to struggle but eventually healed through her hobbies and natural processing of everything. Even the loss of her fiancé, she recovered from. She is mentally strong.

Feyre too, has had moments of weakness. She could have physically run out of that wedding, but her mental bondage kept her walking down the aisle. Rhys had to intervene and save her in her moment of desperation. Elain could be walking down an aisle to Lucien right now, but she’s not. She’s choosing her own path and showing mental strength.

The fact that Azriel has rescued Elain physically and the fact that she cannot fight does not make her a less powerful or valuable female. Measuring women by their ability to perform historically-masculine acts is misogyny. She does not need to conform to the masculine power standard of 90’s feminism to be worthy of her own bat boy.

The beautiful thing about Elriel is that they have both been cast aside, despite being loyal to their core, Azriel to Mor for centuries and Elain to a gross human loser who broke her heart. They love even when it hurts. Even when it’s not reciprocated.

This dynamic feeds into their bond beautifully because in each other, they find what they’ve always needed—someone who wants them and sees them and chooses them above everything else.

Azriel will always physically protect Elain and champion her mental and emotional needs, but I believe Elain has the power to save Azriel too; to open up a side of life for him where he is desired and love— where he is protected and listened to and nurtured. A place where someone chooses him above everything else.

This is why Elriel is just as beautiful as Feysand or Nessian. It’s not unequal and Azriel doesn’t need a Valkyrie to “match his strength.” Elain is already strong.

#elriel #elriel forever #pro elriel #elain archeron #elriel supremacy #pro elain #elain x azriel #elain #pro azriel #azriel and elain #Elriel thoughts #Elriel rants

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ae-neon · 11 months

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Nesta Vs ACOSF, a rambling rant

TW: mentions of sexual assault and abuse

Besides the "love" story that read like a quiet descent into domestic horror, ACOSF has one element that keeps me from being able to pick it up even just to sift through for Nesta gems: sex.

Here me out, I'm not a prude and I think we could have gotten a smutty romance but...

At her core, Nesta has always been a proud and modest person.

To be clear, with pride, I mean that her sense of self - her famous steel spine - has kept her together and unbroken even during harrowing circumstances. It's vital to her. It's so ingrained in her that - given we have no other explanation - we can assume it's what shields her mind from literal magic. However, like any trait, her pride can also be a thing that comes off as negative in the wrong situations.

With modesty, she was raised to keep a certain ideology that based her value on sex, beauty, marriage etc but it's important to understand that Nesta applied those standards inwards, at herself. (Eg In acotar, she brings up Feyre and Isaac in defence of her and Tomas, in acomaf, she is mostly upset about not hearing from Feyre or being notified that Feyre has switched courts - not about Feyre sleeping with Tamlin and then Rhys)

Now, I don't think Nesta's modesty makes her better than Feyre, in fact I was happy to get the representation of two different types of views on sex

But what I didn't consider at the time was that SJM was painting this out to be a negative trait.

In retrospect it seems obvious even though Nesta has defied her narrative destiny and become a sort of icon, at the end of the day she was still supposed to be written in a negative contrast to Feyre.

It seems funny but imagine you consumed the book the way Sarah intended, the way so many in the fandom have. The old Sarah Says rule, for my long time mutuals.

For example:

The dinner in acomaf - it's obvious Nesta is upset that she hasn't heard from Feyre only to have her come through not only as a whole Fae but bringing others and endangering their entire family.

But imagine it as a one dimensional reading and suddenly the "I fuck" dialogue is a girlboss moment of feminism giving a fuck you to the strict patriarchy of the "mortal lands" let's ignore how the Fae are actually more patriarchal and the Illyrians even more so than that

So understand that Nesta's modesty is being directly contrasted with Feyre's sexual freedom. The reader - at least from sjm's perspective - is supposed to agree with Feyre and disagree with Nesta in a sort of win/lose, yes/no, black/white dichotomy.

And because sjm is consistent and boring and a self-inset author, this dynamic doesn't change even when the protagonist does.

Only now sjm and her feminism has changed from fuck-whoever-I-want girlboss to kinky-but-only-with-my-husband tradwife

So Nesta can't be prudish and cut off because 1) it's not as conducive to the breakdown of self and buildup of a dependent and abusive relationship and 2) it's not in direct contrast with Feyre's current monogamous, traditional family values character.

So Nesta starts drinking and sleeping around and it's not because we're going to explore the unraveling of the pride and modesty at the core of the character as part of her transformation or as a result of her trauma

But because it's supposed to be a bad look, degrading, it shows she's failed, it makes her a loser

All of that is already insane. And even more so when taken with the context of her assault by Tomas and the sex centred relationship she has with Cassian

Now add to that the fact that in the book, Nesta is an object of desire for 2 villains and undergoes assault and drowning AGAIN

Sjm literally gives less than 2 fucks about SA, that much is obvious even from the way she inflicts and then disregards the experience of both Feyre and Rhysand respectively. It's a tool for her, a quirky story element

But to have Nesta experience such a similar thing - especially when the experience of being Made can be read as a sort of rape allegory on its own - and all for the sake of "romance" fantasy??

Even Nesta's reading habits are sexualised, to be clear I don't think there's anything wrong with reading smut, but the scope of her intellect and reading is narrowed down when we're suddenly made to believe most of the books she reads are smut.

This is someone who likely taught herself economics and investment within months in order to not just pay off the debt, upgrade her whole family's way of life but also rebuild the family fortune. Someone who, having stopped schooling at around 14/15, did the math needed to calculate the feasibility of the evacuation of a small country.

Someone who's verbally stated life goal was to see what a woman could make of herself in the world.

Even her love of reading is used as a stepping stone for how horny she is, instead of it being a result of her deeply ingrained need for escapism

She reads smut because the only thing she has in common with Cassian and the IC is sex. Because sjm thought one of the core elements of a friendship between 2 SA survivors and a disabled woman from a culture that mutilated her for being born a woman would be their desire to fantasise about men.

All the while the male love interest treats her like garbage.

We could have had a smutty book filled with sex where each scene could have been the growth of Nesta's trust and love of Cassian through intimacy. It could have been a sexual relationship that involved and explored kink - which explored vulnerability and the negative impact of how Nesta's pride became a source of stress and strain.

It could have been an exploration about the complicated relationship with desire and oppressors that many survivors have. But it isn't.

It's hahaha horny, so RELATABLE

Even when it comes to the abusive situation Nesta grew up in, it's just hung up like decoration on the character. Not explored, let alone healed. I don't wanna hear that sjm explained or explored Nesta's abuse when we don't even get her mother or her grandmother's names

We don't get

The complexity of being a trapped and abused woman who came from a trapped and abused woman who came from a trapped and abused woman

Or the complexity of a dysfunctional family

Or even the journey of recovery from addiction and self-harming behaviour

Now, not every aspect of Nesta or any survivors lives have to boil down to how it relates to their experiences but SJM is praised for her "recovery" and so much of this book is about sex and abuse but has no depth

It could have been a less-deep, fun experience of sex and desire and kink. But no

Nesta has sex with many faceless men because sjm is condemning her as a failure. Sex is her punishment, it makes her dirty and unworthy and cheap.

Then, through her "healing", she becomes a sex doll for the right guy. Sex is her reward, it makes her hot and useful and appealing.

Sjm writes not just like a man but like a particularly talented misogynist so it's the way sex is used that really puts me off

Edit: ultimately I think the sex and romance should have interacted with and evolved her pride, modesty and past experiences, rather than those things being demolished to turn her into a sex doll

#anti acosf #anti nessian #anti sjm #acotar rant #nesta deserves better #sjm critical #nesta archeron

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freyjas-musings · 4 months

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Well well well.... When I hear that unhinged assholes have been barking mad about Gwyneth Berdara I most certainly make an appearance...

To the people who have had the misfortune of reading delusional, distasteful and disgusting takes full of venom about a character that has literally done nothing wrong but be brave , kind , selfless and full of warmth and love ... Please understand these kids have perhaps swapped their brains for their asses only pure shit seems to come off of it ...

Insecurity is a disease and a dangerous yet hilarious one at that 🤣

For the genius who apparently wrote we speak more of Gwyn than Emerie because Emerie is a POC .... please remember I laughed and laughed pretty hard because

1. Gwynriels love Em just as much and make a lot more content for her compared to the useless poisonous plants on the other side this is clear for anyone with 2 functional eyes and a brain which has even 1 working brain cell

2. Gwyn is definitely more fleshed out as a character than Emerie is at this point.... anyone who has read ACOSF which most elriels haven't would understand that ... it ain't rocket science

3. This POC narrative is dumb .... Az , Cass and Rhys are also POC .... and they are the most spoken about characters from that series ... try harder that was a miserable fail

4. Side character narrative ... dumb asses need to understand Elain, Mor , Az , Gwyn, Em are all side characters at this point and it's more likely Az getting the book next shared with Gwyn will make Gwyn a MC before Elain .... sucks to be you guys is all I will say...

Last but not the least to the new unhinged losers .... One thing you need to know about me ? I simply don't engage with filth ... I just don't dignify idiots with a response so please feel free to stay the fuck out of my way ...

#gwynriel #gwyneth berdara #pro gwynriel #gwyn acosf #acotar #gwyn x azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel #post acosf #acosf theory #acotar emerie #acosf emerie

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fieldofdaisiies · 17 days

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azriel x eris | 2,7k words | warnings: slightly vulgar wording | masterlist

Sunlight, peaking through the looming clouds high above the Illyrian mountains, makes the snow around them glitter. Fresh, crisp air brushes their faces, fills their lungs, and cools their sweat-drenched bodies. Snow threads through the trees, the branches and needles are covered in frost. Nothing but endless white. Thick layers of endless white, a few animal trails criss-crossing here and there, but other than that there is nothing but boundless snow and calm.

Well, it would be silent, weren’t it for the cheerful hollering of a single Illyrian male.

“Yes! Brothers! Yes!” Cassian throws his hands up in the air, tramples on the ground and then continues to cheer loudly. There is a radiant grin on his lips, so bright it rivals the sun high above in the sky on a beautiful summer day. “Look at the winner! The winner who is me – Cassian!”

When he is close enough to the other two, he wraps both his arms around his brothers‘ shoulders, mindful of the wings, of course, grinning triumphantly while pulling them to him. Rhysand huffs a laugh.

“It looks like the two of you lost. It looks like my brothers are losers,” he announces in a joyful, but not one bit gleeful, voice. He is only happy. “And I won. I’m the winner!”

Cassian squeezes his brothers tightly once again as they waddle through the ankle-deep snow, their boots already fully covered in the fluffy white.

Azriel sighs with amusement, craning his neck beneath the weight of Cassian’s muscular arm.

“It was close,” Rhys grumbles, and with a grin on his lips shakes his head at his best friend. “Really close.”

Cassian laughs again, the sound so loud and rich it bounces off the Illyrian mountains around them. He is truly happy about his victory and Azriel wants nothing more than to share his best friend’s happiness, to be happy for him, but at this moment it is hard to force those feelings. Happiness is once again hard to find within him, there is a spark of light, but it is barely there and he worries it extinguishes completely one day. Like a candle you blow out.

“I don’t think it was that close,” Cassian chuckles and then addresses his brother who has been silent until then, “what do you think, Azzy?“

“It was close.” As much as he tries to sound as happy as his brother does, his voice is colder, hoarse and obviously Cassian immediately knows that something is wrong.

Rhys does too. But he doesn’t say anything. There is something between them, a cold and unspoken words that have been there since last year's solstice. Since the incident with Elain…

The general‘s body goes rigid, his arm tensing around Azriel, his hold tightening. “You alright?” Cassian asks. He knows Azriel isn’t, but what else should he have said. He wants to check in, often doing so lately. He can’t stand when his brother is hurting, his own heart aching with his brother’s sadness.

Azriel doesn’t want Cassian to worry, not when he was just so joyful. It is his day, his snowball fight victory. So he nods and cracks a little smile, wanting nothing more than for his brother‘s happiness to return. “Just sour, I didn't win.”

Cassian chuckles to that, not fully believing him, but accepting his answer for now. “Next year you‘ve got another chance.”

“I’ll beat your ass then, Cass,” Azriel tells him and the smile on his lips feels a bit more natural then.

He tells himself that he needs to focus on these moments. These moments that truly matter. Just the three of them. A few years ago, they have finally gotten Rhys back and are now lucky enough to spend the snowball fight with him again. Azriel knows he has to treasure these moments and not dwell on his sadness. He has to enjoy the small moments in his life, those that remind him of his youth with his brothers, those careless moments where nothing and no one could bother them.

“Next year I will win,” Rhys says and both Azriel and Cassian burst into laughter.

“Right, Rhysie, if you say so.” Cassian pats his shoulder, his laughter sounding in the air around them.

Azriel smiles.

Even though he tries so hard to change his mindset, to focus on this moment, on the inside he still feels cold. Maybe the warmth of the birchin will help. He just wants to be inside, melting away in the heat, the steam clouding his mind until all negative thoughts vanish.

So when moments later this is the case, he exhales a long breath and rests his head against the wooden wall behind him, sitting in a sprawl, sweat already glistening on his skin. The heat slowly crawls beneath his skin, stimulating every cell of his body, the musky scent of his surroundings making a haze appear in his mind.

Hot curls of steam and the scent of pine and cedar mixed with the smell of some essential oil wrap around Azriel like a cloak that slowly pulls him toward oblivion. He exhales slowly, and his treacherous mind allows him to entertain thoughts he never imagined he would think about. Perhaps it's the warmth of the fire that triggers such fantasies.

But he sees him, clearly, right in front of him — Eris. With a smile on his lips, and a hooded gaze. Sweat also glistens on his pale skin. Most of his body is hidden by fog, or steam, yet the upper half, his pale skin, and all the corded muscles are bare. Eris’ hair is tied back in a low ponytail, his lush lips parting with every word he says. Yet, Azriel can’t make out a single thing he says, but he doesn’t care. He only watches him and relishes in the sight that is provided to him. He looks so good, Azriel thinks, even if this is just happening in his mind.

In his fantasy, Autumn Court male nears him, smirking and then he crouches down. Azriel feels how his cock hardens, something that shouldn’t fucking happen when he is in the birchin, nude as the day he was born. He tries to shake off the thoughts, not allowing his mind to go down this path.

He tries to direct his thoughts elsewhere – to Eris’ chest (which also doesn’t help). But if he remembers correctly, Azriel has never seen Eris without a jacket or shirt, he should have no idea what his chest looks like. And actually he doesn’t! Of course, he has never seen Eris without a shirt. This is all his imagination, it is not real, this is—

“You truly think Eris cares about him?”

Azriel's eyes snap open instantly, widening as he gazes at Cassian. Fuck, haven’t his mental shields been up? He panics the slightest bit, heart beating a tang faster.

“Lucien is his brother,” Rhys answers, his head hanging low between his knees, hands crossed behind his neck.

Cauldron be blessed, Azriel thinks, Cassian was talking about Lucien and not about him.

“That doesn’t mean he cares.” Cassian shakes his head, his lower arms braced on his strong thighs, hair unbound, falling in curls over his broad and sweat-glazed shoulders.

But Rhys shakes his head, a contemplative look on his face. His eyes touch Azriel’s when he says, “I think he cares. Eris is…many things. But I know he cares about some people. He cares about Lucien. He cares about his family.”

“He‘s a dickhead, first and foremost of all,” Cassian grumbles, and Azriel feels a sudden surge of anger within him that he can’t quite place nor find a reason for.

“But I have to admit you might be right. We don’t know what Beron does to him, or any of his brothers. Or what the hell Beron does to the Lady of the Autumn Court, so I guess you might be right. With everything he has seen and been through…there might be some people he wants to protect.” Cassian swallows and brushes a few curls of hair out of his face. “On the other hand, this also makes me wary – why he doesn’t finally act and put an end to it. Doesn’t he want to finally have change in his court? Change for good I mean.”

Rhysand blows out a long breath and straightens up. He chews on the inside of his cheek for a moment, then gives his head a shake. “I know what this feels like, Cass.” Rhys brings up a hand and clears his face off the sweat. “You think that back then I had never thought of ending my father’s reign?”

The High Lord tips his head back. “As much as you hate them and want them to be gone, to put an end to it all, they are still your fathers. It is something you can’t do just like that. Something you need to prepare for. Because once it is done, you have to live with it.” He swallows thickly. “You have to live with the knowledge that you killed your own father. That your father’s blood was spilled by his own son’ hands.”

Azriel’s stomach squeezes at that. Rhys is right, he has never thought about it like that and he shouldn’t have Eris pushed like that back then. It was wrong.

Silence falls over them, each one of them probably digesting what Rhys has said.

“You believe that Beron tortures him?” Cassian asks after a moment. His shoulders are dropped, emotions Azriel can’t quite place swirling in the general’s eyes.

“I doubt there is anyone in his near surrounding he doesn’t torture."

The back of Azriel’s throat is aching, just like his jaw, grinding his teeth hard. His fingers flex and then curl toward his palms — the only possible way to keep the sudden fury somehow under control.

“He uses his,” —Cassian‘s gaze touches Azriel’s and then locks, sympathy within his brown eyes— “firepowers on Eris?”

It feels like Azriel’s whole body convulses and he needs to hold onto the bench beneath him to keep from breaking. Or…heading right for the Autumn Court, doing what Eris should have long done. Ending the High Lord of the Autumn Court’s life, making him bleed and suffer for everything he has done.

“We don’t know,” Rhys says, “and we also shouldn’t make speculations. Eris‘ business with his father is none of our concern.” He brushes his hair back. “Our concern is only Beron‘s death and the future of Prythian.”

But it isn’t, Azriel thinks. He has always thought…

Azriel shakes his head. He has no idea what he has always thought, but he has never considered that Eris might be equally afraid of fire as he himself is. Beron might torture him with fire. Eris asked about Azriel’s scars, maybe because similar scars grace his skin…

As awareness spreads, his chest tightens and starts to ache so fiercely he has to place his hand atop his heart. His throat constricts when he tries to swallow and suddenly he feels a little dizzy.

“And keeping Lucien safe,” Cassian adds.

“He will leave for the Mortal Lands tomorrow.” Rhys leans back against the wall, shoulders relaxed as if he is talking about the weather and not the possible danger that may be lurking in the Mortal Lands for Lucien.

“That’s safe?” Azriel asks, and turns his head to look at his brother.

Rhys shrugs a casual shoulder. “He wouldn’t change his mind. I talked to him, but he said he wanted to leave. We can’t force him to stay here, it is his decision, not ours.”

The High Lord exhales a long breath. “He is a warrior and Jurian is there as well, to fight and protect.”

“But also Vassa and you know who Vassa is connected to.” Honest worry rings in Cassian’s voice, his chest heaving with deep inhales.

Rhys only gives his head a little shake. “As I said before: he wants to leave and we can’t force him to stay here. It's Lucien's decision, not ours. In his life, many decisions have been taken from him. We have to allow him his freedom now.” The discussion is over for Rhys, that is clear.

“Lucien is a grown-up fae male, powerful and strong, if he considers going to the Mortal Lands right, then we should listen to him.”

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

“Your brother?” The female’s voice is nothing more than a hushed whisper.

With a somber expression, Eris tilts his chin downward. “They talked about him in the meeting earlier. I need you to keep an eye on the lord now.”

“Lord Karbaron?” Cenka turns her big brown eyes to the heir of the Autumn Court who is towering over the small female. Her shoulders are slouched, her lower lip pouted the slightest bit while she is nibbling on it.

Cenke is his only spy. The only loyal person he has in this court, safe for his mother and maybe one or the other of his brothers. She is young, and in all honesty, Eris doesn’t really know where she comes from. He barely knows anything about her, only that she is loyal to him and that he can trust her – she has proven that over and over again.

Her long auburn hair is tied back into a tight braid that reaches down to her hips where there is a belt with many daggers. Daggers Eris has provided her with after hours and hours of secret training, preparing her for any kind of danger that she could possibly face in the future.

Slowly Eris dips his chin. He knows Lord Karbaron. He has been his father‘s closest advisor for centuries. Whatever the High Lord does, the Lord knows about.

“I need you to follow him. And bring me all the information you can get. I know he knows more than we think, more than anyone else in this court does.”

“More than you do?”

A cold chuckle leaves Eris. “Most definitely.”

Cenka dips her pale chin, fingers threaded in front of her body. Eris reaches forward to touch her – something he never does– and his broad hand fully grasps her small, bony shoulder. “I have faith in you. I know you can do this, Lady Cenka.”

She nods, purses her lips and determination fills her dark brown eyes. “I‘ll try my very best, Lord Eris. For a better future." She smiles, her whole face lighting up and in the next moment she is gone, the only hint of her former presence in his office the now open window she slipped out of.

Eris keeps his gaze on the window, a contemplative look passing over his face. He brings up his hand, rubs his palm over his chin and draws in a deep inhale. The long curtains, moving due to the breeze blowing in through the window, brush his shins, his eyes now focused on the rain drops, lazily falling from the sky.

He knows he can trust Cenka, she would never betray him. Not like his brothers. He can’t trust them. As much as he wants to, he can’t bring himself to fully trust them…but he will try.

Eris turns away from the window and finally closes it, his hands cold. He flexes his fingers when a kernel of remorse and worry takes root in his chest. What if Beron finds out about her, what if he finds her, what if—

He won‘t! There is no way Beron will find out that he also has a spy now. Cenka is brilliant at her job, almost like a shadow wrath, no one will catch her.

Afterall, she is not…a giant, idiotic bat that easily gets caught…

Which reminds him that he has a letter to send. Not only one actually, but a few. So, turning from the window, Eris stalks to his desk, pulls back the old oak chair and sits down.

Using a pen that once was a present from his mother, he starts to write – only a few cryptic words that the recipients will understand, but not Beron (if the letters should land in his hands) and then he sends off the letters and hope comes alive within his chest.

tag list for ACOCD @hnyclover @honeysuckle-daydreams13 @a-frog-with-a-laptop @queercontrarian @fandomsmultiverse @acourtofbatboydreams @chunkypossum @baileybird71 @beckkthewreck @hells-sluttiest-new-arrival @owllover123 @acotarobsessed @goldenmagnolias @honeysuckle-daydreams13 @v3lv3tf0x @talibunny30 @allyhill @popjunkie42 @skyesayshi @going-through-shit @mybestfriendmademe @12334555666 @nickishadow139

general Azris tag list: @azrielsbabyg @lady-riel @moonlightazriel @aayo-whatt @brekkershadowsinger @ladyelain @banasheefan56 @a-frog-with-a-laptop @ofduskanddreams

#acotar #acosf #azriel #azriel x eris #azris #eris vanserra #eris x azriel

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afaes · 11 days

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also . “azriel gave me the ick when he said he is entitled to elain”

lucien gave me the ick when he :

• bows his head to tamlin when tamlin reprimands him (get up loser!!!!!!)

• asks tamlin to go get elain back (get her yourself coward ?)

• betrays feyre (speaks for itself..)

• breathes

also . azriel never says he is entitled to elain ? the exact passage :

“Rhys's face drained of color. “You believe you deserve to be her mate?”

Azriel scowled. “I think Lucien will never be good enough for her, and she has no interest in him, anyway.”

RECAP for those who have 0 reading comprehension skills - rhys asks azriel if he thinks he deserves to be her mate and he SCOWLS. he then goes on to say lucien will never be good enough for her.

yall are getting the “ick” because of the stories you make up in your head <3

#pro elriel #anti lucien #azriel sees lucien for the pathetic coward he is and he is right !#i’m sorry but that subreddit is ………..#someone sedate me please

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incorrect-random-fandom · 2 years

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Rhys, to Gwyn: This is Azriel, he hates himself and never smiles but he also has wings, doesn’t know how to make bracelets or open up about his feelings, is a sore loser, and giggles when you call him baby.

Gwyn, handing over cash: I’ll take him.

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theladyofbloodshed · 8 months

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I just finished ACOSF and I can’t get over what a bunch of losers the IC are 😭 they’re literally a bunch of broke bitches who depend on the riceman’s good will. It seems like none of them get salaries?? Thee Night Court General doesn’t have money of his own? I am to believe the spymaster doesn’t have a house full of fancy rare shit he found while spying and decided to pocket? Mor only has influence in the CoN because ricy puff says she does. No one there respects her or fears her or even takes her seriously. And I don’t even know why that lil weirdo Amren didn’t stay dead… I guess SJM needed someone super old to info dump from time to time. If ricy was to drop dead, they’re literally homeless and penniless. I doubt a new high lord would keep them around considering how bad they are at playing nice with others.

Nesta is the only one who has options independent of the riceman. Eris danced with her for what? Half an hour? And he was already offering everything + the clothes off his back for her hand in marriage. She would have said “I want Beron’s head as a wedding present ☺️” and Eris would have had his daddy folded like a lawn chair in 0.1 seconds. I really hate when authors introduce someone who is obviously a better match for the main lady just to have her end up with a fucking loser anyway.

I can feel the rage in your words, anon, and I salute them.

Rhys is like all my friends have massive salaries and credit in every store in velaris but none of them can move out because we're co-dependent

free my girl, eris set her loose

#anon asks

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shinakazami1 · 2 months

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Rhys AI au snippet nr 2 - Personal project

Jack used to love fast travel years ago and while he still found them as if not more useful, his body seemed to disagree. For whatever reason, it was his muscles that kept getting smitten by it. It didn't matter that he felt them already on the planet - he still could run errands quite well, and there was nothing a bit of healing couldn't fix. Too bad that didn't work on the nausea that kept lingering for a day.

He gave a finger gun and a wink to the secretary - whoever this one was, and walked into his office.

"Welcome back, handsome."

"Hiya Rhysie! Missed me?"

"Always, it's not like you carry me in your echo watch everywhere."

Jack bounced from one leg to the other, and then with a last swirl sat in his throne, to turn on the computer.

"Jack, you will have a meeting in two hou-"

"I know I know, cupcake, don't remind me. Dahl just wants to lose some men and piss me off. They are really taking that l in the name seriously."

"Because they're losers."

"Precisely! But there I got my morning coffee by lessening the bandit... number..."

"Hm? Is something wrong?"

Jack's brows furrowed. As per usual, he first checked his echo device, to see if anyone tried to spy on him. He never thought it was likely for bandits to figure out how to multitask, and since they were all busy dying, they certainly wouldn't even think about doing something like that. It didn't mean, however, that someone else couldn't use that thinking and opportunity to their advantage.

Seeing the few gigabytes added to Rhys' files was not something he expected. He thought he encrypted and hid the guy's code well enough for nobody to even be able to tell he was even there but the number of gigabytes added from the past copy seemed just too suspicious.

"Rhysie, are you feeling any... Different?"

"Different in what way, sir?"

"Heavier."

After a moment of silence, Rhys sighed.

"I really don't think comments about weight are good for your image, sir. It can come as really-"

"No, as in yes, I know that but- I meant your files. Had anything happened to them? "

"Happened?"

"Yeah like, like uh, something was added. Your travel notes are never THAT heavy, even if they are boring."

"I try to get all the details out there and it's not my fault you need everything to be a dopamine rush experience. I like focusing on things that might be useful."

"That one Loader Bot corpse still hadn't come in handy, Rhysie."

"It has been as we updated their shields and weak spots."

"Yeah, it's pretty funny how their crotch was--wait, we are getting off the topic. And you're not panicking so, this means you know what the additional files are."

"You could always open them, sir."

"Yes, since I see it's your encriptions system but what is this supposed to be, kiddo? You working for someone else?"

"You know that's impossible. If I were to do that, I would just cease to exist. You made me this way."

Once the code breaker finished encrypting the files, Jack opened the folder and felt his brows furrow even further.

"Pictures."

"Yes."

"Of what."

"I... Would prefer for you not to open them. I'm going to count the sand grains on them when I'm bored."

"What's the password."

"Jack, you told me I can have my personal project."

"Personal doesn't mean secret. What is this, huh? Are you planning to sell these pictures somewhere? Maybe get some of my angles on Echo Net?"

"No... it's a stupid little project."

'And you would know that if you already opened it but you want to torment me', Rhys thought. Yet, he decided Jack's blood pressure was already getting into grade 3 hypertension, so he wasn't going to make him angrier.

It was Jack's weird way to show trust but also, to assert dominance and Rhys never understood why humans wasted their energy on being a walking box for paradoxes.

"Sooooo... Cupcake, short and simple. What are these pictures."

"Of you. Sir."

Jack was really checking the boundaries of furrowing eyebrows.

"Rhysie, I was just joking about selling some pictures on Echo Net. Are you..."

"I do edit them, sir. Personal project."

For the first time since Jack Sat next to the desk, his facial muscles finally relaxed, letting the eyebrows rest. Something seemed to click in Jack's brain, letting him not feel in danger anymore.

"The new posters! My, you've been trying to get them out before my birthday to make me a present? Rhysie, you know I hate surprises! I despise them and I could in fact destroy you for one! You should remember it by now! Especially since I check the propaganda to seem most a-hole-like! "

"Yes, and you do a great job with it. A true antihero."

"A true anti-villain. Which is a hero."

"Of course, sir."

"Well then - show me the pictures, Rhys."

Rhys saw that the 'sweet' mode didn't lower Jack's pressure. He liked to shift in emotions so much to make people confused but Rhys was - well, rather embarrassed to say what the photos were actually about. He was happy to have at least had the project hidden for a few weeks, keeping the amount in control but for the past few weeks of Jack just killing bandits most of the time, he had enough time to spare on that.

He knew Jack would take a look somehow without him knowing one way or another. And with how little censor he had on himself, Rhys wasn't willing to risk getting back to the Nice Kid phase. Jack's poster acting was top notch - but the fake familiarity was a technique many fell for. Rhys fortunately couldn't.

But in the end, Jack got what he asked for, as usual.

"These... You've made my body, right sir? You remember that 3D model you've made?"

"Cupcake, I don't work, I commissioned someone to get your sweet ass there. Get to the point."

"You hadn't let me use it for a while now and I thought that I still like it. So, since it's in my programming, I... Just open the first picture, sir."

Jack didn't even let the mouse twitch for a moment. He wanted Rhys to open it, to commit to confessing to whatever bad thing he imagined but Rhys only found it stupid.

Unfortunately for him, though, the anxiety protocol, while a bit tamer than in the past, was still strong. And Rhys was really not looking forward to repeating the last time it got too high, especially since Jack made it this much better for this whole mission he has been on. And Rhys really didn't want to feel something so unbearable nearly all the time, again.

With the need to just get it over with, Rhys opened the newest file and waited for Jack's reaction.

There was a momentary spike in blood pressure but just a moment later, both it and the pulse lowered. The analysis of Jack's facial muscles made Rhys relax again, as the anger and frustration morphed into joy and laughter.

"Rhysie, I know I have been upgrading you with the generative processes but you still like the old photo manipulation ways but this, this is just hilarious! Are- oh my god all of them are like this?! How many edits have you made?"

At that moment, Rhys was very happy not to have a visible face, since he probably wouldn't be able to look at Jack for too long from the embarrassment he probably should feel.

"I... We have been going on these journeys together for a while now and I thought it would be...a nice thing. I have been browsing EchoNet and noticing that people like to take pictures like that. And I want to keep some memory of being on these trips with you."

The folder contained pictures of Jack, from different angles, mostly from the echo watch, and Rhys' body edited into such a level of precision, that it would be hard to tell they were edited at all.

"And the facial expressions..."

"I added them to the model, based on data I've gathered. It wasn't hard to edit the rig and get that to work."

"Wowie, Rhysie, but these..." Rhys let Jack gather his thoughts. "These need to be deleted."

"WHAT?"

"Yeah, nobody should know what you look like. Delete them, immediately."

"I...no! They are well encrypted, you have seen that! And without me, they can never open them. Nothing bad will happen, Jack. Nobody is going to try and steal me."

Jack was skimming through the pictures, seeing the model seem to look like it was holding the device to take the picture and ground himself more into the scene. Smiling, eating together, riding in cars and... just looking at a sunset together, backs facing the camera.

"I won't delete them, Jack. And I ask you not to delete them, either. I worked hard on these and I want to keep them. They will never go anywhere but just on the drive."

"Why would you want to keep a memory like that?"

Rhys felt it was a trap question with no good answer. Nothing he would have said would be able to exactly revert the process, but, he knew Jack wasn't exactly in patient moment for him to analyse each answer.

"I thought it would be nice to share these with you, to remind you I was there."

Rhys didn't expect Jack to leave the office without the echo watch. He rarely did that. If it was for the bathroom - even if he had one hidden in the office, or it was to cool down, it wasn't important.

If the pictures still stayed - they would stay there. And that was enough for Rhys.

Jack wanted him to develop a hobby and there it was.

Nothing bad could come out of it.

#my writing #writing #borderlands #rhys #rhys strongfork #handsome jack #tftbl #fanfic #rhys the company man #rhack #???#i mean this feels upmost platonic I suck at romance OIFHAIOASF #Im thinking of making a work on AO3 with these to like keep them somewhere safe #should i #Edit: oh this posted before it should huh #But also that heavy comment is a bit due to the fatphobia in the universe??? It seems so common and jack talks a bit #-About people's appearances #It's an EuGH but ye

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azsazz · 1 year

Text

8 Seconds

Modern Bull Rider!Cassian x Reader

Summary: The 8 seconds before the gate opens and the 8 seconds after.

Warnings: Mentions of injury but no one actually gets injured.

Word Count: 1,365

Notes: So the bull riders have to stay on the bull for 8 seconds to earn a score, if they don’t they don’t earn any points.

_________________________________________

Eight.

You.

Cassian thinks of you, sitting right there, so close he can see that look on your lovely face, that worry you try to tuck deeply within you, like one glance from him and he wouldn’t be able to read every tell that you have, after all of these years.

You get like this before every ride, scared for him. Terrified that this will be the time when he gets injured, a horn through the skull or a break or fracture. He’s had wounds before, this is a tough business and by no means is it meant for the weak, and you’d been by his side through almost every competition, every win, loss, every recovery.

He loves you for it.

Seven.

He checks his helmet for a third time, not anxiously, but because it’s tradition. Something he’d started doing the first time he even attempted to ride a bull, when he, Az, and Rhys were freshly eighteen, piss drunk off of cheap beer and wanting to have some fun.

Rhys had tossed him the old hockey helmet and Cassian had nearly dropped it in his stupor. He made a face as he stared down at it, surely this wouldn’t help him in any way if he were to be flung from the beast roaming Azriel’s mothers ranch. He shoved it onto his head anyway.

With a tut Rhys had stumbled forward, plucking the hard hat off of his head and turning it the right way, clapping him on the shoulder with a beaming grin, ready to go.

But Az had droned on like a stern mother about at least doing it up fully, grumbling about how much of a jackass Rhys was to suggest this and how dumb Cassian was for agreeing.

Three times. One for each of them.

Six.

He teases the beast beneath him with a jibe of the spurs at the back of his well worn-in boots.

He refuses to buy another pair, no matter how much you begged him to, as they reeked to high heavens. He had many lucky rituals, superstitions, you called them, and even after all of the times you’d threatened to get rid of them while he was sleeping, here they were.

Five.

His hand is steady, tucked under the thick rope, wrapped around the bull and twisted around again for good measure, glove sticky with rosin.

He wipes the other on his chaps, willing the sweat to away. He doesn’t need it for anything other than stability now, but as it’s wrapped around the cool iron rail entrapping him and the beast below him, slipping against the metal when the bull bucks restlessly, nearly throwing him off in one forceful rally.

He has to adjust his grip again, set it right, before the gate opens.

Four.

The song he’s chosen blasts throughout the arena, drowning out his fears.

He hates it, but it makes him smile. Reminds him of his loser best friends who had switched it at the last minute, telling the audio operators that he’d changed his mind and that this was the fucking song he wanted played as he was introduced.

And now he’s stuck with it. Another lucky charm.

Three.

The roar of the crowd makes Cassian bite back his smile. Him being here, his presence, is making their night.

He thinks of the little boy who’d burst out in tears when his parents had brought him around for a picture. His heart had fractured at the sight and he’d knelt down and opened his arms and the child shuffled in shyly, wrapping his hands around his neck and holding on with a grip that rivaled Cassian’s on the rope around the bull.

They’ve come to see him. People of all ages, young and old, sitting on the edges of their seats with their booze and snacks, eager and awaiting, just like he is.

Two.

He looks the animal in the eye. He always does. There’s a thrill that rushes through his body from the glare of hatred the bull is sending his way.

He wants the beast to see him, wants to come to an understanding. That for just eight quick seconds they will be wild. Together.

Cassian knows the creature is uncomfortable and scared. And so is he, sitting upon a feral animal that could kill him with a single blow.

One.

A single exhale.

Ready for war.

Zero.

The gate opens.

The beast is unleashed.

One.

His senses come back to him. All at once.

Two.

The bull bucks wildly around the arena, trying desperately to kick him off.

Cassian struggles to keep himself upright, body rocking back and forth. It’s like getting hit by bricks, but falling off would be like slamming into concrete, so he holds on.

Three.

The cheers are getting louder and louder the longer he stays on.

It drives him, that sound. Grounds him in a way that helps him through the ride.

He thinks he can hear your screams above the rest. Could pick you out from any room by just the sound of your voice, shouting at him.

Sometimes you count with the timer and he knows exactly how many seconds he has left. Other times you’re lost in it, seeing the bulk of the man you love up on that wild creature, feeling so entirely free you can’t do anything but cheer for that.

Four.

That song is still playing, drowned out by the pounding in his heart, the roar of the crowd.

It still reminds him of Az and Rhys. It does every time.

Five.

It’s getting harder to hold on, the stick of his glove is no match for the force between his thighs.

The rope is starting to slip but Cassian grits his teeth around his mouthguard and clenches tighter, letting his body move freely, absorbing the movements of the bull, his free hand flailing above him for balance.

He’s getting close.

Six.

His heels dig into the animal's sides, thighs quaking as he holds on for dear life, spurs poking into thick skin, agitating the bull further.

Seven.

Cassian keeps his chin tucked, the cage covering his face grinds into sternum, one, two, three times.

His helmet had been upgraded after that night, when he’d fallen in love with bull riding. Even in his drunken state he’d never felt so free, like if he could do that then he could do anything.

So he’d taken it up full time, even though Rhys and Az had teased him about it at first. They’d come to every single one of his competitions until they no longer could, busy with lives of their own.

But Cassian knows that as soon as he’s off the bull and back in his trailer that he’ll have at least twenty messages from each of them, their group chat blowing up with praise and memes and jokes and promises they’ll be getting around to another one of his shows soon.

He can’t wait to see them again.

Eight.

The buzzer sounds, letting him know that he’s survived eight seconds of hell, again.

Cassian waits until the moment is right, the bull still bucking and thrashing wildly, before slipping off. He tumbles to the ground, scrambling to get his feet under him as the bull kicks back angrily.

He dodges, so used to the wild creatures, as unpredictable as they are. It’s quick to be corralled, and he keeps an eye on it as he makes his way over to where you’re sitting, pulling at the straps of his helmet as he goes.

The roar of the crowd is insane, and it’s a rush unlike any other.

He waves his hands in the air, urging the mass of people screaming his name as he goes. Flashes them a toothy white smile. Winks. Blows a kiss.

It’s all for show.

Until he reaches you, that is, sliding his hand around the curve of your neck, caressing the base of your skull in his hands to steady you as he kisses you through the bars.

The crowd goes wild and he grins against your lips.

His heart is beating wildly in his chest for another reason.

You.

#cassian #cass x reader #cassian x reader #cassian/reader #cassian/you #cassian x you #modern!cassian #acotar #acowar #acomaf #acotarxreader #cassian au #azsazz #bull rider cassian

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