TruthTeller

Imagine Elain absolutely annihilating Eris at whatever kind of card game is most popular in Autumn—one he’s excellent at himself—and him being both impressed and increasingly frustrated by it.

Lucien is sitting with them trying not to burst out laughing.

Azriel is the absolute worst character to pull off a forbidden romance; considering his own insecurities and how secretive he is as a person, it’s far better for his character to be the one who openly, shamelessly shows off his spouse to everyone. He would only be hiding from his closest friends, and that’s the ickiest “forbidden” trope ever, especially when it comes at the cost of a beloved character’s sanity.

Eris though? Give me an Eris forbidden romance. It would slap SO HARD. GIVE ME THE SNEAKING AROUND BERON, THE SCANDAL, THE CHARGED LOOKS ACROSS A BALLROOM PLSPLSPLSPLSPLSPLSPLSPLS-

Gwyneth “I think the Valkyries were even more sadistic than the Illyrians" Berdara

Azriel is quiet, yes, but not for the reasons people might think. It's not something he does to be mysterious — or to frighten others. Sure. It works well for that, too. But.. Truth is, he has been quiet all his life ; perhaps a symptom of always being belittled when he tried to speak up for himself, be that by his step brothers, his stepdad, or by Rhysand himself.

Azriel has never really had the luxury of having his own opinion. His life has been — for better or for worse — a binary code, 0, 1, a black and white painting, and an immense quantity of yes' and no's.

Since living with the shadows, he's had his step brothers to fear, and then when he goes into the camps, he has Cassian and Rhysand to fear — to watch his mouth around.

But of course, as the story is told, things change, and then before he knows it, he's following his new brothers into battle because even beneath it all, ignoring the fact that he has suspicions that he does not exactly belong within their troops, they're brothers, damnit, and he will walk through fire for them.

And then they grow up, and the war ends. He becomes Rhysand's father's spy, and he goes into that job without any beliefs of his own, his life built around trying to survive his abuse and then the Illyrian camps.

And when he and Cassian and Rhysand finally become old enough, and Rhysand takes the throne, well, at that point he's got an unbreakable devotion to the night court and the citizens within it, and to his brothers, too — beaten into him, caking under his nails like blood, running through his veins like some type of venom to which no one has the cure to.

But even then, when things begin to settle, and everyone finds their place in the Inner circle, he doesn't really know himself, doesn't know where his place truly is. Sure, he's devoted to something, and likes these people enough to forget himself, but. Who is he, really? What does he want? Where does he belong?

Which is why — when he meets you, something wild and free and immovable in your own beliefs and person, he can't help but find refuge there ; in your wild, unkempt person, in your loudness, your clinginess, your unashamedly huge heart.

headcanon where Eris’s meanest hound takes a liking to Elain and both Vanserra brothers just stand there like 🧍🧍‍♂️ because they’ve both been bit by this demon dog but now it’s letting Elain tie a bow around its neck and follows her while she forages in the forest

Emerie winning the blood rite and becoming Carynthian is actually the most important thing to happen in the Acotar series .

Emerie an Illyrian woman that had her wings clipped by her abusive father. A father that made Emerie dig her own mothers grave after he beat her to death. And later beat Emerie so bad that he broke her back.

Emerie who originally joined training to spite her abusive father. Then continued to train for months while simultaneously running her own business. And having to deal with family members harassing her.

Emerie was kidnapped from her own bed and forced to compete in a death tournament. Yet still managed to win the entire thing. Being the first Illyrian woman to do so.

And that was just in one book! Imagine where she’ll be by the end of the series.

A precious late submission by @/ kloartz!

Visit and follow the artist here!

A precious late submission by @/ kloartz!

Visit and follow the artist here!

Sounds like an engine

Gwynriel by @/mageonduty on Instagram

Biscuits are ready

So, my friend @hlizr50 posted this lovely art during Gwynriel week and it inspired an idea that's been rolling around in my head until I finally spit it out in Word tonight. So, don't mind any typos or grammar, I did exactly zero editing 😅 Enjoy!

793 words

A distinctly masculine yelp called the entire training ring’s attention to the far end where Gwyn was…. Hanging from the Shadowsinger’s back… side? It was hard to tell from this angle. All Cassian knew for sure was Gwyn’s coppery head was much higher than it should be, and her feet were wrapped somewhere around Az’s middle, rather than on the ground. His brother stumbled at the sudden shift in weight, his wings flaring wide.

As Cassian watched, Az managed to pry one of Gwyn’s legs from around his torso but she quickly scrambled around his body, repositioning herself until she had somehow draped her body across the back of his neck, one of his arms grasped between hers, the other between her thighs.

“Son of a-” Az’s words cut off with a growl as he again attempted to free himself from her hold. He could hear Gwyn snarl at him to yield, which of course Azriel refused- as he should. He wasn’t defeated yet.

But cauldron, did they look ridiculous. 

Nesta and Emerie appeared at this side, wearing amused looks as they watched their friend make a proper fool out of the famed Spymaster. “What do you even call that hold?” Emerie asked with a snort as Azriel’s wings bent and stretched, trying to stabilize him while he worked to get free.

“I think it’s called a Nelson?” Cassion shrugged trying not to laugh as Gwyn “accidentally” kicked Az’s wing, drawing another strangled yelp from him. “But I’ve never seen it done like that…’ 

He finally loosed a grin as an idea came to him. Focusing his mind, he called out to Rhys, hoping his brother was paying attention wherever he was in the city. A moment later, a smooth voice spoke in his mind “Yes, Cassian?”

“You gotta see this.”

Rhys gave an intrigued hum. “Is that so?” There was a brush at his mind and Cassian opened a small window for his brother to see through his eyes. 

Just then. Az managed to find a ticklish spot behind Gwyn’s knee, loosening her hold with a squeal. Before he could pull her off of him completely, however, she scrambled around again, somehow hooking one leg around his back, one over his shoulder, ankles locked together, and both hands wrapped behind his neck.

This time the shift of weight unbalanced him entirely, sending him to his knees… Gwyn still hanging from his neck.

Cassian couldn’t help a chuckle then as a matching one sounded in his mind. He felt a pause on Rhys’ end before he felt another presence in his mind. “Oh my,” Feyre giggled. “How did she get up there?”

“I don’t know, I heard a shout and turned around to find her hanging off him. Everytime he manages to get an arm free, she moves and traps him again,” Cassian laughed. “We might want to consider ear plugs for the poor priestesses, Az’s been cursing up a storm the last couple minutes.”

Az wedged a hand beneath the thigh wrapped over his shoulder- dangerously high- and Nesta whistled. “You usually have to pay to get that handsy, Shadowsinger. Watch it!”

The hand quickly disappeared with a frustrated growl, and Gwyn, the cheek, laughed merrily at his predicament. From the corner of his eye, Cassian caught sight of Mor and Amren perched on lounge chairs, watching the show. How and when they had gotten here, he wasn’t sure. But they were turning his training ring into theater and he should probably say something, but he was too entertained by the spectacle.

After a few more moments of struggling - each attempt at tickling Gwyn now resulted in her thrashing about and shrieking, battering Az’s poor wings even further, even as she clung to him like a magnet- until finally, Az’s wings drooped with a sigh. 

“Do you yield?” Gwyn asked cautiously, still holding tight. There was a mumble and then- “What was that? I couldn’t hear you?”

“Yes, I yield. Gods damn it.”

Immediately, Gwyn dropped to the ground, rolling numbly from underneath him and springing to her feet with a triumphant crow. Nesta and Emerie burst out laughing while the other priestesses rushed over to congratulate Gwyn on besting the Symaster. Mor, who apparently wanted more of a show, booed loudly and tossed popcorn in Az’s direction, which Cassian had no idea how she’d gotten.

“Is he- blushing?” Feyre asked.

Sure enough, Az had slunk off to the side of the ring, his cheeks pink as he gingerly rubbed his shoulder. His shadows, which had been dancing around him and Gwyn throughout the entire bout, not interfering, now twirled in the air behind him. If he didn’t know better, Cass would think they were laughing. “Yes, Darling, I think he is.”