Endeavor Is A Bitch. This Post MUST Be Reblogged By Everyone.

Azriel after the mating bond finally snaps into place:

Clare - Now that you’ve given up all your foolish artistic hopes, what are you going to do with your life?

Nesta - Polish up my other talents and be an ornament to society.

Clare - Here is where Tomas Mandray comes in, I suppose.

Nesta - Don’t make fun!

Clare (laughing) - I’m not!

...

Clare - You are not engaged, I hope?

Nesta - No...

Clare - But you will be, if he goes down properly on one knee?

Nesta - Most likely, yes.

Little Women (2019)

It shouldn't have come as a surprise. It hadn't. Nesta was, for all her misfortune, still a beautiful and fairly accomplished woman.

She was more than he deserved.

And, they had both had spent their whole lives being shaped for this single purpose: to wed and wed well.

It had not come as a surprise at all.

So why then did it feel as if her chest had been hollowed? As if the earth below had fallen away and taken all she loved with it?

Always feel bad when I see someone say something like "I don't have a disability but I have [something that is a disability but society doesn't treat like one]"

Migraines. Food allergies. GERD. Vision problems. Skin problems. For people that menstruate, conditions that cause irregular and painful cycles. Those are all disabling. Anything that impairs you from functioning or completing a basic life task without accommodation is a disability. Anything that makes you spend days in bed during a flare up is a disability! Not everyone experiences your symptoms and you're not being weak or whiny.

Mental illnesses that people treat as "mainstream" these days like anxiety, depression, or ADHD are still disabilities. Overcoming a massive struggle just to get out of bed, slow down your thoughts, or focus on what you need/want to do is disabling. Starting the day with less mental energy than most people is disabling.

For the migraine people: yes, everyone gets headaches, but no not everyone gets migraines. It's a condition that can be inherited in which our nerves are literally wired differently and more sensitive than someone who doesn't get migraines.

For the food allergy and digestive disorder people: if you eat something your body can't tolerate, you become sick. Doesn't matter if it's a trip to the ER or skin irritation for a few hours, that's a negative response in your body. Going hungry at social events because you can't eat anything, that's not something you just have to grin and bear. Prohibitively expensive or hard-to-find accessible food. Most people have the privilege of not worrying about eating.

For people with abnormal menstrual cycles: you don't have to suck it up because "lots of people get periods, no one likes them, but they all deal with it." Majority of people who get periods don't spend days in bed with debilitating pain or nausea. Your heightened struggle is real. Going months between cycles can increase your risk of health conditions down the line, and it's good to speak to a gynecologist if you have access to one.

If you are feeling discomfort on a regular basis in any part of your body, or if you usually feel unwell after eating, that isn't normal and you deserve medical attention and support

Edit to reiterate this list is not exhaustive!

and then to argue, after alllllll of the moments we see cassian exert power of nesta THAT NESTA is the abusive one in that dynamic?????? where? so -- nesta -- the woman who (1) repeatedly asked for cassian to leave her alone (2) who kneed him in the balls bc he was trying to lick her neck (3) who followed her home when she asked him NOT too, (4) was locked in a house and had everything down to the food she ate and the clothes she wore picked out by HIM. (5) was attracted to that beast of a man bc of a mating bond that HE ALREADY KNEW ABOUT and was then locked in a house with this man with those emotions she cannot control

THAT IS THE ABUSIVE ONE???

the woman who literally tried for months to get away from this man, going so far as to live across town and cut contact with him.

but somehow she's being abusive when she's told multiple times she not interested in him, in the fae world???? insanity.

like if u want to make those arguments abt feyre and her sisters having a bad relationship. go ahead, thats your place

but to argue this abt nesta and cassian, to even imply NESTA as the aggressor is crazy and i think yall are losing it here.

random things i hear pt 2

person a: hallejahoohah!

person b: do you mean hallelujah?

DOES ANYONE ELSE WHO WATCHES SHAMELESS FEEL LIKE THE REASON THEY RELATE TO LITERALLY ALL OF THE GALLAGHER KIDS BECAUSE THEY HAVE BEEN ALL 3: THE OLDER SIBLING (FIONA & LIP), THE MIDDLE CHILD (IAN DEBBIE & CARL), AND THE YOUNGER CHILD (LIAM) BC UR THE MIDDLE ONE OR IS THAT JUST ME

“Authors should not be ALLOWED to write about–” you are an anti-intellectual and functionally a conservative

“This book should be taken off of shelves for featuring–” you are an anti-intellectual and functionally a conservative

“Schools shouldn’t teach this book in class because–” you are an anti-intellectual and functionally a conservative

“Nobody actually likes or wants to read classics because they’re–” you are an anti-intellectual and an idiot

“I only read YA fantasy books because every classic novel or work of literary fiction is problematic and features–” you are an anti-intellectual and you are robbing yourself of the full richness of the human experience.

I dunno I mean I knew a lot of Americans were against it but I assumed they were all elitist right wing weirdos.

What's the mainstream left wing position then if it's not socialism?

Tradition and Blood

Chaos.

Tarquin took a long drink from the goblet in his hand as he leaned against the balcony railing and watched his palace erupted into bedlam.

He’d thought to have a drink after dinner, even thought to invite Lady F—

No, the Cursebreaker.

He’d even thought to invite the Cursebreaker. She looked so wound up during the day and at dinner, there was no question sleep would’ve eluded her tonight. With their impending return to the Night Court, he’d foolishly allowed himself to believe that the rumors were true. That she was stolen from Spring, that she hated Rhysand, that she dreaded having to return with him. Maybe even that she found solace here, in his court, in his palace.

In him.

Footsteps pounded down the hallway. Tarquin slowly leaned further onto and over the railing, watching the seas below. Turbulent, choppy, angry, where just a few hours before they’d been calm. He sipped from his cup, ignoring the shouts, ignoring the footsteps. And when they came to his door, he’d ignore the knocking too. He already knew what they were coming to tell him. He’d felt it as it happened, too slow and powerless against its magic to stop it.

He drained the last of his wine in a single gulp and turned to the small table on his left. Two empty bottles, and a third half-finished. The wine was disappearing at an alarming rate, but no amount of drink could cover this feeling of shame. The other High Lords looked down on him, he knew. Many in his Court did as well. Too green, they all said. Not enough experience. Too young, too naive, too trusting. A few years and he’d make a fool of himself, they said. It hadn’t even been one since Prythian was freed from Under the Mountain and he proved them all right.

And for what? Some lofty ideals? A chance to prove himself? Friends? He wanted to laugh. Laugh like Cresseida laughed when he told her his hopes and dreams. Not to be cruel, never to be cruel. Cresseida was just a realist.

Change is slow, she’d said more than once.

It doesn’t have to be that slow, he’d replied every time.

And while he still believed that, still believed the phrase was used by many to defend and justify lack of action, maybe...maybe there was a grain of truth in the thing. Maybe if he'd taken his time, gathered more intel, built a solid foundation and started slowly within his own court, he wouldn't have been humiliated tonight.

A small breeze that carried a fresh scent of the sea blew past him from his left. He reached out the hand holding the cup. Wordlessly, Varian picked up the half-empty bottle of wine and poured him a drink before taking his own straight from the bottle.

"It's gone."

His words fell from a hollow throat, needing no confirmation from his cousin. They felt heavy yet meaningless. Varian, he knew, would never throw it in his face, but maybe Tarquin would feel better if he had. If his cousin reminded him that he'd tried to tell Tarquin not to trust the Night Court or anyone that came with them, that he tried to get him to listen when Cresseida said the same, maybe he would have felt better, or at least different. Anything other than what he was feeling now.

There was a reason Rhysand had no allies. There was a reason he was welcome in no Courts. And those reasons started before Amarantha. It made him wonder what he could've done, what Tamlin could've done, to turn the Cursebreaker into another one of them. Another Night Court monster.

And how he'd hoped that wasn't the case. Felt it was his personal mission to prove that the Night Court wasn't full of monsters. Those who'd lie, steal, hurt, and betray for their own cause, for their own benefit. After Brutius, he'd hoped. He banked on that hope.

This was the price he paid for hoping.

He wouldn't make this mistake again.

Tarquin pushed off of the balcony, decades of thoughts in his head. He looked over at Varian, who was watching him silently as he drank. He must've read the question in Tarquin's eyes because he said, "No one's dead."

He scoffed. Small mercies. He could hear Rhysand now, as clearly as he heard the knocking at his door. Yes, we stole your greatest treasure, but at least we didn't kill anybody. He'd say it as if Tarquin should be grateful. Maybe he should be.

"And Cresseida?"

Varian hesitated, as if he knew his next words would only make him feel worse. "Trying to work through the magic left lingering in her mind."

Of course. The picture was getting clearer and bloodier by the second. Came into his home under the guise of peace, dangled Prythian's hero in front of his face (not unlike how he dangled her in front of those Under the Mountain), distracted and deceived him while they schemed for his treasure, destroyed his temple, harmed his people, and on top of it all, messed with his mind to ensure their success.

He wanted to laugh. He wanted to scream. He wanted to rage like the seas below him.

"I always thought tradition was for fools," Tarquin said quietly.

Varian looked to the sea. "Fools do cling to their traditions," he admitted. "Never wanting to see anything new, try anything new. That's why you want to change things, no?"

"Mm," Tarquin hummed. "Indeed. But then what? Do I want transient gratification? Do I change things only for them to change again in another few decades, and then another few decades again?"

"I would hope not, cousin," Varian said.

Of course he didn't. He wanted his change to last. A thought he'd been having since the call of his land upended his night spilled forth from his lips. "The truth is I don't hate tradition. My arrogance demanded that I create my own and discard the ones that came before me."

"A new revelation?"

"Mere minutes old." And with that, he left the balcony.

Tarquin walked into his room and past his bed to the far western wall, grabbing three bottles of wine as he passed. A hand swept over an inconspicuous stone opened the way to a secret passage, a portion of the alabaster white wall shimmering blue. He let Varian step through the wall first, then followed closely after. His cousin took two of the bottles out of his hand, freeing him to open his and take a long drink.

They made their way through the secret corridors of the palace, a place known only to Adriata's royal family and the High Lord of Summer. After Amarantha, Cresseida and Varian showed him, and he was forever amazed at the twisting, turning tunnels that wove through the palace and led to the sea. Even now, the sight filled him with awe.

They continued on their way, only stopping briefly at a certain spot for Varian to pull Cresseida through another wall before continuing on. He shoved a bottle at his sister, and together the three of them drank in silence as they neared their destination. No words had to be said. They all knew what was to come next.

When they finally stood in the middle of the treasure chamber, Tarquin almost faltered. Maybe it was a mistake. Maybe she'd gotten too curious of a ruin and set off the alarm by accident. Maybe she got scared, and immediately knew they'd think the worst of her because of the company she kept, and so fled.

But if that were the case, his guards wouldn't have been injured. And she'd have tried to send a note to explain, no?

Her guilty eyes haunted his mind. She'd reeked of guilt the entire trip. Now he knew why.

"Cresseida," he said.

She moved, and within a few minutes came back with a box. Inside, the three rubies she'd chosen were shining. The size of chicken's eggs, he knew they were three of the largest they owned. Fitting.

Tarquin set his bottle down on the floor and gently took the box from her. No reprimand passed her lips either, for which he figured he'd be grateful. Enough of that would come from his advisors and courtiers with the morning.

"It feels like this night has gone on forever," he said, not sure if he was speaking to himself or his cousins or no one at all. "It has been hours, and yet I've lived a lifetime in this one night."

He picked up the ruby in the middle, turning it over and over. The first time he'd heard of the blood rubies, he laughed himself hoarse. The thought of being so beside oneself with anger that you...send valuable jewels to the offending parties? For years, he thought it was a joke his cousins were playing on him. But now that he held it, he felt it. The depths of darkness and malevolence radiating from the jewel called to him, as they could only call to one whose soul mirrored their own.

Like calls to like.

"Are you sure?" Cresseida asked.

"Are you not?" he answered, still staring at the gem.

"There will be no going back," Varian said.

"That was true before I held this," he answered. He never thought he'd be here, get to a place where he'd send one of these, let alone three. A thought that could have driven him to madness. He remembered sailing summers long past, laughing to the point of tears.

"Even if I were High Lord, I'd never send one out!" He'd been ready to swear it, but Varian stopped him, warning him against making a vow he might one day have to break. It was painful to think of how he was then and where he was now.

As he looked at the gem, he thought of his predecessors. They probably all had a point in their lives where they thought the same.

"I see now," he said to the ruby, "why you lived as we now live. Why you did what we now do. I didn't before. Forgive me for my blindness." He lowered it back into its place. "Will you share in this with me, cousins? Will you take part in my revenge?"

"Your revenge is ours," said Cresseida. Varian simply nodded.

Tarquin sighed, then held up his hand. Slowly, his skin shifted from smooth to rough. Razor sharp scales formed on his skin, glowing blue as the oceans beyond them. With his other hand, he took hold of Varian and Cresseida. For a minute, the three of them stood, holding hands at the precipice of magic, just like they often did as children.

"Tonight, I've learned valuable lessons. Many traditions are adhered to for a reason. They are not things to spit on, but things to understand and respect, even should we not necessarily agree with them. And we won't always; they were established during different times than the one we live in. My predecessors were not barbarians who simply didn't know any better, they were complex beings leading complex lives. I see now how they could be pushed to drastic action."

As he spoke, the rubies began to glow.

"On this neverending night, our court has been weakened. I cannot even say that we were blindsided. We—no, I invited the blight in this time, just as my predecessor did half a century ago. Only this time, I knew what evil I was inviting in. I simply convinced myself that everyone in Prythian other than me was mistaken. My arrogance has died tonight. To tell the truth, it was killed."

The rubies pulsed, and in return he began to warm. Without having to see his cousins' faces, he knew he'd begun to glow himself. Shining with the power of Summer.

"This night may feel endless, but the sun will rise. Here in Summer, but also in Night. Our sun will rise in the Night Court. Let it blot out the stars they hold so dear."

And with one swipe, Tarquin slashed across all three hands. Deep gouges formed and blood spilled, intermingling with one another until they were one. The blood and magic fell upon the rubies, who desperately sucked it all up. This was a curse, one born from only the darkest of desires. What Cresseida and Varian desired, he couldn't know. But for him? He only wished upon them all exactly what they'd wrought on him. For them to trust someone wholeheartedly, despite every point of logic telling them not to, only to be violated in the way he had been. Not being able to trust his own mind in his own home, having things placed under his care stolen from him, using his hospitality in a time where such things were hard enough to come by, preying on his good nature and harming those he was meant to protect. He wished it all on them.

And then, once they experienced it all, he wished them dead.

Such desires were deep, and the stones drank until they had their fill. Once they shone with murderous promise, the three Summer fae unclasped their hands, now sticky and stained. Tarquin closed the box and handed it to Varian carefully. His scales were still out, and they refused to go back in for now. Being High Lord was so different than anything else he'd known. The land heard his desires and imbued him with power, but he was aware that in some ways, he was just a vessel, a conduit. They were tied inextricably, he and his Court, and what angered him enraged his Court. His beast roiled underneath his skin in response. It would be a while before he could rein it back in.

He wasn't even sure if he would want to when he could.

He hesitated handing these to Varian. The curse would take root once the recipients laid eyes on them. He thought of her, looking at the rubies. Rhysand would be there to explain what they meant. Would she feel devastated? Would she want to apologize? Would her heart sink to her feet and through the floor as his did when he heard the land scream and found her room empty? Would she shake in disbelief as he had when he found the other rooms vacant as well and realized what they'd done?

He thought of her and how easily she charmed him just to get to his Book. Is that what she did, seducing High Lords to get what she wanted? She seduced Tamlin, didn't she? He read between the lines and connected the timeline. She seduced Tamlin and her family regained their wealth. She seduced Rhysand and became feared throughout Prythian. And in this short time, she'd seduced him and made off with something that could neutralize the Cauldron. Next, he'd hear of her with Helion, leaving him with empty libraries.

The thought pissed him off. He shoved the box at Varian rougher than he meant to.

"These are in the Hewn City by morning."

Halloween Headcanon

Ft. Eris and little Lucien

-When Lucien is around nine or ten, he becomes “deeply weird” in Eris’ opinion. He gets super serious and doesn’t talk much, just reads tons and tons of books about spooky stuff. LoA insists to Eris that it’s just a phase, that Eris himself went through a phase where he stared at people for uncomfortably long amounts of time and led some people to think he was possessed. Eris turns bright red and changes the subject, but later insists that his baby brother is still a weirdo.

-So Eris is horrified when he ends up stuck on Lucien duty during Halloween while his mom holds court with Beron. He’s secretly pissed because he has a super cool vampire costume that he was trying to impress a secret lover with that is now going to be wasted on a morbid little kid.

-Lucien shows up at Eris’ room dressed like a ghost, but it’s basically just this:

-Eris is like…ugh fine, let’s go get candy from everyone.

-They travel all over the Forest House knocking on doors and getting candy for Lucien. If Eris feels like someone isn’t being generous enough with the sweets, he stares at them menacingly until they give his little brother more candy.

-Lucien doesn’t talk much, and it’s freaking Eris out so finally he asks Lucien to tell him about the weird shit he’s been reading and then he can’t get Lucien to shut up about all the ghosts that live in the Forest House and all the macabre ways that they died. Did Eris know that one of the previous High Lords flung himself off the tallest branch of the tallest tree in Autumn because he had his heart broken? Did Eris know that a group of priestesses were drowned in the river and now roam the forest looking for revenge? Eris tells Lucien that he did not know and that he wished he still didn’t know.

-One of the brothers tries to give Lucien grandma candy and Eris has to threaten him into handing over the good stuff.

-Eris nearly has a heart attack when he looks over and notices the “ghost” holding his hand is flickering underneath the sheet. Time for a detour to the library to reinforce the binding spell that keeps the sunshine powers locked away.

-Lucien finally starts acting like a normal kid when he starts whining that he’s tired and he just wants to go back to his rooms to eat his candy. By this point, LoA has returned and Eris is more than happy to hand over the cranky child to his mother. Before he goes off with her to get ready for bed, Lucien gives Eris a huge hug. He stands there stiffly and endures it while his mom beams.

-Eris is annoyed to discover that his would-be lover has gone home and that his expensive costume was a total waste. But he’s secretly happy that he got to spend a little time with his baby brother, even if he is a giant weirdo.