It’s still 10:23 PM Tuesday, May 23, 2017 (HST), holla!!! This part’s pretty short, because I really struggled with it :( So, part 3.5 will be coming in a day or two, probably, and then I will make an immediate push for part 4 (Becca and Cas please become really annoying and fight me if I don’t) so 3.5 should be done by like Thursday night/Friday morning, and 4 will be ready by Tuesday night/Wednesday morning. Also, if anyone wants to teach me a thing or two about photo editing, I have a pinterest board of 487 pins which is part of why this chapter’s kind of a disaster sshhh that I would love to turn into edits for you guys :) I’m feeling like an instagram or snapchat vibe? Idk, hmu if you know anything on the subject. Lol it’s 4:23 EST and I’m low key deceased but like it’s fine why do I keep doing this to myself so apologies if there are any typos - I tried my best. Tagging @highlady-casandra because this is the reason I haven’t edited for you yet and I’m sorry, I love you!!! Also @miladyaelin who is asleep, lol - thanks for trying pal :) 3.5 will probably be posted at a more reasonable time so you can actually look at it first before I make a fool of myself post it … but i say that every time so who knows Also tagging @fictionalcharactersaremyreality, @rowanismybae, @the-north-star, @throneofstars, @fortunatelycleverpaper, @snaps7, @thegirlwith-that-smile, the anon who sent me that ask earlier today, and so so so many more, thank you for caring about my story and wanting more of it, I love you guys! HUGE thank you to everyone for the kind words and reblogs and notes, I appreciate every single one <3
The second Dorian saw that look in Aelin’s eyes, he knew the
dance was over. He easily stepped out of the way, a small smirk on his lips as
he glanced behind him, catching the slightly scared and entirely determined
look in the barkeep’s eyes as Aelin stepped directly into his arms.
The barkeep almost immediately stepped back, attempting to
keep Aelin at a comfortable arm’s length away. Dorian couldn’t help but laugh
at the ridiculousness, as though Aelin would actually let him keep her at a
distance. In any case, he didn’t really have time to spend watching the
soon-to-be happy couple. His eyes quickly scanned the pub, once again falling
onto Manon. He took in the satisfied smirk on her lips as she watched Aelin
dance with Rowan. If you could call it dancing, that is. Rowan was awkwardly
waddling from side to side, stiff as a board, as Aelin moved around him like a
force of nature – absolutely breathtaking.
She was the one he’d dragged to ballroom dance lessons when
his mother had forced him into them the summer after his freshman year of
college. He didn’t need to be stuck partnered with any of the other pretentious
bitches at the country club. And as much as Aelin pretended to complain, he
knew she enjoyed it. No one could make Aelin do anything she didn’t want to do.
Their dancing had been comfortable, as it always was, as
they learned to be. But this, this was a tragedy. However, even in the face of
tragedy, Aelin looked like a princess.
And while he was the one dancing, Dorian was damn sure he
looked like a prince. He couldn’t help but smile to himself as he thought about
Manon angrily glaring at Aelin while they fell back into old patterns, easily
moving around the floor. He definitely hadn’t quite gained the upper hand, but
he felt like he was at least just below a tie at that point. After looking
Manon over once again, he decided it was time for another drink. Another
incredibly muscled, incredibly tall man appeared to have taken over for the
white-haired barkeep. What were they
putting in the water here? He had dark shoulder-length hair, a nose that
looked like it had definitely been broken at least a few times, and overall
looked generally pissed off at the world.
However, Dorian was absolutely determined to get more Guinness.
The pub had emptied out significantly since they arrived, as the night carried
on well into the next morning. He grabbed a seat at the bar, and tried his best
not to be offended when the bartender grumbled about “typical Americans” after
he’d ordered the beer. It took every ounce of determination in his body not to
turn around, to look for those heart-stopping golden eyes, but then all
attempts proved futile as she settled into the seat beside him.
“Looks like you’ve been replaced, twinkle toes,” she
smirked, unable to keep the satisfaction out of her voice. “Jealous?”
He glanced over at her then, eyeing her casually crossed
arms, her tired eyes, and her undoubtedly pleased smile. He couldn’t help the
small smile that grew on his own face as he looked at what was likely the most earnest
side of her he’d seen all night. He guessed she was probably too tired to put
on her own mask in that moment.
“Manon,” the bartender grumbled, sliding the pint over to
Dorian. “Don’t you have tables to serve?”
“Don’t you have glass to clean, Lorcan? Or better yet,
business to mind?” She snapped at him. Her cold glare would have stopped Dorian
in his tracks, but the bartender – Lorcan – merely rolled his eyes and walked
over to the other end of the bar. He was clearly trying to pretend he was
checking on another patron, but it was pretty clear to both Manon and
Dorian that he honestly just didn’t seem
to want to deal with her shit.
Dorian cleared his throat, sliding his hands around his beer
and taking a sip. Manon’s golden eyes were focused on him as he forced himself to spit out the words he’d been
desperate to ask since he first saw her looking like she was plotting a hundred
different ways to kill Aelin. “So, were you? Jealous, that is?” He avoided her
eyes, taking one of his hands off of the death grip on his beer to run it
through his hair.
“Yeah,” her voice was even, almost aloof. “I was.” His eyes
snapped to hers - confusion, and fear, and something more swimming through them, all at once. She rolled her eyes at his
response, twirling her braid between her fingers. “Well don’t look too excited,”
she scoffed, pulling on the white strands.
“So does that mean you want to dance?” Their eyes met, and
for the first time, Dorian didn’t look away. He couldn’t look away, even if he
tried. There was something there, tying him to her. Paralyzing him.
Her low laugh cut through him, inflating his lungs, and
finally letting him breathe. She reached for his beer, taking her own sip
before offering him a small smile. Her golden eyes had become molten, a warm
amber. “Well played, princeling. Well played.”
“Come on,” he goaded, lightly bumping her shoulder with his.
“You can’t be nearly as bad as that guy!” He gestured towards Rowan with his
chin, and Manon laughed even harder then, an honest laugh, as she watched Rowan
awkwardly fumble next to Aelin. “If you think my brother’s bad, you wouldn’t even
be able to handle seeing me.”
hesitated at the words, then suddenly saw the similarities, glancing back and
forth between the apparent siblings. The hair was of course a blatant giveaway.
But also, their strong chins, the high cheekbones. Dorian wasn’t sure how he’d
missed it before. And then suddenly something in Manon’s face changed.
Confusion, shock, and then – something along the lines of
disgust? Dorian followed her gaze to find Aelin and Manon’s brother all but dry-humping
as they danced. He let out a sharp laugh at the sight. There was no way to know
exactly what Aelin had done, but whatever it was, it worked. Two became one as they fit together perfectly, moving in
time to a rhythm Dorian would’ve sworn the hulking bartender had absolutely no
sense of rhythm only seconds before. But he supposed Aelin had enough rhythm
for both of them, as the white-haired giant helplessly followed along, drowning
deeper into Aelin. A smile spread across Dorian’s face as he watched his friend let herself feel pure
joy for the first time in a long time.
He turned back around to find Manon watching him instead, a skeptical
eyebrow perfectly raised at his pleased expression. “Shouldn’t you be angry?
Off to defend your girl or something?”
Dorian barked out a laugh at the thought, shaking his head
at the ridiculousness. “Aelin isn’t anyone’s anything. And the last time she
was – well,” he hesitated, “let’s just say it didn’t end well.” The thought of his
other best friend brought a tightness in his chest that he would rather have
ignored just then, as he brought his beer to his lips once again. He couldn’t
exactly say he would have enjoyed being stuck in Dublin with both Aelin and
Chaol, but that didn’t mean he didn’t feel bad for both of his friends.
When he refocused his attention to Manon, he was surprised
to find her still watching the dancing couple. Although – when he looked closer
– he got the distinct feeling she wasn’t watching anything. Manon appeared to be
lost in a world all of her own, drowning in memories she was either afraid to
lose – or desperately wanted to forget.
“Hey,” Dorian prodded, bumping his knee against hers – and leaving
it there – terrified of the contact, yet desperate for more. “You okay?”
The second she turned to him, he knew he’d made a mistake.
Her mask was back in place just as quickly, as she leaned into him, running a
long nail down his chest. Her hot breath sent a chill down his spine as her
lips lightly grazed his ear. “Let’s play a game, princeling, and I’ll show you
exactly how okay I am.” As she leaned back against the bar, a savage smile
graced her lips that should have made him afraid. But instead just made him
want her more. Clearly, that was because he was a self-loathing idiot, because
there could be no other explanation for his need – his impossible desire.
That, or she was clearly a witch. Seducing him somehow, with
her charms. In that moment, he realized that his hand was somehow – suddenly in
her hair? He was entirely unsure how it had happened? But somehow, in some way,
his hand had ended up pushing one of the white strands behind her ear, as if he
had no other option. He simply couldn’t help it – it was instinct, an impulse
he couldn’t stop, and didn’t even realize was happening. Like breathing.
“Witchling,” he whispered. His sapphire blue eyes were
locked on her golden ones, and in that moment, he could feel it. A part of him
shifted and he knew – he knew – that whatever
they had, it was precious. His hand had a mind of its own, moving to cup her
cheek, and he didn’t think she could help herself either, as she closed her
eyes and leaned into him. A hint of a small smile appeared on her lips as her
mask began to crack again. They breathed as one. Inhale. Exhale. And then her eyes
shot open. A fear was in them – uncertainty – and then an unbreakable hardness.
Dorian suppressed a growl – and then let out a gasp.
Suddenly, her lips were against his. Her tongue immediately
took advantage of the gasp, moving in, and invading his senses. She was all he
could feel, the only thing he ever wanted to touch, as the taste of her burned
into his memory. He needed her. All of her. His hands traced her hips, her
waist, her breasts, pulling her against him, and onto his lap.
He took control of the kiss, a new savagery taking over him
that it seemed – it seemed she liked, even
responded to. She opened herself up to him, fully straddling him as he turned
her back towards the bar. A low moan slipped past her lips against his mouth,
as his hands climbed up her shirt, tracing slow lazy circles against her soft
skin. He was determined to take his time. To claim her. By the end of the
night, he was going to have all of her. And she will have been begging for it.
He barely pulled away, breathing heavily as their lips lightly brushed against
each other. She was entirely still in his arms, waiting for him. Her golden
eyes poured into him as they met his, a shiver running down her spine at the
words that left his lips. “I want to taste every inch of you.”
Manon let go of all pretense of reason as her princeling
closed his eyes and claimed her mouth once again. She opened for him, melting
against him even as a deep chill set deep within her bones.
His fingers slid to her jaw, tipping her face to thoroughly
take her mouth, every movement of his jaw a sensuous promise that had her
arching into him. Had her meeting him stroke for stroke as he explored and
teased until she could hardly think straight.
This wasn’t the plan – he wasn’t supposed to taste this
good, this right. He wasn’t supposed
to make her feel this way, she wasn’t supposed to feel. She’d had enough feeling for a lifetime. But as every part of
her burst with need, with an impossible heat, with an icy thrill, she felt
everything. And she just kept falling, deeper and deeper, his touch on her
body, his hands everywhere, stroking, tracing. She melted into the hardness of him,
aching for all of him, as his dick strained against his jeans, pushing against
where she needed him most, but not giving her nearly enough.
And then it just – stopped. And in that moment, Manon was
entirely certain she could have murdered Lorcan. “For Christ’s sake, Manon,” he
growled, his hand still clinging onto the back of Manon’s shirt where he’d
pulled her away. “If you’re gonna fuck ‘im, fuck ‘im somewhere else.” He
roughly let her go, walking away again and grumbling to himself once again
about chaperoning. Manon cleared here throat as she awkwardly slid out of
Dorian’s lap, pushing more pieces of her white hair back as she attempted to
Dorian, however, was the calmest he’d been all night.
Because finally – finally – he knew
exactly what he wanted. And he knew they weren’t done. And he knew he was going
to get it. And as Manon struggled to breathe – she knew she had never been more
desperate before in her life.
She needed a distraction.
“Darts!” She blurted out, after scanning the room, looking for
something – anything – to drag her
out of this fiery, hot, hell. She flashed a grin at him, trying her hardest to
keep it together. “Fancy a game?”
And as she floundered, and her chest rose and fell, and her
face flushed, he smiled. An absolutely, irrevocably, rakish, panty-dropping
type of smile. The kind that showed a little too much teeth – and reminded her
of what it felt like when they bit her lip. The kind that made her helplessly
think about all of the other things she wanted him to do to her with that mouth
– those teeth. And at that look in her eyes – that glazed over, lost look – as she
bit her lip, and focused on his, he finally let out a calm breath. Because for
the first time that night, he was truly in control. And he liked it.
So because he could, his grin turned almost feral, and his
voice was a sensual caress, sending chills down her spine. “I could think of a
significantly better game to play involving sticking things in a target, and far
more interesting things to do with my hands, but your wish is my command,
witchling.” His voice was a velvety purr by the end of it, and she was left
questioning how in the hell their roles had changed so quickly.
Boys never left
her like this. She didn’t allow it. Manon was always in charge, and never got
attached. They were two very simple rules. Yet this stupid boy, with his
stupidly soft lips, and irritatingly delicious tongue, and new dumb confidence,
and infuriating smirk was suddenly causing her to reconsider everything. And
she wanted to hate him for it. Except there she was, ready to beg for more. What the actual fuck?
She said absolutely nothing as she spun around, her braid whipping
around her shoulders. A large gulp of his beer and a few large steps later, he
was right beside her. The burning hand he placed at her lower back only caused
her to walk faster. She wanted nothing more than to have that hand in places
that ached for his touch. So she sped up instead, desperate to run away – to forget.
Never forget, but never
And then they were there, across the room. She grasped for
the mask she needed to pull on to survive as she pulled the darts out of the
board. But the action was more or less futile. The game had already begun. And
she was losing.
- Rhys’s last name is Hotpants (then she
retracted and said his name might be revealed in future novels).
- She doesn’t think Aelin and Rhys would
fight if they met, they have to much in common. If they met Aelin would be like
“I’m too distracted by how attractive you are.” If they got into a verbal fight
Aelin would win. Her mean streak runs deeper than Rhys’s. Then she’d feel
guilty because “he’s too pretty to cry.”
- If Amren and Manon were tapped in an
elevator they’d have a stare off until they both got too hungry to continue.
Manon would tear off the elevator’s ceiling panels with her claws and Amren
would climb the wires. Then they’d go get a cup of blood together.
- Sarah likes to write “not nice” female
characters like Amren and Nesta because she doesn’t think she was always the
nicest person in high school. She also believes that no one is ever completely
sweet and kind all the time, we’re all a mix of good and bad (except her
sister-in-law who is apparently the nicest person in the world).
- She wrote 20 000 words of Tower of Dawn her first day sitting down
to write it.
of Dawn will be told from the perspectives of
Chaol, Nesryn and Yrene.
- If her characters order Starbucks Amren
would be super strong expresso, Rhys would get a latte with pretty foam art and
Feyre wouldn’t drink coffee but she’d get English breakfast tea.
- If she could bring her characters anywhere
in our world she would bring Feyre to the Louvre. She would just watch Feyre
look at the art for hours. She would bring Aelin to the Metropolitan Opera House,
which is her favorite place in the world.
- Page 666 of ACOWAR was completely
coincidental. When she was reading the version with numbered pages for the
first time she burst out laughing when she saw what happened on that page.
- She refused to answer who has the longest
wingspan but says she might throw it in at the end of the very last novel.
Until then we can choose for ourselves who has the longest ‘wingspan’ and the
best ‘flying skills’.
- It upsets her that people feel like they
need to apologize for reading fantasy or romance novels. She gained most of her
knowledge of healthy romantic and sexual relationships from those kinds of
- She still has her copy of Pride and Prejudice from ninth grade
where she drew hearts and wrote Sarah Darcy in gel pen.
of Glass wasn’t a huge success right away. If Crown of Midnight hadn’t sold well she
only would have gotten three books.
went off on a really long but super sweet tangent about how much she loves her
husband. She says that despite common fandom belief he is not the inspiration
for Rhys (their only similarities are that they have dark hair and are tall)
but their relationship did inspire the tone of Feysand’s relationship, especially
the importance placed on equality and partnership. Josh was smiling like crazy
the entire time to the point where Sarah had to stop because she kept laughing
at his “goofy grin.”
- The very first scene of ACOTAR was inspired
by the first song of the Princess Mononoke
soundtrack while the last scene of ACOWAR was inspired by the last song on
the soundtrack. This was a coincidence.
- Her dog sleeps in Sarah’s office while she writes. She goes there after her walk every morning like she’s going to work.
- She gets inspiration for her female
characters through music. She gets inspiration for her male characters by
trying to figure our how to get their shirts off in a rainstorm.
This was an idea I have been obsessed with ever since finishing the game; loving space age travel art as much as I do, I couldn’t help but wonder about the Initiative’s tourism advertising revving up once viability was green across the board and Meridian was secured. Almost all of the formerly busted Golden Worlds, now fully habitable and relatively safe - what would the visual explosion of their marketing look like? So I went ahead and gave it a shot.
Post-ending travel ads for the Golden Worlds of the Heleus Cluster, with a bonus appearance from Aya. I released these in 2 installments, but I decided I wanted to look at them all together. Super proud of these.
OMFG AHAHAhahaah. Guys this is not my post i dont take credit for it- i found it on pinterest and couldnt find the original post. If anyone can find it for me that would be awesome so i can give credit because this is fucking amazing.