My favourite ACOMAF moment is when Feyre first visits the Illyrian camp and Rhys is threatening the leader and you completely expect him to say something like “don’t hurt her because she’s under my protection”, which would imply she’s an easy target. But Rhys immediately establishes Feyre as being capable of protecting herself. That was such an important moment, because he let her take back the power that Tamlin had taken away from her. I remember reading it for the first time and being so surprised and impressed.


My #1 reason Rhysand is better than Tamlin:

Rhys - ‘I heard you were going to marry him, and told myself you were happy. I should let you be happy, even if it killed me. Even if you were my mate, you deserved that happiness.’

Tamlin - 'I don’t give a shit if she’s your mate. I don’t give a shit if you think you’re entitled to her. She is mine.’

  • Steve: Have you cleared this with Fury?
  • Tony: Better to beg forgiveness than ask permission.
  • Bucky: Yeah, and I put a sedative in his ass.

Now I know technically, his birthday would be tomorrow since that would be the 29th, but we don’t get a 29th this year so I thought I’d do it a day early. I really wanted to say Happy Birthday! in February. So…


anonymous asked:

Imagine Natasha with Steve's shield? And that turning him on?

Admittedly, he’d been a little busy in Sokovia to notice Natasha using his shield.  It wouldn’t have surprised him then to see how fluidly she moved with it, just like it didn’t surprise him now, watching her sparr with him after having managed to relieve him of his shield.  

What was surprising was his distraction.  The one in his pants-area.  It wasn’t entirely unexpected.  He’d always found her sexy.  Not her body (yes, her body but not just that), but she was witty and capable and strategic and if he was honest, she was someone with that (sort of) shared life experience and he always felt a sense of calm settle over him when they fought side-by-side.  So he knew he was a little smitten.  

He just wasn’t counting on the shield.  He also wasn’t counting on how long he took to think through all of that and before he knew it, he wasn’t staring at her face, features set in determination (and something…guarded around her eyes, something she was trying to keep secret, maybe), shield at the ready, but rather he was staring at the rafters of the training space. 

“What’sa matter, Rogers, never see a pretty face before?” She smirked. 

He huffed a laugh and used his supersoldier reflexes to his advantage, sweeping her legs out from under her and twisting so he’d disarmed her and had her pinned.  He tried not to look too smug and mostly succeeded.  He was just glad he managed to keep his hips from touching any part of her.

Natasha lifted one eyebrow and shifted so that she was pressed flush against him.  “You gonna gloat all day, or are you gonna kiss me?”

Steve didn’t waste time being awestruck, and leaned forward.

Blood of Passage: Part Fifteen


“How many,” Blake asked. His brother’s mind was already working in overdrive. Adrien could see the cold calculations running. “How many, Adrien?”

It was an effort to reach out as far as he could with his shadows; The strain of his body and his wounds made using his shadows that much more difficult. But neither Nate or Blake was as adept as he was. “Over thirty. Nearly half a hundred. They’ll be here in five minutes give or take.”

Blake turned to Maze and Tarus. He knew what his brother was going to do. “Blake, no.”

His brother ignored him, “I need you both to get Adrien out of here. Maze is too short to be able to carry Adrien by herself. Please.”

Tarus nodded, “I’ll guard him with my life.”

“No, let me stay. I can still fight with you guys. There’s so many-”

Blake turned to him, “You will end up dead. You need to go on. Tell Aurora to keep fighting and tell our parents I got you out.”

“No, Blake-”

His brother’s eyes darkened and he knew what Blake was going to do to force him out. He braced himself for the knockout blow that came.


She took Adrien’s arm around her neck and looked up to Blake, “If I see Cyrian or Bay, I’ll send then your way.”

Blake grinned, “We got this.”

“Oh shut up.” She turned to Tarus, “Let’s get him out of here- wait. You can’t carry him. Not with-”

Tarus’ eyes darkened, that liquid gold turning to a dark brown. “I can and I will.”

She nodded, “Let’s get him out of here, then.” She turned to Zev, his dark eyes were filled with worry and dread at the death that awaited from his own hands. She got to her toes, kissing his cheek, “Thank you for helping Adrien, Zev. I hope you don’t get dead.”

His eyes were wide, his shoulders tight; pure unexpected surprise was on his face. His voice stumbled to find the right words, “Of- of course, Adrien is my friend.”

She smirked before turning to Tarus, “Come on.”


Tarus hoisted Adrien in his arms, the male’s arms kept away from his throat, “I’ll carry him, you fight our way out. Can you do that?”

Her smile was dark and vicious, “You have no idea.”

A chill went down his spine and he gave a final nod to the others, his eyes rested on Zevakyn, who was looking at Mazakynn; the male’s wide eyes drug themselves to him before Tarus turned to Mazakynn also, “Let’s go.”


Bay stopped. He wasn’t a shadowsinger by any means but he knew when he was being surrounded. He sighed, his voice flat. “Are you going to stop being so dramatic and come out of the shadows or are you going to do the smart thing and leave me alone?”

“I see.” A group started swarming around him, a few of the males from the fight with Karis. “I suppose you’re here to kill me for being a ‘faggot’?”

The males surrounded him and he almost entertained the idea to let them try to hit him, shock some feeling into his body. Instead, he gripped his weapon. “Come at me.”

They attacked.


Blake watched Tarus and Maze get as far as they could before turning to Nate and Zev. “There’s three of us, and nearly fifty of them. Let’s get out of here and make ourselves legends.”

Nate snorted, “Your arrogance is showing. Were most likely going to get our asses handed to us.”

Zevakyn’s mouth slid into a crooked grin, not quite reaching his eyes, “Then we go down swinging.”

“Easy for you to say,” Nate said, squaring his shoulders, readying for the fight of a lifetime. “You completed your bucket list of getting a kiss off Maze. I still have things on mine that I need to do.”

“You mean Bay?” Blake said.

“”You think of that all by yourself?” Nate retorted.

Blake shook his head before turning to the first wave of fighters, “Were not dying. Were the best and we’re going to show them why.” He ran at the first male.


Zev drove his weapon in a male’s throat. Bile rose in his stomach at the bloodshed around him. He shook his head, clearing his mind and pulled the weapon out and turning on the next male.

Blood pooled in his fingers, feeling too much like Chelia’s. His heart hardened at the thought of her broken body and bloodlust rose in his veins. He growled as he ripped throat after throat out; her name echoing in his ears.


Nate slammed his elbow into a male’s nose, his bones crunching beneath him. He swing, his fist connecting to the male in front of him. He hoped Bay would turn his short-ass around and come and save their asses. There were so many.

He ducked narrowly missing a fist; his own connected with the male’s throat. The male wheezed, coughing blood.

“How you doing, Blake,” he yelled, “Still think we’re going to be legends?”

His brother ducked, expertly hitting the male in the face, the male’s eye socket shattering beneath his fist. “Keep up, Nate.” He brought his hand down, shattering the rest of the male’s broken face. “You can’t fuck Bay if you’re dead.”

His temper spiked; his fingers caught the male’s hair, bringing the back of the male’s head into the stone floor of the cavern. “Shut up, you dick.” He stood, A fist connected to his cheek and he pushed the male backwards. “The same could be said for you and Aurora.”

He could feel the glare he was getting from his brother. Good. He pushed the male into the wall, his hand brought the male’s head to the wall. Blood and bone and brain matter splattered against the stone. He grimaced, wiping the blood from his face, “That’s fucking gross.”

Blake shook his blood soaked hair from his face, “that’s different, she’s my mate.”

“Oh, whatever.”


He was so close. Cyrian could feel it. He was going to get out of here and rip Malyus apart. He could almost imagine the male’s blood on his fingers.

His fingers tightened around a male’s throat, he gasped for air and Cyrian sighed, “you are all so pathetic.” He slammed the male’s head down into the rock. He smiled grimly at the destruction. “Can’t even put up a decent fight.” He didn’t even bother to turn around, “It would seem that your pet needed to be carried out. That has to hurt his pride. Hm?”

“They need your help.”

He turned to Maze, “And why would I help your friends?”

“Look, their being surrounded by at least forty people. Just- Please?”

His lips curled up into a smile, “I didn’t think you had manners outside the bedroom, Mazakynn.”

She glared at him, “Cyrian. Please.”

He clicked his tongue, “Well, I do love killing. Hopefully I get there before they get themselves massacred.” 


Bay pulled a male off of Nate, “Wrong move.” his fist connected with the male’s throat. What he lacked in height he made up for in strength. He kneed the male’s groin; the male fell to his knees just for Bay’s own knee to shatter the male’s nose hard enough he knew cartilage and bone jarred in the male’s brain, but he was still alive. He turned to Nate, “You alright?”

Nate tried flexing his fingers, looking down at him. “You came back.”

“Of course I did.” Bay said before turning to the next male, his weapon lodging itself up under the male’s ribs and into his lung. He pulled it out and the male fell to the ground. He turned back to study Nate. “Can you still paint?”

Anger flashed in Nate’s face, “I think so.” Nate’s foot connected to the first fallen male’s neck, crushing his windpipe, “Asshole.” Nate took Bay’s chin in his fingers, forcing him to look at him. “You’re bleeding.” Bay knew he had blood running down the side of his face, his nose was broken too.

Bay shook him off, “It’s the Blood Rite. People bleed. Come on.”


Zevakyn had seen Bay tear into people but he hadn’t seen him so detached and executing as if he were simply spelling his name. Zevakyn met Nate’s eyes, “You okay, Friend?”

Nate’s eyebrows were furrowed, his eyes watching Bay tear into male after male. “Ask me again after we get out of Hell.”


He wrung his hand, shaking the throbbing in it. He was an idiot for letting those males get the best of him. If Baylor hadn’t shown up, his hand would be ruined and he’d never paint another picture again. He supposed he would have to thank him for it. Nate felt his lips curl into a smile at the image in his head.

Zev snorted.

He dodged the next attack, letting a male run straight past him. He pulled the male’s arm back, dislodging the bone and broke the male’s neck, “What’s so funny?” he asked Zev.

Zev’s foot crunched a male’s back, snapping his spine, “You, my friend, are very readable.” Zev turned to him, his eyes were intense with promise. “I’m going to say this just once: Don’t. Hurt. Bay.”

He blinked. He wasn’t expecting the dark promise that waited in Zev’s eyes. “What?”

“You heard me.”


Cyrian showed up to find absolute carnage. Bay’s foot connected with a male’s throat and he looked up at him, “What are you doing here.” The male’s voice was cold. No that’s not right. Being cold implied emotion, this was detached and a void. Similar to his.

Cyrian took out the throat of the nearest male, “Saving your asses apparently.”


Adrien opened his eyes, squinting at the sunlight streaming through his windows. The sun. he was out. He jolted up, “Where’s Maze?”

His mother’s smile didn’t reach her eyes, “Nice to see you too, Sweetheart.”

He looked around. They weren’t at the mountains anymore and the tang of salve filled his nose and was cool against his wings. They were in his bedroom.

His father’s voice was soft and lethal, “Who did that to your wings?”

He averted his eyes. He couldn’t face his father with what happened to him. Not when he had that knowing look, the ghost of memory on his face. “It was Ezekiel, sir.”

“Is he dead?”

“Yes, sir.” he looked up at his mother, then his father. His throat was thick. “Can I be alone? Please?”

His mother leaned closer, kissing his cheek. “We’ll be outside if you need us.” She stood, smoothing down her dress. “Come on, Az.”

As soon as his parents were out of his room, he brought his knees up to his chest and he let out the broken sobs that had been stifled for the past three days.


heres the next part :) Please, please leave a comment XO

Feyre telling Tamlin that she doesn't love him and she’s married to Rhys.

*Lucien at the background looking at Elain* Feyre, Lucien and Tamlin meeting The Court of Dreams for the first time since Hybern’s scene and Feyre turning on Tamlin.

allaboutthefandom  asked:

NESSIAN PLEASE 65: why did someone just tell me they ship us because I ship nessian and ur an amazing writer :)

You are far, far too sweet. I am LOVING how many Nessian requests I’m getting, drabbling for them is so much fun. Apologies if this is a bit messy, I’ve squeezed it out whilst on Placement so it’s unedited. Hope you enjoy, it was a riot to write!

To request further prompts for any ACOMAF pairing/character, find them here. Always Open.

Nessian - Modern! AU, TV Stars AU - Prompt 65

Comic Con was not Nesta’s natural habitat. Swarms of sweaty, overexcited people bustling about everywhere, always enthusing and exclaiming and squeeing. As someone who considered it a sign of weakness to express anything other than cold disdain, she could not even begin to comprehend this species. The ‘fandom’ as Lucien, their PR manager, had called it.

She supposed she ought to be grateful that she was part of such a cult phenomenon. ‘A Game of Courts’ had been a gamble, her very first project as an actress and it involved full frontal nudity, endless travelling, and a five-year minimum contract. Rhysand, the visionary behind the show, was a remarkably persuasive man though. A foolish dreamer if ever Nesta had met one, but in his case, chasing his dreams had paid off. And now people wouldn’t stop telling her how much they loved her.

“You’re such a bitch,” A girl dressed up as Nesta’s character screamed during the meet and greet. “I love it!”

“Oh my Queen, High Lady of the Illyrians, Warrior from the Cauldron!” A man wearing a sculpted chest piece to give him fake abs had trouble breathing as he shook her hand. “You’re welcome to destroy my self-worth any day.”

She did her very best to smile politely and thank everyone for their support. Most of the rambled gushing people spilled over her was sort of coherent. References to the shows she would nod at respectfully, and every salivating comment about her tits could be filed away for ego-stroking purposes whenever she saw online derision about the fact that of all the Archeron sisters, she had the smallest bosom.

One thing came up time and time again, however, that sounded like complete nonsense to her. Though it pained her to show her ignorance, at the end of the meet at greet, she turned to Cassian.

The male beside her was loving the attention, as she knew he would. Women swooned before his bare chest, some even daring to ask to touch it. However, all apologized and shied away when they spotted Nesta’s icy glare. She would not tolerate them inflating that arsehole’s ego any further, thank you very much.

“Would you like a little sit down, Cassian?” Nesta asked with a sugary sweet simper and a smile. “It must be awfully tiring, holding up the weight of that enormous head.”

“It is damn hard work,” Cas said, stretching out like a cat fresh from sunning himself. “Good thing I’ve got such incredible upper body strength to support it.”

Rolling her eyes, Nesta lowered her voice. “Though I consider you a meatheaded jock and a moron,” always open with an insult, that was her policy when dealing with egomaniacs, “you probably spend enough time googling yourself to know the answer. Why did someone just tell me they ‘ship’ us?”

Cassian blinked back at her. “I don’t recall boats ever being relevant. Not with winnowing existing. And given how we both have wings, I just don’t see why everyone keeps referring to ships.” She shut up the second she realized he’d broken into a deliciously smug smile. She pushed up onto her tip toes and placed a delicate hand upon his shoulder. “I swear to god Cassian, if something patronizing comes out of those over-defined lips of yours, I will end you.”

“My dearest Nesta,” Cassian said, his voice soft and low and far, far too dangerous. “Allow me to show you what that question means. You see all those fans queuing over there, watching us?” He nodded to the hoards of awaiting fanboys and girls. “See how they’re quiet now? Well, listen to what happens when I do this.”

With one hand he caressed the curve of her cheek, and with another he drew her closer by the small of her back. She would later adamantly deny the way her heart raced and her cheeks flushed as she gazed back at him, though fifteen different camera phones caught the incident and would later upload it to be immortalized upon youtube. Denial could do little to erase how she leaned closer when he bowed his head to kiss her.

The hall around them devolved to chaos. Shrieks of ‘Oh-My-Gawd!’ And stranger still, ‘The ship has sailed!’ erupted from the gathered crowd, and iphones flashed in a display as impressive as Starfall itself.

“All hail the High Lady of The Illyrians!” Someone bellowed above the mayhem.

“Commander Cas has got the mooooves!” Another whooped, punching the air.

“That, my dear,” Cas whispered, breaking from the kiss to look back at her, his touch upon her cheek remarkably gentle, “is what it means when the fans say they ship us.”