ladies under the mountain

That moment we begged for A Court of Wanting a Rhysand

**meanwhile in ACOTAR**

“What do you want?” I demanded

“A moment of peace and quiet,” he snapped, rubbing his temples.

I paused. “From what?”

He sighed. “From this mess. That damned bitch is running me ragged,” he went on, and dropped his hands from his temples to lean his head against the wall.

Like, can we all appreciate how depressed and drained Rhys is? He has no one to turn to Under the Mountain because pretty much everyone hates him and all his friends are keeping Velaris safe and Rhys has anxieties about them every day and he’s keeping the weight of every member in his Court on his shoulders doing too much, too much, too much…and the only way he feels like he can console himself is to go to this girl who he feels a connection with, who he might suspect is his Mate and be so open and vulnerable with her, on the verge of fucking tears. Rhys was so lonely in ACOTAR, but he found a way.  He found a way. <3

My focus half remained on the High Lord whose hands and mouth and body had suddenly made me feel awake – burning. It just made me… alive. Made me feel as if I’d been asleep for a year, slumbering inside a glass coffin, and he had just shattered through it and shaken me to consciousness.

- Chapter 42, A Court of Mist and Fury

Finally finished! A project between commissions :) I even did a speed painting of this, so go check it out :) In the beginning youll see how I set up the scene. Its from a program called Daz Studio and I am absolutely obsessed with it. Expect more dynamic paintings in the future :) (once I finish this list of commissions).

Based off of course, the best Feyre and Rhysand out there, Barbara Palvin and Toni Mahfud.

Prints here!

Speedpaint! - PARTIAL (bullshit) NUDITY. Dont flag me please =-= i wasnt blurring out my painting for a pair of fucking nipples. 

***please dont repost on instagram until I have posted it already. 


Amren: These blood rubies are the best paper weights

Cassian: *probably brings in some sort of stray cat smiling idiotically* OH MA GOSH GUYS LOOK

Mor: *singing counting stars while dancing frantically* LATELY I’VE BEEN I’VE BEEN LOSING SLEEP, DREAMING ABOUT THE THINGS THAT WE COULD BE

Azriel: *plays pattycake with his shadows before Mor eventually joins*

//yep, definitely sadistic killers


Best “New-To-Me” Films - 2015 

(excluding new releases, in alphabetical order)

  • Braking the Waves (1996, dir. Lars von Trier)
  • Enter the Void (2009, dir. Gaspar Noé)
  • Fallen Angels (1995, dir. Wong Kar-wai)
  • Fish Tank (2009, dir. Andrea Arnold)
  • The Holy Mountain (1973, dir. Alejandro Jodorowsky)
  • Me and You and Everyone We Know (2005, dir. Miranda July)
  • Paris, Texas (1984, dir. Wim Wenders)
  • Safe (1995, dir. Todd Haynes)
  • Sympathy for Lady Vengeance (2005, dir. Park Chan-wook)
  • A Woman Under the Influence (1974, dir. John Cassavetes)
You were right,” Lucien declared at last. “That girl I knew did die Under the Mountain.
—  A Court of Wings and Ruin by Sarah J. Maas
Tamlin/Gaston parallels

Ok…. I was rewatching Beauty and the Beast and I found incredibly fitting parallels between Gaston and Tamlin. Here the scenes that made me think of ACOMAF:


“You’re going to be a High Lord’s wife,” Rhys said. “You’ll be expected to maintain your own correspondences, perhaps even give a speech or two. And the Cauldron knows what else he and Ianthe will deem appropriate for you. Make menus for dinner parties, write thank-you letters for all those wedding gifts, embroider sweet phrases on pillows … It’s a necessary skill.”

Chapter 6


“I’m sure there are things to help with around the house. Or you could paint. Try out that new set I gave for you for Winter Solstice.”

There was nothing but wedding planning waiting for me in the house, since Alis refused to let me lift a finger to do anything. Not because of who I was to Tamlin, what I was about to become to Tamlin …

Chapter 2


Save me—please, save me. Get me out. End this. 

Tamlin took a step toward me—concern shading those eyes. I retreated a step. No. Tamlin’s mouth tightened. The crowd murmured. Silk streamers laden with globes of gold faelight twinkled into life above and around us. 

Ianthe said smoothly, “Come, Bride, and be joined with your true love. Come, Bride, and let good triumph at last.” 

Good. I was not good. I was nothing, and my soul, my eternal soul, was damned— I tried to get my traitorous lungs to draw air so I could voice the word. No—no. 

Chapter 4


Tamlin’s face contorted with wrath. “They’re monsters. They’re—” He didn’t finish as he stalked across the floor to grab me. To drag me out of here, then no doubt winnow away.

Chapter 64


Tamlin snarled at him, “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—”

Chapter 66

A Different Perspective

I looked at Rhys and Feyre, a pang of jealousy ran through me. I had experienced a love like that once, if the world would have been kinder, I would be like them. Blissfully happy. But instead the world was cruel and to remind me of such a fact my gaze changed from the happy couple to her son.

“You’re not your normal flirtatious-self tonight, is something bothering you?”

“He looks so much like her,” and because it was Feyre, I wasn’t afraid to admit, “when I look at him, I wish he was mine.”

She followed my gaze and was not the least bit shocked when it fell upon Lucien.

“You told me that she chose and you added that not all were as lucky as I was, what did you mean by that?”

“It saddens me to say, the majority of Prythian has misogynistic views. Even though the Day Court has long recognized the equality between genders, many of the other courts have not. She was his possession, his bride. It would have been an act of war to give her sanctuary, to call her my own. I know Rhys would have been an ally, but in the end she chose to stay. She chose Beron over me.”

It broke my heart when she chose to stay. I would have done anything to keep her safe, to help her find happiness, even if it was not with me.

“I think that is a matter of perspective.”

Of all the responses I expected from Feyre, that was not it. It was very clear to me that she had choose Beron over me. Why else would she have stayed?  But over the years I had become friends with Feyre and I had learned that she always noted things the rest of us could not see. I was unsure if it was her mortal heart or her artist soul that allowed for her to see what others could not.

Curiosity getting the best of me, “Oh, and what is your perspective on this matter.”

“What would have happened if she would have become pregnant during one of your affairs?”

The look on Feyre’s face told me that she knew more of this story then she was letting on, or maybe that artist soul picked up on something the rest of us could not. She was friends with Lucien. The son that she kept closest, the son that was the most like her.

“Beron would have killed the youngling. It would have been against our laws and in-turn I would have declared war on Beron.”

Feyre stood there looking at Lucien, not at all surprised by my declaration. I could tell she was analyzing the history, the tidbits I had given her and maybe tidbits others had given her.

“So maybe she didn’t chose Beron over you. Maybe she chose something else, someone else. Maybe she made the one call that would have been the safest, even if it meant she had to sacrifice her chance at true happiness.”

“What are you saying Feyre?”

“Did you know that the first time I met the Lady of Autumn it was Under the Mountain?  I recognized her right away for who she was. It was easy to spot the similarities between her and Lucien. She helped me, kept me from getting roasted or being the nights entertainment. I’ve never had the chance to ask if Amarantha punished her for her kindness. If that was the reason she did not attend my second trial.”

It had been years ago, but the second trial stuck in my mind. I remembered feeling remorse for Tamlin. If she did not win that trial he would have lost both his best friend and his lover.  Part of me wondered if it would have been easier for him to have lost them both that day, instead of over time. I also noted that my love had not been in attendance of that trail and often wondered if seeing her youngest die would have finally broken her.

“I’ve always wanted to thank her for her kindness, but Beron keeps a pretty tight leash on his family and I have never had the chance to learn from her what I could do to repay that kindness.”

“And what does this have to do with perspective?”

She gave me a warm smile, the smile I am sure Rhys fell in love with, “Look at Lucien, look at the parts that are not her. What do you see?”

I didn’t even look before I responded, “Beron.”

Feyre gave me a look that told me that she knew I did not take her request seriously, “Look again.”

And so I did. The nose was different and oddly familiar. His skin was golden, much darker than his mother’s. And as if on cue Lucien laughed. His smile.

“Holy hell!” I could barely breath, it was taking all my effort to not fall to my knees, “How long have you known?”

“Since the first time I met you.”

She had been shocked by something, I could read it on her face. I remember that night well, because only a few moments later Rhys was also shocked.  I knew they came to a realization about something, but our conversation that night had not been shocking.

“Does he know?”

She shook her head, “Not that I know of, I’ve been waiting for him to use powers he inherited from you to break the news or at least hint at it. Though I could probably get Elain to blurt it out, she owes him one for blurting shocking information.”

I raised a brow at that very specific comment, Feyre chuckled, “Lucien blurted out right after she was made into a High Fae, ‘You’re my mate.’”

I chuckled, “are we sure he is my son?”

Feyre didn’t bother to respond, instead she squeezed my shoulder and walked away.

I have a son, a son with the woman I have loved for centuries. A woman who if she asked me, I would tear the world apart for. Instead she had sacrificed herself, to protect both our son and myself.

Bjarnafoss waterfall falls down 80 meters from a basalt cliff. The legend says that under the waterfall stands “Fjallkonan” (Lady of the Mountain), a national personification of Iceland, and the spray from the waterfall falling on her shoulders and bosom. 

The Lady of the Mountain symbolises what Icelanders consider to be genuine and purely Icelandic, and she represents the national vision, the nation’s ultimate dream. The person in the photo is not The lady of the mountain unless she has changed into a middle aged, balding man 

The Aim of Elves

Overall Summary: You disobey Thranduil’s orders and decide to help the dwarves which has a better outcome than you expected.

Chapter Summary: Thranduil tries to coax the other elves to return to Mirkwood; Gold talk; and more baby Dis 

Previous Chapter: Chapter 2

Next Chapter: Chapter 4

Keep reading

Trust Me

Pairing/s: Thorin x (human!gn)reader

Setting/Timeline: Few years after BoTFA, Durins live!AU

Warning(s)/Genre(s): Fluff

Word Count: 1,100

The Hobbit, the Durins, and Any of the Company © J.R.R. Tolkien 
Context © me

Requested by @deepestfirefun.

A/N: First time doing a gender neutral reader. I hope I didn’t screw up.

The Hobbit tag list: @fizzy-custard, @sdavid09, @life-is-righteous, @igotanaddixon, @fromthedeskoftheraven, @kittenwritesstuff, @deepestfirefun, @dreamsofrivendell

Masterlist: HERE

Originally posted by tinysofia

They’re always there wherever the King goes!

And that is just one of the thousands of exclaims you constantly, and annoyingly, hear as you make your way within the cavernous labyrinth that is Erebor.

Keep reading

Sansukh Re-read Ch.1

Okay, first, FlukeofFate and a-sirens-lullaby did amazing art for this and it always reminds me of the cover art on certain books, fancy and giving you hints of what the book’s about but not spoiling anything. That really doesn’t have anything to do with the writing, but it’s amazing! Also, all of the art people have done for this? Amazing!

This is also probably a good time to admit that I read this before I had finished reading The Hobbit and Lord of the Rings books and before I’d watched all the movies. I knew that Thorin, Fili, and Kili died, it was impossible to avoid those spoilers on tumblr, but I’d put off starting this (despite how cool it sounded) because of that. I caved, however, and thus there were a few things that I read here before I was able to read them in the books (I think there were fifteen or twenty chapters of Sansukh by the time I finished reading both books).

Where was the Hobbit? Where was the frozen lake? Last he recalled, he had been bleeding to death at the edges of the silent battlefield. His madness had passed, but it had exacted too high a price. His family was spent and gone, his nephews cold and stiffened in death and rent with many wounds. Their soft-handed and great-hearted Burglar had forgiven him, even as he wept over Thorin’s broken body.

He did not deserve such forgiveness.

Poor Thorin, he’s got so much guilt and it takes him so long to work through it :’( I really just want to wrap him up in a soft blanket and tell him that he’ll be okay.

Thorin opened his new, useless eyes and glared into the darkness. “Then why, may I ask, did you make me so flawed?”

Thorin yelling at his Maker is both heartbreaking and a bit funny. Heartbreaking, because everything that he says, he believes. He really thinks that Mahal made a mistake, that he was flawed, that he was the reason things had gone wrong and that nothing else contributed it. A bit funny, though, because Thorin is literally yelling at a supremely powerful being who can’t even touch Thorin without him feeling the amount of power Mahal holds. And Thorin literally doesn’t care, he’s speaking his mind and Mahal just lets him vent.

“I lived less well. And amends are not of use,” Thorin spat. “That is not the point of them!”

Thorin understands this better than 90% of people I interact with on a daily basis.

“Everyone, this way! Found him, finally, how many sepulchres are there in this place?”

“Mahal only knows. Actually, he probably does. We should ask.”

As soon as I read the summary for this story, I was honestly hoping that someone would make a ‘Mahal only knows’ 'Well, then why don’t you ask him’ joke, and it happened in the first chapter!

“Best move out of the way,” Thrór muttered, and Thráin chuckled again.

“Aye, she won’t be patient much longer.”

“You mean she can be patient?”

“Don’t insult my wife, you old coot.”

There’s a lot of feels in this chapter, but it’s the funny bits like this that help me keep from breaking into tears so soon. I need to pace myself, after all, or there’ll be none left by the time I get to Dís and Dísith.

“By the way, Grandma is kind of terrifying,” Kíli said, and then he yelped as the lady Frís, daughter of Aís, Princess Under the Mountain and wife of Thráin, presumably pinched him.

“Behave, young one,” she said sternly, pulling back to stroke Thorin’s face again and thread her fingers through his close-cropped beard. “I’ll get to you two in a moment.”

“Terrifying,” said Fíli admiringly. “I kinda see where Mum gets it from, now.”

“Our grumpy little Dís as a mother,” said a young, laughing voice, a voice that rang like bells. “Let Middle-Earth tremble.”

Have I mentioned that I love Frís? Because I do, so much, and it’s things like this, as well as how compassionate she is, how organized she is, how loving…okay, there’s a lot to love about Frís. She’s one of my favorite Sansukh OCs.

“Shut up,” Thorin choked, and Frerin threw back his head and laughed his silver laugh and oh, Thorin had missed him, missed him so much.

“You shut up,” he said gently, and then Frerin was pulling his braid and abruptly Thorin was struck with a memory so vivid that he reeled with the strength of it, sent back to a hazy, golden time when he was five years old and the new baby kept chewing and tugging at his hair.

How every sibling reunion ever probably goes, minus the hair pulling. Or with more of it, depending on who the siblings are.

“I’m dreaming, yes?” he asked of no-one in particular. “Thorin doesn’t tease. He got brought back wrong. Mahal made a mistake.”

“Oh, you think you two were bad?” said Thrór archly. “These two had you beaten.”

“Why do you think he already knew most of your tricks?” added Frerin. “We thought up that stuff a century before you two.”

“It was always your idea,” Thorin muttered.

“And you always led the way,” Frerin said, and nudged him. “Such a dutiful Prince!”

Kíli wailed aloud, and Thorin could just picture the look of betrayal on his face. “Everything I knew is wrong,” he moaned.

Thorin smiled through his tears and Fíli chuffed a laugh. “Poor Kíli. He’s pulling at his hair again.”

“Tell him to stop. He doesn’t have hair enough to spare,” Thorin said, and Kíli’s outraged yelp made him smile all the harder.

Poor Kíli, he doesn’t know half of the things Thorin and Frerin got up to before he was even thought of. His pranking title is in serious jeopardy in light of this new information.

“I have a bone to pick with you,” said Fíli into his ear. “Why didn’t you or Mum ever tell me I looked like your mother and brother? I always thought I was the odd one out!”

“In this family?” Frís snorted. “When it comes to odd, we are rather spoiled for choice.”

I’ve said something similar to this so often in real life, that I actually laughed when I read this bit for the first time. My dog looked at me funny, apparently I’d woken her up from her nap.

“You weren’t so nice to us,” accused Fíli. “Mobbed us, you did! I thought we were under attack at first! I punched my own father on the nose!”

That surprised a true laugh out of Thorin, thought it hurt his chest. “You hit Víli?” he said.

“He did. And I stamped on Grandfather’s foot,” said Kíli.

Thráin cleared his throat. “And bit my hand,” he added sternly.

“Well, you try being blind as a bat and naked as a mole and having your dead grandfather commenting on your lack of beard, see how you like it,” Kíli grumbled.

Poor Víli, that’s probably not how he expected his reunion with his sons to go.

“Oh, it’s Thrór all over again, someone stop him,” groaned Frís. “We’re going to drown in the combined guilt of the Line of Durin before we ever lay a stone of Arda Remade.”

If all of the Durins are like Thorin, then Frís is probably right about that.

The Night Series Pt.26

Let’s Get Out Of Here

Pairing: Rhysand x Reader
Words: 852
Hello everyone! This series is based on the world created by the amazing Sarah J. Maas. These characters are totally hers and no hate towards any of them. I love them all.

PS. Sorry for the short parts guys! It’s been a tough semester. 

Read Part One here: PART ONE

Originally posted by mysticfallsforall

Let’s Get Out Of Here

“I don’t understand. I… I’d gone to the cells… She used to make me go in there. I never saw you. Not once”.

He was confused.
He wanted to understand why Amarantha had kept me all those years and why he had never seen me once.
I was sure there was an explanation to that.
I just didn’t knew.

“Maybe you never payed attention to me”

His jaw clenched.

I am now, he said inside my head.

“What did you do?”, he whispered.

I stilled.
Should I tell him that?

“I… defied her. Just like every other fae in the cells”.
“Not every fae”, he whispered.

I looked back at him.
Why were we talking about all of this?

“I know what you did while you were there”, I told him. “I heard the stories”.

Rhysand looked away now. I grabbed his arm and he turned back to me.

“The real version. You were… “

Fighting for your people.
Brave as hell.
Everything I wish I could be.

“Selfless?” He laughed at this as he stared back at the cavern’s wall. “I was selfish. I traded the lives of so many for the lives of my own Court. And you want to know the worst part? I would do it all again. In a heartbeat”

He turned to me once more.

“I remember everything she made me do, Daeris. Every single second of it. The things I did…”

I made myself smaller.

“I did horrible things too, Rhysand”.

We were both quiet for a while.
I felt as if we were both finding solace in the one other fae who had been through almost the same experience. The other one fae who had been tortured. The other one fae who had done terrible things in order to save others. The other one fae who had lost something. The other one fae who was as desperate to go through the impossible in order to get back what they’d lost.

“We have to find the rest of the relics”, he whispered.
“Yes”, I whispered back. “Yes we do”.

We were quiet for a second. Then I moved and I couldn’t help the whimper of pain that escaped my lips.

“We have to get out of here now”, he said as he looked intently to my wounds.

I could endure pain.
I knew what pain was like the back of my hand.
Amarantha had tortured me in such ways that… pain was barely just a word anymore.
Still I knew, that if we didn’t get out of there fast, I would bleed to dead.
Rhysand had tried to stop the blood, but my wounds were really bad. I needed him to heal me with his powerful magic. But in order for that to happen, we needed to get out of there.
I looked all around us.

There must be a secret way out like the other places, I told myself.

A sound interrupted my thoughts.
Rhysand was up in his feet in less than two seconds. He scanned the cavern without moving from were he stood– near me.

“Do you think—”

Rhysand’s index finger was on his mouth, telling me not to talk.
Okay then.

Do you think that was… the guardian of the relic?, I asked him inside his head.

He stilled as he turned to see me.

What?, I said as I kept my eyes fixed on him. Is it behind me? Please tell me its not behind me
How can we do this?, he asked inside my head.
What do you mean?
This, he said as he signaled both of our heads. This is not possible. Not without magic.

He was right.
He was completely right.
I felt stupid for not noticing beforehand.
We had magic.
The question was how much?
Was it enough to get out of there?
Rhysand tried to use his powers but nothing happened.

Dameti communication is simple magic, maybe only the most basic and simple magic can be used to–

We can combine our magic to get out, he said as he kneeled down to be head to head with me. You need to get my magic and try to use it.

I looked at him and nodded.
A horrible noice sounded from the tunnel we’d entered.

Do it now, he said in my head.
The guardian—, I turned around to see behind me, but Rhysand grabbed my cheek and made me look at him.
Now, Daeris.

I nodded and touched his cheek back.
I closed my eyes as I looked everywhere inside him.
It was hard. Incredibly hard.
Where are you magic? Where are you?
Our foreheads joined as I got closer to him.
I could barely feel a faint trace of his magic. Had I not known what his magic felt like normally, I would’ve assumed he had none to begin with.
But I did now how it felt.
It called to me.
So I followed its call and embraced it.
I could feel his magic in me now.
I opened my eyes and looked at his violet ones.

Let’s get out of here.


tauriel on the banks of the anduin, bidding goodbye to legolas (this is as far as he would come, too afraid to further defy his father)

tauriel stopping for rest in rivendell, and being welcomed by arwen undomiel herself, feeling very young and clumsy and wild around her noldor cousins. but there are men of the west there, and a child called estel whom admires the sheen of her hair and follows her like a pale shadow for days. she only draws him out with stories of spiders and dwarves and dragons, and he repays her by calling her naurfinel, the flame-hair, and making her feel less like a child herself.

(there is starlight on the bruinen when the lady arwen comes to her, and asks about the stone she carries. starlight is memory, the lady says, and tauriel feels an ache so deep her bones could shatter of it)

tauriel on the east-west road, staying again in bree–she likes the children of Men best, she discovers; something about their wild innocence, the untaught strength of them. (the elves of mirkwood have been at war too often, too long, for any children to have been born since legolas greenleaf came of age. watching bree’s children play in the street, tauriel mourns.)

tauriel first stepping in eriador, and thinking on the stories of the war of wrath, and how she walks in the lady galadriel’s footsteps.

tauriel coming to the dwarven stronghold in the blue mountains and pleading with the guard–dis the lady dis sister to the king under the mountain and mother of its princes I must speak with her I have sworn a promise.

tauriel told to wait, told that she may not enter without leave of the lady dis, and going to sit on a rocky outcropping–sitting there still as the stars come out above her, stars from the other side of the world, and she wonders if kili might have told her their dwarfish names, if it is not elwing’s wings and the anvil of feanor that he looked upon, if his had been an entirely different sky.

what do you call that cluster of stars, near the northstar? she asks, when a dwarf comes to sit beside her on the stone.

those are the seven fathers, the lady dis says. (she is of such a likeness to thorin oakenshield that she can be no other–but there is something soft about her mouth that reminds tauriel more of kili than his uncle.) why, what is your name for them, elf?

and tauriel holds the promise-stone, thinks of the starlight of other worlds and who walks in it now. says, we call them–we call them the tears of nienna.

she uncurls her hand, and offers out a stone.

High Lady Of The Night Court

You know what I want, I want the slow demise of Tamlin. Not the death of him, no I want his downfall. I want Feyre to take all that Tamlin has and tear it to the ground. I want Feyre to work with Lucien to get him and Elain back togeather. For Tam to loose his best friend. Then I want Feyre to become the love of all of the Spring court, to take Tamlin’s subjects and turn them against him. Then I want her to burn his family’s home, to burn all of the memories he had there, with his loved ones, with Feyre. I want his demise not his death because I want him to see the High Lady of the Night Court in all her glory, to see how he hurt her but she rose above it. I don’t want it like that to hurt Tamlin (though that’s nice) I want it for Feyre, because she deserves it.