sisters of the circle

Feyre: *lost Rhys in the crowd and can’t find him*


Rhys: Pfft, that’s soooo wrong. Ah there you are, Feyre darling!

Feyre: There he i…

Mor: Who would disgrace my High Lady like this?

Amren: I gonna inflict pain to this moron

Cassian: Who said that?!

Azriel: *shows up and looks threatening*

Nesta: My sister belongs to noone!

Elain: Feyre deserves better than Tamlin


Lucien: I’m not so sure that’s true anymore …

Tamlin: FINALLY! You finally realized that we belong together! Come back with me to the Spring Court! I will …

Rhys: *punches Tamlin in the face*


  • Amren: If corals get stressed, they die. So if I was a coral, I would be dead.
  • Feyre: What do corals even get stressed about?
  • Cassian: Current events.
  • Azriel: Get out.

Me seeing SJM posting the pics showing thick ass pages of ACOWAR

Originally posted by virgoheauxx

“After interviewing my mother and father for A Seat At The Table, it feels like full circle to have chosen my sister to interview me for Interview Magazine. It is one of my favorite to date”

Solange talks growing up in Houston and ‘A Seat At at The Table’ with her sister in a her new cover story with Interview Magazine. On newsstands January 17th!


I swear to heaven I don’t know why I wanted to cosplay Krista lol why I wanted to cosplay in general  So how I added filters to make it look nicer. Actually looks ugly I swear. Still incomplete, tho :B

Me when charlie bowater’s amazing art of Feyre’s dress is on that beautiful cover of ACOWAR

Originally posted by stephencolbore

Originally posted by khylee

Argent Crusader RPers

Going to possibly Regret this, but we will see.

Attention World of Warcraft Players of the Role Playing Servers.

If your character was part of the Argent Crusade PLEASE provide with their name (In character name), their Transmog set as well as what they look like under any helm they may be wearing.  Small descriptions are a bonus on height, how they look, any facial scars, unique eye color, etc.

Depending the amount of replies/reblogs/messages I get will depend how huge this project is going to be. Each person will be credited for their character being used in this project. Also add in Server your character is on so I can put you in the credits with it.



  • Argent Dawn
  • Blackwater Raiders
  • Cenarion Circle
  • Earthen Ring
  • Farstriders
  • Feathermoon
  • Kirin Tor
  • Moon Guard
  • Scarlet Crusade
  • Sentinels
  • Shadow Council
  • Silver Hand
  • Sisters of Elune
  • Steamwheedle Cartel
  • The Scryers
  • Thorium Brotherhood
  • Wyrmrest Accord


  • Emerald Dream
  • Lightninghoof
  • Maelstrom
  • Ravenholdt
  • The Venture Co
  • Twisting Nether

Many, many thanks to @saessenach for the jurassic beta service and additions, ily.


Once upon a time, there was a Prince who loved the night.

It was his kingdom and his home and he loved to fly between the stars with his Mother, the Queen, and his younger sister, circling up and up in the sky on his little wings until the first rays of sunlight came and dawn shone bright with the sound of their laughter.

His Mother was soft and wild, as was his sister, and the Prince felt like his heart could burst with all the love he felt for them.

His Kingly Father, though, was another matter.

The Prince could see the thread between his parents, the one that proved how destiny, how fate deemed them worthy of each other. But alas, he couldn’t see any happiness, or love, in it.

And yet, he couldn’t help but dream of when he would find that perfect someone, the one and only for him.

He loved his life, loved his family and his kingdom and his life was the happiest life a boy could ask for.

That is, until his Queenly Mother brought him to a training camp.

The Prince could remember her shaking wings as she walked away from him.

Not that the Prince needed training, mind you. It was just that his talents were more like starlight at his fingertips and not like a fist between the teeth, and his Mother wanted him to be always able to protect himself, in any occasion.

But there the Prince met a boy, a boy who was Fire made flesh.

Fire kicked the Prince up and down with a grin that didn’t reach his eyes and that day the Prince came back home with several pieces of clothing less. He found himself completely at loss in this new, strange and unfamiliar environment, where his own powers where frowned upon.

But, while reading by his window in the house his Mother bought outside the camp, the Prince saw Fire walking through rain and mud and his soaked shirt seemed even bigger, the sleeves covering his hands.

The Prince’s brows knitted together.

It sure wouldn’t be safe to leave Fire under the rain, what would it be of him?

So the Prince went to the boy’s tent, if one can call it that, as silently as he could. Fire was asleep, but he awoke the moment the Prince set foot in the tent.

“What do you want, Princeling?” Fire drawled, ready to attack despite how tired he looked.

What did the Prince want?

Perhaps, a friend?

“How can you sleep in this?” the Prince asked, gesturing to the tent around them.

“I lay down and close my eyes, Princeling. It’s not that hard.”

But there was no bed, only a strip of fabric on the cold hard ground.

“I-I dare you to sleep in a bed!” the Prince said with all the conviction he could muster. Fire raised an eyebrow, a challenge in his eyes.

“You what?”

The Prince couldn’t help the shiver of fear that ran down his spine.

He was a Prince, the moon was his confidant and the stars were his friends but this boy-

He was a fighter, used to bruises and loneliness and split lips and the blood trailing down his chin went only in the way of his smirk.

“I dare you to sleep in a bed.” the Prince repeated.

Fire chuckled, “And what do I get if I do?”

“A warm bed and clothes you don’t have to fight for.”

Fire stared at the Prince and the Prince looked at Fire’s matted hair, his mismatched clothes, the bruises and cuts which no one would tend to.

“Where’s the trick?” Fire asked.

“I’m no liar!” the Prince answered quickly, his temper rising.

Another chuckle, a disbelieving laugh.

“So you say. And if I don’t accept?”, this was a taunt, the Prince knew it.

They both knew the answer.

“You’ll stay here.”

And the Prince was surprised to find himself thinking that it would sadden him, should Fire be hard headed enough to remain in his tent.

The boy hummed and then said, “Then by all means, Princeling, lead the way.”

The Queen was not very pleased at first, but she quickly grew to love Fire, much to the Prince distate.

Things would be so easier, the Prince thought, if Fire wasn’t such an ass.

He still kicked the Prince to the ground while training and they both behaved in the house to not displease the Prince’s Mother, but now there was always an outstretched hand for the Prince to take.

After a year, another boy came and tendrils of darkness swirled in his wake.

Shadow was strong and had an outstanding, peculiar power, yet silence fell on his marred hands.

After Shadow’s arrival, the three boys formed a strange unit and soon a brotherhood was born, out of footsteps that didn’t bring mud and legs shattered as a payment for loneliness.

But no one liked this kinship, least of all the King.

He tried and tried to separate the brothers, in armies faraway or in a mountain of death and bounded wings.

And it was all in vain.

The brothers knew the one word on everybody’s tongue as they passed: threat, threat, threat.

But they were family, and they were happy.

Until one day an Evil Queen sought to destroy everything they all loved.

They fought her, and the Prince was taken.

But as faith would have it, he survived when so many of his men did not because the army of the Evil Queen didn’t know of his mother’s gift buried underneath his skin, her heritage, his wings. His Father rescued him but the Evil Queen won and a wall was built, keeping immortals and the ones who lived with Death’s breath on their necks divided forever.

And then one day, the current brought the Prince two smiles frozen in death, hair black as night flowing in the current, and when the boxes clashed on the shore all the Prince could feel was rage.

For he knew that that bloodshed had fingertips like flowers blossoming all over it.

He knew who was to blame, he knew, he knew, he knew.

A golden Prince he thought was his friend, a golden Prince who knew where his Mother and Sister were, a golden Prince he trusted.

So the King and the Prince of Night went to kill the males that had blood filled with moonlight on their hands, who kept wings as a reminder of cruelty. To kill the King of Spring, a dear friend to the Evil Queen, a monstrous partnership.

But the Night’s Prince didn’t want to kill the Prince of Spring, his one time friend. There was already enough blood after the killings of the King of Spring and all his other sons and the Prince was ashamed of the female blood on his Father’s hands.

An he was tired. So, so tired.

But the King of Night wanted revenge, more of it, and moved to kill the Spring’s last Prince, but found his end instead.

And so the Princes became a Kings, through tears and blood and loss.

After this events, the newly-made King came back to his kingdom of starlight and Fire was nowhere to be seen.

In time, the loss and pain became memory and the King knew there were two new beautiful stars watching over him from the skies above.

But he still had family through blood: the King had a cousin, Light, and Shadows purred in her presence.

Cruelty wears many shapes, though. It can look like the nightmares children fear or like a forest in the midst of October and a brash decision whispered by a green monster can lit the world ablaze.

And with that, Fire, Shadows and Light froze in time.

But life went on and they were joined by a Creature of Old and it felt like family.

Even then, when the Evil Queen returned, only two words ringed in the King’s mind:

kill her, kill her, kill her


So he went under a mountain built on madness, making the Queen and everyone else think he was there for politics, to make pleasant conversations with the sycophants that surrounded her, but the reality was that he wouldn’t be satisfied until her blood ran cold. He brought no one of his family with him and so no one could warn him of the poison in his cup that leashed his powers.

And as the King watched the Evil Queen slaughter half the men he brought with him, he thought of his City, his lovely Kingdom blessed by the light of the moon and the dark night, to what lengths he would go to protect it, to protect the people in it, to protect his family.

So he bound his family to a shield he threw around the starblessed City.

He thought he heard Fire’s roar and Shadows sharp intake of breath, the sadness in Light’s cries and the quiet rage of the Creature of Old.

In that dreary place, the King of Night learnt pretty quickly to play is new cold and ruthless role at the Evil Queen’s side, to give pleasure to a monster who deserved pain, to close his eyes and see stars, to imagine the wind in his hair and the booming of wings.

And it went on and on, names spat at him along narrow corridors, cruelty beyond reason adorned with roaring laughter.

Until one day, a blur of an image made it’s way into his mind; a slender, delicate hand holding a brush with care and love

It was the portrait of Hope.

And the King wanted to give something back to the painter, to his Hope, so he gave her the night sky and the stars and the moon and everything he loved and missed.

Those images were what kept him going, as he was forced to do vicious, horrible acts in the name of the Evil Queen mad with loss. Acts that even eternity would be enough to make him forget.

Until one day, the images weren’t blurry anymore, but clear and perfect and as the King got over the shock, he recognized where Hope was.

The kingdom of Spring.

The King of Night felt the bile rising in his throat.

He need to get to her and why was she there with him, why.

So he lied to the Evil Queen, lied through his teeth and she believed him.

The King went to the kingdom of Spring and saw his Hope, so young and fragile and mortal and she was the most beautiful thing he ever saw.

Even if the encounter was brief, it filled his heart with such joy and so he tried to find new excuses to visit her, but-

The way she looked at the King of Spring, it was like she…like she loved him.

And when he knew the Spring’s King sent her away to the Mortal Realm, he was happy because she was safe, she would not witness the monstrosity of the Evil Queen.

So when he saw her under that damned mountain he thought his heart would stop and his mind went blank under the claws of pure terror. He could only see and hear Hope, his eyes wide.

I’m here to claim the one I love.

And of course, the Queen didn’t make her quest easy.

She made Hope prove herself, again and again and the King of Night couldn’t keep himself away from her, he felt the need to consol her, to be there for her, to do everything he could for her.

More so when it was clear the King of Spring would not move a finger for her; the only one that tried aside for the King of Night was an Orange Flower, friend of both the King of Spring and Hope, who looked like no one ever tried to give him water.

And as the last trial approached, the thought, the word, that slithered through the King of Nights mind was more insistent than ever.



So the King made a bargain with Hope: he healed one of her wounds and in exchange, she had to pass with him a week of every month. It was foolish, selfish, but…it meant he would see her again.

And when the last trial arrived the Queen, the Queen was killing her, his Hope, his love, his-

He wouldn’t stand there and watch, he had to try to save her, he had to kill the Queen, he had to, he had to


Hope was his mate, his mate, his mate.

But he heard the sound of the fragile bones breaking when the Queen snapped Hope’s neck.

The King pulled on the bond, pulled with everything he had and convinced the other Kings, prisoners no more, in giving their powers to Hope, to give her another chance at life.

And they did.

His Hope was now alive and immortal and safe and he was so incredibly happy.

Even when she ran to the King of Spring.

When they last saw each other, she looked at him and he loved the way she looked at him, like he wasn’t a monster or a nightmare or a demon but then-

Then he felt it, that string between them, like a constellation tying them together, wrapping them in eternity and beyond.

And he was so, so scared; the King vanished in front of her, stumbling.

In that moment he decided he would free her from their bargain, he would give her the freedom to love whom she wanted, to do what she wanted, to be free.

So he flew away, to his City of Starlight and when he saw Light for the first time in fifty years his first words to her were,

“She’s my Mate”

Is this How it Feels to be in Love?| Jaebum

Originally posted by magiccastles

Author’s Note: Hey world, this is just a little story I began to write and couldn’t stop writing after that. I need some editing, so you might find mistakes. Other than that, I hope you like it and my request box is open. Just hit me up. xx

Word Count: 3,384

Genre: Fluff and Angst

Warning: Violence and Cursing

Synopsis: Jin-Young’s best friend is so much more than the girl who is just as smart as him. She grabs the attention of one of the other boys, but nobody knows how infatuated he is with all of her quirks. 

Keep reading

to call thee mine

∟ Happy holidays to @kindclaws! 

Summary: Set after the war with Hybern has ended, Feyre and Rhys decide they’re already mates and High Lord & Lady, but now there is still just one ceremony left between them to do. With no better moment than after a victory in war during which they fought for one another, they decide to commit themselves to each other one last time and have the entire Inner Circle there to witness it. 

Tags: Lots of fluff, romance, and a hint of angst thrown in for kicks and giggles. And Morrigan. Plenty of Morrigan.

Rating: G

Only the Inner Circle is asked to come.

Well, the Inner Circle and her sisters, of course.

Elain could never have stayed away regardless. She has flowers to bring. Night blooming water lilies, jessamine, and moonflower are woven together into a bewitching arrangement of whites and magentas and midnight blues for Feyre to carry. She drove Lucien wild stitching it together all night.

It compliments the dress beautifully.

Feyre is in Morrigan’s dressing chamber, which she’s borrowed for the evening. She would have preferred to stay home and do it, but Morrigan insists a little tradition never hurt anyone. That and she wants to be there to see the stupid grin she knows will break free over her cousin’s face when he sees what she’s done to his mate. Sees her for the first time.

And oh how she has succeeded in her task like never before.

Morrigan has swept back the top of Feyre’s head in an elegant display of knots and twists that pull together behind her where the rest is allowed to fall loosely down her back in soft waves. There are small gems tucked here and there that Morrigan knows will catch the moonlight off the balcony when they go back to the House of Wind afterwards.

On her face, Feyre’s cheeks are a smooth pink blush - just the lightest touch of it to warm up her crystalline grey eyes. She convinces Mor of an equally soft shade of the color for her lips and the girls laugh as they joke about how long the color will last on those lips after the party is over later on that night.

But the dress - the dress is what will undo him. Of that both girls are sure.

Keep reading

Parallels much, coming full circle and such

John has a problematic sister out there.
Sherlock turns out to have a problematic sister out there. Just for parallelism sake.
John looses his loved one tragically. Goes berserk. Breaks down. Has so many things left unsaid.
Sherlock undergoes a live demonstration of what it would be like to lose Molly. Tragically. Sherlock goes berserk. Breaks down. Is put into position to have the words unsaid in the out.
Well, what can we deduce about his heart, Occam’s razor, narrative parallels and all?
And yes, there’s that enigmatic little parallel issue of texting the wrong woman. No loose ends indeed.

When feyre said that velaris isn’t her home and my poor bby rhys had shown hurt in his eyes

Originally posted by johansebastianruby

Originally posted by gypsyastronaut

Originally posted by wendywilliamsgifs