Its Hard To Realize This, But Embers And Light Was The First ACOTAR Fanfic I Ever Read, And Were Coming

It’s hard to realize this, but Embers and Light was the first ACOTAR fanfic I ever read, and we’re coming up on my one year anniversary of finding it. If you haven’t read it, it is one of the most beautiful depictions of trauma, healing, love, and strength that I’ve ever had the privilege of reading. The world building of Illyria is perfection, and it has one of my all-time OC characters from a fanfiction ever (Mas, who is present in this snippet) (one of the others being Arina from @separatist-apologist). If you somehow haven’t read this yet and you’re thinking about it, DO IT. 💖

Embers and Light: Chapter 54 (teaser)

Notes: The longest delay in getting you this chapter but I’m so nearly there! Here’s a snippet to keep you guys warm until I post… 12k. 12! I promised myself I’d never go there again but here we are 🤷🏻‍♀️

“You forget I have seen battle fatigue, sinta,” Mas told Cassian. “I have seen battlegrounds—I’ve been a part of them.”

The skin around Cassian’s mouth tightened, bracketing his mouth like a grim smile. Because Mas was wrong on that count. He would never forget the day of the kerit attacks. He would never forget Mas’s body on the ground, her blood. He would never forget Nesta kneeling beside her, wreathed in the purest of light as she knitted the torn flesh back together. As she healed long brutalised wings.

“Nesta saved me,” Mas continued, her voice resolutely soft in its purpose but determined all the same. “She brought me back for another life and I intend to fight for that life. For you. For Nesta. For everyone who has ever suffered under our own people. For a better life.”

Her words fell away and into more silence. Mas retracted her hands and reached back into the suds, her fingers slipping against cutlery which clattered against the sink. Eventually, she drew out a teaspoon and began to methodically clean it before she extended it out to him without glancing away from her task.

Cassian found that he was relieved. To look at Mas now would mean to memorise every inch of her face, terrified that he’d not have the chance to study it again. He’d already begun to do it with Nesta without meaning to, his mind whispering its own cruel prophecy.

“You saved me, too,” Mas continued into the grim yet resigned silence Cassian had woven himself into. “When we met, I was beaten down. I was so small and insubstantial, the wind could have just tossed me away. Do you remember?”

Now, Cassian forced himself to look at her. He felt his brow collapse in on itself, his eyes felt as if they might melt with the emotion—with the memory. “Of course I do,” he rasped through the chokehold in his throat.

Because of course he did.

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When Elain and Lucien deliver their regency-esque, reluctant soulmates, soft yet brutally honest romance with the chaos of the Band of Exiles dynamic in the background, we’re all not going to know what to do with ourselves 😌

going to Barnes & Noble just to feel something

ugh this picture of a snake peeking around a doorway is my fave this snake just looks so nice 

Nessian AU | A03

The Hero.

The Assassin.

Forever at opposite ends. They never should have met outside of their respective works. They never should have fallen for the other. They should have seen the chaos coming when you do something unholy

Prologue

Present

It’s been 457 days since they last saw her. The last time a confirmed sighting left 49 dead, 123 injured, and the person they were detailed to protect spewing blood all over the carpet. The money spent by whoever bought such a massacre made bile rise inside Cassian’s throat. Even worse was remembering how easily she had slipped out of his fingers.

Lady Death

The Hellcat

For a while, he and the team believed that they were separate people. She answered both names just as quickly. Coming back from that disaster of a peace summit that almost started a second war between the two polarized countries, he had punched a wall so hard it left a dent. He was so close. And yet she would always be out of reach.

Three years ago

The base of the nightclub’s song reverberated in his ears even as he breathed in the cold air as he stood outside the building. His head was already somewhere else when Cassian first entered the club; now, it was nowhere to be found but with a migraine. The deep breaths lingered in the chill in front of him. Of all the times he had stuck to his resolution to quit smoking. He was supposed to clear his head tonight, blowing off steam from another failure. His failure. None of his friends would ever say that to him, but it was the truth. It was his lead. He lost the targets. They got away.

The anger had him clenching his jaw so hard that it worsened the skull-splitting ache in his temples. He needed a better distraction. He needed to be alone with the people he loved, but honestly couldn’t help him at this moment at all. Cassian did enjoy going out dancing with friends, his family, but tonight wasn’t working. It had been the fifth anniversary of when Feyre’s sister had gone off the radar, Cassian knew that they had a fraught relationship, to begin with, but Feyre and Elain had taken it hard when the eldest Archeron just slipped out when night and never came back home. Apparently it’s what she was good at, disappearing without leaving a trace. Rhys did everything money could buy to find her, and even though he cared more about a snail than the sister who caused Feyre’s sadness, he would find her for Feyre. Nothing ever came up. Not even Azriel could find a hint of a trail that could lead to her. She was just gone. A ghost was all that was left of Nesta Archeron.

Tensions were fraught tonight. The main two reasons being the reminder of a missing sister and a failed operation. Going out and carrying on how they usually did was the bandaid that was supposed to ease everyone. Cassian just didn’t have it in him to pretend to be jovial. He was frustrated and angry at himself; faking a smile in strobe lights was the last thing he wanted to do. He pulled out his phone and sent a quick message to Az, asking him to relay the message not to wait up for him; he knew out of everyone, Az would understand that he needed to find peace of mind on his own tonight without being talked out of it. Pocketing his phone back into his jeans and hands inside the worn leather jacket that kept even the dampest colds out, he made his way down the street.

The dive bar where he was currently occupying a bar stool was not the most welcoming place to be at this particular moment. It was also not a huge deterrent either—a perfect in-between nice and seedy enough to be comfortable in. The seats didn’t have some unknown sticky residue, but it wasn’t nearly nice enough to be a date night spot. There was a decent enough amount of people here. He felt like goldy locks, a bar that was just right. He was nursing a simple liquor drink; he doubted this place would even honor a mixed cocktail request, no matter how much you wanted a margarita, when he saw a flash of brilliant and cold blue.

If part of him was being honest, a large he wanted to ignore, Cassian, in part, couldn’t stop thinking about this morning because of how beautiful those cold eyes were. It coated his stomach in an oily feeling, but it was the bare truth. The girl’s eyes were stunning. She had taken off the outer mask she normally wore, leaving a solid black half-mask that covered just over her nose and concealed the rest of her face. The black mask just enhanced the brilliance of her eyes, making it difficult to look away. It was also one of the only identifiers he had of the assassin that was part of the group that royally kicked their asses. He had seen her in various scuffles before but never fully close enough for him. He wanted to take her down. Lady Death. The Hellcat. Two hours before the first bomb went off at the museum, Az finally proved that Lady Death and The Hellcat were one and the same. An assassin and a thief. Whatever paid the exuberant bills, he supposed. She wore a uniform at every sighting and kept virtually every noticeable feature of hers hidden, even layered masks, for fucks sake. Her new nickname should have something involving ghosts since nothing was tangible about her. No DNA traces, no finer details to describe her; all they had to reference was her build, her signature masks, the hood that covered her hair, and her damn eyes. Those eyes were looking at him from across the other side of the bar now.

For a flash, everything in Cassian tensed, but he forced himself to relax. He was being stupidly hopeful because of his frustration at losing her yet again. No, the girl who looked at him unabashedly was not the same as the killer he hunted. Just a phantom. It was hard to gauge their height and build since she was sitting on a bar stool as well. He had to shake his head to lose his thoughts. Just because a girl has pretty blue eyes does not mean she’s your target. Get a grip.

But those eyes still meant trouble. And after the self-flagellation for hours, Cassian realized trouble was the only way he would find peace tonight.