#my posts*

[bruisedmooons]

Last night by our pond

[richardanko]

joan baez and stevie wonder at the 18th grammy awards, 1976. 📷: richard creamer.

[polygoncloud]

Chloe: y'know, it's not everyday that you get to see a hidden city that nobody has seen in centuries

Nadine: apart from Asav

Chloe:

Nadine: and a few of his men

Chloe:

[luciferloveschloe]

memeing through the pain

[margarita-hayworth]

*Sophie Devereaux voice* EX-ART THIEF!! EX-ART THIEF!!! WHY DOES NOBODY TAKE THAT SERIOUSLY?!

[lisandrosmartinez]

[wewinandlosetogether]

Under the Mountain: Nuala, Cerridwen and Rhys

I’ve never written down a headcanon before, so bear with me! These two were probably the only friendly faces Rhys knew for 49 years, so their perspective is fascinating to me.

Rhys brought them to Amarantha’s party as his servants and spies.

When she took his power and he’d informed the Inner Circle, he explained to their minds what was happening.

Rhys offered them to try to get them out, but they convinced him their place was at his side and he’d need them to work and spy for him - so they did.

And they missed Velaris as fiercely as Rhys did, but they had each other, and they knew they had a purpose here. That got them through their days.

One morning, they couldn’t find Rhys in his chamber. And he’d told them that this might happen, so they went to Amarantha’s rooms instead, only to see her leaving, grinning. And they feared the worst.

But seeing Rhys sitting on the bed, skin already so pale, body covered in cuts and bruises, still broke their heart. He was naked save for a sheet that covered his groin, and he didn’t even look up as they entered.

“High Lord? Should we... Do you want to bathe?”

And his eyes were definitely worse than his body. No stars, no light.

“I... Yes. Thank you.”

There was no smirk, no shameless naked strolling, no Rhysand whatsoever. And with every day they found him like that, their hearts broke a little bit more for him.

Sometimes they’d ask to wash his hair or treat his wounds, sometimes they’d leave him to himself, only telling him about the bits and pieces they’d gleamed and receiving new instructions from him. Although they didn’t dare to say much, sometimes they’d talk about home.

Whenever somebody was stupid enough to threaten them, Rhysand made sure they’d live to regret it.

And somehow, they survived.

When Feyre came, things changed.

Rhys had never stopped being High Lord, caring about his people, trying in what ever way he could to undermine Amarantha, to keep some semblance of control. They knew his cunning, his recklessness, his compassion. But they hadn’t seen hope in his eyes for decades.

And there she was, and he told them to learn everything about where and how they kept her, what they intended to do to her, what the other Fae thought about her. Frantic, desperate, but alive.

So they started to serve her, as well.

Oh, how they wanted to talk to her, console her, assure her that she wasn’t alone. How they wanted to tell her about Velaris, about who Rhysand really was. But there was too much at stake. 

Naturally, she didn’t trust them. Or Rhysand, for that matter. But they trusted her.

And when it was all over, when they finally were back home in Velaris, they thanked the Mother for the human girl that had somehow saved their kind and stolen their High Lord’s heart.