LUCIEN!!! VANSERRA’S!!! ARMS!!!

if eris vanserra has a hundred fans, i am one of them. if eris vanserra has ten fans, i am one of them. if eris vanserra has one fan, i am that fan. if eris vanserra has no fans, i am dead. if the world is against eris vanserra, i am against the world.

Eris is a massive asshole with many layers of trauma so I need his mate to be fucking insane, like worse than him. Jude and Cardan style but they’re both murderers <3

my unsolicited haikyuu hcs pt 1

tsukki will draw constellations on yam’s body using yam’s freckles as the stars.

truly astonishing how much easier and more comfortable life gets when you accept that not everything is about you

Another Nessian Rant

Don't tell Reddit

Here's the thing:

Cassian isn't a dudebro or a snarky loveable jock - That's what the ic think of him. That's what Feyre knows. That's what the reader is supposed to think of him.

Here's what he actually is : a Fae, bigger than any human, with bat-like wings and armour. He is 500 years old, a warrior and a general, and one of the most powerful of his spieces history has ever seen.

Nesta isn't a viper or a bitch or someone "needs to be pushed/ put in her place/ can take it"

She's : 23, grew up on the border to Prythian and heard all her life about towns just like hers being utterly destroyed over night. A woman who lost her sister to Fae. A person who must now somehow accept that her sister is one of those Fae. She's a human working with and harbouring Fae - even though it puts her and everyone in the house in danger.

He makes the first move to be confrontational with her so Nesta ignores him but he keeps pressing so she fights back the only way she knows how - words that hurt.

He uses his physical size to press her when he loses the battle of words and wits. Personally, I'd be terrified of a man with this sort of habit.

Then he slowly wins her over, quietly, piece by piece she puts her trust in him. Because he is all of those things.

He can't save her the first time - in Hybern - and she has to adjust to what's happened while protecting Elain the only way she knows how.

But suddenly there's this new element of being seen - something that didn't exist when he'd get too close in her study - and it's Cassian who is backing away as she is reaching for him, moving just when he'd convinced her to lean her weight into him.

So Nesta straightens again, plants her feet - the only way she knows how. She's busy fighting to survive her own mind and body and here comes Cassian again - not in front of his family and friends, always alone when he wants to push her and coax her.

Why the fck would I root for this ship?

SJM saying Nesta could bring Cassian to his knees with words or portraying his emotional pain as so great doesn't mean anything to me. He's not a child. He's not a young man. He's 500 years old! He has murdered dozens if not hundreds. I really don't give a flying fck that he's sensitive about being a bastard.

Seek therapy since the IC wanna act like psychologists and psychiatrists all the time.

forget hot girl summer, i'm having a Hozier summer (questing into hell to find you again)

“And I don’t think anybody should feel bad if they get diagnosed with a mental illness, ’cause it’s just information about you that helps you to know how to take better care of yourself.

“Being bipolar, there’s nothing wrong with it. Being bipolar is like not knowing how to swim. It might be embarrassing to tell people, and it might be hard to take you certain places. But they have arm floaties. And if you just take your arm floaties, you can go wherever the hell you want.

“And I know some of you are like, ‘But Taylor, what if people judge me for taking arm floaties?’ Well, those people don’t care if you live or die, so maybe who cares? Maybe fuck those people a little. I don’t know.”

Taylor Tomlinson, Look At You (2022)

vanserra thought of the day:

eris is the son beron respects the most but likes the least

[grabs your shirt] listen. listen to me. the practical is holy. the everyday is sacred. the simple act of surviving is divine. do you get it? sanctity begins at home, in the hands that build and the lives we live and the deaths we die and the worms that eat our bodies. if making something by hand is not worthy of veneration then nothing is.

narratives about doomed love that aren’t romantic in nature. the love between siblings who understand each other the most but are growing apart no matter how much they try to come back to one another. the love between friends whose life paths pull them apart and they never see each other again, only remembering the face of a once kind childhood. the love for a hometown that year by year becomes less and less the one that raised you until you are a foreigner in your own backyard. there was no stopping it. the love was there and it mattered and you can never come back again.