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@elrieluniverse
Elain Archeron
as Petal by Ariana Grande
Track one; Kiss Me.
Track two; Hate That I Made You Love Me.
Track three; Petal.
Track four; Stay.
Track five; Oh Well.
Track six; Big Feelings.
Track seven; Freak.
Track eight; Warning Signs.
Track nine; Like I Do.
Track ten; Never Get Over Me.
Track eleven; Bad Thing (bunny hop).
Track twelve; Nowhere, Nobody.
Lyrics
I wish someone could hear me.
They say the artist needs tears to write, again.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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“Put the prettier one in first,” the king said, Mor already forgotten.
I twisted—only to have the king’s guards grab me from behind. Rhys was instantly there, but Azriel shouted, back arching as the king’s poison worked its way in.
“Please refrain,” the king said, “from getting any stupid ideas, Rhysand.” He smiled at me. “If any of you interfere, the shadowsinger dies. Pity about the other brute’s wings.”
My sisters were shrieking over their gags. But Elain’s cry—a warning. A warning to—To my right, now exposed, Tamlin ran for me. To grab me at last. I hurled a knife at him—as hard as I could.
Indigo books made such an annoying video.
Life and death and rebirth
Sun and moon and dark
Rot and bloom and bones
Hello, sweet thing. Hello, lady of night, princess of decay. Hello, fanged beast and trembling fawn. Love me, touch me, sing me.
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Elain seemed to be fighting the urge to tuck her hand behind the skirts of her pale pink and blue dress, but stayed tall while the queens surveyed her.
Your video about Lucien turning a blind eye to ab0se is so true . Though his fans disagree , yesterday his fans stated that Lucien and Azriel would be friends
His mother. Feyre. Elain. All women who have been through some form of abuse. All women who Lucien has never stood up for.
But when it comes to Tamlin ( an abuser) he’s besties with him. He even goes as far to tell Feyre to give Tamlin another chance after he was actively abusing her.
No one in the inner circle likes Lucien except for Feyre and that’s just because Feyre’s too nice to slap him and tell him to fuck off like I wish she would. I stand by the fact that she should have been way meaner to him. I would have cheered.
Lucien when a female is going through abuse:
Cassian and Azriel on either side of the bay of windows where Elain and Nesta stood in their finery, Elain’s garden in bloom behind them. Nesta’s shoulders were already locked. Elain bit her lip.
“They say the artist needs tears…”
Even wasted away by grief and despair, Elain’s beauty was remarkable. Hers was a face that could bring kings to their knees. And yet there was no joy in it. No light. No life.
“to write, again.”
“What now?” Elain mused, at last answering my question from moments ago as her attention drifted to the windows facing the sunny street. That smile grew, bright enough that it lit up even Azriel’s shadows across the room. “I would like to build a garden,” she declared. “After all of this … I think the world needs more gardens.”
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And I think Elain—Elain would like it, too. Though she’d probably cling to Azriel, just to have some peace and quiet. I smiled at the thought—at how handsome they would be together.
And it was Elain—Elain—who sighed and murmured, “I hope they all burn in hell.”
“If I told you that a flower bloomed in a dark room, would you trust it?” - Kendrick Lamar
The meeting was to begin at eleven. No earlier. No later. And they had wanted the exact geographical location of the house. The layout and size of each room. Where the furniture was. Where the windows and doors were. What room, likely, we would greet them in. Azriel had provided it all, with my sisters’ help.
Rhys chuckled, Cassian’s wrath slipping enough that he grinned, and Elain, noticing Azriel’s ease as proof that things weren’t indeed about to go badly, offered one of her own as well.
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Elain said to Azriel, perhaps the only two civilized ones here, “Can you truly fly?
He set down his fork, blinking. I might have even called him self-conscious. He said, “Yes. Cassian and I hail from a race of faeries called Illyrians. We’re born hearing the song of the wind.”
“That’s very beautiful,” she said. “Is it not—frightening, though? To fly so high?”
“It is sometimes,” Azriel said.
Elain said, “It’s all very disorienting.”
“I can imagine,” Azriel said. Cassian flashed him a glare. But Azriel’s attention was on my sister, a polite, bland smile on his face. Her shoulders loosened a bit.