I can just Imagine how spectacular it would be if all of the ACOMAF girls got pregnant at the same time. After a lot of years of marriage they’d decide they want to have babies. The hormonal ups and downs from their mates that the boys will have to experience would be an emotional roller coaster.

Feysand-  Feyre would be super 🎺 all the time. Rhys would of course be happy to oblige to anything she asks ;). Rhys would be saying that their baby will be the most powerful and good looking baby bat in all the land. He’d  carry Feyre up the stairs while she’d be complaining the whole way up.

Nessian- Nesta would constantly have anger bursts and would throw random objects at Cassian. He‘d laugh and constantly tell Nesta she should be proud that their baby bat is carrying his Amazing genetics.

Elucien- Elain would constantly be emotional and crying. Lucien would try to do anything to make her stop crying. She’d constantly remind him that she’s crying because she’s so happy that she’s carrying his baby ginger.  

Moriel/ Amor- When Mor tells Azriel their having a baby bat he’d be speechless but with tears running down his face. She would always catch him talking to her stomach while she’s pretending to be asleep.

OMFG guys……so I was talking to my husband about how I like Rowan with Aelin but something in my heart is holding out for Dorian and Aelin and I was explaining the whole how I think Rowan and Aelin are probably mates but there is so much foreshadowing for Dorian and Aelin….my husband looks at me and says that maybe Rowans real connection with Aelin on a ‘mate level’ is that he will mate with Aelin and Dorian’s child (when they are older) and that is why they are so connected. Like fucking Jacob with Bella and Edwards kid from Twilight. I fell out of my chair like what what what NO! (Back then I had him sit through the Twilight movies with me and he was totally weirded out by the Jacob X BxE Kid mate bond).

I think I am a bit scarred by this.

N

O

P

I’ve said this before and I’ll say it again ROWAN AND AELIN CAN NOT BE MATES. They have physically hurt each other on more than one occasion. YOU CAN NOT HURT YOUR MATE. Them being mates would literally go against EVERYTHING the books have said about being mates. Why is this even an argument at this point? I don’t hate Rowaelin, they just clearly aren’t meant to last.

Tamlin had three brothers, yes?

And Rhysand killed them all by shattering their minds.

I just imagine Rhys doing what Feyre did with the Attor as he killed Tamlin’s brothers.

“This is for my mother.” Shatters one’s mind.

“This is for my sister.” The next.

“And this is for me.” The final one.

mor: HOLY SHIT HE’S SHOWING EMOTION WHY IS HE SHOWING EMOTION FEYRE GET THE BAT IT’S AN IMPOSTOR

feyre: -drags rhysand out by the ears- got him!

mor: i meant the baseball bat against the wall near you.

feyre: -looks at rhysand-

feyre: -looks at the baseball bat-

feyre: what’s the difference

rhys: my ear hurts why am i here

azriel:

azriel:

So, I haven’t really seen anyone talking about this, but can we take a moment to appreciate the differences between Tamlin’s and Rhys’s reactions when it comes to Feyre and her choice in having potential future offspring? On one hand, we have Tamlin, who just assumes that of course Feyre will want to have children, and of course they will keep having children until a male and potential heir is born. Tamlin during the Tithe scene: “‘Because that’s the way it is. That’s the way my father did it, and his father, and the way my son shall do it.’ He offered a smile, and reached for my hand. ‘Someday.’”

We find out shortly after this that the subject of children has never been broached (according to Feyre), but Tamlin doesn’t even seem to consider that Feyre might not want to have children, let alone multiple children until they have a male.  (We later find out in the scene below that Feyre doesn’t want to have children, at least not right away. She wants to get used to being immortal first, and experience adventures of her own – she wants to feel ready before she has children of her own.) Tamlin only acknowledges her agency in this matter to the extent that she might not want to have children right away–just “someday.” Rhys, on the other hand, doesn’t assume any such thing. As he has done throughout ACOMAF, he continuously affirms Feyre’s right to agency over her life, her body, her sexual choices, and now her right to want or not want children. 

This is so important because this topic about female agency when it comes to pregnancy/children isn’t discussed very often in YA lit. Feyre and Rhys’s discussion about children and pregnancy comes up right after they mate. Feyre: “If I am a High Lord’s mate, I’m expected to bear you offspring, aren’t I? So perhaps I shouldn’t [take the birth control tonic].”

Rhys: “‘You are not expected to bear me anything,’ he snarled. ‘Children are rare, yes.  So rare, and so precious. But I don’t want you to have them unless you want to–unless we both want to. […] I would be happy beyond reason, though, if you one day did honor me with children.  To share that with you.’” <–unitalicized/underlined words indicate stressed words in the original text. If it isn’t showing up (Tumblr is being dumb), the words he stresses are “anything” and “both”.

Feyre: “‘I want to live first,’ I said. ‘With you.  I want to see things and have adventures.  I want to learn what it is to be immortal, to be your mate, to be part of your family. I want to be…ready for them. And I selfishly want to have you all to myself for a while.’”

Rhys: “His smile was gentle, sweet. ‘You take all the time you need. And if I get you all to myself for the rest of eternity, then I won’t mind that at all.’”

Okay okay. I am rereading it slooowly and relishing it, but I was suddenly overcome with this urge to talk about it. So here goes randomness: • The name Tamlin the Tool ™ makes me proud of the fandom. • This book is the best example of “show, don’t tell” ever. • The portrayal of depression and abusive relationships is out of this world. • I mean I literally almost had a panic attack both times I read about Feyre’s panic attack when Tamlin the Tool locked her up, I was hyperventilating and dizzy. • It is an astounding example of how the fuck to deal with a person that’s having such problems. How Mor kept saying “you are FREE” instead of safe and how Rhys told her that she had nothing to be sorry about and how they cared for her even when she didn’t even have strength to speak and how he tried to pull her back to life. • It is feminist AF and it even has a parallel to female genital mutilation with the crippled wings of the Illyrian females. • It’s also empowering AF. Feyre leaving the toxic relationship for HERSELF is the best think to have happened to literature in ages. • Sex is not glossed over even a little bit and is instead referred to as something normal that people have every right to crave for. • Sex and sexual scenes are also beautifully written, all the tension in the Nightmare Court had me at the edge of my seat and the table with the paint made such a beautiful image! • The settings were BEAUTIFUL, just the right amount of description. • The writing was also phenomenal, with plenty of intriguing details that I couldn’t have thought to save my life, and the friendships were heartwarming and complex and interesting.

(It’s actually a lot, guys … heheheheheh).

“There you are. I’ve been looking for you,” said a deep, sensual male voice I’ve never heard (ACOTAR 188).

“What’s a mortal woman doing here on Fire Night?” His voice was a lover’s purr that sent shiver through me, caressing every muscle and bone and nerve (ACOTAR 189).

His voice dropped into a whisper–an erotic caress of sound that brought heat to my cheeks (ACOTAR 235).

Rhysand laughed–a lover’s laugh, low and soft and intimate (ACOTAR 236).

“Please what?” Rhysand said–gently, coaxingly. Like a lover (ACOTAR 240).

Rhysand examined the wound, a smile appearing on his sensuous lips (ACOTAR 331).

Though the world spun and danced in my vision, something primal inside me went still and cold beneath that gaze (ACOTAR 332).

He let out a low laugh that slid along my bones, warming my blood (ACOTAR 343).

“No more household chores, no more tasks,” he said, his voice an erotic caress (ACOTAR 344).

“And Feyre,” he added, his voice a caressing murmur, “I don’t like my belongings tampered with” (ACOTAR 348).

He ran his fingers down my cheek–a gentle caress (ACOTAR 349).

I stared at his profile, at the elegant nose and sensuous lips (ACOTAR 350).

Only those star-flecked violet eyes were bright, full of color and light (ACOTAR 368).

My body went taut and loose all at once and I burned, even as chills shuddered along my limbs (ACOTAR 368).

He groaned as he stood, a soft, deep-throated noise that traveled along my bones (ACOTAR 369).

“Do you actually intend to put yourself at my mercy, or are you truly that stupid?” His voice was composed of sensuous, bone-breaking ire (ACOTAR 379).

A half smile appeared on his sensuous lips. “I know,” he said, and vanished (ACOTAR 385).

I was pulled from sleep by something tugging at my middle, a thread deep inside (ACOTAR 412).

It didn’t come out with the snap I’d intended. Not as I remembered how he’d fought, again and again, to attack Amarantha, to save me (ACOTAR 413).

—

BONUS - RHYSAND MOMENTS

A flicker of excitement–perhaps even disbelief–flashed across his features, but he whipped his head back to Lucien (ACOTAR 237).

His eyes shifted to my face. “What’s your name, love?” (ACOTAR 241).

Rhysand was silent for a long moment, his eyes traveling across my body and face before he murmured: “A week it is” (ACOTAR 335).

“What do I care?” he breathed, wrath twisting his features. Wings–those membranous, glorious wings–flared from his back, crafted from the shadows behind him. “What do I care?” (ACOTAR 380).

Rhysand yelled my name again–yelled it as though he cared (ACOTAR 399).

Rhysand’s arms buckled as he fought to rise, and blood dripped from his nose, splattering on the marble. His eyes met mine. The bond between us went taut. I flashed between my body and his, seeing myself through his eyes, bleeding and broken, and sobbing (ACOTAR 400-401).

I arched my back, my spine straining to the point of cracking, and Rhysand bellowed my name as I lost my grip on the room (ACOTAR 401).