#Cian would like this

[theonlywayisink4]

Funny creature

He had to triple check

[faraige]

I love how the Emperor is in a romcom while everyone else is in a political intrigue murder mystery. Let him live happily in a 5+1 fic where he and Lyu Xian bond over how much they ship Xie Wei and Jiang Xuening and try to get them together.

[chenqingssuibian]

broke: xue yang is a jin bastard

woke: xiao xingchen is a jin bastard

bespoke: song lan is a jin bastard

[xinyuehui]

It's fine if you didn't like them. How could you hit me (｡•́︿•̀｡)

Bonus:

[remcocoa]

seems like cian was dealing with some issues with the nerves in his lower back during the vuelta, not any problems with his femoral artery as previously thought. he’s been doing a lot of work in the gym and they’ve been working on adjusting his position on the bike and it sounds like he’s feeling good again 👍

[aparticularbandit]

imagine agatha harkness.

imagine agatha harkness as a poor puritan in the late sixteen hundreds, where makeup was banned and use was considered a sign of witchcraft.

imagine agatha harkness leaving salem and deciding why not, if she's a witch, she's a witch, and if they'll see that small of a thing as a sign of it, why not.

imagine agatha harkness in the seventeen hundreds, when only the rich could afford a looking glass, when most people, if they wore makeup, had someone else apply their makeup for them.

imagine agatha's first experience with makeup being learning how to apply it to someone else (imagine trying to stare at water to try and apply it herself because she's too stubborn to let someone else do it for her, imagine not trusting someone else to not make her look foolish).

[aceofwonders]

thinking about the possibility of the vyrantium crew and the warden crew meeting at some point like 👀

[girls4etho]

2 + 12? :0

2. Is there some sort of organization to your parts?

well its some sort all right. most of us are classed as either host-types or supports which :P some of us go between those two (like cian) but for the most part a host is anyone who stays in Main front for at least a couple weeks and a support is. anyone else. theyre usually more specialised (like dealimg with intrusive thoughts, holding strong emotions, etc) while hosts do whatever and tend to have a wider range of interests just bc of. how we tend to form alters (far too long to explain)

12. Do you have any other identities that make your experience with your dissociative disorder different, such as neurodivergency, other disorders, or gender/racial identities?

tramsgendr 👍👍 + ocd and some sort of mood disorder tends to affect alters a lot. i have ocd WAY worse than cian ever did

[corvidaeconundrum]

Lucifer works hard but I work harder. You offered, I gave @mustangs-flames

made this a while back idk if theyre still in vogue but here u go tag ur ocs

[i-rolled-a-zero]

i actually remembered to record most of the lining! as you can see i actually free handed all the bones! which looking back was absolutely nuts of me but i do really like how it came out

[taryn40k]

SAME BRAIN ROT SAME!! :D I absolutley adore how cute Cadrik is when you draw him! XD And yes yes yes give the cadian a loving 'and crazy) pookie! :D

🫶 Cadrik belongs to @taryn40k :3 you should go check out their series fr fr

Alternate timeline where Cadrik seduces a guardsman and escapes 🫶

😼 vs 😳

Prebby….mann…..

The seduction 🫣🫢😲?!?! (he said they could cuddle—)

This is why you must properly socialize your cadians ong 😤

Uh oh— in trouble-

[1800naveen]

Until.

Wander.

Tamlin often wandered around the Spring Court. For a while, he lived in his beast form. He felt a sense of freedom in that form. He could run, run, run, and nobody would stop him. But now, he was walking in his fae form. A feeling of melancholy surrounded the Spring Court, which was brought to its knees by his former lover and fiancé, Feyre Archeron, who was now the High Lady of the Night Court and both mate and wife to his former friend and ally, Rhysand.

He had caused her pain so in return, she did the same to him. Manipulating and scheming to make this Court fall. His people were taken in by Tarquin, High Lord of the Summer Court and Tamlin was grateful for his generosity.

"Be happy, Feyre." were the last words he told her before helping her resurrect Rhysand from the dead. In return, she wrote Tamlin a letter.

"Thank you. I hope you find happiness too." It was a kind gesture. But could he find happiness? She was the one to ruin the damn court and drove his people away. Homes and nature burned to ashes by the armies of Hybern.

A part of him felt a twinge of guilt. He let this happen to his own home. He should've figured out something was wrong. He also knew that not all of the blame fell on his shoulders. The forefathers of his bloodline would be disappointed, that's for sure.

Especially his father.

He could hear the words coming from his mouth. "How could you have let this happen? Let a Mortal-Made Fae destroy this Court? An abomination of a High Lord. A failure that I have to call a son." Tamlin remembered how his brothers threatened to kill him if he wished to be a High Lord. "Remember this, dear brother. Remember these words when you wish to think of the words "High Lord"." Weylin, the second-born, had whispered to him after he snuck into Tamlin's room at the dead of night.

"If you dare to pursue being worthy. To be chosen by father. To be his heir to the Spring Court. We will put an end to you and make sure you never see the light of day again. Do you understand?" Cian, the first-born, spat out. Tamlin could hear the poison, the venom intertwining in his words. The boy he had once been only nodded. He didn't have much power back then but it feels like he doesn't have much power even now.

Cupping his hands into the stream, Tamlin splashed his face to stop thinking about those thoughts. A gentle breeze made his hair sway. It was now down to his mid-back as it was once before.

Conflicted.

That was the word to describe how Tamlin was feeling. Conflicted.

A part of him felt smug for being crowned High Lord when his brothers terrorized him about it.

A part of him was glad that Rhysand and his father killed his family but not his mother. She was the only one who he mourned.

Tamlin loved his mother and he knew that she loved him too but when his father, Taranis, was being a tyrannical piece of shit, she turned a blind eye. How could a mother do something like that to their own child? To their own son?

A sigh left his lips.

His brothers were right.

Perhaps they knew the future of him and what would happen to the Court.

And a part of him wished that his brothers had killed him. He wouldn't have to be burdened with the title and responsibilities of a High Lord. The Spring Court would still be thriving. He wouldn't have to go through all this pain. But maybe in another life, he would be a traveling minstrel. He would go around and sing songs, speak of poems, limericks, ballads, but most of all, he could play his fiddle to his heart's content. He would have his own group that he would call his family. A ragtag team of misfits.

His own family that would love him, flaws and all. A family that wouldn't leave him behind.

It had been a gift from his mother for his tenth birthday. He had to carve his name into the fiddle so that his brothers wouldn't take it from him. Luckily, they didn't break it or toss it away as it kept him from High Lord. But they did make fun of it. However, Tamlin didn't mind. He had more talent in his fingers than his brothers had in their entire body. Besides being warriors and strategists.

A door creaked open. It's been a while since Tamlin was in the manor. It was a mess, of course. He really needed to clean it up. Most of the mess was created by him when he felt his emotions all pent up. And the rest came from him neglecting the home.

Now or never, Tamlin got to work. In an attempt to tidy up the manor to the best of his abilities. This would take a while.

The living room and kitchen were the only things Tamlin cleaned up. Some other time, he would clean the upstairs.

A broken mirror was on the ground, facing down. Tamlin carefully picked it up so that he wouldn't cut himself. Half of the shattered mirror pieces are still laid on the ground. He would have to fix it later with paste. The other half of the mirror was intact, showing half of his face. He went to hang it up on the wall of the living room.

"You've changed." Tamlin spoke himself as he stared into the mirror. The light in his green eyes was dimmed. Sadness and loneliness danced in his eyes in replacement.

A shell of a male.

He let his anger, frustration, and sadness consume him and he was now what people thought him of.

A beast.

A monster.

And a villain in the eyes of those he wronged.

He traveled far beyond the path of reason.

"What troubles you, Tam?" That voice. Tamlin hadn't heard it since he died. Killed by the woman he once loved.

Andras.

Brown hair tied back, rich tanned skin, and eyes the color of amber that were filled with mischief. That used to be filled with mischief.

"It's been a long time, my friend." Tamlin turned to face Andras. He stood there as a spirit. Was he going mad to the point he could see ghosts?

"It has." Andras' eyes darted from place to place as he studied the manor. "And what the hell happened here?" "A long story." Tamlin replied. "Ah yes. A story that I'm aware of." That made him still.

"How?" His voice was hushed but the tone was filled with uneasiness. "I've been wandering around the Court ever since I was killed. Prythian too but I prefer to stay here." Tamlin needed to sit down. He stumbled to the couch, putting a hand to his head.

"My job was done when Feyre put an end to my life but deep down, I knew it wasn't. And I was right. Because here you are, all alone with nothing but your sunken Court." "Thanks for your kind words, Andras. I love to be reminded of that." "You're welcome!" A stupid grin grew on his face.

Oh, how Tamlin missed it.

"I don't know what to do. I don't know where to start." Tamlin muttered. "With what?" "With everything." He fell back, hitting the cushions. Andras didn't say a word but walked up to Tamlin, helping him sit back up. "How are you touching me?" "Don't question it. Let me help." Oh, he hated those words. Tamlin never liked getting people's help. He believed that he could do almost anything on his own. It was one of his flaws; his hubris.

"Tell me everything. What happened?" Andras' face showed gentleness. "I thought you knew." "I know half. I did say that I wander around Prythian, not just the Spring Court."

Tamlin rolled his eyes but still, he told Andras everything. Under The Mountain, him locking Feyre up in what he thought was protection, becoming a double spy for Hybern, Feyre dismantling the Court, Feyre and Lucien leaving together, Tarquin taking in his people, Hybern's armies bringing damage to both Spring and Summer, the war, helping Feyre bring Rhysand back to life, and finally, Rhysand coming to mock him during Solstice.

A wince came from Andras. "That's rough, buddy." "Indeed." Now annoyed, Tamlin stared off into the distance. None of the males said a word to each other. Only let the silence fill the air.

A clock ticked calmly. Like a metronome.

"Tam, listen to me." Tamlin slowly turned his head to Andras, waiting for whatever Andras was going to say.

"Do you remember when you were crowned High Lord?" How could he not remember? He could still recall the memory, even though it had been centuries.

"May the Mother bless you and the Spring Court. All hail Tamlin Lysander, High Lord of the Spring Court!" Ianthe, his former childhood friend was the one to crown him.

All hail Tamlin, High Lord of Ruin.

Since that day, he knew that no amount of self-sought fury would bring back the glory of innocence.

"I do. And what does my coronation have to do with anything?" "Being a High Lord, you're in charge of the land and have duties to do. You're in charge of Spring. The land that is ever-changing." That was false though. The Seasonal Courts were in a permanent state of the season it represents. Mother, he sounded like a smartass.

"Spring is a new beginning. A new transformation. Staring over and staring anew." "What are you getting at?" Tamlin was starting to tire.

"What I'm saying is, you are the High Lord of the Spring Court. You are the land and the magic. You are Spring. So act like it." Tamlin raised an eyebrow.

"When flora begins to bloom, bloom alongside with it. When the light shines upon, shine and burn bright. When something new is planted, take root and grow. Change has always been and will always be possible. We cannot fix our past mistakes but we can reflect back on it, see what we have done wrong, acknowledge it, and grow." Andras took Tamlin's hand into his.

"To grow is to be reborn. To live is to suffer but to love as well. You are so much more than your fears. Than your anxieties, your anger, and your sadness." Woe climbed Tamlin like a ladder, tears threatened to fall but he wouldn't let them. He never did like to cry in front of people but with Andras, maybe it would be alright.

"You were the poet of us three but it didn't mean I couldn't pick up a few things." Andras shot a wink. Tamlin chuckled, the tears going back into the depths. Him, Lucien, and Andras. The death of their dear friend was hard on the both of them but mostly on Lucien.

He viewed him as his younger brother even though Andras was the second oldest; Tamlin being the eldest and Lucien being the youngest.

"I promise you this," Andras' grip got tighter. "I won't pass on until you are better. Until our home is better. I refuse to leave you until that smile of yours returns, until the light in your eyes is radiant like an emerald once more. I will not give up on you, so don't give up on me." "Thank you, Andras...Thank you." Tamlin whispered the last thanks, almost like a prayer. His head fell onto Andras' shoulder and his arms wrapped around like a snake.

He wanted to get better. He wanted to be better. He would get better, be better than the male he once was.

"Walk with me." Tamlin lend out a hand for Andras to take. Both of the males' hands clasped together.

They headed outside.

Birds chirped here and there. Woodland creatures scurried on the grass. The air was calm and chill. The sun was being to set which let the sky a beautiful orange, red, and purple.

Tamlin and Andras' hands were still intertwined. His thumb moved up and down softly, soothing on the High Lord's hand. Almost like a lullaby.

510 years, Tamlin had been alive. His childhood was one no child should ever have. He only had a few friends as making friends was a difficult task. Rhysand then came to mind. He remembered how Rhysand would find him everytime he had time to. He taught him fighting techniques that were native to Illyrians. They ate, drank, hunted, trained, laughed, and fought together. He even made wrote him letters, poems, and limericks. A memory played in his mind where the two were away from the war camps. Tamlin was resting on a tree as he played the fiddle and Rhysand rested his head upon his lap. Not that he minded. It didn't mean anything.

But their fathers ruined it and for what? A insipid rivalry?

Inside of him, Tamlin felt a small sense of hope that one day, they would reconcile. He was a fool to think it.

Rhysand was a winged insect (quite literally) while Tamlin was a funeral pyre. Sadness and anger crackled and twisted like flames within him.

A deep breath in and a deep breath out. Tamlin felt a heavy weight lift from his chest. Something in him stirred. Feelings and emotions.

Not the negative ones he grown accustom to but something new.

Hope.

It was the breath of fresh air that he needed.

Out of all of the Seasonal Courts, Tamlin assumed Spring wasn't all that important compared to Winter, Autumn, and especially Summer. But he was wrong.

Spring was life coming back into the lands and blossoming hope all around.

Summer, in many eyes, was the best season. A season of light, warmth, adventure, and happiness. But when Summer retreated, Autumn took its place. Leaves began to fall and colors changed from bright to dark, the temperatures cooled down and people would soon harvest for Winter was coming.

With Winter, brought the death of nature. The most deadliest season of them all. The night-darkness, would come earlier than before. Many things would come to an end but it wouldn't be forever. Celebrations would be held during the season; for family, for loved ones, for surviving another terrible winter, and a new year approaching.

And with this new year, things would change yet again. The snow will melt, the ice will thaw, and winter would bow as Spring came into blossom.

"For you." Tamlin broke from his thoughts to see Andras holding a rose in his hands. "Be careful of the thorns." He took the rose without worry. Not fearing if thorns would cut him.

"I love you, thorns and all." were the words he once said to Feyre. Who would he say the words to now? He had no lover. But he had himself.

"I love you, thorns and all." Tamlin said to himself, in the back of his mind.

He was not a monster.

He was no villain.

And until that day comes when he could prove it, he would work and work.

He would not spend his immortality in rage.

He would not let anger consume him, control him.

Until the light in his eyes shined brighter than a thousand suns.

Until he could love himself.

Until the day that he could look into a mirror, smile, and know that he was a lovely reminder of how beautiful change could be.

Until he was the true High Lord of the Spring Court once again.

(This is my first writing piece that I've shown people so I hope you'll enjoy or like it. His family never got names so these are my names for them. Lysander just fits Tamlin; It means "Liberator" or "Freedom".)

(THIS FEELS LIKE SHIT, UGH!!)

(Wait, would this be a Tamlin X Andras? I swear I didn't mean for that. AND YES, I REFERENCED TAKE ME BACK TO EDEN! IT'S A KICKASS SONG!)

@viktoriaashleyyx here's that add, hope you like it👍🏾

[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

chapter xix – gust & flame

Eris Vanserra x Reader

Eris Vanserra has been a prisoner in his own home since the day he was born. He has done what he had to in order to survive and protect the few he loves. And he is playing the long game. Waiting, waiting, and waiting for the right time to make his move, to usurp his wicked father and become High Lord of Autumn Court. But things become even more complicated when a human girl drops into his life. Perhaps Eris can wait no longer to take his throne.

Word Count: 4,700+

masterlist

After the meeting of the High Lords, Y/N didn’t see Eris for quite some time. He was bogged down with his duties. And Y/N could only assume he was barely eating or sleeping with the amount of work he was dealing with. Her stomach sank at the idea of Eris not taking care of himself. Someone needed to make sure he was doing both of those things. 

However, Y/N’s usual schedule of breakfast, training, and library continued. 

But on this morning, Lucien came to her after training. 

“Would you like to go riding with me?” He asked as Y/N drank water. 

The Weapons Master had already exited the training grounds, leaving her exhausted and alone. Well, not really alone. For she had two of the smoke hounds as her guards and company still.

They now eyed Lucien wearily, not appreciating how close he was getting to their master's mate. 

But Y/N’s eyes beamed with the question. “Really?” 

Lucien tried not to tease her for being so excited. In actuality, he felt guilty for such a simple thing clearly bringing her such joy. If he had known that, he would’ve asked long ago. 

He studied her current state. “Yes, really. Perhaps you would like to change before doing so?”

Y/N looked down at herself. She was covered in mud and dirt. And what couldn’t be seen, but surely smelt, was the sweat she’d released from all her training. There was even a few cuts and scrapes across her hands and arms from little nicks she’d received while sparring. 

“Yes, perhaps I should clean myself up first…” Y/N mumbled as her face got hot with embarrassment. 

Half an hour later, Y/N appeared from her bedchambers freshly bathed. Her hair was still wet, but braided. And she wore a riding outfit that Lucien was sure the handmaidens had helped her pick out. 

“S-Sorry to keep you waiting,” Y/N quickly muttered, only able to look at the ground as she shut her bedchamber door behind her. 

“It wasn’t long at all,” Lucien tried to tell her. 

They hurried to the stables, which Y/N had no complaint about.

Two horses were already saddled and waiting for them when they reached the royal barn. A stableboy had both reigns in his hands. 

“What’s this?” Lucien asked, pointing to a bow and quiver of arrows strapped to one of the saddles. 

The stableboy seemed embarrassed and wouldn't look Lucien in the eye when he answered. “The High Lord demanded that Lady Y/N never go on horseback without at least two weapons on her saddle. I am just following orders, my lord.” 

Y/N smirked and stepped toward the horse that was now very obviously hers. It was a stark white gelding, covered in muscles, but held a kindness in his eyes as he greeted Y/N. 

“What’s his name?” Y/N asked the stableboy. 

“Aengus, my lady.” 

“Aengus,” Y/N muttered to the horse with a smile as she softly stroked his face. 

The stableboy cleared his throat awkwardly. “The High Lord also stated that Lady Y/N is not to leave the estate without an escort.” 

“And what am I then?” Lucien snapped. 

Y/N chuckled as she easily lifted into the saddle. “Lucien, don’t start.” Then she turned to the stableboy. “That is fine. But may they remain behind us?”

The stableboy looked relieved at having her support. “Yes, Lady Y/N. Only five will be joining you. They will meet you at the gates.” 

“And what is your name?” Y/N asked sweetly. 

“Cian, Lady Y/N.”

“Thank you, Cian. We will be seeing much more of each other now. Perhaps I can help you brush the horses after we return.” 

He smiled and bowed his head. “Of course, Lady Y/N.” 

She leaned down to stroke Aengus’ neck. “Ready for some fun?” She whispered. 

The white gelding neighed happily and stomped his feet, proving just how ready he was. 

Y/N turned to Lucien, “They will learn quickly that they need to keep up.”

And then she whistled, signaling Aengus to make his escape. The horse quickly jolted into a gallop out of the gates.

It only took Lucien a second or two to follow, but even that made him fall far behind. 

He hoped Eris didn’t hear about this little stunt, because it would be him that he reprimanded. Cauldron knew Eris would never scold Y/N for anything. Lucien couldn’t even imagine his brother so much as slightly raising his voice at his beloved mate. 

——

Y/N looked to the right to see one of their Autumn guards 50 yards or so off to the side of them. A guard was placed the same distance in all directions of them, putting her and Lucien in their perimeter of safety. If anyone sought to hurt them, they’d have to go through one of the guards before ever reaching them. 

Y/N and Lucien slowed their horses to a brisk walk. 

“How did you know I would want to go on a ride?” She asked. 

Lucien smirked. “Eris said you love horses.” 

“I said that to him once, in passing, when he was still but a stranger.” Y/N shook her head. “Yet he remembers all my words as if they hold such weight.” 

“Because they do,” Lucien countered. 

Y/N ignored him. 

“You know, if you let him get to know you more, he could remember more than just the things you say in passing…”

Y/N’s head whipped around to glare him. “Really? You of all people want to make such comments to me? You flee from your mate every chance you get.” 

“That is not fair and you know it, Y/N. I tried with Elaine more times than I can count – far before you ever joined our ranks, might I add. She wants nothing with me.” 

“And perhaps that is her right,” Y/N growled. 

Lucien cocked an eyebrow. “That wasn’t your tune when you were unaware of having your own mate…” 

Y/N halted her horse to glare into his eyes. 

And he couldn’t help but feel guilty when she did it. 

“Stay out of it, Lucien.” She grumbled before whistling, signaling Aengus into a gallop back to the Forest House. 

Their fun had been ruined, all thanks to Lucien.

The guards quickly followed after her, not bothering to make sure Lucien was with them. But he already knew they weren’t there for him anyway. 

——

Y/N cantered through the gates of the estate and up to the Forest House to find that Eris was saddling his own horse.

And there were nearly thirty sentries already mounted and waiting for their High Lord. 

Eris immediately turned when she halted Aengus just a few yards from him. 

“Where are you off to?” Y/N asked through heavy breaths. She’d pushed Aengus to his highest speed as she’d made her escape from Lucien. 

“Visiting the surrounding villages,” Eris answered. 

Then Y/N’s guards caught up. The High Lord glared at them, noting how they let his mate get away from them. It was obvious that would be discussed when Y/N was out of earshot. 

“May I come?” Y/N blurted out before she could stop herself. 

Eris blinked, evidently taken aback by her request. 

“I promise I will keep to myself,” she added quickly, as if her very presence would be a burden to him. 

Eris frowned, not at her, but at the idea that she could ever see herself as such a burden. “That will not be necessary. You may join me, if that really is your wish. Though I worry the day will bore you…” 

Y/N beamed at his admission. “Oh, I would never find it boring! I have been wanting to see the villages of Autumn. I have read so much about them!” 

Eris tilted his head. “Read?”

But before she could answer or mentally scold herself for saying too much, Lucien came galloping over to them. 

“You are supposed to stay with her,” Eris growled. 

“You try keeping up with her,” his youngest brother shot back with exasperation. “Cauldron, she rides like the wind.” 

But Y/N ignored him, acting as if he weren't even there. And of course Eris caught it.

He ignored his youngest brother as he mounted. “We must leave now to make it back before dark.” 

Lucien glanced back and forth between his brother and Y/N. “She’s going with you?” 

“Yes,” Eris answered with boredom in his tone. “And you are staying here.” 

If his mate was annoyed with his brother, then he would choose her side.

Lucien scoffed. But rode back towards the royal stables. Clearly he didn’t wish to accompany them that badly, for he didn’t even put up a fight. 

“Is this some trick?” Eris asked Y/N quietly, so no one else could hear. “Do you intend to make your escape?

Y/N smiled and leaned toward him. “Guess you will have to wait and see.” 

—

The Forest House was now just a small structure in the distance behind them. Y/N watched it get smaller and smaller before turning back to Eris. 

He wouldn’t leave her side since they left the estate, choosing to ride right alongside her. 

“May I ask perhaps a silly question?” She asked. 

Eris nodded. 

“Why do we not just…winnow to the village?” 

He smirked at her. “It is a fair question. But there are many who reside between the Forest House and Falanaird. I wish to see how even the smallest homes are fairing.” 

Then his smirk grew to a full smile that was almost mischievous. “Besides, the village would be in a panic if their new High Lord appeared before them out of nowhere. I thought it would be better to give them a fair warning of my arrival. By the time we are a few miles out, someone will have alerted them of my presence.” 

Y/N grinned at him. “We are going to Falanaird. I have heard it is quite beautiful…”

Eris narrowed his eyes. “How do you know of Falanaird, little witch?”  

Y/N felt her face heat at his pet name for her. If anyone else used it, she was sure it would irritate her. But coming from him, it only felt sweet. 

But she remained quiet. 

Eris persisted. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with your reading you mentioned, would it?”

“I have been reading about the histories of Autumn Court,” Y/N finally admitted quietly. “After training, I go to one of the libraries and read.” 

“What for?” Eris asked.

Y/N laughed. “To learn about your home, of course. Why else?” 

Before Eris could fully let that settle in, she sat up straighter in her saddle and pointed in the distance. “Look!” When he followed her gaze, she was pointing to two small fae children who were standing at the gate of their little cottage, staring at the High Lord’s traveling company with mesmerized expressions

When Eris locked eyes with them, they gasped in fear and ducked behind the fence. 

“They are only little ones,” Y/N scolded when she saw that Eris had a dark look. “There’s no need to intimidate them.” 

Eris blinked, realizing it was a habit that had been ingrained in him for centuries to intimidate any and all who looked upon him. 

But he knew Y/N was right. What good would it be, having children fear him? 

The High Lord let out a sharp whistle, and the entire company came to a halt. 

He jumped off his horse and moved to a small wagon that had been trailing in the back. His reached into a basket. When his hand reappeared, Y/N realized he had grabbed two cookies from what she now realized was a wagon full of food. 

Eris walked to the edge of the fence where the two young ones were hiding on the other side. 

They slowly peaked over it when they heard his approach. 

“No need to fear,” Y/N heard Eris mutter to them. “We are only passing through.” 

With slow hands, each of them reached out to take his offering. And their eyes lit up when they realized what he was handing them. 

They screeched, “Thank you!” And then ran off in a fit of giggles, surely to eat their cookies before their parents could find out and reprimand them. 

Eris then returned to his horse as if nothing happened. And the company continued without questioning or even looking quizzically at their High Lord. 

But Y/N wasn’t going to let it go unnoticed. “I like when you let others see your kindness, Eris.” 

He refused to look at her as he responded with, “I only did it because you went out of your way to guilt me…”

Y/N laughed and rolled her eyes. “Oh, yes. Of course.”

—

They finally reached Falanaird about an hour later. 

Someone had clearly done as Eris suspected, and warned the entire city of their High Lord’s surprise visit. 

Y/N saw the tension fill Eris’ entire posture as everyone stared. He couldn’t sit any straighter in his saddle. She could see his internal struggle of trying to figure if he should be stern and cold as their leader or break the cycle and lead with kindness and integrity. 

They stopped to dismount. 

“Hold your arm out,” Y/N whispered to him hurriedly. 

He looked at her with confusion. 

“They are scared of you,” she hissed. “Offer me your arm. Trust me.”

To her surprise, Eris did as she said. Like a gentleman, his left arm was held out and Y/N gently placed her hand on his bicep. She noted how thick and strong the muscles were there. 

A red-brown haired male came to greet them. 

“Lord Callum,” Eris greeted formally. 

Callum bowed his head deeply. “To what do we owe the pleasure, High Lord?”

“I am surveying the cities of Autumn Court. Much has been ignored these past centuries. I plan to remedy that with a tour of my court.” 

Callum didn’t hide his surprise at such a gesture. Then his gaze shifted briefly to Y/N. “I see you have graced us with the heroin that is your mate.” Then he bowed at her and greeted her with, "Lady Y/N."

Y/N gave him a shy but warm smile. But she promised Eris she would stay quiet and she was not at all versed in political conversations, especially ones at a royal level. 

“Y/N was rather excited to hear we were visiting Falanaird,” Eris answered. Then he looked down at her with an encouraging look. “Weren’t you?” 

Y/N nervously cleared her throat before saying, “Yes! I heard Falanaird is responsible for the best harvests in all of Prythian. I was excited to see the city for myself.” 

Callum seemed to straighten with pride as such a compliment. “You honor us, Lady Y/N.” 

“Let us discuss the needs of the city, Lord Callum.” Eris commanded. 

Callum bowed his head and gestured for them to walk into the city. 

“Make sure to keep that kindness in your eyes,” Y/N whispered to Eris when everyone else around them was distracted. 

Eris’ face immediately softened with her instruction. But he kept Y/N on his arm as they were guided through the city. 

Callum gave Eris detailed updates on various businesses and citizens of Falanaird. Eris rarely interrupted and when he did, it was to ask for more details on certain matters. 

“And how are the crops fairing this season? I know with the last, there was some issues that my father had little patience for.” 

“Aye,” Callum agreed darkly. “The eggplants and carrots are suffering. The creek used to direct water to the beds has been misdirected and we have been unable to fix it permanently.” 

Eris frowned but nodded.

“What is blocking the creek?” Y/N asked suddenly. 

“A giant pine tree, Lady Y/N. It then flows into a river that we have built an irrigation system for those specific crops.” 

Y/N looked to Eris before continuing. He seemed both amused and curious as to where she was going with her question. 

“Could you take us to it?” She continued shyly. 

“The ground is muddy and no place for a lady,” Callum tried to warn her. 

Y/N smirked before teasing him with, “Worried about getting mud on your nice clothing, Lord Callum? I will survive.”

They hiked through a nearby forest to get to the creek Callum referenced. Eris moved Y/N’s hand from the crook of his arm and laced their fingers instead to help her through the hills and mud. She knew he would never let her fall or so much as trip. 

“We have tried to use fire wielders to incinerate it, but the wood is too moist,” Callum explained. 

“I guess it is a good thing your High Lord is here then?” Y/N answered with a smile. Then she turned to Eris. “If I remove the water, can you set the fallen tree alight?” 

Eris nearly scoffed at the question. “I can destroy it even without your efforts.”

Y/N laughed. “Then by all means…” 

With the wave of his hand, Eris set the tree into flames. Even from their distance, Y/N could feel the warmth of it. 

Through his magic, the tree was nothing but ash in just a few seconds. 

However, the creek was still too low to move the water where it needed to go. 

Y/N stepped forward quietly and then kneeled. She looked at the water as if she were about to have a conversation with it. 

Slowly, she started chanting in a whisper. It was once again a language Eris did not know or understand.

But the water started rippling. He heard crashing of water in the distance, and a mini-monsoon of waves came rushing from the creek’s source, filling it up to the brim. 

Callum looked on in awe. Some of their escorts even let out quiet gasps.

Y/N looked up at the sky. 

Everyone stood behind her, but Eris was at her side. So only he saw when her eyes glazed over in white, like they had on the night they’d killed Beron. 

She chanted again. It seemed to echo through the forest. Like nature was chanting back. 

Thunder cracked over them. 

And then the next second, rain started pouring. 

Callum smiled up as the storm soaked him. 

Y/N turned to him. “Hopefully that does it.”

“Thank you, Lady Y/N. You do not know the miracle you have bestowed upon us.” 

Then he watched on as Eris immediately removed his cloak to cover Y/N’s head and protect her from the rain. 

“Follow me,” Callum said. “There is an inn where you can seek shelter.” 

Eris grabbed her hand again, hurrying them to follow Callum. 

But when they reached an inn at the edge of the forest, the two of them were already soaked. 

Y/N giggled from the ridiculousness, especially when she looked up at Eris to find how irritated he seemed about being wet. 

Without realizing what she was doing, she stepped forward to brush some stray hair off his face and behind his ear. 

“Shall we have a drink?” She asked his sweetly. 

And just like that, Eris’ irritation disappeared and he smiled down at his mate. 

He nodded and nudged his head at the barstools in the tavern that was the bottom floor of the inn. 

His sentries were close on their heels, eyeing the patrons who had already been in the tavern upon their arrival. 

“Keep your distance,” Eris commanded. “I do not need you breathing down my neck.” 

They did as he said, grabbing tables and taking standing posts far enough away that they wouldn’t be able to eavesdrop on their High Lord’s conversation. 

The bartender clearly recognizes Eris, but didn't let it stop his gruff and abrupt attitude when he asked them what they wanted to drink. 

He slammed two giant mugs of ale in front of them, and then left them alone. 

“I see you have more clever tricks up your sleeve, little witch.” 

Y/N frowned a bit. “If I am being honest, they come as a surprise to me, as well.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Ever since that day you found me in the woods…something new has come to the surface. Something…powerful.” Her brow furrowed as her eyes glazed over and she remembered her last days in Night Court. “I almost killed Azriel when we were sparring. I summoned a lightning strike and it almost hit him.” 

Eris smirked. “It would have been a cause for celebration.” 

Y/N pinched his arm. “That is not funny!” 

But Eris’ amusement disappeared as he said, “I will not forgive him for what he did to you. You should have given him your wrath.” 

Y/N stared down into her ale. “The wind said you threatened him when you found out he forgot about me. I guess…I guess it makes sense now that I know our…umm…connection.” 

Eris watched her a moment before he answered. “Well, he would be dead if I did not care about how upset it would make you.” 

Y/N’s face got hot at his confession. So she distracted herself by looking around at the tavern. It was cozy and the light was colored in oranges and reds, only being lit by a hundred candles and two roaring fireplaces. 

“What are your thoughts on Falanaird?” Eris asked after a moment.

“It is beautiful,” Y/N answered immediately. 

“It is no Velaris,” he pointed out. Then a tiny bit of hope sparked in his eyes as he locked gazes with her and added, “But perhaps one day it could be.” 

“Or perhaps…” she replied slowly, “it will be better.”

Eris looked out the window as the rain pelted the glass harshly. “How long did you make it rain for?”

Y/N shrugged and looked a bit embarrassed. “I have not a clue.” 

He laughed. “We could be here all night.” 

“Good thing we’re already at an inn.”

Both their minds went to the scandalous implication of what she may have meant. 

But then Eris remembered what Feyre had once shared with him, what Y/N had confessed to her about her past lovers. And he couldn’t stop the darkness from taking over his face. His grip tightened dangerously on his ale. 

Unfortunately, Y/N interpreted Eris’ sudden shift as his disinterest in the idea of ever sharing a room with her at an inn. 

“Why have you been researching Autumn Court in the libraries?” 

“Library,” she corrected. “Singular.” 

He narrowed his gaze. “You know what I mean. Stop evading my question.” 

Y/N sighed. “I live here now, do I not? I figured I should learn about its history.”

“And you did the same for the Night Court when you lived there?” 

She opened and closed her mouth. “Well…umm n-no, actually.”

Eris looked out the windows again. “Thank you…for your help today, Y/N.” 

“You’re the one who burnt down that giant tree as if it were nothing.”

“That’s not what I meant,” he quickly told her. 

Y/N swallowed, sensing that he was going to say something that would make her heart skip a beat. 

“I find it…difficult deciding who I am supposed to be as High Lord of this court. I do not want to be my father, that I am sure of. But after centuries of wearing a mask…it’s harder to take it off than I ever could have imagined.”

She nodded. 

Eris stared at her a moment before finally confessing, “I find it easier with you at my side. That is what I am thanking you for.” 

Y/N reached for his hand, softly covering it. “Kindness is not a weakness. Just like cruelness does not equate to strength.” 

“Even Rhysand wears a mask to control his subordinates,” Eris argued. “I have seen his charades at the Court of Nightmares.” 

Y/N watched him with confusion. “But why compare yourself to him?” 

“You have seen the headway he’s made as High Lord. His true court is made up of dreamers, not high-borns given power by birthright alone. He has assured female Illyrians have the same opportunities to train as males, and tried his hardest to put a stop to wing clipping. The citizens of Velaris do not fear him, they respect him. How am I not to compare myself?” 

“That is his legacy, not yours.” She urged. “You have only been High Lord for a month, Eris. Give yourself time. You have plenty of it.”  

But Eris said nothing in return, only got lost in his internal battle of self loathing and unrealistic expectations he has put on himself. 

Y/N leaned forward. “Do you know why I insisted that Callum shows us the empty creek? Because I knew you could fix it. And what your people need to see is that you care – about them, about their cities. They need to see that you do not believe you are above their troubles.”

She leaned back. “So you go to village after village in Autumn Court, and you show them that you care.” 

Eris could stop his beaming from her words. “You will come with me?”

Because what did any of this matter if she didn’t?

Eris was starting to realize he couldn’t do any of it without her. 

“And when it is safe for you to leave?”

Y/N frowned at such a subject being brought up. 

She nodded toward the windows. “It has stopped raining.” 

One of his sentries approached. “High Lord, we should start our journey back to the Forest House before it gets too late.” 

Eris reached into his pocket for coins to pay the bartender. 

“Don’ botha,” the bartender spat his his thick accent. “It’s on the ‘ouse.” Then his eyes shifted between the two of them as he dried a glass. “For riddin’ us o’ that favver o’ yours. The both o’ yer.”

When they got outside, someone had already brought their horses for them. 

Y/N tried to return Eris’ cloak to him, quietly handing it to him. The thick fabric was damp for their attempt at shielding her from the rain.

Eris took it, lightly blew on it, and handed it right back to her. 

Y/N eyes widened in surprise when she found that it was completely dry and also warm like it had been sitting by a fire for hours. 

“Keep it,” he instructed firmly. “The sun is setting within the hour.”  

—

They were only 20 or so minutes from the Forest House when Eris saw Y/N’s head bob from falling asleep. 

Her horse, Aengus, kept moving closer and closer to Eris, as if he was worried for his rider and was making sure Eris would be able to catch Y/N if she fell off. 

She was in an exhausted and delirious daze. She could hear the conversations around her. But they felt unreal, like she was in a dream or sleepwalking. 

“Should we move her to the wagon to sleep, High Lord?” One of the guards asked quietly, as if he feared waking her. 

“That won’t be necessary.”

Then Y/N, half asleep, felt a tug on the right side of her saddle. A large mass mounted her horse and pulled themselves behind her in the saddle.

But she recognized Eris’ scent and warmth immediately, stopping her from startling and fully waking up. 

“You were falling asleep in your saddle, little witch. And at risk of falling right off your horse,” Eris whispered in her ear. “Go back to sleep.” 

His arms reached around her, taking her reigns and also caging in her body protectively. 

And she did just that, leaning back against her mate and falling into a deep sleep now that she knew she would be safe from falling off her horse. 

What she didn’t think about was that Eris could have easily winnowed both of them home. She would never put together that her mate finds any way to extend their time together – even if it existed as her falling asleep against his strong chest and he rode them home safely. 

Y/N barely stirred when they returned to the Forest House and Eris gently pulled her from the saddle, landing on the ground with her in his arms. 

His footsteps echoed down the halls.

“Cauldron, what happened?” She recognized Leonora’s worried voice in her sleep. 

“She is only sleeping, mother.”

“The poor thing must be exhausted. Waking up at the crack of dawn to train herself nearly to the point of collapsing. Only for you to force her on a trip to Falanaird afterward.”

Eris sighed. “She insisted. I am going right to the Weapons Master after putting her to bed to tell him their lessons are canceled tomorrow. She needs rest.” 

“Perhaps you should take the day, too.” Leonora urged. “Together.”

--------

Please please please please please please let me know what you think! Be like @pancakefancake

Chapter XX

[narrat3333d]

ARAN RYAN HEADCANONS!!1! (explodes..starting w/ him bc he my fav..heart☹️)

FAMILY.

Declan Ryan. (Father, 52.)

Peigí Ryan. (Mother, 54.)

Aofie Ryan. (Older Sister, 25.)

Ronan Ryan. (Younger Brother, 19.)

Sean and Cian Ryan. (Younger Brothers, 16.)

GENERAL.

Previously worked as a Dockhand in the ports before he boxed, it’s where he gained most of his strength.

Knows how to swindle someone out of a pretty penny, his Ma taught him how to charm his way through any situation.

He began fighting as early as he could, (18). Though he’s most likely been illegally weaselling his way into professional matches before hand.

ALWAYS, and I mean ALWAYS gets up at 7:00am SHARP. If he doesn’t get up at 7am he’ll probably be up at 7:07, and if he isn’t up at that time he’ll be extremely pissed about it.

He uses an unhealthy amount of gel to get his hair to stay like that. No fucking way does it just do that thang.

Apart from that, he somehow has nice-ish hair despite how ratty and unkempt it looks, his Ma' and Aofie taught him how to care for his hair once he started growing it out.

Still lives at the Ryan Home, with his parents, and siblings, (though Aofie has moved out.she visits.) he’s WAY too irresponsible with his money to rent his own apartment.

Got surprisingly decent grades for how he acts.

He eats Lucky Charms for breakfast, but he usually only eats the marshmallows.

Learned Irish Stepdance from his Father, he’s trying to rope his younger brothers into learning it as well.

SOMEHOW. SOMEHOW still has his drivers license. He drives this really banged up looking car, each time he has to drive someone somewhere they exit the car hyperventilating, dehydrated, malnourished, trembling, tense, teary eyed../j

He’s tasked with babysitting Sean and Cian more often than not, he most likely drops them off with one of the other Boxers if he can’t be bothered to deal with their bullshit™️. (Which, surprisingly, isn’t all that common.)

When he was a kid, he tried to sell or trade Ronan/Sean and Cian when they were babies for something ridiculous. Like a Pokemon card, or something of the sorts.

Also tried to make his Younger Brothers’ first words a curse. (It worked for Cian, his first word was ‘Arse’.) ((Aran was overjoyed, his parents not so much.))

Owns a lot of lucky charms, almost to the point where it’s absurd.

Most of his old clothes end up becoming hand-me-downs to Ronan, Sean and Cian.

He knocked out (one of) Cian's teeth when he was younger.

He has a couple photos of his family members haphazardly pasted onto the inside of his locker door.

Plays shitty, overused pranks on some of the other Boxers.

He's coaching Sean and Cian on how to box. (And cheat, he enthusiastically encouraged the twins to keep up with their whole 'Switch-Places' shtick.)

His knuckles are bruised from the horseshoes he has in his gloves, as well as a few swollen spots on his face. Probably has a dislocated or even broken finger or two.

There's merchandise of all of the boxer's in the WVBA, sometimes there's a figure or plush of Aran being thrown at the wall or kicked down the stairs in the Ryan Household.

Most likely would try to fight with Sean or Cian in the ring. (Sort of almost a..Bear Hugger situation. But not with a squirrel. I do not know how to word this..)

Buys the shittiest Birthday presents ever. Literally. He doesn't gaf.

Was somehow dragged into a Double Scull by Sean, Aran purposefully tipped the boat and Sean didn't speak to him for around 3-5 business days.

He goes to the pub from time to time, which gives him a lot of gossip and such about the locals.

Doesn't get into Bar Fights as much as one would think.

He DEFINITELY has messy, horrible handwriting.

here,, dumps this and walks away

therr will probably be a part two,,and maybe i'll do one soley focused on his relations with the fellow boxers because ive been too scared to dip my toe into that territory yet,,(I DONT UNDERSTAND SHIPPING FOR THE LIFE OF ME, hwo does it work..) anywasy thank you for coming to my ted talk and sorry for yapping heart heart

[aparticularbandit]

I keep thinking, you know, pair up Chaos Gremlin Agatha Harkness with Chaos Gremlin Junko Enoshima and go from there.

But actually, the way I write Agatha, it should be more like.

Local purple girl who finds her identity in the occupation passed down through her family heritage meets local purple girl who also (Agatha Harkness and Kyoko Kirigiri).

Local abused purple girl who is told she is no good and never can be meets local abused purple girl who doesn't believe she can ever be forgiven for existing (Agatha Harkness and Mikan Tsumiki).

Like.

....

I have types, apparently, and I should just shoehorn my chaos gremlins together!

[aceofwonders]

the fact that rhydian is becoming terrified of himself and his capacity to kill