#Deeper Into The Drink

[youcantkillamutant]

Deeper Into The Drink: Prologue

Author: youcantkillamutant

Fandom: ACOTAR (SJM)

Pairing: Tarquin x Black Fem!Reader

Summary: You’ve always known that Cresseida would do whatever it takes to protect the Summer Court. You just didn’t realize that you were a part of that equation. So you vow to do all you can to help Cresseida and protect your court, which is proving to be difficult, what with the scheming lords of Summer, human refugees from the war, sly overtures of kindness from the Night Court and the growing desolation of the neighboring Spring Court. And yet, you think you might have been able to handle all of that, if the High Lord Tarquin wasn’t so…himself. It would have been easier still if your heart didn’t take notice of that fact.

Warnings: Depictions of violence, angst, mentions of death, slow burn (as is my custom), no smut (probably), lots of IC slander

Rating: 18+

Words:1K+

A/N: Um… Yeah idk how to explain this one honestly? I’m in my “let’s get some critical thinking going about the IC and their shitty actions” era and just can’t deal with how dirty they did Tarquin. So…yeah. I just want Tarquin to have more people on his side honestly. This story is set post-ACOSF in terms of timeline. This is my first time writing in this fandom, so be nice. Don’t like it don’t read it and all that jazz. Not Beta’d we die like men. I own nothing, all characters belong to SJM.  

|  Read on Ao3  |

🐚☀️🐚

When most in Prythian thought of the Summer Court, they thought of the sea. Admittedly, your court had the most beautiful view. There was no continent to disrupt your view of the cerulean water, nor factories to dilute the sea salt sharp air with smoke, only rolling water and white crashing waves. The sea off the coast of Adriata was the picturesque view on every postcard and in every painting. Still, you knew it wasn’t the best view in the Summer Court, not by a long shot. No, that view started further inland, south to the mountains, in the fields of farmland in the heart of your Court’s territory. 

Those fields, full of summer ripe berries and crops on the cusp of harvesting, those fields were the best of the Summer Court. What was better than the rolling sea? A verdant valley and impossibly blue sky. A warm breeze that carried the scent of the sea but never the cold bite of it. Sun warmed cobbles and cottage glass glinting in the light. Home. 

When you were growing up in the farmlands of the Summer Court. You’d learned about Prythian, read about the marvels of the Winter Court and dazzling architecture in the Day Court, but even then you knew that you’d trade all the magic in the world to lay in the fields of your village, listening to the sounds of the cattle and the sea on the wind, letting your brown skin warm as the sun kissed as though delivering a blessing. 

You’d done just that as often as you could. Sometimes, with your parents, your friends, even a few sheep or two. Then a few years after you were old enough to feed the hens and stack the hay, Princess Cresseida arrived. She hated you at first, or perhaps she’d hated everything back then. She’d spent the first few days in your little village sitting in your family’s cottage, refusing the food your mother made and sitting in roiling silence. You decided to keep a wide berth from the princess, stories of her famed temper tantrums had reached the farmlands years prior, and you had no desire to be on the end of one. 

So you did your chores and sat in the sun and loved the land and one day Cresseida joined you. She didn’t say a word, not even when you handed her a trowel and motioned for her to join you on your knees as you weeded the garden. After the weeding was done, you moved on to the next chore and she helped with that too. And on it went. Cresseida became your shadow, trailing you around the house, into the fields and around the village. She never said a word, brown eyes merely watching and studying and cataloguing everything. You didn’t mind the company. You’d never really hoped for a sibling, content to play with the other village children until the sun dipped into the sea and mother’s called you all back home, but spending time with Cresseida made you wonder what it would be like to have a sister. 

And so, with that thought, you’d spent days thinking about what it might be like to have the Princess of Adriata as a sister. A bond, not by blood, but strong nonetheless. A support, a partner. A mirror, not in the sense that you were the same, at least not all the time, but in the way that you could look at a mirror and see every emotion writhing within you. The reflection deepening your understanding of yourself. You were so caught up in your daydreams that you nearly missed when Cresseida finally spoke.

“I never knew the farmlands could be so beautiful.” A sister. A mirror. 

“It’s the most beautiful place in all of Prythian.” You smiled then, as Cresseida turned to you with a raised brow in challenge. 

“You clearly haven’t seen the sea off of Adriata then.” You laughed, a light, tinkling thing and Cresseida quirked a smile. “The view from my room is the best.” You were both quiet for a while after that. You finished your chores, and it wasn’t until after dinner that she spoke in the bedroom you shared. 

“My father sent me here because he trusts yours. He told me that if I ever wanted to rule our people, lead our people, I needed to know them, see them.” You turned to her cot on your own, tracing the shape of her silhouette. “I thought he was wrong. I’ve only known Adriata, and I thought that was enough. All of my father’s advisors and courtiers and family are there, what more could there be about our Court that they couldn’t teach me?” Cresseida exhaled loudly. “I think I was wrong.” You could tell it pained her to say it. 

“Good, serves you city-folk right.” And for the first time since arriving at your village, you heard the Princess of Adriata laugh. 

The pair of you became fast friends that summer, sniping snide remarks and sharing gossip about the people in the village and the courtesans of Adriata. On her last day, she wrapped you in a hug and you breathed in the salt of the sea, tinged with the scent of ripe berries and fresh, fertile soil. The smell of a true Summer Court citizen.

“Don’t forget about me sister.” You shook your head. 

“Never.” 

She returned year after year to tend the land and talk with the butcher and baker and blacksmith about anything and everything. By her third summer in the village, she’d met everyone, helped with the harvests and truly understood why her father sent her to this village, to you. She discovered the knowledge you had been born with. The people that owned the land, loved the land, were worth protecting with her life. 

Years later, she held the memory of her first summer with you, sun soaked and dirty from harvesting, close to her heart, as she descended under the mountain.

__________________________________________________________

A/N: I guess I just wrote a love letter to the Summer Court? As a black American woman, I cannot imagine loving this country, but I wanted try for the Summer Court. I imagine the Summer Court as a beautiful place with sun, sea and rolling fields abound (after the mountain range). I imagine that, even in a world like Prythian, a land like that could be idyllic. I hope it wasn’t too much, but I’ll never know cause a bitch has never felt patriotic lol.

I wanted to play in the Summer Court sandbox because SJM cannot write a character of color to save her life and I want these babies to be happy. Cresseida is super interesting to me because SJM kind of let her embody the angry/snarky/unforgiving black woman trope through her (limited) appearances in the series and it’s lazy AF and boring. I think throughout the books you can see how passionate Cress is when it comes to her Court and for some reason (*cough* internalized racism *cough*) the IC finds it “annoying”. Well, I do not lol. I’ve had the idea for this story for a while now and it will not leave me alone so I decided to break down and write it. Tarquin is coming in the next chappie. 

I’ve been reading lots of amazing work from @moodymelanist, @separatist-apologist and the posts and delicious drawings by @queercontrarian as inspo and living for these Summer Court mood boards. 

I have no idea how long this will be, not even sure imma post this, but yeah…If you’re reading, I hope you like it!

Title is from Florence + The Machine’s song Swimming

oh and @yuhhhhhhhhhhhhhh this is the Tarquin fic I was whining about! 🥴 

[owlsie-hoot]

Siegfried and Tristan's walk cross-country / best of / 5.06

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Sharing is Caring!

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[clownsuu]

Hey I have a question but are you the original creator for mafia mob au or is someone else cause I think I stumble in a TikTok creater and they made a mafia wally au. Both arts are amazing but I was just curious to know.

I think I know who you may be talking about! There is basically two “mafia” aus lol, theirs and mine- our aus are completely separate from each other and from what I know, have no affiliation with each other whatsoever besides coincidence of universe

[justarandomhelluvablog]

sorry sorry last time I'm talking about huskerdust tonight but does it fuck anyone else up knowing that Husk and Angel basically lived at the same time but were on opposite sides of the country. But also Husk went traveling. Like these two could have met while they were alive and wouldn't even know it. They didn't even know the other existed until they met at the hotel

Like I have. so many thoughts about this.

[into-the-pit]

Olipop is mupping garbage.

[silverfoxlou]

Anon Joni mentioned alcohol as it directly related to his team and crew members getting drunk and cheating on their partners. The trend of Larries speaking in depth about how Louis has a drinking problem has rotted brains beyond repair. They also have some weird Puritan outlook. It’s not a crime to consume alcohol, especially in Louis’ job. This fandom sure does have an issue projecting onto Louis. Anon would’ve never survived being an artist’s fan in the 70s/80s and still most artists today lmao. Louis comes across pretty tame compared to other artists.

Yeah…. I genuinely do not understand what some people’s problem is when Louis always has his shit together whenever he’s working. I can’t even think of a time Louis having a drink has interfered with his ability to his job or has been visibly drunk while interacting with fans*?

[bumblingbabooshka]

Neelix & Christine Chapel should get together and drink and gush about their respective Vulcan Crush (while denying that it's a crush)

[pyrrhiccomedy]

How’s Tomassin doing? Besides, you know, wretched.

Surprisingly good actually? He's fallen in love with Innokenti, that blind and wild fairy-knight; who loves him in return. Bastian set them up, on the queer intuition that the two loneliest people he knew might have something meaningful to offer each other, despite their obvious differences.

It's very hard for Tomassin to be loved. It goes against the grain of that flinching thing at his heart to take up that much space in the world, to anyone. He will love - in quiet, aching solitude - very easily, and never ask for anything, or give any indication of his feelings. But how could he allow anyone to love him - blighted aberration that he is? How could that not be a great and selfish unkindness? What future could he offer someone, when he is on a forced march to kneel at God's feet and accept a seal of condemnation? How could he let someone open up a country in their heart for him, when he knows the touch of his feet upon its soil would poison the ground with salt?

But Innokenti had a blunt counter to all of Tomassin's objections: and had the nimbleness of mind, and perverse persistence, to make his case. Oh, you think you'd salt the earth inside his heart? Salt it, then: nothing grows here already, not anymore. At least you would be one living thing, in this vast and barren continent. Oh, you are afraid you couldn't offer him a future? He is fairy - what is the future to him? He lives in an endless present, and never thinks about tomorrow. You think you are condemned by your God: Innokenti has already been abandoned by his. He won't say that's not true or God doesn't hate you, Tomassin. What does he know about the Christian God? You could well be right. But he can hold your hand, in the darkness outside of salvation: and we could be a comfort to each other.

They've been very good for each other, since their love has been acknowledged between them. Innokenti has made Tomassin more comfortable in his own skin, more willing to speak up and less mortified to take up space; and Tomassin has made Innokenti more grounded, more patient, and more thoughtful. They are nearly inseparable, these days, and Tomassin's grief and shame over the unavoidable circumstance of his own existence has been undeniably, a little, alleviated.

[shoezuki]

Honestly, yeah Pencacony in consept is very good but it trys really hard to obscure things with clunky writing. By far my favorite but Belobog is second to me because of the interesting politics.

I really don't like the Lufu, the direction of Dan Hengs story always felt sour to me and with so much of the story bg scattered in readable it really kills how compelling it could be

That said the war dance is good! Yanqing getting character development my beloved <3

yes exaclty i think penacony will be more enjoyable when like..... thinkin of it Post-Penacony when im not dealin w the whole 'the characters need to talk in elaborate charades to make the reader think the plot is more complicated than it is' shit. cuz it is So Good but so disappointing during the penacony arc yknow.

i still like belobog a lot cuz it works as its own Thing n im an anarchist so obviously i enjoy any plot stuff that questions the overall leadership and individuals in absolute power. but also it jus Works as its own thing yknow? like if they technically never return to belobog n extend the plot there it still makes Sense. it works both as a larger element of the overall plot and an isolated segment.

my 'issue' w the loufu is in that its not.... like. Complete yknow. like its very much that it isnt its own complete plotline yet its moreso a set up for More. and if i think a dan hengs story its decent but as its own story of the zianxhou its ass and jus feels more like the introduction or set up of More.

[scarletspider2the2ndpower]

Chasm: Curse of Kaine (Vol. 1/2024), #1.

Writer: Steve Foxe; Penciler and Inker: Andrea Broccardo; Colorist: Brian Reber; Letterer: Joe Caramagna

[youcantkillamutant]

Deeper Into The Drink: Chapter IV

Author: youcantkillamutant

Fandom: ACOTAR (SJM)

Pairing: Tarquin x Black Fem!Reader

Summary: You’ve always known that Cresseida would do whatever it takes to protect the Summer Court. You just didn’t realize that you were a part of that equation. So you vow to do all you can to help Cresseida and protect your court, which is proving to be difficult, what with the scheming lords of Summer, human refugees from the war, sly overtures of kindness from the Night Court and the growing desolation of the neighboring Spring Court. And yet, you think you might have been able to handle all of that, if the High Lord Tarquin wasn’t so…himself. It would have been easier still if your heart didn’t take notice of that fact.

Warnings: Depictions of violence, angst, mentions of death, slow burn (as is my custom), no smut (probably), lots of IC slander

Rating: 18+

Words:7K+

A/N: Um… Yeah idk how to explain this one honestly? I’m in my “let’s get some critical thinking going about the IC and their shitty actions” era and just can’t deal with how dirty they did Tarquin. So…yeah. I just want Tarquin to have more people on his side honestly. This story is set post-ACOSF in terms of timeline. This is my first time writing in this fandom, so be nice. Don’t like it don’t read it and all that jazz. Not Beta’d we die like men. I own nothing, all characters belong to SJM.  

Prologue |  Chapter I  |  Chapter II  |  Chapter III  |  Read on Ao3  |  Mood Board  |

Males are never as close to godhood as they claim to be.

🐚☀️🐚

Your ribs have been sore for days now. It was a dull ache that you could have lived with with minimal disruption, if not for the fact that you couldn’t figure out why you were in pain. You’d tried everything, stretching, warm towels, cold towels and even a tonic from the palace healer. Nothing worked. You weren’t sure how long was too long to tolerate the pain without a reasonable explanation, but you didn’t have time to worry about it. Not now. Not when Tarquin was on his way to winnow you to the human’s estate. Not when you were still fuming with the way he treated you after the sirens. 

Ever since that day, you’d had Bilal go to the docks and get news first thing in the morning. The first few days Bilal came back empty handed, but soon enough, she was reporting about shipwrecks. And all you had to do was take a walk down to the docks to hear about it. The sailors that had made it back alive spoke of waves bigger than they’d ever seen, lightning storms, rough waters, and beasts. Monsters like they’d never imagined lurking beneath their mast heads. You knew Istoria hadn’t been lying, but to hear the reports first hand, to hear the wrath of Ogea…It made you even more frustrated with Tarquin.

You hadn’t seen hide nor hair of the High Lord in a little over a week, so when you pulled open the door to face him your breath caught. How could you have forgotten how the morning light kissed his cheekbones, how the sea itself seemed to live in his eyes. How the — Huffing a breath to stop your thoughts, you ushered him into your room. 

“I’ll just be a moment.” Dabbing a bit more lotion on your hands before grabbing your necklace, you felt Tarquin’s eyes on you. He still hadn’t said a word, but his eyes tracked your every move. When you winced while reaching up to slide your necklace over your head, he noticed. Of course he noticed that. 

“Are you hurt?” He sounded surprised, like he hadn’t spent nearly 20 minutes yelling at you for going against a siren when he so clearly thought you were fragile.

“I’m fine.” You waved his question off. “We should go. Don’t want to keep the humans waiting.” Making your way towards the door, you brushed past Tarquin’s chest. Or you would have, if he hadn’t grabbed your arm. The pull of your arm pulled on your ribs, forcing you to gasp in pain. 

“What is wrong with you?” Tarquin could see that you were going to brush off his question and continued. “We can send for a healer—” You didn’t bother telling him that you’d already done that. 

“I’m fine my Lord.” You tried to ignore the way his grip on your arm warmed your skin. It was firm but not painful, and you could have yanked your arm away from him. You tried to get your mind to cooperate with your body to do just that, but something stopped you. The pain in your ribs lessened for a moment. 

“Tarquin. My name is Tarquin.” You sniffed, ignoring his correction and took another step towards the door. “Please,” He spoke your name softly, like a prayer. “I don’t want to see you hurt.”

“I can take care of myself, High Lord.”

“I’m well aware of that. But you are a member of my court, I want to ensure you’re safe, cared for.” The words soured in your stomach, and you knew why, but chose to ignore the feeling entirely. What did you really expect? Tarquin was nothing if not loyal to his people and you were a part of that. No matter how much your ribs seemed to ache for more. 

“I’ll be fine Tarquin, but our Court won’t if we don’t meet the humans. Now.” You met his stare then, and a pinch of heat traveled along your arm where he held you when your eyes locked. Finally he sighed. 

“I suppose you’re right about that my Lady.” Between one blink and the next, you were winnowing to his Adriata Estate. 

☀️

“We appreciate your hospitality, High Lord Tarquin,” The title sounded stiff on Aida’s lips, though not entirely out of disrespect. “but we can’t truly stay here.” The men surrounding Aida nodded, as they had been doing to everything she said since you’d arrived at the Estate. “This is not our home, and our lands…” We all knew the state of the human lands after all that Hybern had done. “Are we meant to stay here forever?” You didn’t bother letting her know that humans would never see your side of forever, and instead waited for Tarquin to respond. 

You hadn’t spoken another word to each other once your sandals hit the sun warmed tiles of his Adriata Estate. It was certainly stately, with lush green grounds meeting white sand that trailed towards the sea. It was a miniature version of the palace as far as you could see on your brief walk from the pearl encrusted entrance to the meeting room overlooking the ocean. Aida had been waiting with five other humans. Three men that seemed to be her sentries, and another two women, one withered enough to be on death’s door and another, young enough to be Aida’s sister, though they looked nothing alike. 

Aida still appeared as staid and confident as the first time you saw her. Her dark hair was a touch longer and gleaming as the sun shone through the windows. She was still as pale as bone, but she and her people seemed to have filled out. You knew food was available to them, and had ensured that it would be with Cresseida, but you were happy to see they were actually eating it. The humans had come a long way from cowering at your presence, and you couldn’t help but be impressed by their resilience.

“First, I want to make it clear that you are welcome to stay here as long as you would like. As you know, our lands are going through changes. Ownership is shifting and new borders are being drawn daily.” You peeked at Tarquin from the side of your eye. You weren’t aware of the border changes, though you supposed it made sense. After the fae lost in the war, it wasn’t surprising that lands would be left untended. “If you and your people would like to remain in our Court and build a life here, I will do everything in my power to ensure that happens.” 

The humans mumbled to each other in a tongue you hadn’t heard before. Clearly they were smart enough to know about your heightened hearing, and wanted a way to keep conversations private. 

“And what will you do if we do not want to stay in your Court, Lord of Summer?” The older woman spoke, face creasing as the words scraped out of her throat and into the air. “We are not so foolish to ignore the fact that the borders being redrawn also include those of the human lands South of here. Our people belong there. What would you do to get us home?”

“I’ll winnow you all there now if that’s truly what you want, but with the wall down…” Tarquin’s words trailed off and you picked up for him, gently.

“There are all manner of fae traveling through the Spring Court to your lands. If we took you all there now, it would be nothing short of leading you to slaughter.” Aida narrowed her eyes at you, then Tarquin. The girl beside her squeezed her arm tightly for a few seconds in warning. 

“Then who is in charge of the Spring Court? Who allows monsters to travel through the land and torment our people?” You glanced at Tarquin but stayed silent. “It seems to me that there ought to be a High Lord in that court who is willing to protect our kind.” You winced, thinking of the High Lord of Spring. Last you heard, he’d been in his beast form for so long that most assumed he was stuck in it. Cauldron. “We will leave your court when a High Lord willing to work with myself and my council to protect our people and our lands rules Spring.”

You tensed at Aida’s tone, laughably commanding for a human living in Prythian, but Tarquin merely nodded. 

“As I said, you have the hospitality of the Summer Court for however long you’d like Lady Aida.” The humans were startled at the title, but Tarquin merely gave them a small smile. Your ribs ached at the sight. Aida’s gaze slid to you, a question in her eyes. There was a guarded desperation, a need to believe that Tarquin was being honest. You nodded reassuring her that he was. 

“Thank you, High Lord Tarquin.” This time, the title was smooth and tinged with appreciation.

🐚

The sound of metal on metal clanged through the hallway. The grip on your gauzy skirt tightened as Bilal drifted closer to your legs and you were grateful for the sensation. It made it that much easier to ignore the dull throbbing in your ribs. You’d spent much of your time with Bilal, ensuring you adhered to your bargain of feeding her for a full week. When the tattoo had gone and the bargain was fulfilled, you continued to meet her at the floating café every morning to ensure she was alright. 

The girl wouldn’t tell you a thing about where she was staying, and you couldn’t stop the protectiveness that filled your chest while you waited each morning, praying to the Mother and the Cauldron and Ogea that she was alive and safe. You’d made some inquiries with the locals about war orphans but no one seemed to know anything. Sure, they mentioned that there were groups of children unaccompanied on the beach daily, but that hardly meant anything since they were gone when the sun went down. 

By the time you made it into the training ring, Bilal was practically hiding behind you. She was humming to herself, as you watched two trainees spar. Her grip remained strong even as her song made her flicker in and out of vision with a few flashes of light. The trainees paid you no mind, but the Spymaster, Jellasa stalked towards the two of you. 

You’d known Jellasa since you were a child, having had a few lessons with her even before your father had begun training you in earnest. That’s why you rolled your eyes as the female closed the space between you. Jellasa was an incredible Spymaster, evidenced by the fact that no one outside of the Summer Court even knew she existed, and had existed for well over 700 years in the position. She was also terrifying to anyone who didn’t know her. Bilal’s singing lowered to a whisper as she peeked out from your skirt. 

“Lassa, how nice to see you.” The Spymaster rolled her eyes at the nickname, but granted you a small smile. “I wanted to introduce you to someone,” You ushered Bilal out from behind you, and tried not to worry that she had gone utterly silent. “This is Bilal.” You crouched beside the girl, letting her lean into your side. “Bilal, this is Jellasa, the Spymaster of the Summer Court.”

For a moment, Bilal said nothing. You weren’t sure the child was even breathing, and hesitantly you placed your palm on her back to ensure that she was. A shout rang out from the training ring and Bilal took in the sight. A female trainee had knocked her male sparring partner to the ground and was keeping him in place with what looked to be a wickedly curved, golden blade. For a moment, it seemed as if the female was truly going to harm the male, but then she grinned, and the pair laughed, helping each other off the floor.

“Do you know how to do that?” Jellasa laughed, and it was a light, sweet tinkle. You’d never heard her laugh. 

“I taught them how to do that.” Bilal gaped. “Would you like me to teach you?” The girl nodded excitedly, hopping from foot to foot. 

“I’ll let you two get started.” You were rising to your feet as you said the words, mind already on getting back to work, but Bilal turned back to you. 

“You’re leaving me here? Alone?” The girl’s words were higher than usual, and you saw her eyes widen a fraction. “I thought you were going to train me. I thought you were going to help me.” Your heart broke at the words, completely overpowering the ache in your ribs. Jellasa spoke before you could answer. 

“That’s a great idea Bilal. I’m sure she could use the practice.” Jellasa dropped to your side and leaned toward Bilal. “She sure looks like she could use the practice.” You let out an indignant noise, and quick as a whip, Jellasa’s fist was flying towards your cheek. 

“What in the Mother?!” You’d managed to swerve out of the way in time to avoid the unexpected punch. “Jellasa!” The female in question merely smirked.

“See? When she was training regularly, my fist would have never gotten so close. She also would have hit me with some sort of counter to defend herself.” You let out a huff, annoyed that she was right. It had been a while. You hadn’t really done much training since before the war. “Come on lazy bones or I’ll drop you both into the Cauldron!” 

Bilal’s squeak of surprise made you smile. Standing up and stepping out of your shoes, you reached for Bilal’s hand and followed Jellasa. Apparently work would have to wait, if your old sessions with Jellasa were anything to go by, you’d have hours of conditioning and footwork to brush up on. Cauldron. 

“Let’s move it Ladies!” Bilal giggled and pulled you along. 

☀️

This is not what you’d expected when Cresseida had begged you to join her for tea this afternoon. Cauldron, she’d told you you might even need weapons. Imagine your surprise when you walked into the sunny tea room and found it full of Court ladies. You shot Cresseida a glare as you entered and tried to ignore the press of your blade on your ribs. You’d slipped on a green gauzy dress that billowed around you and whispered against the floor, but to bring your dagger you’d tied a corset around your waist. To say your ribs were protesting the garment would be an understatement. Still, you’d learned to breathe in corsets and armor long ago, so you breathed as deeply as the fabric would allow, and gave Cress a strained smile as you made it to her. 

“Thank the Mother that you’re here. If I have to hear these ladies say one more word about their estates or idiotic relatives I’m going to drown myself.” You rolled your eyes at her dramatic statement. 

“Why exactly am I here?” 

“You’re my advisor. I need you to advise me on how not to kill these females.” Cresseida huffed. “I don’t even know why Tarquin put me in charge of Corealis’ Cup. I’m certainly not his Lady and I don’t care if any of these old bats repro—” Shock had you gripping Cresseida’s arm. 

“This is Corealis’ Cup?” Normally the event was held in a month or so, when the days were cool but the sun shone long. After being reborn by Ogea, Corealis took a vow of chastity, vowing to never lay with a man or mortal, but to instead grant her female followers the offspring she might have had with a male lover. Each year, an acolyte from the temple of Corealis came to serve the ladies of court tea. Whomever received a golden ring in the bottom of their cup was chosen as Corealis’ favored female and was said to have increased fertility and a bunch of other blessings you couldn’t quite remember. You hadn’t bothered to keep up with the ceremony while Cress was under the mountain and during the war you were trying to stay alive, so no, a day-long fertility festival was not on your mind. 

Cresseida slid her gaze to you, surprised by the vehemence in your voice. “I thought you knew…” Her face fell, and she gathered your hands in hers. “Please help me. I need backup.” Before you could ask why, a willowy female strode up to you. She had ice blue eyes, white hair, and tawny skin. No doubt she was a cousin twice or thrice removed from Cress’s family if the haughty way she held her head high said anything. 

“Princess, so lovely to see you out of armor and in…proper clothes.” From the side of your eye, you thought you saw Cresseida’s eye twitch. You were surprised at her tone, pretty much everyone at the castle seemed to love Cresseida. 

“Zinnia, how lovely to see you again.” Cress’ tone made it clear that it was anything but lovely, so you cleared your throat. “Oh yes, Zinnia, this is my advisor—” The female said your name before Cress could, and your eyes flicked to hers in surprise. 

“Oh yes, we ladies know all about you. Your father has quite the reputation.” You didn’t like the way she said the word reputation, but before you could bite back, another woman tsked at her words. 

“Zinnia, will you ever stop being such a brat? You’re nearly 260 years old.” Zinnia, surprisingly, looked chastened at the woman’s words, muttering an apology and making an escape. “Sorry about her, she still hasn’t quite learned that you catch more flies with honey.” The woman had umber skin, and her face, creased with age, spoke of centuries lived. Still, she held herself with pride, not a hint of a curve in her back or shoulders. Her brown eyes reminded you of your mother’s, her’s having been a glittering maple. Her hair too reminded you of Autumn, mostly brown but a curl or two gleamed red. “I’m Dahlia, but most fae call me grandmother considering I’m old enough to be the grandmother of nearly everyone in this room.” 

With that, she looped your arm in hers and did the same for Cresseida. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure they don’t bite.” Tossing you a wink, Dahlia led you both further into the tea room and to a silver chaise lounge with waves for legs. As soon as the three of you sat, the ladies of court scurried to sit around you. You hadn’t realized it until now, but the chairs were arranged in a semicircle around the chaise. You almost snorted a laugh at Cresseida, considering you’d found her as far away from the silver seat as possible, clearly avoiding the attention it’d bring. 

“Now ladies, I’m sure you already know who they are,” Dahlia waved a hand to you, then Cresseida. “So let’s be civil and introduce ourselves. Remember that this is a day of divinity and the gods are watching. Watch what you say or they’ll strike you down.” Dahlia spoke like she’s been holding court like this for years. She probably had. The bit about the gods piqued your interest. You hadn’t met a fae that spoke like they were close to the gods in well…ever. It’s not like the Prythian Pantheon was all that large. You could only really remember Corealis and Ogea, and even then, only barely. 

After the introductions, the structured silence gave way to a smatter of conversations around the room. You turned to the woman on your right, Okenna if you remembered correctly and started a bit of small talk. You were curious about these females. Clearly they lived at Court, you’d even recognized a few from the people you’d passed in the palace hallways, but you were intrigued to find just how they fit into the Court itself. 

Okenna was the head chef, was barely able to keep herself from adjusting the trays that held tiny sandwiches and cookies in the center of the room. She’d been at the castle for 70 years, and promised to make a soup your mother used to make when she was homesick. Spicy, warming and autumnal, your mouth watered as she recounted the recipe to ensure you were talking about the same thing. You were, and your heart lifted a bit at her promise to make it for you this week. 

Ariyah was the wife of Adriata’s most famous architect, and a talented blacksmith in her own right. She didn’t say much, but she did invite you down to her forge to watch her work. You’d always been fascinated to see the birth of blades through fire. Pelia, though quiet, you liked the most. She worked in the library, and you could tell that once you two got talking about books, you’d be fast friends. Cassandra was the sister and advisor of one of the Summer Lords. You learned the most from her considering she was happy to talk politics. 

“The Lords are concerned that Tarquin isn’t doing what’s best for Summer. You have to admit, the male has a bleeding heart and though we know he’s learned from that fiasco with the Night Court’s High Lady…” 

“They want to understand his priorities.” Cassandra nodded, affirming your words. 

“Tarquin speaks of programs to acclimate the humans to Prythian, but he hasn’t brought forth one plan to help our veterans, honor our dead, or care for the war orphans. From where the Lords are sitting, Tarquin hasn’t proposed anything for our people.” You wanted the protest the words, but continued to listen instead. “It is not that the lords don’t trust Tarquin, or even that they think him incapable of ruling, they just haven’t had any evidence to prove that he is concerned for the fae of Summer.” 

Like the breaking of a dam, Cassandra’s words were all the other ladies of court needed to speak freely on their thoughts of Tarquin and the fate of Summer. 

“Will he be raising taxes?”

“What will he do about the new dangers of the sea?”

“Will the humans truly stay?”

“Is he planning on redistricting the lands of the fallen?”

“Will he plan a memorial?”

“Will he re-home the war orphans?”

You weren’t sure how long you’d spent assuaging fears, listening to ideas, and even working through a few ideas. You had drawn Cresseida into the conversation early on, and Dahlia offered valuable advice with her extensive knowledge of the Summer Court history. Cress promised to bring their concerns forward to Tarquin, and you had that thought that perhaps, Cress needed to form her own council. You whispered the idea to Cresseida when the conversation moved from politics to court politics but Dahlia caught it. 

“You’ll be good for Summer. It’s be a while since I’ve seen a pair like you.” You gave her a small smile. 

“I didn’t realize you could tell the future as well. Is that something I can look forward to when I get to your age?” Dahlia grinned and smacked your arm lightly. After spending half a day sat next to the female, you could tell that she appreciated a smartass.

“I don’t have to be a seer to know there’s bravery in your blood, child.” 

A bell rang throughout the room, stopping any response you could form, and Dahlia sat back in the chaise as the doors opened. Three acolytes from the temple entered the room and you admired their robes. Glittering gold embroidery rested on silken satin. Each female was bald, skin patterned with golden symbols tattooed carefully on the skin. Onyx diadems set with pearls crowned their heads. They moved silently along the marble floor, the one in the center holding a tray with a large teapot made of what looked like solid gold. The steam drifted in front of her face, making her look more like an illusion than the others. The two on the sides split off on either side of the room, and began to disperse onyx teacups with pearl inlays, similar to the diadems they wore. 

The acolyte with the teapot glided closer to the chaise you sat in, and you studied her even closer. The robes had a slit in the front, and as she moved, you could see that the robes were lined in golden silk. She wore black slippers with a golden sole, and moved like a forest creature, sure-footed and silent. Finally, she came to kneel in front of Cresseida, resting the tray on a table in front of the chaise and lifting the teapot in her hands. 

“The acolytes chosen for this ceremony are the most devout in the temple. They’re said to be visited by Corealis regularly and therefore are the best equipped to grant her blessings here on earth.” Dahlia had leaned close to whisper the words and you nodded as you watched the acolyte serve the room. You listened to hear a ring rattling around the teapot or clinking into a teacup, but there was only the sound of tea filling cups and fidgeting. 

The acolyte filled your cup last, then stepped to the center of the room. 

“When Ogea gave the Goddess Corealis life once more, Corealis herself became a goddess of fertility. She was able to imbue life into anything she wished, and as such, males tried to lure her down from the sky, begging for more life. They stopped calling her Corealis, and named her Saol, or ‘Life’ in the old tongue.” You perked up and leaned in, never having heard this story before. “She ignored their pleas for eternities, until a male, claiming to be a god of death approached her.

‘Saol!’ He cried. ‘I am your match and your maker, for without Death, we would not need Life. Bring me into your sky, and I will prove our likeness.’

Corealis listened, for after an eternity in the sky, even the goddess could admit that she had become lonely. The voice of the male was nothing like the pleas of the males before, and she became curious. 

‘I was created by the sea, and so I shall return when this world is done. Who is your maker?’ She was curious, but she was still a goddess. Still the man only repeated his words.

‘Bring me into your sky, and I will prove our likeness.’ 

‘If we are each other’s mirrors, come up to my sky yourself.’ The male fell to his knees, imploring. 

‘We may be mirrors, but I would never presume to enter your territory without permission. Saol, I ask you again, bring me into your sky, and I will prove our likeness.’ The goddess agreed, and brought him into sky, now blood red after a full day of coercing the goddess to grant him access to her skies. 

‘Will you not reveal yourself Saol?’

‘Will you not prove yourself my likeness, male?’ 

‘Perhaps you are not so powerful after all.’

‘Only males base their worth on power. Perhaps you are not as close to godhood as you claim to be.’ 

‘I only wish to see your face when I reveal our likeness. Will you not allow me to gaze upon your face, goddess?’ Deciding to humor the male, Corealis gave herself a form. 

As soon as she came into shape, the man in her skies lunged. Baring the white bone of a beast, he swung, intending to slay the goddess of Life, and take her power for himself. But, though the male called for Saol, he did not remember that Saol was Corealis and Corealis was the goddess of more than life. Corealis was the goddess of light, bringer of sun, queen of flame. She blinded the male with her light and threw him from her sky. Down, down, down, he fell, until the waves of Ogea swallowed him whole. 

Disgusted, Corealis vowed that she would never directly give life to a man, and that she would only bestow the gift of life on the most clear-headed and pure-hearted females.”

“Or so the legend goes.” Dahlia whispered with a rueful smile. The acolyte continued.

“Today, we celebrate the rebirth of Corealis and ask that she bless the most worthy of us all with the power of life.” The acolyte lifted her hands and stretched them wide. 

Gracefully, she slid to her knees, and pressed her hands against her forehead, neck and chest. Then, she glanced up at us all. “You may drink.”

You raised the onyx cup to your lips and were surprised to feel the tea still steaming. As this was your first time attending Corealis’ Cup, you weren’t sure to expect, but the tea was pleasant. Honeysuckle, lemongrass and chamomile soaked your senses. Another sip, and you relished the heat filling your chest from the drink. It soothed the ache in your ribs. When you took your last sip and tilted the cup away from your lips, you heard the distinct sound of metal hitting stone. 

Glancing down, you saw the glint of gold at the bottom of the cup. The metal ring looked thin and a little worn, but gleamed like it had just been polished. The acolyte approached you, graceful as ever. 

“You have been granted the Blessing of Corealis. Will you accept it?” You weren’t sure that you really had a choice, especially if this was actually a blessing from a goddess. You nodded instead, not trusting your voice. “Then take the ring and accept the blessing.” 

You reached in for the ring, and as it breached the lip of the teacup, you felt a rush of heat. You heard the females in the room gasp, but you were more interested in your skin. It glowed gold. You weren’t sure what to expect from the blessing of a goddess, but gleaming like the sun itself would not have been your first, or fifth guess. There was a smattering of applause and congratulations as you slipped the golden ring onto your necklace. It seemed to sing when it rested next to your father’s mating ring. 

The acolyte pressed a thumb to your forehead and murmured a few words, a blessing, you hoped, then stepped away from you. Without another word, she and the other acolytes began collecting the teacups and their trays. Just as conversation began to pick up, the doors to the tea room burst open. Tarquin strode in, handsome as ever. Mother it’s like the sun finds him everywhere he goes. Your ribs twinged with that phantom pain again. 

“Sorry to interrupt ladies, but I need to speak with the Princess and her advisor.” Tarquin caught sight of you and tilted his head in confusion. “Is there a reason you’re glowing?” Cresseida answered before you could open your mouth. 

“It’s because she’s fertile Tarquin. Like, super fertile.” You buried your face in your hands as Tarquin choked on a cough. 

🐚

“Will you slow down?” You glanced back at Tarquin briefly, but didn’t slow. Cresseida hadn’t even pretended to stick around once the three of you left the tea room, and Tarquin didn’t seem to care. “Why are you running away from me?” That pulled you up short and your ribs throbbed as you tried to catch your breath. You weren’t running. You didn’t need to run from a male. Even if that male was your High Lord. 

“I am not running. I have work to do.” Tarquin scoffed and folded his arms. 

“Yes, you seemed awfully busy having tea with my cousin and glowing with fertility.” You made a noise of disgust and turned away from the male. If he was going to be a prick for no reason, you had no reason to be there. 

“I need to speak with you.”

“Really? Because all you seem to be doing is berating me for doing my job. You should try it sometime.” 

“Yes because you listen so well when I do my job—” 

“What is that supposed to mean?” His tone was grating on your last nerve and the pain in your ribs was a simmering fire.

“It means that when we are underwater and a siren coaxes you even deeper into their lair,  you should listen to me and stay out of it. It means you should let me do my job and let me protect you—”

“Oh yes, because I’m a member of your court.” You tried to ignore the way the words stung your throat. 

“Yes. I don’t understand what is so wrong with that. I can’t—Cresseida can not lose you. I won’t allow it. She lost more than enough Under the Mountain.” You turned away from the male, exhaling heavily. Tarquin, apparently, wasn't finished. “So is that it? You’ll be angry with me forever because I want you safe?”

“I’m angry with you because you don’t trust that I can take care of myself. I am angry because you don’t trust that what the sirens say about Ogea is true. I am angry with you because you don’t believe in me and I believe in you, Tarquin. I believe in what you can do for this court, for what you can do for Prythian and I have believed in you from the start. I suppose it was foolish of me to expect the same from a High Lord but I—”  You clenched your jaw to quell the tears of anger building in your eyes. You heaved a breath so heavy the pain in your ribs hitched. 

“You haven’t read the legends about Ogea. If you did you’d understand. She is more than the Cauldron. She’s older than the Mother. She is the first creator of our world. She is our world. Before Ogea, there was nothing. No magic, no fae, no humans, no animals, no nothing. Ogea pushed land out of the sea. She birthed the sun. Sirens were her first creation. She is a goddess of immense power and unlike the Cauldron and the Dread Trove, her magic has never been asleep. She has always gazed upon our world, her world. Tarquin, I am not willing to risk our court being washed away by the sea because you think the history of this world is a fairytale.

“I’m not asking you to believe in Ogea. I am asking you to believe in me. I’m asking to you trust that I’ve done my research. Trust that I’ve seen enough to know that the goddess of this world is real and more powerful than anything we can ever imagine. I know you’ve heard the reports for the docks. I am asking you to trust that I will do everything in my power to protect our court. Please Tarquin. Help me keep us safe.” You weren’t sure what you’d do if he said no. You had no idea if you would go behind hi—

“Tell me what you need me to do.” Just like that, the pain in your ribs stopped. You were so surprised you gasped at the relief. Tarquin reached for you, alarmed. 

“I’m fine, I—” Tarquin guided you to a bench, and it was only then that you’d realized you’d been yelling at the High Lord in the palace hallway. The very empty, but echo-y palace hallway. Cauldron boil you. It took a minute longer than you expected, but you caught your breath, and breathed deeply without pain for the first time in days. “Thank you for believing me Tarquin.”

“I trust you. What do you have in mind?” Tarquin’s gaze was earnest and you relaxed even further.

“What do you know of Ogea’s children?”

☀️

It turns out Cressida took your idea of having her own council seriously because the next day, she’d invited you, Ariyah, Pelia, Cassandra and Illiana, the wife of the one Summer lord you remembered from your home in the country. Your conversation glanced over small problems within the court and various solutions for each of them. The biggest concern of theirs were the Spring court citizens and the humans. Which is why you sat with Cresseida, Tarquin and two of his trusted advisors discussing the matter in his office. You couldn’t help but notice that Varian was absent, but there wasn’t an empty chair, so perhaps the Summer General wasn’t invited. 

Tarquin’s office was comfortable, mostly sea bleached wood and pearlescent accents. A break from the marble of the rest of the palace. The walls were rough, like they’d been hewn from some underwater cave then left out in the sun to dry. His desk rested in the center of the room near the back, facing the floor length windows in the room overlooking the sea. It was piled high with paper and ink pots, but a stack of letters caught your attention. They were dark blue, nearly black and glittered with the silver seal of the Night Court. They were also unopened. Every single one of them.

 Though his desk was a mess, it wasn’t the centerpiece of the room. No, that was left to the plush pale blue seats, arranged around a table that could only be described as a slab of rock. It looked like something that had been pulled from the cliffs by the sea, and you wouldn’t be surprised if it was. Tarquin’s advisors were a mated pair, white hair contrasting against their weathered brown skin. He seemed relaxed around the duo, and they returned the sentiment. The male didn’t speak at all, though his partner introduced him as Kioku. He sent her a small smile before returning to the papers in front of him, pen poised just above the pulp. The female, Cia, did the talking for both of them, and you couldn’t help but admire her. She’d clearly been working within the Summer Court for centuries, and made her suggestions with a tone of such clarity that you found yourself nodding along with whatever she said. She took her time to speak when presented with a problem, as though she was sorting through every solution and possible outcome. Kioku sat by her side, dutifully taking notes on the conversation. 

“Now comes the matter of how to handle Spring and the humans.” Tarquin rubbed his hand along his chin as he spoke. “I’ve told them that they can stay as long as they like, but…with everything happening” Tarquin glanced over at you and a flash of crashing ocean waves and lurking monstrous eyes gave you a shiver. “It may not be safe for them.” Cia nodded. 

“Perhaps it is time for you to begin your Seasonal Court Alliance.” Cresseida’s head snapped up from the papers she was reading. “You can start with Spring High Lord. Your cousin,” She nodded towards Cresseida. “is on friendly terms with Vivianne and Kallias I believe. And your mother was Autumn was she not?” Cia turned her blue eyes to you as you nodded. “You spent a few Autumns at Forest House, so I imagine it won’t be too difficult for you to gain Eris’ ear.” You wondered how this female knew about that, but she continued, turning towards Tarquin. All the while, her mate’s pen scratched a symphony against his note pages. “Spring will likely be the most difficult, you’ll need to convince the high lord to care for the humans as well.” Cresseida snorted. 

“You think we’ll be able to get a half feral Tamlin to accept and protect humans on his lands?” Cai remained silent, glancing between you and Tarquin. You could see gears turning in her mind, could see her turning over every possible scenario and its outcome as a thin brow lifted. Then she turned to you. 

“You and Tarquin ought to get started or we’ll have more to worry about than the sea and its monsters rising to meet us.” 

🐚

The Spring Court was beautiful, even overgrown and untended, there was a softness in the way the sun shone on the verdant grass, an earthly magic to the way pollen drifted through the air and tickled your nose. Tarquin had winnowed the two of you in after much protesting from Cresseida. She hadn’t wanted either of you to go, adamant that Tamlin was a lost cause, but you knew Cai was right. If you could get Tamlin on board with fixing his court, accepting the humans on his lands and the Seasonal Alliance…

The manor came into view the closer you two got, and your hopes fell. Brambles strangled the gates, hedges remained overgrown, and you could see the earth reclaiming the manor, one creeping vine at a time. There was no sign of the High Lord as you climbed the steps, and when you reached the door, open and gaping like the maw of a wild beast, Tarquin stepped forward, effectively pushing you behind him. You rolled your eyes at the protective act. He’d been doing this since you’d made up, small protective gestures that tugged on your chest. Indulging the male, you waited a beat as he entered, then followed. 

Tarquin called for Tamlin as you spun to survey the foyer. There was the memory of splendor in the wallpapers, of grand balls and raucous laughter as a gentle breeze swept leaves across the floor. You tried to imagine the manor as it had been before the War, before Hybern and his soldiers felled the wall, but before you could imagine gilding glinting on the wallpapers a growl sounded from your right. Tarquin was by your side in an instant, nudging you away from the sound. You couldn’t look away from the darkened hallway where the growling had not stopped. 

Slowly, a beast on all fours approached. Snarling, with matted golden fur, the High Lord of Spring prowled towards the pair of you. He did not deign to speak, his curled lip and furious green eyes saying more than enough. Still, Tarquin stood his ground. 

“Tamlin, It’s good to see you.” The beast huffed something that could have been a derisive laugh had he not been a beast. He cocked his head at Tarquin, then scenting the air, he turned to you, as though he hadn’t realized you were even there. “This is my—” Tarquin seemed at a loss for words as Tamlin ignored him and prowled closer to you, teeth bared. Quickly, you introduced yourself, hoping that would stop his advance. It didn’t. 

“You reek of Autumn, has that traitor sent you to spy on me?” The words, garbled as they were, pulled you up short. You’d never known anyone could smell the Autumn on your skin, passed down and diluted as it was from your mother. Then again, you hadn’t spent a ton of time around High Lords and all of their ‘special powers’.

“I’m not from Autumn,” You said slowly. “I haven’t seen Lucien in decades.” Tamlin’s snarl got nastier at Lucien’s name, and you winced. You’d known the Vanserra’s well enough to call them cousins as a child, but you’d spent the most time with Lucien as you were closer in age. For nearly a decade, you and Lucien spent your autumns at the Forest House following Eris around. “We came to talk about an alliance.” Tamlin stopped his approach and Tarquin took the chance to rejoin the conversation. 

“We’d like to discuss it with you Tamlin, preferably while you’re on two feet.” The beast did not seem moved, but Tarquin continued. “We want to help you Tamlin. We want to help Spring.” Green eyes bored into Tarquin’s blue ones for minutes. Then, in a blink, the High Lord transformed. Matted fur turned to golden hair, snarling lips to a thin mouth, and clawed paws into hands and muddy boots. He did not embrace Tarquin, merely nodding at him to continue. 

“Your people want to come home. We want to help you rebuild.” A sneer slipped onto Tamlin’s face. 

“And what, exactly is your price Tarquin? Perhaps you want to renegotiate borders? Or maybe—” Tarquin stopped Tamlin’s condescending words. 

“You take in the humans in my court. They miss their home too.”

“You think I’ll let another human onto these lands?” Tamlin growled. Tarquin cringed in sympathy, but you couldn’t help rolling your eyes in annoyance. You’d heard stories about Tamlin from the first war. He’d been his father’s man then, a leader of the most vicious war band in Prythian. He’d also been the loudest advocate of humans this side of the wall, and a begrudging but fair High Lord when his time came, or so your father had told you. You’d heard that he ripped Amarantha’s throat out with his claws. You couldn’t reconcile that male with the one who stood before you snarling and sniping and cradling a wounded heart he wouldn’t let scab over, let alone heal.

“I’m not convinced you’ve got your shit together enough to stop anything from stepping onto Spring Court soil.” You gestured to the dilapidated manor surrounding you. “How long have you been wandering around on four legs? Have you done any work while your people dreamed of home in our court, High Lord?” Tarquin inched closer to you, brushing his hand against your arm. Not stopping you, but warning you to tread lightly. “You sent your sentries out to die for you and your court, the least you can do to honor them is care for it. Act like their sacrifices meant something.” Tamlin flinched, but he bit back, like a rabid animal. 

“Who in the Cauldron are you to speak of what my friends wanted?” He stepped further into your space, and you had to tilt your chin to maintain eye contact. Tarquin curled his fingers around your arm. “Humans are not our problem.” Tamlin grumbled his answer so low you knew he didn’t believe it. Still, you couldn’t hold back an incredulous laugh. 

“Your court borders the human lands. Do you truly believe that they won’t encroach on your territory sooner or later?” You shook your head at his idiocy. Tarquin interrupted smoothly. 

“What she means to say is that it may be better to be ahead of any land changes or disputes. Better yet, to be ahead of it all. The world is different now, you can fold the humans into your culture—”

“Why do you care?” There was a note of pain in Tamlin’s voice, but his face betrayed nothing. 

“Because we want an alliance, Tamlin. After everything, the Seasonal Courts can arrange that much.” Tamlin just stared at Tarquin. “After everything that’s happened, everything you’ve done for your court, don’t you want to do everything you can to ensure it’s vitality? We can help you rebuild.” Tamlin shook his head and stepped back. 

“Your female said it best, there’s nothing I can do to fix this court.” It was your turn to snarl. Males. 

“Like it or not, you are High Lord of the Spring Court. Your people want to come home, and the only person stopping them from that is you.” You stepped into Tamlin’s space, pointing a finger at his chest. “If you want to wallow, do it in the privacy of chambers, in the meantime, take the help we’re giving you and join the alliance.” Tamlin snarled at your words leaning so close you thought he might actually bite your face off. Then he was back in his beast form, loping out of the front door and into the woods. Your shoulders dropped. 

“Cauldron. I really screwed that up, didn’t I?” Tarquin laughed. Laughed. 

“Honestly? I think he likes you.” You gaped at his admission. “What? He let you talk without ripping your throat out. Right now, I’d say that’s pretty high praise from the male.” 

________________________________________________

A/N: I obvi couldn’t let this chapter end without You and Tarquin making up. As angsty as this story started, I’m not actually one for angst, so I wanted to clean that shit right on up. It was still fun to have y’all yelling in the hallway. 

I am having waaaaaay too much fun writing these random ass gods and their backstories so I hope you’re enjoying it! I promise that they are very relevant to the story lol. And don’t worry this is not a surprise pregnancy storyline (that’s not my jam) even though You have Corealis’ blessing 😉 

I wasn’t sure about bringing in other characters like Eris and Tamlin and that lot, but I’ve been tandem reading the series with a friend and man…they are all so insane. I can’t leave them out lol. Especially not Tamlin. What a messy little man. 

This basically marks the end of the first part of the story. I’ve planned for three parts, and in the next few chapters, we’re gonna get the IC (finally) some more lore about Koschei and a festival that will legit be fun for all! At least, that’s the plan…

[pastlivesandpurplepuppets]

Sink was a commander to the point of being sadistic. Not a lot has been written or even said about Colonel Sink. It seems the men were terrified of the man even 40 years after his death.

[laciefuyu]

I've been saying I love this MR set so much especially the 2nd MR Private Messages for every ML, but since I am Artem biased of course the one I spins around in my mind is his card.

I LOVE how the MR made a callback to his 2nd Bday Card aka Day and Night which is my numero uno card for Artem (in glb server).

In Day and Night SSR, in the face of Elice White fell from grace, Artem had to become the informant therefore mingling with these people, playing the role that caused him misery, and found himself lost and that time, Rosa found him deep in thoughts, alone. I always like it because Artem always has this habit of dealing with dangerous things or might hurt him on his own, Rosa finding him and not letting him being alone is important of Artem letting her see his vulnerable parts (which later follow through in his Sweet Chapter 2 SSR where he admitted that in the past asking for help was admission that he wasn't good enough *spoiler* his Solo SSS would follow through of this theme, showing the character growth.)

"Every time I wander to the edge of the abyss, peering into it.... You pull me back just in time."

After what happened during Day and Night SSR, Artem had been lost, often distracted by his own thoughts because the experience affected him that much. What happened with Elice White shaken him, but the one who pulled him back before drowned by his worries and fear was Rosa, not letting him focus on it, instead the fact whatever may come, whether its hope and despair, they would go through it together.

Anyway it became a Day and Night SSR appreciation (because I am actually insane about this card), please read it if you're interested in Artem's mindset and morality, and the past case that has shaped him and what kind of person he is as law practitioner. Also what kind of worry that he has for the future may come.

[emptylotfiasco]

anytime saeko offers tatsuya alcohol and he says im not allowed to drink even though he smokes and does worse things on a daily basis its because he wants her to behave like a responsible adult figure. because he wants someone present in his life who cares about his wellbeing and is concerned about him and discourages him from making bad decisions. but she does not do that she encourages him to do shady shit if it makes them money she offers him alcohol when he shows up to see her even though he is underage and she hardly ever sees him in the first place because she is working. but the reason she works so much is because she has to support the two of them. as a result of never seeing eachother there isnt really a relationship between them so when she wants to engage with him she leans into the cool older sister persona of 'i wont tell anyone if you want a drink' because thats what kids think is cool. and thats why theyre like that👍

[hajihiko]

How are you doing Dangonrumps? What are you up to?

Well I just visited family. Always a pleasure