#Feyrie Courts

[marblesarelost]

A visit with an old friend...

"Goldie, you scandalous thing, you," Myra drawled as she hugged the smaller woman. "Trousers?"

"I like them," Goldie grinned at her. "And the suspenders play merry hell with my personal customers, too." Oh, Myra could see that; the thin belts stretched across Goldie's ample bosom, garnering attention without a doubt.

"La. I take it you've a very busy social schedule, then?"

"Never too busy for you, Duchess," Goldie assured her. "And what's this I hear of your being considered as the heir to Tyrconnell? Will I be calling you princess next time I see you?"

"Not if I can help it," Myra replied with a sigh. "Uncle Colm is finally discussing annulling his marriage to Deidre."

"It only took him three hundred years, but good," Goldie said, pulling out her cigar case and choosing a slim cheroot. "Light?" In a blink, a flame appeared stationary in front of her, and she leaned in to light it. "Thanks."

"My pleasure, just blow the smoke away from me," Myra said, dismissing the flame and gathering her skirts to sit down on the lounge and looking out over the rail. "You do have such wonderful perks to your position, Goldie."

"Yeah, well," the dwarven woman sat down in a chair beside her, taking in the same view. "I earned them, Duchess. Fair and square."

"You did. And I deeply respect that about you."

"And so did you," Goldie added. "You don't just hang about the courts, you earned your title, can't buy it, that's for damn sure."

"Very kind," Myra murmured. "Very kind indeed."

"I always am, to my friends." Goldie paused, blew smoke out over the railing. Myra started at the slightest touch to the back of her hand, and looked to see deep green eyes searching her own. "Moira. What are you running from?"

"I haven't the faintest --"

"You don't lie well, Moira Derryth. You never have. That damn near killed you the last time you were on my boat, and it hasn't changed. Now. What's wrong, and how can I help?"

@palaquinn

(It's a possible opening as to why Myra would be on the Double Rose.)

[marblesarelost]

Well, it depends, you see, because I have 2 main WIPs right now.

In one, I would be transplanted into the body of a Feyrie-blooded gunslinging sorceress, specifically of The School of the Nine Stars; she is the Duchess of Tyrconnell, her uncle is the King of Tyrconnell, her Grandfather is the Court Bard of King Cian of Ansalad, a Feyrie Court, and she is currently the guest of a dwarven madam, on said madam's riverboat, about to depart St. Louis for New Orleans.

In the other, I would be transplanted into the body of another gunslinger, this one the Marshal of Queen Afalinn of the Aventurite Court; she is currently riding circuit through the Green Plains, ensuring the Queen's Justice amongst the settlements. Oh, and she can shapeshift into a wolf.

Both women are powerful, both women have been hurt and wounded by life, and both are about to face destinies they never would have seen coming.

But both are fully capable of dealing with what's on the horizon.

"So the question," Myra said, golden flames twirling around her leather gloved fingers, "is not how screwed we are."

Sam's grin stretched slow and grim across her tanned, careworn face. "It's how screwed the other fella's gonna be." She tipped her hat as Myra lowered her head in a graceful nod. "Ma'am."

"Marshal. Good hunting."

"And also to you."

Both women gigged their Feysteeds, Myra's Russet neighing a greeting to Sam's Ombre, and went their ways.

you are personally and directly hit by a bus¹ and isekai-ed, via resurrection, into the body of the main character your most recent WIP

reblog and tell me: on a scale of 1–10, how screwed are you right now?

¹ this is, transparently, a plot device, so if you are about to tell me "joke's on you, I never leave my fifteenth floor apartment!" then you may rest assured it will have tremendous comedic value when the bus is launched into the sky and crashes through your apartment wall to flatten you anyway

[littlest-w01f]

Healing Fires

Eris Vanserra x Feyre Archeron

For @erisweekofficial

Eris week 2024 Masterlist

Day 6: Retellings

Summary: Rhysand asked for Eris' help to heal Feyre UtM, and he did.

Cw: Mentions of Rhys' assault, mentions of Eris' assault

Feyre lay on the floor of her cell, eyes barely opened, covered in the mud and excrete from the Wrym's labyrinth, the bone in her elbow poking out, infected, while quite a few were broken, many severe cuts and bruises all over her body, her dirty clothes stuck to her skin.

She was passing in and out of consciousness, had a high fever, and didn't think she would survive, not even a little. She managed to let out a shaky breath when she saw a pair of boots approach, Lucien finally came for her, to save her. She seemed to relax when she tilted her head slightly, seeing the tips of bright red hair.

"Ugh... You stink worse than I imagined, human." The male sneered in a mocking tone, it made her blood chill, Lucien wasn't here, the haunting thought dawned on her, but one of his brothers, the brothers Lucien hadn't been able to say one nice thing about was there.

Feyre croaked as she asked, her voice dry from dehydration, "W-who-?" The question died on her tongue.

The male gave a mocking bow, which made him appear in her eye line, bright red hair, same as Lucien's, perhaps even more vibrant, eyes that looked like they had been carved of amber, a sharp face and posture, and a sneer on his rather scarless pale face, "Eris Vanserra, sweetheart. Lucien's eldest."

Why are you here? Feyre wanted to ask, but words failed to come out of her throat, dying on her tongue.

"Tamlin's pretty human doesn't look so good..." Eris cooed, easily stepping inside her cell, making Feyre hope for the first time that the guards were nearby, "You look like you're in need of help, little human..."

Feyre gasped softly in reply, whether she wanted to tell him to get away or beg for his help, she, herself didn't know.

Eris crouched down to her, tilting her chin with his finger so that she could look at him, cringing at the dirty floor under her, and making her cringe at the crack of bone she heard from her neck. Eris chuckled, reading all her inner turmoil easily, "Don't worry your pretty little head, silly human." Eris smiled and Feyre was sure he mirrored his father on how he had looked gleefully as she was lowered to the labyrinth, excited by the prospect of her death. Feyre couldn't stop the dry scream that tore through her as Eris pulled at the shard of bone in her broken arm, twisted it, popping the bone back into place, not caring to be gentle like Lucien had been with her nose, "The guards aren't coming."

Feyre closed her eyes in pain, she felt like she was floating, and soon she felt heat spread through her, panic set in her as she realised Eris had set her on fire, and her eyes snapped open as she tried to use her slightly better arm to set the flames off.

Eris rolled his eyes, using one of his hands to keep hers off her body, while he used the other to cover her legs in his fire, "Stay still, my sweet, my fire is healing you, it won't be set off by your hand, it will extinguish when you're healed."

Feyre was soon covered in fire, the fire not burning through her clothes, but healing her cuts and broken bones, reducing her fever too. The fire was a pleasant warmth, not as hot as she'd imagined the Autumn fire would feel, and not as comforting either.

It reduced on her throat and neck, and when it did, she left herself able to turn her head and speak, "Why are you... Helping me?" She asked, her voice hesitant.

Eris sat beside her on the ground he had earlier crinkled his nose slightly, eyes on his fire as he sighed, "Why does any male do anything?"

"Please, did Tamlin sent you-" Feyre asked, but was cut off by Eris

"Why did Rhysand asked me of all people to help you?" Eris continued, and Feyre paused, wanting to hear what he said, "Me? The rightful heir of Autumn, helping a pathetic little human," Eris snorted, but then his face turned serious, and the way he looked at Feyre made her tense, "A human that's going to free us."

"You seem to have sudden faith in me." Feyre retorted, their eyes meeting, she didn't look away, but she couldn't help but wonder why Rhysand had been the one to send him.

Eris hummed, "Well, Rhysand had faith in you when he gambled, it earned him large sums of money from everyone around here, including my father," He shrugged, "So consider this my gamble."

Eris moved right to Feyre, stroking her dirty cheek, grinning fox-like when she didn't pull away, "Besides, if I did something Rhysand asked, like this," He flicked the grime that had collected on his fingers and motioned to the fires healing her, "...Then he would owe me."

Feyre sighed at that, of course, he was doing this to get a favour from Rhysand, but he continued, "And I feel as if I owe you one as well..." Eris trailed off.

Feyre managed to move a brow up at him, "Dare I ask, how so?" Her voice was laced with genuine curiosity.

Eris' eyes go soft, just like Lucien's and their mother's had been while looking at her, but still quite amused, taking her by surprise, "With you winning, my father lost a large portion of his money, that he was hoping to invest in some sketchy places that I didn't like, your win in the trial against the Wyrm caused a large kink in his plans, sweetheart." He laughed in a way that Feyre saw his mother's resemblance in him instantly, "That led to his whining that I quite enjoyed, perhaps the first ranting of his that I liked to hear. Oh, the insults he called you, pretty." He laughed heartily.

He watched the fires slowly melt into her, completely healing her, burning away the dirt, grime and stink off her too, "Then he went on about how you would probably die from your state..." He found himself helping her up, not missing how she was still slightly weak, mostly from being denied food after pissing Amarantha off by winning, "And what better way to fuck with him than being the one that heals you?"

Feyre leaned against his chest, gasping at how warm he was, he was far warmer than Lucien and she found herself seeking that warmth feeling it slightly rough, "So you helped me to get a favour from Rhysand and just piss off your father when he sees me alive...?"

Eris moved her hair from her face, smiling softly, "Perhaps, you're not so dumb, little human." For the first time, he said 'human' like it wasn't a derogatory slur he was spewing. "And I was guessing, the reason Rhysand asked me was because he knew I would come around."

"Where is Tamlin...?" Feyre found herself asking, while gaining more questions about Rhysand.

"Perhaps I was wrong," Eris scoffed and rolled his eyes, but it was playful, "You are snuggling into an Autumn male, an heir no less, and you're thinking of another?"

Feyre sat straight, not even realising she had been snuggling into him, but her head pained at the sudden movement, her body didn't have the energy for, not noticing how his tunic was not even buttoned above his abdomen, completely showing his chest, a few scars littered over it, whip lashes, cuts from knives.

Before she could ask him, Eris spoke up, she could see the discomfort on his face, "I don't know shit about what Tamlin's doing. Rhysand approached me, told me Amarantha wanted to "congratulate" him for his win." He scoffed lightly, "I don't understand what he's protect so hard that he's stopped fighting back completely. It's this image he's created for himself when she kept coming back, he's such an asshole that he leaves me stunned, much more of a pain in everyone's ass he was before." His normal demeanour came back to the surface, "And I bet you've heard I am quite the asshole."

Feyre frowned, hearing his words, and the implications they made, she didn't know what to say. With her head dizzy she fell back.

"Oh, there there, clumsy human." Eris laughed softly, catching her in his arms, "Your boyfriends can handle themselves, you worry about you, ok? Can't have you falling all over yourself, can we?"

"Rhysand not my..." Feyre groaned in his chest at even the implication, now realising that the roughness was his scars, "...How did you get these?" She quickly changed the conversation.

"Some in battle," He took her hand to trace a few cuts on him, "The other my father lovingly gave me."

Feyre gasped softly, tracing a particularly harsh whip mark going down diagonally on his chest, "Your father did this?"

"You should see my back." He joked, then shrugged, "There is a reason I find happiness in his sorrows and losses, love."

"What Lucien told me of you... You were cruel... You're not as horrible to me as you were to Lucien, why?" Feyre found herself asking before she could stop herself, mentally hitting herself when she did, and Eris stiffened, his arms tightening around her.

"I... I've made plenty of mistakes that I wish I could fix." Eris frowned, her mentioning Lucie seemed to truly sadden him, "I can't fix the past... I can't bring Jess back... Can't erase my part in it." He tiled Feyre's chin up so she'd look at him, his eyes showing true vulnerability at the mere mention of Lucien, "But maybe I can make things a little better by keeping his human friend alive, the very human he got hurt for over and over again." He cupped her cheeks, and he looked over her face without distante from the first time, "And maybe... I can see the need for helping folks 'lesser' than us now, something Lucien could always see. I want to help you."

Feyre's ears were ringing from his words, eyes wide from the way he looked at her, she searched for a lie but found none, her cheeks were burning, and she didn't know if it was her blush or his power that did so, "Please don't look at me like that... The reason I'm here is to save-"

"Save Tamlin, I know..." Eris sighed, looking away, "I didn't mean for it to come out like that... I just... I am hoping to fix things between myself and my brother, perhaps see the world the way he does, only if a little."

Feyre nodded sitting up without his support, knowing what he wanted from her, "When we get out of here... I'll tell him, I'll tell him you helped me."

Eris pressed his hand to the cold ground, his power flowing through, warming the cell, "Well, until we do, I shall help keep you as comfortable as I can."

Feyre didn't stop the sigh that left her lips at the warmth of the floor, leaning back to rest on the floor completely. Closing her eyes in content at the sudden warmth in the cell, not caring how she looked to him, sprawled on the cell floor.

Eris watched her with a smile forming. He got up from the floor, eyes softening when he saw that Feyre had passed out the second the floor was comfortable enough, "It may have been the full reason before I came here... Now, not so much."

{General Taglist- @nox-ceur @lilah-asteria @paleidiot @dee-writes-smut @adalia-jaycee @anarchiii @alwayshave-faith @velarisnightsky444 @minnieoo}

{Eris Taglist- @fxckmiup @slut4acotar @secret-third-thing @shadowsingers-mate @fieldofdaisiies @st4r-girl-official}

Honarary Feyris tag for Eris week @nocasdatsgay

[shallyne]

SJM Crackshipmonth - Forbidden Love

They were walking for hours now. Feyre didn't have the right shoes to wander such long distances and no potions to ease the soreness and she doubted Eris would let her gather the necessary ingredient. Not that Feyre had any time to grab either of these things when her village was attacked and burned to cinders. Feyre had fought, wearing her powers out so much that she only felt an echo of it right now, only a drop lingering, and this after hours of using her powers. It wasn't unusual, witches were powerful but it took them a long time to recharge. Some could destroy armies but slept a week through pure exhaustion afterwards. The less powerful you are, the quicker you recharge. She had made it out, running to the rendevouz point she agreed to with her sisters, who helped villagers escape while Feyre stayed back and fought. Although when Feyre arrived she found nothing but chaos. Smoke, bodies, the stench of burned meat and blood. That's when she met Eris, who had told her that her sisters were save in the north and that he would take her there too. Feyre declined, telling him to go fuck himself. Eris told her it wasn't a request. Feyre had debated to fight, she had debated to run, to call him out on his bullshit but a little voice in her head said, what if he's right? What if he leads you to your sisters? Since then she had made it her duty to ignore him.

Until he took a path that guided them away from their main route. "Where are you going?"

Eris looked over his shoulder, letting his eyes rove from Feyre's muddy shoes up to her messy hair, scrunching his nose. "The sun is setting, we'll seek cover for this night and continue tomorrow. Come on, I know a near cave." he didn't wait for Feyre to agree, knowing she would follow. Stomping after him, Feyre seethed and debated to kick him in the back of the knees, imagining how he would react. Would he curse? Scowl? Trying to put her back in her place? Threaten her? Feyre stifled a giggle, feeling slightly lighter as she followed Eris into a small cave. There was a little campfire in the center and Eris sat against a wall, waving his hand to start the campfire, which movement made him wince. He turned to look at her but Feyre's eyes were fixed on his shoulder and she cocked her head.

"You're injured." She looked down at her hands as Eris scoffed, feeling the tiny spark of power that was left inside her. Sighing, she told him, "Turn around?"

He eyed her suspiciously but turned around. Again, it made Feyre angry because he didn't see her as a threat at all. But she shook the anger, laying her hand on Eris’s shoulder, which made him flinch. She focused on the spark, reciting spells that she had memorized long ago in the old language until the spark was almost snuffed out. Wordlessly, she walked to the opposite wall and sat.

"Careful Archeron, it seems like you care." Eris mocked with smirk, rolling his shoulder.

Feyre looked at her feet, trying to ignore the flames in front of her, "Don't flatter yourself, you're slowing us down if you're injured."

He didn't answer immediately and a silence grew between them. It wasn't uncomfortable, to Feyre's surprise. They just sat there, lost in their own thoughts for a few minutes.

"Why do you even care? The last I checked they treated you like shit." he broke the silence.

Feyre wished she wouldn't have spoken at all. Wished he wouldn't be right. "The last time you checked was two hundred years ago." she snapped. "That's a lot of time."

Eris laughed but there wasn't a hint of humor in it. "The last I checked was on winter solstice." he told her. Feyre's eyes snapped up, meeting his russet ones over the fire. "I was close and I...well, I thought I should take a look." he shrugged. "I saw you preparing meat as your sisters sat in front of the hearth. I wonder, did they even remember that it was your birthday?"

Feyre swallowed. "Tomas Mandray."

"Excuse me?"

"They were talking about Tomas Mandray." Feyre told him. "He wanted to marry Nesta."

Eris snorted. "He hates witches. I don't feel particularly sorry that he died in the attack." Feyre smiled slightly and it took Eris a few moments until he deciphered the reason. His eyes shone with glee, "Oh Archeron, you killed the Mandray boy?"

Straightening her legs, she replied, "I don't know what you're talking about. He stumbled and cracked his head open. My hands are clean of his blood."

Eris chuckled, "See? Two hundred years barely changed anything."

She shook her head. "A lot changed since you left, Eris."

His smile vanished. "I see, you're still mad."

"You turned your back to serve for your father." she grit out.

Eris leaned forward. "I will never serve for my father." he growled. "Trust me, if I could kill him I would but there's a lot more that depends on this. I can't gamble this, I need to become the next High Lord and if I have to play a few of his games, so be it."

"A few games? Like burning down a whole village of innocents?" Feyre jumped up. "If so, you did it, Eris. They are all dead because of you!"

Eris jumped to his feet too, walking over to Feyre in three long strides. "I didn't know what my father planned until it was too late, Feyre. Nothing of what happened today I approved of!"

"Do you want me too swoon for such a noble deed? Oh, you didn't approve! Good job. Forgive and forget, right? I'm sure bards will compose songs about you, oh he came for the villagers but it was too late, such tragedy!" Feyre seethed, stepping forward.

"What do you want to hear, Feyre?"

"The truth!"

"Fine!" he said, "I didn't come for the villagers!"

Feyre nodded, "Not surprised–"

"I came for you." he breathed.

Feyre went rigid, staring at Eris. Staring into his eyes for any hint of a lie. "Huh?"

"When I heard that my father send soldiers to attack your village, I was filled with terror. Honestly, I barely remember hoe I managed to get here because all I was thinking about was you and that I would set the world aflame if anything happened to you. I decided that I wanted the throne two hundred years ago to make this court a safer place for you." he sighed. "I can't. I realized this today. I can't make this a safe place for you until my father is dead, so I'll risk sending you north."

"Risk?"

Eris shook his head. "Forget that." Feyre opened her mouth but Eris said, "He's...Rhysand is cunning but he is a man of his word and he promised to take you and your sisters in and that you will be safe at all times." he took a deep breath. "I don't need you to take this all in at once but I need you to stay in the night court while I take care of my father and when I'm done we...we can talk about whatever this is. Or not. However, you will always have a home in the Autumn Court when I'm done."

Tears were rolling down Feyre's cheeks. "I can help you–"

"You can help me when you stay with Rhysand. I will take up your offer if I need it but first I need to know that you're safe. You are exhausted, Feyre. Healing me took the rest out of you. Go to the Night Court, heal, recharge, rebound with your sisters. I will find you."

"You'll find me?"

"Always."

Feyre sniffled. "Good, because if you won't find me, I will find you and I won't be nice."

Eris smirked. "Good." he said, "Now rest, tomorrow will be a long day."

@sjmcrackshipmonth

[shayennelovesbooks]

Feyre and Eris have the potential to be a chaotic duo. The good kind of chaotic

[oc-poll-tournament]

OC Poll Tournament Round 1 Poll 5

Propaganda below the cut:

Meparik (he/him) @gailynovelry: Meparik of the Frostbitten Court (he/him)

Meparik is many things! He is a feyrie, a pickpocket, a sign-language user, a voracious reader, and an accidental religious leader. He understands more of the political goings-on of his realm than most adults do, and profusely hates the gods for it. His bedraggledness is matched only by that of his best friend (unwilling messiah lesbian). Gaze upon the child, your honor. Do you feel it? The desire to feed him warm soups and wrap him up in a cozy blanket? I rest my case, your honor. I rest it well.

Nat Finch (he/him) @albatris: I'd like to submit Nat Finch! he/him, 25 years old, brand new baby vampire. he works the night shift at dodgy petrol and convenience store Stop 'N' Go, where he falls asleep on the clock and encourages shoplifting. he's schizotypal like me and he loves cats, cooking, and his friends! he's the protagonist of my campy gory horror trilogy, though he'd rather not be!

he's short and fat with red eyes and lots of freckles. his hair is long and black, often uneven and choppy in length, because he just cuts tangles out instead of untangling them ❤

he's a sweet boy, earnest boy, awkward boy; he doesn't have many friends at the start of the story due to his paranoia, psychosis, and social anxiety, but by the end of it has a whole bunch of good friends AND a kitty he adores named Grub who purrs like a faulty tractor

in this story vampirism is a sentient entity and all connected via a hivemind known as "the Garble".... it lives in the vampires' blood and can manipulate their thoughts as well as give them heightened strength and speed, claws and fangs, and night vision when they need it. it can be useful, but mostly it's a bully and an inconvenience

at the centre of the Garble hivemind lives the very first vampire, an undead rotting corpse and the god of vampires, and a few of their close friends and confidants. all life force collected by regular vampires flows to them at the centre and grants them immortality and power. it's a sweet deal for the folks at the centre, and a terrible deal for ordinary vampires like Nat who rarely reap any real benefits from their condition, but are threatened and manipulated into participating in this system regardless

Nat's story sees him struggling to solve the mystery of how and why he was turned and trying to balance his kind, caring nature with his new violent condition... and eventually leads him to, "hey, I think I'm going to hunt down and eat the rest of vampire god"

good for him!

some other Nat Facts:

huge drama queen (will play up being sad and pathetic to get what he wants)

vampires are hardwired to seek warmth and coziness so Nat is always down to snuggle 24/7

bouncy cheery overexcited lad who will grin for weeks if you say something nice to him

vegetarian, aside from eating people, which he insists does not count

speaking of eating people, primarily preys on rich pricks and abusive bosses

is too awkward to tell his neighbours he bought them a cute knitted blanket he thought they might like for their corgi because what if that's a weird thing to do. this has been going on for three weeks

is too awkward to tell his neighbours his name is Nat, not Matt. this has been going on for three years

has a giant scary monster mode full of eyes and teeth >:3

please consider voting for my boy!

[feyres-divorce-lawyer]

snippet from my feyris one-shot

Clad in the colors of his court, he looked glaringly out of place, his warm autumnal palette a heavy contrast to the cool blues and purples that bedecked her room. Her room… In the Night Court, and Eris Vanserra who absolutely should not be here.

[acrisius-ii]

The Court of Spring

a little lore for my newest system, Dregs (which is fae and world war 1 soldiers)

Of the four courts of the fey, the Court of Spring is by far the most willing to negotiate. While both the Summer and Winter courts are in active war with the Coalition and the Autumn court thinks of humans as pets and toys, the Spring Court has and continues to be the greatest source of magic and pacts to the common soldiery. Though the Department of Economancers has noted a significant decrease in names and firstborn children, the Panel has deemed the sacrifice necessary for the continuation of the war. The court of spring has several circles, though the Department of Analytics has noted that most soldiers will choose Mhendolys, the Queen Fae of the Spring Court, or the Woodsman, Speaker of Beasts, as their pactmaster. It's always worth noting that Witches (also called changelings or elves, people of human and feyry born) are most commonly from the Court of Spring, and may have some mutations from their fae parent, including red hair, vestigial wings, eye-shaped birthmarks, vibrantly colored skin, fangs, a crown of flowers or thorns growing from their hair or foreheads, or horns. As of currently, the Coalition is allied with the court of spring.

[gailynovelry]

I think I got the summary for Ember Warrior hashed out! Figured I'd post it here really quick to get a little feedback on it. I'm curious as to if it's interest-grabbing, and/or if there are any confusing sentences in there.

War has come for Rhimn. The unified feyrie courts strike back against the knights of the Irongardhe, casting the dark-winged shadow of Lady Death over Gadhi.

While Crislie wrestles with unexpected heritage and razes the frontlines of open warfare, her friends navigate the political intrigue of their Heraldry. As Meparik sets off on a diplomatic mission to convince the Ulluan Matrius to lend her aid, Navaeli parleys with the feyrie courts on behalf of General Morekai, hoping that he may hold the key to the cage of her Heraldry.

But allies may be more difficult to make than outright enemies. When Ullua is reluctant to make war with its neighbor, and the courtleaders and generals have agendas of their own, the situation might not be as straightforward as putting an ax through a foe . . .

And it’s far too easy for foes to pose as friends.

As the Ashen Army advances, the political imperatives of everyone’s roles threaten to devour them — but faltering could cost the lives and freedom of the fey of Rhimn.

[hellebergs]

where: thistledown botanical gardens

when: september 2020

who: open !!

Though the Victorian estate prided itself on the moniker of Thistledown, it was much more than a bed and breakfast. It had been her own residence stately residence when built, but she could not come to part with it as she came and went. Helle had a habit of dotting about the globe, out of her own epicurean curiosity or fleeing messes wrought by her own choices, and flirting with excuses to give to the Court when she was honored and burdened with more power. The Seelies longed to bind her hands tighter, to trap her in higher postions when she only longed to roam free. She had gone about carefully curating what could be her gilded cage. Her most prized additions were lush gardens and a labyrinthine hedge maze for the days she didn’t want to be found.  

The feyrie was longing for a garden party -- when an aftenoon with a string quartet gave way to clandestine debauchery as the night darkened, then lightened in the earliest hours. She longed for the moments of addled clarity that only struck when drunk, embraced beneath a silver moon. Until then, she contented herself lazing about in the slowly waning warmth as autumn crept ever in. Helle cupped a delicate bud between tender hands. She closed her eyes and let the faint perfume carry away with a soft breeze. Her fingers unfurled and a blossom soon followed, unfolding layers of white against the dark green hedge. Helle quickly retracted her touch, turning when footsteps neared. ❝All the bright, precious things fade so fast. It’s a marvel that these have stayed, isn’t it ??❞

[flammablc]

( OPEN TO ANYONE !! )

a dry leaf and a box of matches. the feyrie emerges from her light body into her human form and reaches for those two items. she places them in her pocket and gives it a bit of a pat as if to reassure herself that they’re there. she made it a habit to take pieces of her own essence whenever she’s in her human form. they’re not amulets, they cannot protect her, but they symbolize the very connection she has with nature forces and being a feyrie, she can’t ignore this pull. carefully, amber pulls the necklace containing her beloved necklace to complete the picture, the ashes of her volcano a warm flame upon her heart. 

usually, she is the less likely of the elmwood siblings to leave their home by herself in her human form, but it’s getting colder and amber wants to see the ice rink in falls park. amber is very grateful that when the seelie court relocated her centuries ago they didn’t have her stay in the park. although beautiful, she would have to get used to an increasing amount of people in her territory and that’s a very difficult pill to swallow. amber can’t look back and see the events that led to elmwood’s unpopularity as a blessing, but it does come with perks. the main one being how unlikely it is that someone is bold and courageous enough to trespass their home. 

her hand look for her leaf and matches as she makes her way through the crowd, regarding humans and supernaturals with all the same distance. amber watches as people pass through and how they try their luck in the ice rink. she wonders briefly why wouldn’t any unseelie naiad interfere, seeing how they definitely adore chaos and harassing humans. maybe she can invite her sibling later on and check if they want to have a bit of fun. 

amber turns, her hand again pats her pocket but- it’s definitely too flat. her eyes grow wide and she looks around, fishes through both her pockets but the box of matches is gone. the feyrie looks a bit frantically for it, only to find someone is already picking it up from the ground. 

“excuse me,” she speaks, walking towards them. “this is mine,”

[feywildrp]

GLOSSARY

Created by and/or with me:

An Sídalann - the feyry realm

An Rétlann - the human realm

rétcenél - the human race

An Fidchell - annual high stakes game

Cotilan - Irish loan word from Cotillion

fíadan - “the wild,” magic, ley/fey lines

Socairean - sacred burial site in Tara

OLD IRISH / THE FEY LANGUAGE:

aes síde - the feyry race

curadmír - the wish granted at An Fidchell

Slúag - the horde of restless dead Tithed to

the Ancaire - the anchor of the Slúag in Hybrasil

the Ardsagart - a Court’s high priest for handfastings

Imbolc, Beltaine, Samain, Lugnasad - holidays

Accomal - magic Beltaine sacred carnal ring

násad - a Lugnasad marriage, non-handfasting

ogam - the magic written language

Edad - funerary ogam-carved aspen tree rod

carn - underground burial mound for funerals

Temair - the Old Irish for what we call Tara

Uí Bresil - the Old Irish for what we call Hybrasil

MODERN IRISH / CLANN NUADHA:

Slane - the leader 

airgead - a member

Airgeadlámh - their symbol

Tobar - the Well, their afterlife

Alltar - the feyry realm

[bluenforcer-blog]

Tara had always felt a little too much like home. Though it wasn’t particularly Seelie, Cobalt had always felt an unbearable need to shed his shoes upon arrival in the feyry realm; to let his toes curl into the soft grass beneath his feet and meld as best he could into the ground itself. There weren’t many places that were truly common ground between their courts, and the rubbing of elbows with the other side was often cause for concern, but here-- here was different. Here, things felt a little more like they had before the Seelie magic had started to drip and drain away.

Though An Fidchell was not his favourite of events, and the ending of the game had left one hell of a sour taste in his mouth, Lugnasad held a special place in his heart. Feats of strength and folly were exactly up his alley, but the specific goings-on never failed to surprise. Cobalt liked to win and chose his games appropriately. Not all of his brethren felt the same. 

“Wait-- you’re going to compete in what now?”

[shallyne]

SJM Crackshipmonth: Forbidden Romance

If you love me, leave

IT'S DAY THIRTEEN! Which means it's time to post my Feyre x Eris fic for @sjmcrackshipmonth (if you like this maybe I'll continue writing crackfic for them)

Words: 1,085

TW: none

Feyre and Eris have one of their secret meet-ups when Eris realizes, if he wants Feyre to be happy, he has to let her go.

It was barely dawn when Feyre awoke. She stretched her arms above her head, yawning. Just when she rubbed her eyes, she realized that something was different. Her hand wandered to the other side of the bed, meeting nothing but the mattress. Instantly she sat up, blinking a few times, "Eris?" she whispered.

"I'm here." he replied, walking out from a dark corner. He had put his shirt only halfway on when Feyre called out and fixed it as he went to Feyre's bedside. "I didn't want to wake you."

Feyre shook her head, "You didn't." she said, looking at him. He was fully clothed, dawn had just arrived... "You're leaving."

Eris was quiet, his thumb stroking the back of Feyre's hand and his amber eyes fixed on the emerald ring on Feyre's finger. Sighing, he squeezed her hand, "I have to."

"Why?" she asked, but she knew the answer. They both knew the answer but they didn't talk about it. They ignored it when they were together, it was just them then.

"You know this can't go on forever, Feyre." he said, his hand now wandering up her arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps, until it rested on her neck. Then he took a strand of her messy hair and twirled it around his finger.

"I–" she swallowed, trying to keep her voice steady. "I don't want this to end." she breathed. When Eris’s eyes locked with hers, she couldn't think for a moment. Every thought ebbed away and words were foreign, so she took his hand, softly prying it away from her hair. "I can't let you go. Not now. Not yet. Call me selfish–"

"Never." he said. "This…this isn't selfish. You're not selfish–"

"I am, I know how much you could lose if someone finds out what we're doing. The consequences would be… catastrophic." Feyre replied. Her hand cupped his face, her finger caressing his cheek.

Eris closed his eyes and leaned into the touch, exhaling. When he opened his eyes, he smirked and pulled away," I'm honored that you're so worried about me, Feyre,"

"Don't do that." she snapped at Eris, shutting him up. "Not with me." Don't put up a face, she wanted to say, don't hide behind a mask with me, for me.

Eris' jaw tightened. "If Tamlin finds out…" he swallowed and shook his head with a pained expression, as if even the thought hurt. "He's going to march into the Autumn Court and start a war between our courts."

"He wouldn't start a war because of me." Feyre said. "...would he?"

"If you really think that your husband," she flinched at that word and Eris grimaced, "If you think he wouldn't, then you don't know him very well. He thinks you belong to him." Eris looked away, his eyes going distant. "I can't risk that. I can't risk my people, I can't risk the consequences that you would face."

"Maybe we can find a way–"

"I know how these stories end, Feyre." he said. The Lady of the Autumn Court and the High Lord of the Day Court. Yes, Feyre supposed Eris knew. His gaze burned into Feyre. "My future is written in stone." he squeezed her hand. "But yours isn't."

"What are you talking about?" she asked.

He pulled her closer, their faces only inches apart and he told her quietly. "You don't have to stay in the Spring Court. You can run, start a new life somewhere. Wasn't it your dream to live comfortably enough to paint the whole day? I can arrange that. You can flee, live your life. You aren't meant to be a pretty, obedient wife. You are meant to live."

"Very inspiring speech," she said and Eris huffed a laugh. "But people know me. Where would I go? What about you? What if Tamlin tracks this all back to you?"

"You need to flee far enough," he said. "They won't be able to track it back to me. It will look like you ran away. How does that sound Feyre?" A tear slid over her cheek. A life away from Tamlin sounded like a dream but that would also mean she'd lose him. He seemed to know exactly what she was thinking as he said, "You would lose me either way, remember? I'm giving you the option to make the best of it."

"Okay." Feyre said hoarsely and Eris’s face lit up, he was as happy to get her away from Tamlin as she was.

"Okay," he said, relieved. "Okay, I already have a plan."

"How long did you already think about this?" she asked.

He huffed a laugh, the sound more sad than anything. "A while."

Eris proceeded to tell her about the plan. Feyre wouldn't get back to the Spring Court again, she would stay here. Eris would need to leave for a few hours and come back. He'd winnow her away from where they stayed and then she would travel alone.

"Through this dangerous land?" Feyre half-joked.

Eris flashed a crooked smile. "You hunted in a dangerous forest at fourteen, killed a fae disguised as a wolf, braved the wall on your own, defeated a centuries old Faerie queen. You are more than capable of doing this." he said. "But…still, be careful."

"I will." Feyre promised.

The next morning, when the sky became a pinkish color, Eris winnowed her to the border. He managed to acquire a pack with provisions, spare clothes that neither looked like Spring nor Autumn and he even managed to get a bow that looked different from the ones he saw at the human lands and the Spring Court, and in the quiver Feyre spotted a few ash arrows.

"Well," he said, straightening after he helped her secure the quiver. "That's it."

Feyre nodded. "That's it." she breathed. She took a step towards him but Eris stepped back.

"I'm sorry." he said when she winced. "I think it's better like this. I'm already tempted–" he stopped, "Nevermind." He looked around. "Take care, Feyre."

"I love you." she whispered.

Eris smiled and even though he didn't say anything, she could see it. In his eyes, his smile. She thought his eyes were silver lined but then he was gone. Already he winnowed away.

Feyre lost some precious time that she was just waiting, hoping, that he would come back but of course, it was stupid. Eris didn't come back.

She didn't know that Eris was watching her from afar as she started her trek northward.

Taglist: @timesconvert

[gairnead-blog]

dans cette douce souffrance

WHEN: 18th of June, 2018 WHERE: Seelie Castle WHO: Closed

Despite the grass and the threat it imposed, despite the turning in her stomach about what the Seelies losing might mean for her, despite feeling utterly lost without her best friend—who she supposed couldn’t really be called her best friend anymore—and sick with worry for him, Garnet could feel the strings of her optimism being pulled. She tried to fight it, the excitement that made her almost giddy ( not that she appeared anything but her usual, elegant self ). But it was hard not to hope.

He had called them all, the entire court, to the castle to share some good news. To make an announcement.

And she couldn’t help the skip of her heart, the bite of her lip with anticipation—maybe he’s going to propose. It wasn’t as if they were dating but he was the king. He could bypass whatever norms were in place. Or maybe he was going to announce that he was looking for a queen consort. The list of possibilities had grown long in the days before the announcement and every single one she thought of came back to her finally having her moment where the crowd would turn to her and she would be radiant with happiness and the court would breathe a sigh of relief—at last.

So Garnet had dressed for the occasion. Her hair was loose and in gentle waves because never liked to have it up when she was in the feyry realm. Her dress was chiffon—a soft, pretty thing that she felt was quietly regal. And as she got ready, her hope grew and her other problems seemed distant.

She had wine in her hand, laughter on her lips, when the room quietened for him. Her smile was gentle, supportive, encouraging. One, she thought, a wife would wear for her husband. Her eyes stayed fixed to him, listening carefully.

The smile fell.

He was having another child. 

He was having another child.

She couldn’t have read the room if she tried. There was an uneasy ripple of uncertainty. Could they all have children now? Was the crisis over? Would their magic be strong again? She didn’t listen. It was as if she had been shoved underwater and the din of the room was muffled through the surface. She had wanted to be the star of the night but the eyes that turned in her direction made her skin crawl. They were looking to her for her reaction. Automatically, her free hand clapped the wrist of the one clutched tightly around the glass of wine, but her smile didn’t return.

Instead, tears stung her eyes.

Pull yourself together, stupid girl.

For three hundred years, she had worn a mask made of bright beams and eyes that only ever shone with happiness. She had shoved aside her feelings, denied herself of them and tried to seem as if nothing could break that smile. It had been hard when Adare courted Aiteann, leaving her utterly humiliated. It had never been harder than in the sixties, what was possibly the darkest period in her long life if not for a small, flickering light towards the end of it. And those years had cracked fissures in her dam.

She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t force smiles and say how wonderful it was for the court.

He was having another child, with yet another woman. When she was still here, waiting patiently and never letting her opinion of him sour. Was he going to marry the mother then? Had he really any need for a consort at all, now that he had a baby that he could nurture into their future monarch? Had she wasted her entire life trying to be something when she never would?

A queen consort would smile and accept the news gracefully and congratulate Adare with a warm hug. But she wasn’t a queen consort. And Garnet Fairchild was so fucking tired. The tears still stung, threatening to make an even greater fool out of her. Her breaths were shallow and sharp, a heavy weight on her chest. Stay. Just stay. Say congratulations and pretend like everything is fine, like you always do. But she couldn’t. Her hands were trembling and if she didn’t leave, everyone would notice the way she was ducking her head to hide and that maybe Garnet, the favourite for consort, wasn’t too thrilled about what Adare had to say. It reminded her too much of the court learning he was to marry Aiteann, the memory tinged with humiliation that was only an echo of what she felt tonight.

She set down the wine and as good as she was at being the centre of attention, she was just as practiced at slipping into the now celebrating crowd and getting lost in it until she was in the hallway and couldn��t fight it anymore. Her sadness swallowed her and the tears finally came as she leaned against the wall, knees almost buckling but carrying her forward anyway and further away from the room and anymore bitter embarrassment.

Fingers trailed through the air, carving out a portal to take her home before she stepped through it, her final thought almost trailing behind her—

       Not good enough.

                Again.

FIN.

[polysjmweek]

👀 LOOK! So many exciting things headed our way for Poly+ ACOTAR week.

We are loving seeing all of the different groupings people are working with. So much creativity!

Secrets (Part 1) and Favorite Tropes are finished for @polyacotarweek

Snippets?

Secrets:

She’d grown used to the close proximity of their daily physical training and fit into it easily enough. Her attraction to him hadn’t changed anything on that front, once her guilt had faded. But this wasn’t the short and sharp impact of a fist or a brief moment being pinned to the mat—though the latter could be hard to brush off at times. This was downright intimate. His thumb graze the ridge of one of the more delicate bones, prominent from the back of her wings, finally fracturing her resistance. “I think…” She cleared her throat. “I think this should be the last attempt today. Like you said a minute ago, the winds are picking up and I have a lot to catch up on. The official things, I mean.” He quirked a brow. “Official things?” “Court things." Did she sound as breathless as she felt? "With Rhys. In our office. You know, official things.”

Favorite Tropes: Arranged Marriage/Fated Mates (From BitS)

”It’s been centuries, maybe longer, since the High Lords have seen someone worthy of reviving, and I’ve yet to find any sort of record of the results. Even then, I’d imagine the results are case-by-case. We just need to find your trigger before it does you harm.” Because fae who tried to suppress power, be they in hiding or something else, had gone mad and burned up from the inside out, trying to lock their power away. “Write to me or—” He huffed, grinding his teeth. “—or inform Eris. He can at least train you in control of Autumn gifts you may possess. Stop smirking like that.” “You males. Always so jealous when it comes to your mates.” Ignoring his soft snarl, the shiver it sent down her spine, Feyre refocused on the subject between them. “Training the other gifts? Autumn’s ties are tumultuous on a good day, and you have few friends outside of the Night court.”

So, yeah. I'm gonna go start on my Gwynriquin Beginnings. And hopefully find a little more steam so we can get to the smutty half of Serve and Protect.