#No shade on Scourge (this time)

[toaarcan]

I think Fiona's betrayal makes way more sense and fits into the narrative better if you simply bump it to after the destruction of Knothole.

Like, in the actual comic it kinda comes out of nowhere, and it's heavily tied into the romance plot tumours and Issue 150. Fiona's actual character is barely important, she just disappears for five issues and comes back with a new personality, her old trauma in high gear again (but girl, if you're mad at Sonic for abandoning you, why the feck are you running off with Second Sonic Who Is Worse?), and an ideology that makes zero sense with her history ("You can't count on anybody" says character who has literally never been independent and will never become independent).

And the fallout is incredibly understated and after literally two issues nobody cares any more except Tails. And he's done caring after 179 closes.

Betrayal is supposed to be impactful.

But if you shuffle the order of the stories around, don't even change the actual content, then the whole thing becomes a buttery-smooth consistent arc and Fiona's character development, while not a good thing in the long run (Scourge literally would've killed her in 196 if his plan had succeeded, she traded the stunningly mediocre partner that was Sonic for a literal monster), actually makes sense and is front and centre in her story, instead of what we got, which is "Fiona ascends from background character to weird love interest to an accessory for Scourge who is defined entirely by Scourge."

Fiona being driven by her trauma to hate Sonic for leaving her behind is a reasonable angle, it's where she started in the Knuckles comic, but it's been so long since that was relevant to her character that dredging it up years after the fact in a different book would only ever be jarring. Unless, say, history repeated itself and all those wounds got opened up again.

Eggman drops out of the sky, razes her home to the ground, and shoves her in a prison to be used as fodder for one of his sick creations, just like Robotnik did all those years ago. Only this time, the prison is so small that she can barely even move, and the machine she's going to be fed into is much worse. It'll kill her, twice over, draining her life-force to power Eggman's machinery and wiping her mind for no reason other than "Eggman's a sadistic asshole."

She gets to see the effects up-close too, via Charmy's brain damage.

And while it's unnecessary, as I think the actual plot of the issues needs no alterations to make sense, you could nonetheless add a small scene during the rescue where Sonic saves Fiona from the Egg Grapes and says he won't make that mistake again. A small hope spot before it all comes crashing down.

Because it does! The arc ends with the Freedom Fighters standing triumphant over a wrecked Egg Beater. They could easily grab Eggman and drag him into the brand-new prison that Nicole put Mogul, Naugus, and the Hooligans in. They have turned their darkest hour into an opportunity to win the war... and they don't take it.

Eggman flies off, clinging to an Egg Flapper and doing the "I'll get you next time, Gadget! Next tiiiiiime!" bit, and the heroes just... stand there.

And that's where the (hypothetical) hope spot gets dashed. Fiona, already uncertain of her place in the team after 160-1, loses faith in them completely. She just lived through the worst experience of her life again and the heroes of this world are doing nothing to prevent another repeat.

It even makes her "You can't count on anybody" line actually have some weight. She genuinely feels like she's been failed by them, that she put her trust in these people and they still turned on her at a moment's notice, and they're not doing enough to actually save the world. It's like Scourge says in 172- she "wishes [Sonic] had a backbone."

And then, after all that, there's the big Fiona Betrayal Issue except now it's actually about Fiona and not just about giving Scourge a girlfriend, and that's followed immediately by the Sonic vs. Tails issues. There's no time to process what just happened, everyone's emotions are still extremely raw, and it boils over into a fight between brothers that's more about venting all those nasty emotions they've been holding in for a while now. Sonic has been through a lot lately, he just lost his home and repeated one of his few failures, and he's not long lost Tommy too. Tails is dealing with emotions that he's not mature enough to process properly and healthily, he grew up too fast, but not evenly. And at the end of the day, they're both still just kids.

I still think 179's ending is an overall horrible way to to resolve that plot thread, and further reduces Fiona to an object to be fought over, but I'm not heavily changing the content of the issues, only the context.

I've never been a fan of villain!Fiona, I've made that clear in the past. I like it as a step on a journey that results in her healing, but I found its start confusing and messy and the rest of the arc lacklustre and far too focused on Scourge, rather than Fiona herself. But I think putting it in this order makes it flow a lot better for me.

If I write Sonic stuff again, I'll probably do it with this as a headcanon of what went down in the 170s.

[lo-destroyer-of-gender]

Imagine being stuck in a time loop that spans from the start of your life to the time of your death. Each iteration you learn to recognize more and more events before they happen, and like all ground hog day stories, you try to circumvent the event you don't like. You try to warn people about disasters before they happen, which doesn't alway work, but it works often emough that when you try to warn the US government about 9/11, they actually believe you and precent a catastrophic loss of life. But now MCR never starts making music. Okay, not a big deal, you think, but to your horror, twilight is still piblished.

[gglitchshit]

How do you like scourge?? I'm currently a reaper but I'm in the process of unlocking that spec and I'm curious to see how it is.

I love it! I find myself favoring it over reaper a lot (especially for longer fights like bounties), since it's ranged condition damage with condition cleanse so it's hard to die even though there's no traditional shroud (but even if I do die, something around me will die of condition damage so it's easier to rally/revive 😆😆)

[warrior-cats-rewritten]

sorry to spam you, but. what happens with scourge in your rewrite? he’s my favorite <3

Please, don't ever apologize for sending lots of asks! I love answering them and they can help me think of things I hadn't thought about before, or flesh an arc out. Send as many as you want, all of you!

Anyways, Scourge, the literal scourge of my brain, because I've had to rewrite him 3 different times.

This little guy has been reworked SO much. The first was to tell the story of a downfall, how sometimes people become worse than the people who hurt them, and pay for it, but showing that there was still 'Tiny' in there, having The Rise Of Scourge end with his spirit, now back to being Tiny, reuniting with Quince, while his older self faded away.

I... Hated the vibe. And I'm probably gonna save THAT kind of ending for someone else...

I then changed it to be somewhat more like Better Bones, but with Scourge remaining leader of Bloodclan.... But that also doesn't line up with the themes of Graystripe's Clan and Ravenpaw's Path, where Fury and Neo Bloodclan come into play.

I didn't wanna kill him. I didn't want him to join Thunderclan. I didn't want him to stay in Bloodclan....

Then, it hit me.

So... Meet the new Scourge. He can say the F word.

Scourge

His story is one about coming back from the brink of no return.

Firestar has noticed something about Scourge. The fur around his neck has rubbed off, his voice is brittle, swallowing is so difficult that he drools a bit, his breathing is shallow, and he's... Painfully underweight. Now, aside from the terrifying thought that is "how strong would this guy be if he WAS properly nourished?", he realizes that even if Scourge manages to make it through this battle, he will most likely not make it to next season.

In a flash, Firestar leaps onto Scourge's back, and sinks his teeth into his scruff and collar. Just like his new deputy Longtail did to him, he begins to pull, hoping and praying that Starclan will grant another miracle.

The collar snaps, just as Scourge is about to pass out, he takes in his first deep breath in ages. Firestar pays for it with his first life.

Swiftpaw, now posthumously named Swiftclaw, is chosen as his first life to lose. He feels the pain and terror and rage and desperation that Swiftclaw did, but he also puts pieces together. Why did this happen? The real why. Not just the dogs getting a taste for cat. Not Tigerstar's seemingly unending thirst for power. Before all that.

This problem is the fault of the Clans. Churning out radicalized youths who will hurt others because of the instilled belief that Might Makes Right. Sure, Scourge has taken things too far, and seems hellbent on revenge, but the seeds of this bloody battle were planted on Clan Land.

Blackfoot, Brokenstar, Leopardstar, Mistfang, Darkstripe, Longtail, even Crookedstar and Nightstar have all fallen victim to this belief at one point of another. Tigerstar was not made in a vacuum. This kind of "kill or be killed" mentality is not making the Clans strong, it is getting cats killed.

He sees another vision of himself fighting Scourge, killing him. But his sight flickers, and it makes him sick. Scourge's build is so much like Princess. His eyes the same shade of blue that Cloudtail has. He sees his own loved ones in the one he is fighting. He is sinking his teeth and claws into his own Kin.

And then, finally, he sees the vision of Tigerpaw being goaded by Thistleclaw to beat Tiny. Then Thistlepaw being rewarded by Adderfang for sparring with a Riverclan apprentice and tearing their ear. Adderfang charging into battle alongside his father, too eager to take a life from Heatherstar Heatherstep. Tigerclaw berating Darkpaw for failing a training exercise. Darkstripe getting his new apprentice Longpaw to eat prey instead of giving it to the sick elder... The vision ending with Longtail touching noses with the newly named Swiftpaw, a line of cats behind him so long it stretches into the shadows, endless kittens behind Swiftpaw, a mentorship doomed before it even began. Generations of cats hurting each other with no end in sight.

Enough is enough.

When he comes back to life, he slams against Scourge, dodging his attack again, and looking around to confirm his worst fears. All of Bloodclan's cats are fully grown. The Clans have brought apprentices. This victory is for the future, to Save The Clans as Fire Alone.

He slams Scourge against the ground, and knocks him out. However, Rooster, a Bloodclan cat, cries out that Scourge has been killed. To be fair to Rooster, Scourge is laying limp at the feet of Lionclan's leader.

While many Bloodclan cats scurry away, some to one day become Neo Bloodclan, Firestar taps the ground to call attention to Snowpaw, using a bit of Body Speaking to silently tell the deaf apprentice to sneak Scourge to camp, grabbing Scourge's torn collar and hiding it for later.

Bloodclan negotiations begin with the cats who stay and will later be seen in Graystripe's Clan.

Meanwhile, Snowpaw drags Scourge through the woods and sneaks him into Cinderpelt's den, scaring Cinderpelt half to death. She begins to treat Scourge, removing the enforced claw tips and gathering some food for him to eat without getting sick from the influx of sudden nutrition. Snowpaw is so friendly that he manages to become friends with Scourge while he is slowly recovering, hidden in the back of Cinderpelt's den and slowly putting on some weight as he eats with his friend while getting more comfortable with others. None of this would have happened if Snowkit had been taken by that hawk...

Eventually, he is healthy enough to groom himself properly and walk around. But... What now? Can he stay in Thunderclan? Would that be a safe option for him? Firestar is still teaching cats to unlearn their biases, and Scourge may be subject to suspicion and discrimination, which isn't fair to him.

Firestar talks with Princess, and the answer is clear.

His housefolk are not home now, haven't been in a week, but... Smudge is pretty lonely. Rusty left a bit of a hole there, he could use a good friend.

Scourge is brought to Smudge's home in the dark of the night, collar in his teeth, and welcomed inside. His collar tag reads 'Tiny' but with no phone number or microchip, Smudge's people take him in as their own, and Smudge isn't so lonely anymore.

Firestar left housecat life to be wild, proving himself with a broken collar, and Scourge is leaving wild life to be a housecat once more, saving himself with a broken collar.

He is seen during Firestar's Quest, slightly chubby and full of energy, and I might have him go on the Quest with them to round out the party. The important thing is, he is happy.

Princess's Short Story, currently unnamed, is about her passing, visiting her old friends and family as a spirit. She finds Scourge's spirit, along with Quince, Socks, and Smoke, enjoying a peaceful afterlife together.

He is allowed a place in Starclan and Sky-Starclan, and will reappear during Beyond The Stars as a supporting cast member.

[superscourge]

Can you tell us more about the Childhood Friends AU?

yeas

i guess i'll give some lil details abt it. this is gonna be long so under the cut it goes

sonic and scourge (also sonic at the time) meet each other when a portal opens up between their dimensions when theyre both about 10 years old. they both are pretty attuned to changes in their world, so they find it at the same time and are like "What The Heck You're Me!" but they hit it off pretty quickly bc they figure out the other one is just as fast as them and they race and a bond is formed.. they decide to call each other nicknames (buckles for prime sonic, shades for alt sonic bc at the time he's wearing the leather jacket + boots + shades) just to make things easier

for a little more context, in this au moebius is more like just. mobius but a little to the left. its not an opposite world like it is in canon, its just kinda...Different? if that makes sense? so shades isnt Nice, hes kind of a dick and he's rude, but he's not evil or malicious

buckles finds out after a while that shades has...not the best home life. his dad fuckin sucks. so shades stays with him and his nonna a lot (buckles' parents are gone already and he ends up staying with this sweet old cat lady he calls his nonna). this eventually culiminates into an awful thing when theyre about 14--shades ends up being pushed to the point of where he actually kills his dad. he doesnt show up for weeks, and buckles is worried, but he eventually shows up again, but hes different. hes not okay. and suddenly hes talking about how they cant be friends, how hes going to leave and never come back. and they have their first fight, which ends with shades leaving and buckles being left alone and devastated

they dont meet again until a couple years later when theyre both 16. shades had eventually returned to mobius and had been crashing there for a while, but he was stirring up trouble under the name of sonic. prime sonic finds him on angel island--apparently he had caused so much trouble that even sonic's enemies were targeting him now, so he wanted to use the master emerald to gain power so they'd stop messing with him. of course this goes south when he powers up with the emerald and knuckles defends it by slashing him across the chest during the transformation, interrupting it and putting him in a permanent half-super state (the green). he proclaims his new name is scourge, and they fight again, but scourge ends up using the master emerald to chaos control away, and once again they dont see each other for a while after that, bc then sonic is dealing with the Worst fucking year of his life (shadow, unleashed, forces). they basically dont talk again until theyre 19.

when they do talk again, sonic's really messed up from forces--the torture from infinite on the death egg really fucked him up and was making him question his reality even after everything. but scourge runs into him and knocks some sense into him (literally punches him in the face LOL) and sonic realizes this Is real, the war Is over, and everything fucking sucks. his nonna died while he was away. scourge doesnt take this well at all, and neither does sonic when he realizes its real, and they both kinda have a mutual breakdown moment because Neither of them were there when she passed and they both majorly regret it. but scourge still doesnt end up staying; he takes sonic to a nearby village when he falls asleep and then he leaves again. but that lets sonic know that scourge still does care about him, despite pushing him away for all these years. so hes going to figure out why, and bring back his friend.

they finally meet again post-frontiers, when sonic has a clearer head and has healed a lot. they fight again Of Course, but it ends up with scourge finally confessing why he'd run away so long ago, why he'd been trying so hard to push sonic away and drive a wedge between them to make sure sonic would Stay away--it was all because of the thing with his dad. he was ashamed of himself and didnt want his only best friend to see him as a murderer. but yknow what? sonic isnt fazed. he doesnt give a Shit. in fact he literally tells scourge that if scourge hadnt done it? sonic would have. jules was awful and beyond saving and the world was better off without him. scourge is shocked by all this, not really understanding...but they end up making up and finally, Finally becoming friends again

so thats the whole story LOL. ive been developing it w jester behind the scenes and while it isnt a Long au story its a fun and angsty one hehe. might be a little sonourge eventually. you know how it is

[mochacoffeeumai26]

DarkBlade

Noah Diaz X Mirage X Female autobot reader

Summary: Way before Noah met Mirage, he had a car. It didn't really last long and eventually stopped working. When Mirage learns about the car, he tells Noah that it's actually no regular car.

Warning: First post so its cringe-

Of course with Mirage being Mirage, he could never really stay put. Noah had left him alone for literally two minutes and he was already messing around with stuff in the garage.

While in the middle of making a mess, Mirage notices something in the corner of the garage covered. Mirage walked closer to examine whatever was covered by that giant cloth, but he ended up tripping and making an even bigger mess of the place.

"Yo, Mirage. You serious?! I leave you alone for literally one minute and you just made a mess!" Noah scolded Mirage as he walked back inside the garage.

"You actually left for over a minute, dude." Mirage stood up and dusted himself off. He looked over at that same corner of the garage. He noticed that the cloth had slipped off a bit, it revealed part what was underneath.

Looking at it closer, Mirage could see what it was.

It was a car.

"Hey, Noah. You never told me you had a buddy before me. I honestly thought I was the first."

Noah looked over to see what Mirage was talking about. He groaned when he saw his first car.

"What? That? That piece of junk didn't even last three months." Noah removed the cloth from the car completely.

The car looked okay. It didn't look like an old or recent car. It looked like a regular dark shade (favourite colour) one.

Mirage only looked at it for a second before looking at Noah. "Maybe don't call her a piece of junk. Blade doesn't like to be called names."

"What? Who's her- Blade? What?" Noah was confused.

Mirage cleared his throat before crossing his arms and speaking. "Hey, it's alright, Blade! You can transform."

Not even a second later, Noah's "old car" instantly transformed into an autobot that was a bit bigger than Mirage.

Noah started in disbelief. His car had been an autobot this whole time?!

You looked around, your eyes immediately landing on Mirage and then on Noah.

The next thing Noah knew, you picked him off the ground and gave him an intimidating glare before glancing at Mirage.

"Prime better have approved of this Mirage. Or else..."

"Uh- Mirage...?" Noah started to panic a bit.

"Easy there, DarkBlade. Noah here's cool. Plus, Prime's Cool with him. Cool?" Mirage gave you a thumbs up.

You sighed. "Forgive me, human Noah." You set Noah down on the ground. "And Mirage... you know my real name, use it."

"Hold on, hold up. So...you're name isn't DarkBlade?" Noah looked up at you confused.

"Nah, man. Her real name is [Name]. But back on Cybertron she was called DarkBlade." Mirage spoke happily, he was looking at you the whole time he spoke.

"Why DarkBlade though?"

You made a swipe motion with both of your arms and instantly two very long, sharp and pointy dark grey blades came out on the sides of your arms.

"Nevermind...." Noah gulped. "So... If [Name] is an autobot...why didn't she help us when the world was literally on the verge of ending?!"

Mirage has to explain to you everything that had happened with Scourge, the Transwarp key and the Maximals.

"I don't recall receiving a distress signal from Prime... Perhaps it's because a certain someone had hit my radio like a crazy person while calling me trash..." You looked down at Noah while crossing your arms.

"My bad...?"

[bonefall]

Clanmew Masterpost

Clanmew is a constructed language made for Warrior Cats that I, @bonefall, run with my buddy @troutfur! I make the vocab and he does the grammar. I hope that this post will become a good, central place to keep links to everything we've done so far.

CURRENT VERSION: 1.0 LAST UPDATE: 6/3/2023

Clanmew is an OSV-order language, made with the sounds cats make in mind. "Base Clanmew" is built around the Clan Culture updates of the Better Bones AU, which means it is made with the ecology of southwestern Northern England in mind and only contains words for plants and animals found there. It also has phrases for cooking and crafting.

(specific regions modeled: Lancashire, Chester, Manchester, Merseyside, Clwydd is modeled for river biomes specifically)

You are free to use it for your own projects! We encourage you to consider how this language would evolve in your Clan's history, and add or remove words to make a dialect that reflects the culture's feelings and needs.

THE BASICS:

Everything you need to know for basic structure is in CLANMEW 101. Start here.

We have a constantly updating LEXICON of all the words we have made so far.

Have you made a dialect? Let me know and I can link you here so others can see what you're doing with it!

Below the cut:

In-universe information; How Clanmew evolved linguistically

"Expansion Pack" posts where I discuss etymology

Pronunciation stuff (until I make that IPA chart I keep promising)

Working translations; Names, parables, OC submissions

Dialect submissions (These are manned by other people!)

Historical Trivia

The linguistic evolution of Clanmew from Old Tribemew and Parkmew

Animals are named for the sounds they make.

How pronouns for objects change based on how the speaker feels about it.

More, using human examples

there is a secret post about cursing but you have to find that on your own ;)

Through Time Travel Shenanigans, Hollyleaf's name evolves into the word "Scourge"

The Clanmew Play-by-Play of that

The word for Everything

How hard is it for speakers of the other in-universe languages to pick up Clanmew?

On nicknames!

Squirrelpaw and Crowfoot discover corn

The names of the three ideologies... also thistles.

The Invalid Five

Expansion Packs

Colors

Directions, way-finding

Spirituality terms

Rocks

Beetles

Follow up: some plant parts

Patch (pattern) vs Patch (plants)

Den, camp, territory, construction

The two violets

Shapes of flowers

Volume

Generic terms

Rollypollies and centipedes

Insults

Rain... because this is England

The Clan Clock; time terms

The four seasons

Clerics and Common Herbs

Roses

Water movement

BIRDS AND BATS

Finches

Texture

Dogs

Mint

Parts of fur

Forest terms

Foxes, parts of a forest

Cuckoo bird

DEER

Shade and understorey

Cedar

Waterside words

Pronunciation Stuff

Closest thing to an IPA chart I currently have

My process for coming up with words based on vibes

I was asked for more behind-the-scenes stuff so here you go?

How I hold my mouth when I speak

Trout Tips

How would Clan cats pronounce the Slavic TS, or the word pizza?

On the Double yy

Working translations

BB!Scourge's new warrior name, Iceheart, in Clanmew... and Nightheart!

Light, moon, wind, BB!Raggedstar's pre-honor title name

OC SUBMISSION: Flameshell, Fogwhisper, Willowsong

OC SUBMISSION: Lichennose, Mudthistle, Longpounce

OC SUBMISSION: Fallensky

PACK PACK KILL KILL

"I love you"

Baby talk

"What have I done?"

"Fool Tale"

How to Clanmew-ify a strange word

Dishonor Title for "Mudpuddle"

OC SUBMISSION: Riverrunner, multiple-word names, walking words

OC SUBMISSION: Firefang, Rabbitdash, Peachfeather, plus a bunch of words for weasel-like animals

Ivypool

The use of tense in names

PROPHECY SUBMISSION: "Dust and flame will combine to destroy home"

Skywatcher

OC SUBMISSION: The Caldwell Family

Foxheart

Runningnose

PROPHECY SUBMISSION: Six will come of every rank

OC SUBMISSION: Witherstrike

"I like this" and also parasitic worms

Prism, rainbow-color

OC SUBMISSION: Piebald Creature

Gayheart

Sneeze and Knockout

OC SUBMISSION: Penny-fitzgerald

OC SUBMISSION: Voidwhisper, Chalkwhistle

OC SUBMISSION: Poppyflare, Spikemane, Blizzardfang

OC SUBMISSION: Burning Hawk-fur

Mistyfoot

BRAMBLESTAR BUTCHERS THE BLOSSOMKIT NAMES

Dialect Submissions

Pfurr Clanmew (@troutfur)

[foxmallow]

The Shade Warband, as it currently stands.

Love this feature of Janthir Wilds, though it could definitely be easier xD Wish I could just pick them up and move them around like the items, I spent ages trying to get them positioned. Top row, left to right are: Cassia Burnshade, Weaver; Maelstrom Iceshade, Tempest; Tanis Shadesight, Spectre; Lux Shattershade, Virtuoso; Gnaeus Crookedshade, Dragonhunter. Bottom row, left to right: Astor Sandshade, Scourge; Valeria Cloudshade, Bladestorm; Qara Paleshade, Renegade; Nona Aldershade, Soulbeast; Vesta Greyshade, Firebrand.

Quick little description; Qara is the leader and founder of the warband. She recruited Nona after her original warband were killed in combat, and Nona is her second-in-command. Cassia, Vesta, and Valeria were recruited shortly afterwards, with Valeria quickly becoming a core part of the warband, and assisting Qara and Nona with the day-to-day running of things. Maelstrom was picked up as a gladium- as a long-time rival of Cassia, this was not well recieved. Astor, Lux, Tanis, and Gnaeus were all recruited from the fahrar, though not all at the same time. Gnaeus is the youngest of the warband.

[scourgeblooms]

COMMANDER WEEK DAY 2: PROFESSION

Scourges channel their life force into the desert sands to summon biddable shades that damage enemies and create shields for their allies. They use punishment skills to torment their enemies, and wield torches to light the path to their destruction.

Living and the dead are united at the Necropolis. Bodies are brought from all over the domain to be preserved and judged.

Azi spent a lot of time at the Necropolis in the Domain of Vabbi after getting absolutely obliterated by Balthazar*

While healing/otherwise incapacitated, he got to know the Vabbians, their funerary rights, and the general vibe/ideals tied to necromancers/scourges.

He poured over tomes, scrolls, books, etc and did a good deal of his scourge training/practice within the grounds.

*(listen I know Vabbi wasn't discovered until after the events of PoF but I get a little sillay and loose with the exploration timeline during the events of PoF and LW4)

[lizdonnelly]

Second Circle, Ch. 1

Pairing: Elizabeth Donnelly x f!reader, shades of Alex Cabot x Olivia Benson Warnings: Smut, violence, references to alcoholism Summary: “We are each our own devil, and we make this world our hell.” Based on a request for Liz/f!reader's first time, and my own desire to write a series about Liz navigating romance amidst chaos. Loosely inspired by the events of 2x21 'Scourge' and a few details from 10x8 'Persona'.

---

Although the wind rattled against the windows of the banquet hall and the pinprick lighting of the chandeliers overhead flickered, the murmur of the gala continued on.

The air vibrated, alive with the weight of the tension that had wracked the city in the past few weeks and no doubt fueled by the media machine cranking out headline after headline, each more sordid and gruesome than the last.

Melinda's grip tightened on your elbow as another group approached. Your heart quickened at the sight of short, gelled back blonde hair and the heady perfume that wafted over. Anxiety tore at your stomach with molten claws.

"Doc Warner, glad to see you've made it," a bloodhound of a man said, leading the pack. He gestured towards you with his whiskey glass. "Elliot and Olivia give you enough time to make friends outside the morgue? I must not be pushing them hard enough."

Melinda patted your back. Heavily lined brown eyes scoured you from behind the bloodhound, appraising the manner in which Melinda had touched you. A cold bead of sweat slid down the back of your neck.

"Always glad to see you on the right side of the concrete, Captain," The medical examiner teased. "Especially these days. But yes, believe it or not, I do have time to run in other circles." A man with a voice as calm as the creek that ran beside your childhood home piped up. "Pleased to finally get the chance to meet you," he said with an easy smile and a tip of the head. This man carried himself with a centeredness that was hard to come by, even across the crowd of New York City's top professionals that had congregated that evening. "I've heard about your efforts at Mercy General. I can't imagine what you've had to deal with as of late." It was a line you'd heard plenty of variations of recently, but his sincerity seemed completely genuine. Although his eyes were warm, inviting pools of black ink, you couldn't shake the feeling that somehow he knew. Melinda turned to you with a smile, oblivious. "As you can probably tell, Dr. Huang is our resident psychiatrist," she said. "And a fed, at that," came that harsh, staccato voice you had become attuned to. You bit at the inside of your cheek. The psychiatrist-fed's gentle smirk grew. Thankfully, a pasty, bird boned blonde intruded, reaching out past Huang. "Alexandra Cabot, assistant district attorney," she said, wasting no time.

You shook her hand, surprised at the strength of her grip. Studying her gaze, you got the sense that events like this were easier for her to navigate than they were for other members of the party. She sipped at her champagne lightly and looked around, her stare lingering on the elevators as if she either wanted to leave or wished for someone else to arrive.

"Can't forget her royal highness," the bloodhound Captain joked, gesturing to the woman you'd been struggling not to address.

Dr. Huang spoke again in earthen tones and an air of alacrity. "There's no need to bother, Melinda. The only reason the Bureau Chief wouldn't have led the introductions," he paused, "is if this isn't a stranger to her." Liz rolled her eyes. You subconsciously tugged at the sleeve of the sweater that hung a little past your fingertips. "If you're so perceptive, Agent, then why did a sixth girl show up gutted like a fish at Grand Central this morning?"

---

Liz Donnelly hated courtroom restrooms. She had since the 70's, in fact.

On this occasion, though, she tolerated the lavender soap and the lukewarm water as she used the mirror to study the other woman.

The younger woman next to her scrubbed underneath her nails with a precision so adroit it had to be practiced. "If you're trying to scrub away evidence," the Bureau Chief piped up, "do me a favor and be less obvious." The woman's eyes widened, eyebrows rising. Liz leaned over and tugged playfully at the name tag dangling from the pocket on the woman's scrubs. The woman paused. "If you're trying to flirt with me," she finally whispered, "do me a favor and be more obvious."

The bathroom door swung on its hinges and in strode Olivia Benson, the SVU detective clearly in a tizzy and blind to the way the Bureau Chief and her conversation partner jumped apart like two opposing magnets. The strands on the back of her glossy brown pixie cut stuck up. As the detective ran a nervous hand through them again, Liz understood why.

"Got tired of listening to Cabot try to grill a child? Don't tell me she needs me back in there." Benson shook her head, slumping against the paper towel dispenser. "He got another one."

The detective muttered a quick apology, shifting aside to let the woman in scrubs dry her hands. Liz swallowed thickly.

"Sexually assaulted as well, I take it?" Benson eyed the prosecutor. The detective nodded exasperatedly. "She was an architect. Single, wasn't a user, friends are all model citizens." Benson sucked in her bottom lip and bit at it. "No vengeful ex-boyfriend, at that. Seems she had a gambling habit, but I've know plenty of girls who play the ponies, and all of them are still very much alive."

"However disparate these murders seem, there has to be a connection. Better make good use of that overtime, or you'll have more blood on your hands," Liz jabbed, gesturing towards the sink. The detective's brow furrowed.

"So this is the support we're going to get from our new Bureau Chief? How the hell are-"

Benson paused awkwardly as the woman in scrubs shuffled out the door, paying no mind to the quick finger waggling wave she threw at the prosecutor.

Liz managed a brief smile.

Benson looked towards the door, then back at the wiry woman before her in the starched black pantsuit.

Had there been a window in this particular courtroom restroom, Liz had half a mind to climb out it herself.

---

The bloodhound, whom you now knew as Cragen, thumbed the facets of his whiskey glass at the sound of the announcement.

A gentleman in a well-pressed suit and white gloves had called out across the banquet hall. The gala wouldn't be ending at its scheduled time, due to "inclement weather conditions", meaning the whole ordeal was to proceed for who knows how long. Fortunately, the waitstaff were headed back with fresh bottles and hor d'oeuvres as an apology for the inconvenience.

"I don't mean to pry, but does this have anything to do with-"

He cut you off with a somber shake of his head. He turned to face you, the capillaries webbing along the corners of his eyes swollen.

"This is news to me."

Cragen turned and headed back to the bar with a sniffle.

"They're doing a reasonable job of keeping everyone occupied, at least," came an even voice from behind you. Huang joined your side. Jet black pools still held a mirthful twinkle.

"Tell me something. How long have you and the prosecutor been involved with each other?" "This is the first time Ms. Cabot and I have met," you stammered. "You know that's not who I meant," he countered with a soothing grin. "Forgive my intrusion. You don't have to answer, if you don't want to."

The psychiatrist's musings were an unexpected relief to you. You felt the dam within your chest begin to burst, allowing you to finally speak on something you had kept locked up to yourself these past few weeks. "I'll forgive you, but only if you tell me how you knew," you laughed, tension evaporating from the edge of your voice. Huang nodded to himself.

"That's not your sweater."

You lowered your glass. "It's too long in the arms," he said, gesturing freely. Huang was one of the few who had not been drinking.

"It's not like I have much time to see a tailor," you tried to riposte. "True, but the odds that you and Donnelly wear the same perfume are not favorable," he said with an air of one revealing a royal flush. "My guess is that either she gave the sweater to you, or you're wearing it out of convenience. Alternatively, she could've asked you to wear it, knowing you'd cross paths tonight. She appears to be rather domineering, so that would not surprise me if it were the case."

It took everything in you to fight back the heat that rose in your cheeks at the bounce of his eyebrow.

"You make a hobby out of judging women's perfume?"

"I was a profiler in another life. It was more than a hobby to judge everything about a person." Huang's gaze followed Cragen as he made his way through the crowd across the room.

"Makes for a good party trick, I'll give you that."

Huang paused before turning back to you. His expression held an odd seriousness to it now. "I get the sense that I'm not the only one playing party tricks tonight."

---

Alex Cabot hadn't known Elizabeth for long, but she already didn't care to know the woman much longer.

The younger prosecutor checked her Cartier watch once more, eager for any distraction at this point. Somehow, neither clock hand had so much as budged. She squeezed her eyes shut amidst the bubbling conversation of the crowd in the godforsaken hall and thought of wide, chocolate brown puppy dog eyes and pixie cuts, of handcuffs and coffee cups.

"Alexandra, that look is not becoming on someone like you," an airy tone wafted over.

Lena Petrovsky, New York Supreme Court judge. Fuck. At this rate, she half expected Barry Moredock to round the corner and lecture her about some constitutional disservice she also happened to be encouraging this evening.

"Running all-nighters with the SVU shouldn't be taxing on someone from Harvard Law. But really, you look like hell, try to get some rest after this circus," Petrovsky said, gesturing around them. "You won't be of any use to the city if you keep burning the candle at both ends."

Alex opened her mouth to speak, but a harsh voice speared through her.

"From what I've seen so far, Ms. Cabot is no stranger to circuses," Donnelly jeered.

Alex was certain some snide joke about her courtroom performances was incoming, but she paused, shrieks cutting through the crowd behind them.

---

"This just in: at approximately 11:07 tonight, NYPD discovered the body of a young woman in Central Park. The cause of death? A large wound along the victim's neck, a similar M.O. to the recent string homicides that have shocked the city this past month. Although signs of sexual assault were present, no information is available yet as to the identity of the perpetrator. Investigators have identified the victim as local self-portraitist..."

Liz looped her arm around your shoulders, tugging you out of the bar and onto the street.

"I am not ruining one of the rare nights we both have to ourselves with more of that fear-mongering," she said. You shifted under the weight of the fur coat she shared with you, pressing yourself against her side. Although her voice was firm, you could tell she was rattled. She led you past throngs of men and women in pressed shirts and cocktail dresses, club promoters, and a man stumbling toward you with a box of pamphlets.

"They didn't call me in," you mused. Your brows knitted in confusion. Liz grabbed hold of your chin.

"And they won't," she seemed to command into reality through sheer force of will alone. She brushed her thumb across your lips. Rain gently began to fall overhead. The lights of the cabs clogging the street blurred.

You leaned forward, slipped her thumb into your mouth, and lightly sucked on it.

The prosecutor smirked. You were pleased with the fact that she appeared slightly taken aback by your boldness.

"Come on," she said with a gaze that told you she was a thousand miles away already.

You felt her breath hot against your ear as she tugged you into the back seat of a nearby town car.

"I have something else for you to suck on."

---

"Top her off," Cragen said to the bartender, tilting his glass across the counter.

Across the room, the band still played. The peeling notes of the saxophone reverberated across the inside of his skull. A dull throb continued to pound at the back of his eyes.

Looking down into the amber liquid, Cragen studied the panes of glass that stretched across the ceiling. More rain, more wind.

He couldn't kill in this.

Cragen took a swig.

Elliot and Olivia were still at the station, sifting through tips and folders full of supposed eyewitness accounts. Munch was no doubt trying his best to hold down the fort, but even his endurance, battle-tested over years in Baltimore homicide, was waning.

The brass thought maintaining appearances would comfort the public, although the Captain wondered how all of this pomp and circumstance could reassure anyone but those New York elites with the most fragile of egos.

He took another sip, turning back to watch ADA Cabot and Dr. Huang engaged in what appeared to be a heated argument. At least, heated on the blonde's end. Nearby, Doc Warner was caught in Judge Petrovsky's line of fire. He chuckled into his glass, thankful not to be in the good doctor's shoes.

Further off, Donnelly and the woman Melinda had introduced the group to were headed towards the restrooms. Cragen squinted. The Bureau Chief, with all five foot something's worth of bluster, was leading the other woman hand in hand. Something Arthur Branch had told him once made him chuckle.

Cragen went to take the final swig of his whiskey to finish off the glass, but noticed it was still full.

---

You stumbled through the doorway of Liz's brownstone, her hands quick to pull down your skirt. The door slammed shut. Her mouth pressed hot kisses up the side of your throat. Deceptively strong hands gripped at your ass.

"Upstairs," she husked.

Something fluttered in your stomach. Although you had gotten used to the feeling of the prosecutor's clever tongue in your mouth after a couple coffee dates, the two of you had yet to cross the threshold, so to speak.

Her hands guided you around the corner and up the flight of stairs, toying at the back of your bra. The sensation of her fingers trailing down your spine broke your brain. There could be no anxieties at this point, no thoughts for that matter, only Elizabeth Donnelly and her teeth at your throat and her pillows now pressed up against the back of your head.

The prosecutor leaned over you, nudging your legs aside. She began to drag her knuckle up and down the rapidly dampening fabric that clung to your slit. Heavily lidded brown eyes met yours.

"God Liz, I need you...I need it..."

You were embarrassed at the whine, embarrassed with how wet you already were for the woman.

"Need what?" her voice came coolly. She paused her ministrations to press a finger up against your hole. "This?"

You squeezed your eyes shut. "Please..."

Liz chuckled and hiked up the sleeve of her blazer.

"Since you beg so pretty," she said, "I guess I'll have to oblige."

You felt her tug your panties to the side, the sensation of her pressing a few quick kisses all across your mound and lips sending your heart into a spiral. Shortly afterwards, she helped you kick out of them, and her hands slid up to caress the insides of your thighs. Liz dragged her tongue up through your folds, praising how good you tasted. You moaned unabashedly now, desperation rising to a fever pitch.

"So impatient," she teased from between your legs as she lapped at you. You fought back another whine, the cry dying in your throat as you felt her climb up the bed and tug your body against her. She snaked a hand between your legs and slid a finger into you.

"Fuck, you're tight," her voice strained against a few strands of hair matted against your ear.

Your chest rose and fell rapidly as you tried to reply. "Speak up, sweetheart," she cooed, easing another finger into you.

"I want you to stretch me," you panted, clinging to lucidity.

She bit at your earlobe with a growl, a third finger slipping inside you now. Your head spun at as you felt yourself adjust to take even more of her. The air was now thick with the wet, wanton sounds of her pumping inside you. With each thrust, she stroked at a spot inside you that brought you closer and closer to your peak.

"I-I can't last much longer," you sputtered. You pressed back against her, hips rocking up into her palm. She sucked at a patch of skin underneath your jaw.

"Then cum for me," Liz said, beginning to stroke her thumb along your clit. She curled her fingers inside you and allowed you to roll your thighs against her hand.

The tension gripping your body snapped, your mind careening into the darkness as waves of pleasure rushed over you. Liz kept up her pace, pressing light kisses across your face. She talked you through your orgasm in crisp, honeyed tones in a manner you'd spend the next few days dwelling over.

When your heart finally calmed, she withdrew her hand, savoring the taste of you as she rose up off the bed. You watched her with a confused look, eyes straining against the shadows that cloaked the bedroom.

Her hand threaded into your hair, cupping the back of your scalp. Suddenly, she met you from the side of the bed.

You felt her pull you towards her, your face soon nuzzling up against the fabric of her slacks.

She tugged her zipper open with her free hand.

You wasted no time in starting to cover her panties in kisses, rewarded with a groan as she lolled her head back.

"That's a good girl," she said, voice straining. "Keep it up."

You reached up and tugged them down, lips wrapping around her clit. She laced both hands in your hair, pulling you closer. You leaned up, catching a glimpse of her through heavy lashes.

A thumb caressed your cheek.

"I can't wait to cum all over that pretty face."

You sucked harder.

---

Liz led you towards the restrooms, which were just outside the banquet hall in a hallway not so generously lit. The darkness served the mood well, though. Her mind wandered to thoughts of herself draped over your back, your legs parted wide enough for you to try taking her strap, her hips rutting into you with a ferocity that'd leave you with bruises she was proud to give you.

She wasn't sure if it was the booze or the fatigue calling the shots at this point, but neither prevented her from noticing your hand tugging free from her grasp.

The prosecutor turned in time to catch sight of a white glove cover your mouth.

[nibwhipdragon]

god, dear fucking god, the monster hunter movie was worse than humanly possible

WHY IS THE US MILITARY HERE?! WHY IS IT AN ISEKAI PLOT? WHY DOES THE HUNTER NOT KNOW WHAT CHOCOLATE IS?

if they wanted a monster to fight the military at least use a Bazelgeuse cause it's right up their alley

I'm putting this all under a cut because I ranted much more than I anticipated. All my thoughts on this stupid film are under the cut.

Anon this sounds like you've watched the film for the first time and. Man I am So Sorry. It was worse than what I expected it to be and my expectations were already at rock bottom. They used Gore in the advertising but it was only used as sequel bait??? Nasty. And there was gonna be a scene where it and Rathalos would fight in a shopping center or smth and MAN. That would've made the film a little bit enjoyable. The tiniest bit.

The film REALLY didn't need to be an isekai. If the director wanted to make his wife the protag (again. Why does he do this all the time. Give someone else a chance will you) why couldn't she have been a hunter? Either learning the ropes a la Legends of The Guild (a much better mh film you should watch if you haven't already) OR already a top tier hunter investigating an odd phenomenon. Not. That.

And the way the guns were useless on the Diablos??? (Why were the monsters so oddly big too) Hello. Bowguns. Ballistae. Barrel bombs. Gunlance. They could at least do SOME damage.

Also the hunter not knowing what chocolate is is INSANE. They have donuts canonically. They have coke canonically*. Is chocolate really that far of a stretch??? It's sugar and cocoa beans and milk. Not that hard to make and they sure have a lot of jungles so it's not like they can't find any cocoa beans.

IN MHW THEY LITERALLY HAVE CHOCOLATE COVERED APPLES AND DONUTS. COME ON. It's like the director just treated the entire world as this sort of primitive place, rather than a place that's just different to ours. They're quite technologically advanced: They have airships, sandships, the dragonator and dragonrazer, and massive boats that can have up to 3 dragonators at a time on it. Steam trains*² too. All highly complex mechanisms. Yes they all seem to run on steam pressure but honestly? I don't think they'd plunder oil from the earth the way we do, so it makes sense. And all the knowledge on all these monsters and how they work and stuff? That's certainly not primitive. Also how did the Admiral know English. No I'm not taking that stupid timeloop paradox quest that used to be in MHW as canon. Because What Is That.

WHY DOES THE ADMIRAL LOOK LIKE THAT, ACTUALLY?

Like cmon man. I can barely even see a resemblance. $60mil budget is actually fairly small for a film but COULD YOU NOT HAVE SPENT MORE OF THAT ON THE ADMIRAL'S DESIGN??? There was barely even any monster action in the film it was just Artemis and the hunter fighting. Surely the CGI didn't cost that much.

OK I went onto Wikipedia for that info and it led me to find out the director is British. Having a moment of silence to mourn the fact this scourge came from my home country.

Moving on. The insect glaive was shown at the end of the film. No kinsect. My brother in Christ THE KINSECT IS LIKE HALF THE WEAPON. IT'S IN THE NAME.

Another nitpick but the desert is so ridiculously empty I'm convinced the director doesn't know what a desert looks like (I know he wouldn't have been a concept artist. But he both and directed and wrote so I assume he has quite a bit of control over the other parts of the film's creation).

Like cmon. Sure some parts of deserts are quite empty, like the Sahara, but I doubt a big monster like Diablos is going to be chilling in a place with no shade and no cacti. It can go underground to avoid the heat when traversing but in no way would it hang about as much as it did in the film. No reason to there are more optimal environments for it within the desert. At least make the background visually appealing on basis of it being a film. Can't the sand at LEAST be orange-yellow?

Also Bazelgeuse bombing them in the film would've been hilarious to me I wish that happened

Anyways. Go watch Legends of The Guild. Purify yourself. Great animated film that expands on pre-existing characters and also gave us the great indication that the games seem to take place in chronological order. I love you Legends of The Guild

* As one of the meal items in one of the games, I can't remember. Coke is cinnamon and vanilla flavoured so it isn't too outlandish for them to have it as a drink imo

*² The felynes in Elgado use a mini one near the dango food place thingy. Sure it's small but the fact it exist makes the concept of large ones used for transport and the like not too far-fetched

[fereise]

Overhaul/Update version for one of my proudest works, a main cover art(?) for my little project call Robotnik AU.

Characters list:

Upper row/section (above Movie Eggman's hands), from left to right: - Sonic.exe (the utmost terrifying OC/FC from the creepy pasta thingy) - Queen Boom Boo, Merc version (OC/FC made by Dan-Habiki/@Dan_Daymaker) - King Boom Boo - Lah - Su & Uh - Shadow the Hedgehog (Team Dark) - Rouge the Bat (Team Dark) - E-123 Omega (Team Dark) - Dr. Eggman Nega - Doctor Albert W. Wily (Megaman, Archie comics) - Honey the Cat - Breezie the Hedgehog - Bocoe & Decoe + Bokkun - Dark Oak/Lucas - Dark Queen/Merlina - Erazor Dijinn - Coconuts - Scratch & Grounders - General Helmut Von Stryker - Anton Veruca (Shogakukan magazines) - Junior Robotnik - Captain Whiskers & Johnny - Opal the Jellyfish (Pirates of the Setting Dawn) - Dive the Lemming (Pirates of the Setting Dawn) - Blade the Shark (Pirates of the Setting Dawn) - Captain Shellbreaker (Pirates of the Setting Dawn) - Mr. Bristles the Yeti Crab (Pirates of the Setting Dawn) - Mephiles the Dark - Silver Sonic - Dark Enerjak (Knuckle) - Nazo (appeared in Sonic X's last teaser) - Eggette/Omelette Robotnik (famed OC/FC originally designed by Alpha Gamboa (blackbookalpha)) - Infinite the Jackal - Solaris - Black Doom - Eclipse the Darkling - Black Death - Dark Gaia (Perfect form) - Metal Sonic - Iron Queen aka Regina Ferrum - Time Eater - Mammoth Mogul - Iron King aka Jun Kun - Imperator Ix - Wendy Naugus - Bearenger the Grizzly (Witchcarters) - Carrotia the Rabbit (Witchcarters) - Falke Wulf (Witchcarters) - Walter Naugus - Fleetway's Super Sonic - Shade the Echidna - Boomer Walrus aka Anti Rotor - Patch D'Coolette aka Anti Antoine - Princess Alicia Acorn aka Anti Sally

Middle section (below Eggman's hands), from left to right: - Speedy (both Pre and Post-Super Genesis Wave versions) - Sage - T.W. Barker - Dave the Intern - Sleet & Dingo - A.D.A.M. - E.V.E. - Lyric the Last Ancient - Zor - Zash (OC/FC made by @saccharinerose) - Zeena - Zazz - Zomom - Zavok - Master Zik - Agent Stone (Sonic movies 2020/2022) - Orbot & Cubot - Wes Weasely - Snively Robotnik - Dr. Robotnik (Sonic movies 2020/2022) - Thunderbolt the Chinchilla - Predator Hawk (Destructix) - Anti-Miles - Scourge the Hedgehog - Storm the Albatross - Wave the Swallow - Jet the Hawk - Rosy the Rascal - Sleuth "Doggy" Dawg (Destructix) - Sergeant Simian (Destructix) - Fiona Fox (Destructix) - Duck "Bill" Platypus - Bark the Polar Bear - Bean the Dynamite - Drago Wolf (Destructix) - Nicolette 'Nic' the Weasel - Razorclaw - The Foreman (Grandmaster) - Hugo Brass - Diesel - Flying Frog (Destructix) - Geoffrey St. John - Hershey the Cat - Nack the Weasel/Fang the Sniper (Team Hooligan) - Fleetway's Chaos (Darkon fish form)

Lower section, from left to right: - Dr. Finitevus - Grimer Wormtongue - Dr. Fukurokov - Dimitri the Echidna - Maw the Thylacine - Mecha Sally - Mecha Sonic - Mecha knuckle - Jackal Squad, named by Nibroc-Rock as Uno, Deux, Trois, Quatre, Cinq & Sei (Shadowy figures) - Kayseri Valaedshkova (OC/FC made by dirtthefox/@Its_Dima_V) - Strike (OC/FC made by @speedofsoundsketches) - Surge the Tenrec - Kit the Fennec - Sofia the Gorgon (OC/FC made by Sofia-MMD/@GorgonSofia) - Clutch the Opossum - Kaibette the Genet (OC/FC made by @kaibette) - Rough & Tumble the Skunk - Battle Lord Kukku XV - ***Mecha Robotnik - Akhlut the Orca (both Pre and Post-Super Genesis Wave versions) - Tundra the Walrus - Mordred Hood (drawn with @adokle's style) - The Foreman/Tassel boy (Post-Super Genesis Wave) - Mimic (the Mimic Octopus) - Byte the Goat (OC/FC made by @bunniibones) - Lightning Lynx - Iblis - Phage - Conquering Storm (Post-Super Genesis Wave) - Bride of the Conquering Storm (Pre-Super Genesis Wave) - Dr. Starline - Biolizard - Sigma (Megaman, Archie comics) - Axel the Water Buffalo - Abyss the Squid - Cyani the Cobra (OC/FC made by @bunniibones) - Cipher the Owl (OC/FC made by @bunniibones) - Bleak (OC/FC made by HT-Doodles/@HtDoodles) - Clove the Pronghorn (my top fav among all the characters here) - Cassia the Pronghorn - Lien-da - Chaos - Tikal the Echidna - Pachacamac - Gae-Na - Kragok - Thrash the Devil - Warden Zobotnik & Znively (Zone Cop) - Belinda & Charlie - Nephthys the Vulture - ??? (Behind Nephthys) - Trevor Burrow the Mole (Desert Raiders) - Sonar the Fennec (Desert Raiders) - Spike the Porcupine (Desert Raiders) - Razor the Shark - Queen Angelica - Rusty Rose - Robo Tails (Brain-washed, based on Sonic Lost World's designs) - Beauregard Rabbot - Jack Rabbit - Matilda the Armadillo - Zefir (my main OC/FC) - Gamer Deer (aka 'Aleko' the Northamer Guard or the 'Gamerdeerdude' by @adokle) - Zonic (Zone Cop) - Chesah the Tarsier aka No.29 (my OC/FC) - Sandy the Caterkiller (OC/FC made by @the-hydroxian-artblog)

For the Alt version: FeReinsm on Instagram: “Overhaul/update versions for one of my proudest works, a main cover art(?) for my lil’ project - Robotnik AU. For the 2nd and 4th pics…”

[materwelonposts]

Hey again, here’s a drawing that I made.. uhh.. a while ago. Anyway, her name is Dove and I’ve been meaning to post her here for a few weeks, but it felt like so much work to explain these guys (they’re my own tribe). However I am currently ready and have the time to do it! So if you are interested, get ready for a big drop of lore.

These dragons are known as the SpiritWings. They are a tribe of dragons hidden away from all the others. They live in a hollowed out mountain that was enchanted centuries ago by an animus to be hidden from the rest of the world. It’s said that a SpiritWing dragonet is born whenever a dragon of another tribe dies.

No one’s quite sure how these dragons live, but it is widely believed that they are fairly civilized and do bow to a queen. They have tools and books, and have managed to find light sources despite their lack of fire. These lights are used to grow many types of plants for them to eat.

SpiritWings have long, slender bodies with feathered wings. They always have some sort of tail fin, whether it’s feathers or wing membrane. They have 11 horns that form an arch around the back of their head (think the shape of Stormfly’s horns from How to Train Your Dragon) and there’s wing membrane connecting between them. They can have a wide variety of colors, being most pale shades. Their eyes can also be in any light color, always with a colored pupil.

These dragons don’t have many recorded abilities, they have no fire and no animi. (Is that plural for animus? Idk I’m using it) They are known to be perfect mimics, being able to recreate any sounds that they hear. This ability and the appearance of their horns make some believe that they may have some distant relation to RainWings. SpiritWings are also rumored to be slightly telekinetic, moving small objects with their minds. However this is just a rumor, and should be taken with a grain of salt.

SpiritWings are omnivores, they’ll eat just about any food put in front of them. Because of their light scourges, they eat many of the same foods that dragons on the surface do.

There are a few ways a SpiritWing can be named. They can be named after gems, the color of their scales, or something related to/considered “pure”. Some example names are Jade, Emerald, Russet, Lavender, Dove, and Sacred.

I did not read over this after I read it and I had to rewrite some parts to make sure the correct meaning was conveyed, so sorry if there are any spelling or grammar mistakes!

[krisssssssy]

This is technically for Ardyn's birthday on 4/30, but I was too impatient. Give this man a happy ending. I will post the text here, since it's short, but you can read on AO3 via the link above.

Summary: Ardyn wakes after the events of Dawn of the Future, reunited with his beloved.

Audience: Teen and Up

It was the warmth of the sun against his closed eyelids that stirred Ardyn from his slumber.

He blinked his eyes open, the light nearly blinding, as if he had not opened them in a millennia, or more. It hurt, he realized, the harsh rays of what seemed to be a mid-afternoon sun. Yet, it did not hurt as it had once. The scourge beneath his skin was oddly quiet.

As his eyes adjusted, he glanced around, finding himself in a place he often visited in dreams. Fields of golden wheat flanked him on all sides, and a great Linden tree grew marvelously to his right, little yellow buds bursting forth from its leaves. He could smell it - not just the earthy scent of the wheat, but the sunny, honey-fragranced blossoms from the tree. He had forgotten, somehow, what this place smelled like, and it made his heart ache.

In all his dreams, whether set upon him by his own tortured mind, or from the Bladekeeper himself, he had never felt the sun on his face, or breathed in the natural scent of the world around him. This alone motivated him to sit up, anticipating the usual ache of his limbs, the stirring of the scourge in his veins whenever he moved. But there was nothing. He felt, for the first time in how many thousands of years, light. He moved his arm about in front of him, testing the sensation.

A familiar, tinkling laugh flooded his ears, the sound so overwhelming his eyes began to water. He scanned the environment, turning his body with an uncharacteristic ease. The sun behind her cast her frame in shadow, but he recognized her, of course. She was a frequent visitor, though it was difficult, at times, to ascertain whether it was the woman from his memories, or from the Bladekeeper’s dark visions.

“Ardyn,” she called out, drawing out his name on her lips, her voice as carefree and beautiful as he remembered. Sometimes in dreams, her face was but a shadow, or missing entirely, and it caused him great anguish upon waking. But as she grew closer, he saw her, clearer than he could ever remember.

Was this some trick? he pondered. He knew the Gods’ own cruelty too well to trust that such visions would be benevolent, and he eyed her, cautiously, though his heart raced with affection.

She stopped suddenly, setting her hands against her hips, her face set in a scowl. “You cannot greet your fiancée properly?”

Ardyn looked up at her, confused. In all his dreams she had never been like this. He began to laugh, daring for a moment to believe this truly was his beloved.

She made a “hmph” sound, looking away from him for a moment, before she moved towards him once more. “Do you know how long I’ve waited for you, my love?”

She stood above him, hands at her hips, looking as petulant and beautiful as he remembered. She wore her traditional Oracle gown, a white cotton draped delicately over her small frame, golden bangles clinking on her wrists. Her hair was as he remembered, cut short, just above the shoulders, and the same shade of blonde as the linden tree blossoms that were scattered on the grass. Her eyes were a brilliant cerulean, so similar to the eyes he once had, before the scourge had turned them a sickly yellow. My Aera, he thought. His heart felt as if it might burst.

“This is a strange dream,” he said aloud, and Aera huffed, crossing her arms over her chest.

“I know!” she said, excitedly, before kneeling down before him and grabbing his hand.

He looked at his fingers curiously as she held them, no longer adorned by his usual leather gloves, and he realized he was not wearing his usual clothing at all. He had on his old linen shirt, and simple trousers - what he used to wear, however many hundreds of years ago.

He felt a sudden pain radiating from his hand, and he looked in stunned surprise as Aera bit him, her teeth sinking into the flesh of his index finger. In all his many dreams, she had never done that. He gasped, trying to comprehend that what he was feeling was actual pain.

In all the time he had lived with the scourge, his body grew dull to most sensations. Even the harshest pain was like a faint touch, the only sensation, truly, was the one of the scourge writhing within himself. That ached, of course, but the pain of the scourge drowned out everything else, so that even when Noctis had defeated him, even those feelings were overwhelmed by the scourge dancing inside him like an unruly flame.

He furrowed his brow. Noctis had defeated him. So where was he now?

Aera was looking at him expectantly, her teeth still embedded in his finger.

“Is this the Beyond?” he asked, though in truth, it did not look as he remembered.

She released his finger. “No, you silly man. There is no Beyond, not anymore. Don’t you remember?”

He tried to remember. “The Chosen King,” he said slowly. “He killed me.”

Aera flung herself dramatically against the grass beside him, huffing. “You don’t remember anything!”

He smiled at her, despite his confusion. He had forgotten in all this time how endearing she was, how genuine her emotion, the way her eyes seemed to twinkle, an everpresent love and affection always radiating off of her. The true Oracle, he thought. His Oracle.

He reached his hand out to touch hers, so small in comparison, yet when he looked at her, he was in awe of her strength. How much stronger she had always been, compared to him. Did she not realize what he had become?

She looked over to him and smiled, her eyes squinting closed. When she opened them once more, she frowned, seeing the doubt and grief on his face. “This is no place to be sad, my love.”

“Where are we?” he asked, so afraid that if he closed his eyes, he would wake up from this dream, and be cocooned by darkness once more. His eyes watered.

“We are in the realm of possibility,” she said matter-of-factly. “The Chosen King did not kill you, my love. You sacrificed yourself to rid Eos of the Astrals and the Bladekeeper’s tyranny. The Beyond is no more.”

He tried to remember, but it was like trying to recall a dream upon waking, like sand slipping through his fingers. There was a comfort, though, that Aera would remember for him.

She smiled and looked over to him, squeezing his hand. “You are a hero.”

“A hero?” he asked, incredulously. “I am no hero.”

“Ah, Ardyn,” she said wistfully, scooting closer to him and laying her head upon his shoulder. “You took Noctis’s place as the sacrificial King, felt the blades of the 13 before - well, after you, I suppose. To not only dispel the darkness, my love, but to grant Noctis a new life. He succeeded in destroying the Bladekeeper, and that is why you are here now, and not trapped endlessly in the Beyond.”

“You are real,” he said quietly.

She whipped her head up towards him animatedly, her eyes full of a kind of stubborn heat. “I am! And I can bite you again, if you forget.”

He began to weep, unsure why, of all her words, it was these that made him believe. He laughed between his sobs, his chest heaving, and Aera flung herself around him, squeezing him so tightly his breath caught.

He wiped the tears from his face, annoyed that he was crying, because it always stained his face and clothing an ugly purple. But when he looked at his hand it was clear. He wiped it against his white linen shirt, to be sure, but there was no trace of the scourge.

“You no longer have such a curse upon you, my love. You are free.”

“Is this…heaven?” he asked, tentatively, wondering if perhaps the Astrals were simply a microcosm of something even larger - was there a God that existed above the Bladekeeper himself? What remained? Evidently, there was something, and he felt foolish, for all this time believing the Universe to be so narrow.

“You could call it that. But no word can sufficiently define it. I said before, this is the realm of possibility. Where we go from here, my love, is our choice.”

“I want to stay here, with you,” Ardyn said, firmly. Aera grinned at him, and shoved him back onto the grass, pushing on his chest. She straddled him, her face mischievous, and he simply gazed up at her awestruck by her beauty. How had he forgotten?

“You are still plagued with regret,” she said.

Ardyn was silent for a moment. “Yes,” he agreed.

“It’s only natural,” she said simply, “But you must understand, my love, the slate can be wiped clean. You are you, now, truly. My Ardyn.”

“I…I will try. I put my faith into you, entirely,” he said, looking upon his fiancée with reverence.

She smiled. “You are wise to do so,” she said teasingly. “We have an eternity, my love. The memories of your time enveloped in darkness are already fading.”

“What have I done to deserve such an afterlife?”

“It is as all creatures deserve. Someday we will dissolve back into the Source, to be remade, anew.”

He did not truly understand, tears still spilling from the corners of his eyes. Aera’s gentle fingers brushed them off his cheeks, and she leaned down, placing a soft kiss against his lips.

Why had he ever left her? he thought, returning her kiss, threading his hand through her golden hair. In the time before Angelgard, he had sought to rid the world of the scourge, entirely by himself, leaving Aera alone. Now the thought seemed utterly mad. He could not leave her side, now.

“I love you,” he said, the words bursting forth as if by reflex, forceful and intense.

Aera giggled, pressing her forehead to his. “I have loved you always, and I will love you always still.”

She rolled off of him to lay on her side, facing him, her hand coming to his cheek. Ardyn slipped an arm over her waist, pulling her body into his, breathing in her fresh, floral smell, the scent of sylleblossoms flooding his senses. It calmed him, whatever sorrow and regret he felt before fading in her presence.

“She who moves Heaven and Earth,” Ardyn said softly, remembering the verse from the Cosmogony.

Aera laughed, kissing his face. “And I would move them once more, if it led me to you.”

----

Thank you for reading! I know I make Aera a bit sassier than she appears in Episode Ardyn but she IS quite sassy in the Prologue, so whatever. Ardyn loves it.

[superscourge]

Major 'tism had me thinking about it but Scourge is kind of like Sonic's Wario now that that anon has me thinking about it. Wario and Waluigi are supposed to be the reflections of M&L with their phys attributes done to the extreme but their personalities are wildly different.

Mario is chunky and a bit short and all around kind to everyone while Wario has every part of him wide, pretty dang short and is only decent if it benefits him lol. Weegee is somewhat tall and a little lankier than Mario, while Walu is so LANK and TALL, it puts the definition to shame, with Lu being a bit nervous overall while Walu is an attention whore.

Sonic is seen as cool, with a simple yet sleek design wise, confident in doing what he thinks he should and a bit impatient but can chill out. Scourge has that extreme 🤘 cool vibes maxed out to what american culture thinks is cool for his design: tinted red shades, a slick leather jacket that's tattered at the hand openings, shark-like chompers and thick boots that have a good amount of detail, not looking out of place in an american shoe collection tbh. And person wise, he has tried time and time again to find himself and falling apart when he realizes he only has an ego, not real confidence like Sonic has, such as when he attempted to threaten Mobius Jules. He's such a good Anti to Sonic since Metal fits more as a metal doppelganger like MechaGodzilla or Cyborg Superman and Shadow is obviously his own thing at this point.

sorriez for the rant I just god I love scourge so much and he def doesnt get as much as love on here as he did like the early youtube days lol I am very interested and loving your thoughts on who he is, thank u 👏

NO NEED TO BE SORRY i love analyses like this lol, thank u for sharing !!! <33

and i agree, i see a lot of scourge love in my circles at the very least but ive heard a lotta ppl say he doesnt get hardly any outside of that so thats saddening :( but ya he needs it

[theladyofbloodshed]

A Court of Tangled Flames - Chapter 34

(Final chapter!! Huge thank you to everybody who has read/enjoyed this fic. There will be an epilogue to follow...)

Being the lady of the court turned out to be just as tedious as Nesta thought it would be. She was glad the title of high lady would not be thrust upon her – but was there any difference between the two? It was nice to a degree; people were always glad to make her acquaintance but it went on and on and on. Servants and courtiers trailed her every move; they copied her fashion so nearly all of the females now wore their hair in coronets or were seeking ways to lighten it to her shade of burnished gold; she could not walk down the corridor without a gaggle whispering behind her. Eris found it all very funny.  He had taken to calling her mother goose.

When her darling husband offered her the chance to flit away for a few hours in secret, Nesta nearly snapped his hand off in anticipation. No servants, no guards, just smokehounds.

They were returned to the lake that she had once knocked him into. Her lips curled at the memory.

They lay out a thick, red tartan blanket onto a patch of grass. Being near the lake still invoked some fear in Nesta, but a comforting hand from Eris smoothed away her fears. The dogs tore off, one after the other, chasing dragonflies or leaping into the water with no care at all. For a time, Nesta watched them. She held her breath, anticipating one of their smokehounds being pulled to the lakebed by a kelpie. When nothing bad happened, she loosed the breath she’d been holding.

It felt like weeks since she had seen Eris properly – but, in reality, it had only been a week. One week since Beron had died. In that week, Eris had wasted no time in scourging his filth from every corner of the Autumn Court. It was no longer a court of decay and rot, but one of new beginnings and fresh chances. Nearly all of the secret pockets that he had cultivated for many years were unturned so that his followers could be in the open, ushering in change. Lucien had not agreed to re-join the court, but had agreed to a weekly meal with his family, much to his mother’s delight.

They feasted on rolls that were still warm with thick wedges of butter and cheese on top. To ensure she didn’t want to kiss him, Eris gorged himself on pickled onions too.

A brilliant blue sky remained above their head as Nesta forced herself to eat another sticky bun rather than waste it.

‘Do you trust me?’

The question caught Nesta off guard. She paused mid-bite, frowning slightly. Yes, she trusted him. Eris had never given a reason to be doubted so she told him as much.

His hand wound through her hair – the only person she’d allow to do such a thing. ‘There may be a time soon where I will do things where I need you to trust me without question. Know that everything I do is for you.’

‘Follow you blindly?’

She moved onto her knees on the blanket, feeling the slight divots in the earth beneath. His jaw was rigid, mouth a flat line. Although Nesta recognised the cunning in those amber eyes, she still waited for the teasing grin or mischief to brighten his features. When it didn’t come, she pressed, ‘What do you mean?’

‘For innocence’s sake, I won’t tell you. I only ask for your trust.’

It unsettled her, but that reasonable part of her reassured her that Eris was responsible.

‘Thank you for having faith in me.’

‘I always do.’

If only the day could be eternal. He was a high lord and she his wife, but amongst the swaying trees beside the lake, they were just two who were madly in love. She had thought of his words from a few nights earlier – the declaration that their love mattered more because they had chosen each other – and it still had heat blooming in her chest. And it did matter more. Eris had come to her at one of her lowest points and been the steady hand that reached for her, guiding her, comforting her. Love had been an afterthought. Right from the beginning, he had been driven only by a need to see happiness radiate from her once more. Had she ever been happy like this? Every day in Eris’ presence as his wife felt like she was shedding another layer, removing all of the defences that she had built for years and years. Only he knew the real her hidden beneath it – only he deserved to know her. Only he had seen somebody else underneath. Sometimes she felt like a princess trapped in a tower; any prince who had showed interest found the tower too high, too arduous to climb, not worth the effort to try and reach her. Not her Eris.

Her husband had a hand underneath his auburn head, with eyes closed as the sun kissed his pale skin. Nesta had met many types of fae now; some blue with shimmering skin, others with wings or tails. Eris still struck her as the most faerie of all. He was ethereal in a way; those sharp features would be so at odds compared to human men, his keen amber eyes were unlike any she had ever seen before, and the calculation, the ability to always be ahead of anybody else even when it wasn’t his game, was so purely fae.

‘I am very proud of you,’ she murmured, stroking against the smooth skin of his forehead.

He peeped open one eye then shielded his face from the sun shining behind her. ‘What have I done?’

‘Everything. You have done everything. And you do it all before anybody else can even notice. You have the quickest mind of anybody I know and a heart that should never have been allowed to be hidden.’

For centuries, Eris had waded through the taunts as the cruel heir to the Autumn Court throne, relished in it even. But Eris did love, and he loved deeply. He had never been allowed to chance to show it.

Eris tugged her down beside him so they could doze together beside their abandoned picnic.

She extended a hand to keep the hounds from trying to lick her as she cosied up beside Eris. ‘The council want you to have an heir.’

‘I don’t care what they want. My father wanted me to have an heir too. If that’s not a good sign to do the opposite then I do not know what is.’

Nesta swallowed. ‘But you do need an heir.’

Warily, he turned to look at her. He exhaled a long breath. ‘Are you offering your services or do you have something to tell me?’

The hesitation in his expression made Nesta wish she had never broached the subject, but with that intense gaze upon her skin, she had to answer. ‘I want children. Not yet. But I do.’ She swallowed again because her throat was suddenly dry and painful. ‘You do not want children?’

Resting on his elbows, Eris squinted out towards the forest. His eyes tracked a leaf as it broke free from its branch and caught on a light wind. ‘And run the risk I become like him?’

Though he tried to mask it, Nesta saw the raw wound beneath. It was a fear she shared, not for him, but for herself. A cold mother who saw her daughter as a tool to climb the social ranks with. A grandmother who beat her for not meeting their strict standards of perfection.

‘You can be the one to be different. You already are different.’

‘He was once. I have memories of him taking me hunting, teaching me to ride, laughing and lifting me into the air when he caught me sitting on his throne.’ Eris shook his head. ‘It was long ago. I wonder sometimes if they were real – if I made them up because I wanted a father’s love, not his fists.’

She wound her fingers into his. ‘I won’t ever pressure you. If it’s not something you want then-’

‘I do. It’s a fear that will always be there, but I would love to have children with you. Not yet – I plan to enjoy my wife for at least three hundred years because I don’t think I could possibly share you.’ Eris swooped upon her, pressing sloppy kisses on her neck. ‘The idea of you loving someone more than me? Abhorrent.’

‘Can you imagine a smaller version of you? I don’t think I’d be able to cope with two of you. I’d never get a chance to speak.’

It made him chuckle. ‘Imagine my beauty and your brains. Prythian wouldn’t stand a chance with that child.’

He was ridiculous and she loved him for it. Eris rummaged through their basket, eyes brightening with joy at the sight of more smoked cheese hidden at the bottom. He ate it from the block like a mouse.

As a child, with her head filled with dreams, Nesta always imagined herself with two daughters. Two miniature versions of her with the same grey eyes and golden hair. They’d sit and sew and she’d send them off to kind men when they were older. Now in her imaginings, it was a son walking beside her with his own smokehound. A boy with his father’s auburn hair and the same quick talking to get out of trouble. A little boy to share her stories with and spend time in the forest with.

The future wasn’t scary anymore. It was something to look forward to.

‘How private is this place?’

‘Very. Why do you ask?’

Nesta gave a slight smirk. ‘Would you like to undress your wife, high lord?’

It was a summons that Eris could not ignore. He slipped her dress from her shoulder, kissing the bare skin that was exposed then the other so her dress fell around her waist.

‘You next.’

He wasted no time in pulling off his umber, silk waistcoat and unbuttoning the shirt beneath. His eyes trailed from hers down her body. ‘Your turn.’

At the first moments of Nesta removing her shoes, Eris could not resist jumping in. The straps were loosened, the shoes slipped off, then her stockings.

‘Everything?’ His amber eyes canvassed the ivory slip covering her modesty.

Nesta sprawled out on the blanket, tucking her hands beneath her head. ‘I am yours to command, high lord.’

In a practised movement, he yanked his leather belt from his trousers then removed them too. He loved to be naked. Even in the woods.

As the air blew over her bare skin, Nesta gave a little shiver. ‘Cover me.’

His body was always so deliciously warm, but Eris flipped them, so she lay, as bare as the day she was born, on top of him.

‘Your high lord has been working far too hard. You can be on top.’

‘What an honour to bestow on me, oh benevolent one.’

She spread her thighs and guided him inside of her. The contented feeling of being full had Nesta letting out a soft moan. Eris gazed up at her through heavy-lidded eyes, perfectly happy to lay back and let her ride. Nesta raised her hips up and down, feeling his length sliding in and out. The glide was made easy by her arousal. Her hands pressed against his smooth chest, giving her an anchor to brace her weight against. The warmth of his body around her thighs coupled with the whispering wind stroking her back gave into new sensations.  

Eris was lost to her body. His eyes remained fixed on her breasts as they bounced then a warm hand had to be filled by one. He never could resist, despite the shows he made of keeping his attention on her face.

His hips began rising up from the blanket to fill her with all of him. From their hours spent cavorting in the forest, Nesta had shed any hesitations long ago. Her moans came unrestrained, even when Eris pulled her down and clutched onto her. She could do nothing but press her teeth into the flesh of his shoulder as he thrust harder, faster, until all the sense was gone and there was only him.

‘Eris?’

 At the sound of a male’s voice calling through the woods, Nesta flew from her husband as if she had been shocked by a bolt of lightning.

‘Very private?’ She hissed.

With heat burning in her cheeks, Nesta scrambled to turn her clothes the right way round and pull them on hurriedly.

The smokehounds had followed the source of the voice. Their barks shifted to excited whining and yipping.

Eris groaned, pulling on his trousers. ‘Remind me why I removed Lucien’s exile.’

‘It’s Lucien? How does he know about this place?’ Nesta turned for Eris to button the back of her dress up.

‘Who do you think taught him to catch a fish with his bare hands?’

The male jogged towards them, face pale. He made no comment on what he had interrupted in the woods. ‘Feyre. The baby.’

***

The secret city unfurled before them. It wasn’t the sculpted mountains of Illyria or the hard, black stone of the Hewn City. The city was flanked by a winding river that sparkled under the spring sunshine with deepest sapphire. Beyond, lay the sea. There were mountains here, but they were flat-topped and red stone, so unlike the behemoths of Illyria. He filtered through information Nesta had told him and located the home she was imprisoned in, carved into the dizzying height of the mountain. An expanse of buildings built from marble or sandstone covered the city. Eris spied green copper roofs and white chimneys. And not enough trees. It made him shudder. A secret, special city it might have been, but he felt woefully uncomfortable in it.

Lucien had already set off crossing a bridge towards a large estate near the river. Nesta held onto the crook of Eris’ elbow to lead him in pursuit. He tried to examine every inch of the city, to commit it all to memory to record later.

A wraith opened the door before they reached it. She blinked in apparent shyness then slunk away.

‘Fetch your healer,’ came a voice from above.

Mor raced down the stairs then leaped the last couple.

Eris gripped Nesta’s hand tightly. Imploring her to trust him. ‘Where is Cassian?’

‘Eris.’

‘Cassian,’ he repeated to his once-betrothed, without a single care in the world.

The brute lumbered down the stairs at the summons. His hazel eyes washed over Nesta in a familiarity that he had not earned. Eris took another step forward, shielding Nesta slightly.

‘Fetch the healer,’ snapped Mor once more.

Eris held up a finger. ‘No. I don’t think I will bring Orla here.’

He gave a gloating grin though he enjoyed none of this. The trust that Nesta put in him was hanging by a thread and he knew he could not keep pushing it with her sister’s life on the line. Trust me, he wished he could say to her. Trust that I will make this right.

‘I gain nothing from this.’

Beside him, Nesta kept her jaw clenched together. The hand holding his was growing increasingly tighter too, almost painful which he was sure was deliberate.

‘Let’s strike a deal. I bring my wonderful healer. The high lady is saved. The high lord is saved. The heir to the Night Court is saved. And then I want nothing more to do with this court.’

‘With pleasure,’ snarled Mor.

Eris tutted. ‘You didn’t let me finish, Morrigan. In return, Cassian must sever the bond with my wife.’

***

The absolute bastard.

He’d hold Feyre’s life ransom for this. He hated the male. Hated that either way, Cassian lost. Choose Feyre’s life and he’d lost his mate. Choose Nesta and he’d still lose her for picking her over her sister’s life, then lose Feyre and Rhys too. There really was only one option, but it would ruin him.

‘Tick tock, Cassian,’ said Eris, a slow smile spreading across his sharp face, knowing the battle that raged inside of his head.  

Cassian turned to Nesta, begged her to at least look at him rather than looking through them. She did not even notice his attention. Eris did. His spine stiffened then he said, ‘Sever the bond or we go home. Your high lady will die.’

Mor turned her attention on Nesta. ‘She is your fucking sister, you heartless bitch.’

‘Stop,’ Cassian said, voice hard and firm before Eris could inevitably defend his wife. Indeed, the male’s lip was pulled back, ready to spit vitriol towards Mor.

Cassian knew he should have said stop long ago. Should never have let Mor speak badly of Nesta to him, never have entertained her need to put a buffer between herself and Azriel by using him. Every time that he let Mor chip away at Nesta, it put distance between him and his mate. She was too far to reach now. The comfort that she had needed had been found in a different male’s arms. The gentle care he should have given her was offered by a different male; one who appreciated every part of her.  

Eris had won long ago. The bastard changed the rules at every turn, did things that only he had the slipperiness to do. He had out-manoeuvred Cassian at every turn.

Rhys would never ask him to break a bond, would never put that on him. But his high lord was going to die. His high lady was dying now. How could Cassian live with himself if he let them die for the sake of a bond that Nesta didn’t even want?

His world felt as if it was collapsing in on itself. He should never have taken her on the hike. Should have gone to her straight after the war and been the male she needed.

‘I’ll sever the bond.’

‘Took a little time for your mind to calculate that,’ said Eris with another false smile. ‘Normal with so many blows to the head. I want it done officially. Forgive me for not trusting an Illyrian’s word. Make a deal with me; a magical vow that you cannot circumvent.’

Mor seethed beside them and even Lucien appeared uncomfortable by this arrangement. Cassian still looked to Nesta, imploring her to look at him, just once. The female remained with her grey eyes down at the floor even when Eris extended a hand to Cassian to confirm their deal. Ink sizzled against his skin – the golden burn of autumn wrapped around his wrist in four coils of ivy.

‘Darling, will you fetch Orla. I’ll remain here.’

Nesta’s hand slipped out of Eris’ then she was gone, winnowed away. He had not known she even possessed the ability to do it. They’d been more focused on thrusting a blade into her hand than to recognise the weapons already in her arsenal.

‘You are a fucking bastard, Eris. You always have been. Always will be.’ Mor’s face was white with fury.

‘Do you know why I left you in those woods?’

Her face blanched then. Cassian took a step closer to her. ‘We’re not talking about-’

‘You know,’ he said softly, almost tenderly. ‘You’ve always known why. You would have fallen to rot and ruin in my court. The kindest thing I could do was push you away. You won’t ever admit that I could be kind to you.’

A tear dropped down her cheek. ‘You call leaving me bleeding in the woods kindness?’

‘What did you want, Morrigan? For me to gallantly carry you to the Forest House and present you to my father? You know that Beron has always been worse than Kier. You know what he would have done to you.’ The intensity of his stare was alarming. Cassian had never seen the male so white-hot with his anger. It was quiet but not powerless. The breath before the storm. For five hundred years, he had weathered being the cruel betrothed who had left Mor bleeding in his forest. ‘If you want me to be the villain, that’s who I will be. I would have been kind to you, make no mistake, but I did what was best for you, even if you cannot accept that. I would never have hurt you, but do not think for one second that I will not bring down the sky on anybody who dares to make my wife unhappy – and that includes you. You will not speak badly of her again.’

All of them were in a stark silence when Nesta finally winnowed back to them with the healer. A heavy bag was in her hand, her hair drawn into a long braid. Wasting no time, or to break the stalemate, Lucien gave a nod then led the way up the stairs.

‘How long has she been bleeding?’

‘Long enough,’ came Mor’s sharp reply.

In a plush bedroom, the high lady lay on the bed, face as pale as the grave. Sweat mottled her brow. Rhys had his head in his hands beside her, bereft with worry and Elain gripped Feyre’s frail hand. Both Amren and Azriel stood against a wall, faces equally grave.

Madja hovered over her, sending waves of magic to manage the pain. ‘She’s very weak.’

‘Why didn’t you do something sooner?’ The Autumn healer spat. ‘Before it got this far.’

‘A babe is treasured.’

‘Not above its mother. Move.’

The healer’s hands went to Feyre’s stomach, feeling the position of the babe. Her brow pulled downwards and Cassian felt his stomach tighten in horror.

‘I need to cut her and it needs to be now.’

There was a battle to be heard amongst the voices. It suddenly seemed like a terrifying idea to have a healer from the Autumn Court near Feyre. Rhys made that fact known. As did Mor and Amren, who called her a butcher. Eris retaliated.  Lucien called for peace. Then Nesta wrapped the room in her unholy silver fire and demanded that anybody who did not want to be incinerated should leave at once to give Orla peace.

All of them waited in the hallway outside, sick to their stomachs – bar one. Eris kept his eyes fixed upon the door as if he could see through it, face calm. Azriel paced. Other than that, they were silent. Only the Archerons, Rhys, and the healers remained in the bedroom.

The enduring silence went on and on, echoing through the halls of the river estate.

Then, the smallest cry rang out.

Cassian felt his heart tighten at the sound. The siphons on his leathers pulsed in answer to it.

Their boy was born.

Only time would tell about Feyre.

Mor’s hand gripped his in the quiet hallway. The cry only came once – a tiny, delicate thing.

‘If she’s died because you delayed-’

Eris waved a hand through the air. ‘She was going to die without Orla’s help regardless. Tell Rhysand not to fuck his wife when she has wings.’ His eyes flitted to Cassian. Disgust flashed on his face at the sight of his wings. ‘Thank goodness Nesta will never be in this situation.’

‘She is his mate,’ came Amren’s voice.

Eris snorted. ‘Not for much longer.’

***

It had been the most terrifying thing that Nesta had ever witnessed. A cold fear had gripped her throughout. At one point, Elain had even snatched Rhysand’s hand while Madja pressed a hand over her mouth.

Nothing seemed to scare Orla though. That steadfastness prevailed. Always calm, always steady.  She worked with precision, issuing clear orders to Nesta to follow. Her entire mind shut down and just listened to the healer’s commands. Applied pressure where she was told to. Held gauze where Orla pointed to.

When the babe was born, Madja took him, which left Orla to guide Feyre through the land of the living. Her hands never tired as she stitched the skin together. She pressed Nesta constantly to inform her on Feyre’s breathing – how shallow, how quick – or to count her pulse.

Then it was done.

Feyre slept in an enchanted sleep, but Orla was happy that she was stable. The healer’s fire leapt up in the hearth, flooding the room with a warmth that felt unnecessary for such a beautiful spring day, but she insisted that Feyre must be kept warm.

The babe was in Elain’s arms now, slumbering already.

‘A difficult pregnancy makes for an easy baby,’ said Orla, a smile quirking on her lips.

Nesta wasn’t sure if Rhysand had even looked at the child. All of his attention had been on his mate. The horror still hadn’t quite left his expression. One of her hands remained clasped between hers as she slept.

‘Congratulations,’ said Nesta. ‘You have a son, high lord.’

Madja cleared her throat. ‘You have a daughter, actually.’

A crop of dark hair was just visible beneath the blanket the babe had been swaddled in as well as two soft peaks from her wings. A girl. That was unexpected.

Surprise flooded his expression as he took his daughter into his arms. He gently tilted her towards Feyre, as if she might suddenly wake.

‘I hear Orla is an excellent name,’ said Nesta, giving the female a true smile.

In the quiet surrounding them, the two healers cleaned up. Nesta peered over Rhys’ shoulder to inspect her niece. A new born was always quite strange. Her nose was a little squashed still and her face was wrinkled in slumber, but she was a tiny thing, born a few months too soon. Nesta stroked against the tiny fingernails, marvelling over something so little.

‘Do you want to hold her?’

Her breath caught in her throat as her eyes met Rhysand’s strange coloured ones. Carefully, she took the precious bundle into her arms as she sat beside him at Feyre’s bedside. The room fell into a different sort of quiet, a relaxed hush.

After a time, Rhysand said, ‘Thank you.’

Nesta shrugged. ‘It was all Orla.’

But his hand settled on hers, covering it where she held his child. ‘Thank you.’

Eventually, she gave the babe back to her father although she could have held onto her forever. Her lips had parted as she slept and Nesta found it increasingly different to tear her gaze away.

‘Shall I let them know that we’re all okay?’ Elain wrung her hands together.

One by one they filed into the room in reverent silence, even Eris. He didn’t go to Nesta; instead, the male went straight to Orla and brought her into a bone-crunching embrace. ‘You magnificent thing.’

‘She really was,’ emphasised Rhys. The babe was still cradled to his chest and he seemed unwilling to let her go to anybody else again.

‘I’d feel better if I could stay the night for observations.’

With the hope still burning in his eyes, Nesta thought Rhysand might offer to build Orla a house there and then to house her in and keep her close.

‘I’m not comfortable with that,’ interjected Eris. ‘Unless she has a guard from my court. Orla is too precious to leave in this city.’

Opposite her, Nesta saw Azriel recoil because he knew exactly who that guard would be though he was too good to say anything when Eris raised the topic of bringing Niamh into Velaris. Mother help them all with her on the loose.

Both Nesta and Orla had blood on their clothes. She wanted to scrub her sister’s blood off of her person. The blood of Hybern’s king hadn’t even registered with her when it had showered her body, but because these stains belonged to her younger sister, Nesta wanted to be away – as much as she wanted to stay at her bedside. Sensing her discomfort, the way she plucked at her gown and pulled it away from her body, Eris spoke.

‘Orla will return soon with her guard,’ explained Eris. ‘We must return to our court. You never know who might try and sit on my throne while I’m gone. Congratulations, Rhysand.’

‘We’ll finish our deal another time,’ said Nesta, catching Cassian’s eyes. The pain lancing down the bond from his end almost brought her to her knees. He gave a muted nod in response.

Elain looked between them. ‘What deal?’  

Nobody gave her an answer, not even Mor. Nesta was sure it would be the topic of discussion once they departed.

Orla swept a hand across Feyre’s forehead. ‘She’ll be asleep for some time. Bed rest for at least two weeks. And I mean that. The babe must be placed into her arms, taken from them. No movement. No lifting. No twisting. Rest. I’ve stitched her as if she was mortal. Her body will heal quicker than a mortal’s would, but rest is essential.’ She gave a stern look to Rhysand; rather than speaking to one of the most powerful high lords in history, it almost looked as if a mother was telling off her naughty child. ‘And I suppose I do not need to warn you never to conceive in an Illyrian form again?’

‘Certainly not,’ he replied.

***

A week blew by then a second. Orla had spent two nights in Velaris as well as frequent visits to ensure both mother and child were well. They were, thankfully. Although the girl was small, she was strong. Feyre had woken and was sorely disappointed to not be able to leave the bed. Niamh had it worse. She lamented to Eris that they had been on house arrest so she could not truly explore the city for him.

‘I went to the bathroom and Azriel demanded I keep the door open an inch because he didn’t trust me.’

‘In case you climbed out of the window,’ he offered.

Niamh grunted. ‘Well, I would have – but he didn’t know that.’

Tea dribbled from the spout as Nesta poured tea for them. ‘Did you really urinate with Azriel waiting by the door? I think I wouldn’t be able to.’

Niamh flashed a grin. ‘For his cheek, I left the door wide open so he had no choice but to watch.’

‘Why must you torment that kind male?’ Orla shook her head in dismay then sliced up the cake she’d made that day for them.

‘Speaking of kind males, how many more gifts have arrived?’

A blush spread across Orla’s freckled cheeks and Lucien rolled his eyes. ‘I had to bring another bouquet of flowers and a locket with rubies encrusted in it with me.’

There had been a black gelding, new supplies for healing and baking, a lot of expensive jewellery, perfume, and offers of a new house from the High Lord of the Night Court. It seemed that Rhysand couldn’t quite work out the equivalent value in gifts for his, his mate’s and his daughter’s life.

Nesta frowned. ‘He better not be trying to poach you from us.’

‘Let’s do a swap,’ suggested Niamh. ‘They get Orla, we get Lucien permanently.’

Eris shook his head. ‘Little Lucien is slowly being coaxed back by his mama.’ At this, Lucien groaned. ‘And Orla is too precious. I will never ever let her leave.’

‘I’m contemplating it. When was the last time you bought me a horse, Eris?’

He threw out his hands. ‘I’ll buy you one of Helion’s pegasi if that’s what you desire.’

‘You can’t go. We’ll need you to deliver our baby.’

At Nesta’s words, a ripple of excitement went around the healer’s kitchen. Eris couldn’t breathe.

‘You’re pregnant?’ Orla got to her feet, ready to pull Nesta into an embrace.

‘First I’ve heard of it,’ replied Eris, heart still not beating properly.

Poor Nesta had gone scarlet. ‘No, I meant in the future. In the future, we will need you, Orla. Not any time soon.’

She wiped a hand across her forehead, pushing out a breath.

‘In three hundred years,’ added Eris.

Niamh let out a long cackle. ‘Will it take you that long to figure out what to do with that thing in your pants, Eris?’

‘I think you all forget that I am your high lord and I can quite easily have you executed for mocking me.’

The wild female covered her mouth then whispered loudly, ‘He doesn’t know what to do with it.’

He eyed her closely. ‘I might trade you for Lucien to be rid of you.’

‘Don’t do that to Azriel,’ said Nesta, smirking.

Considering where they were headed that day, Nesta was doing remarkably well. The ink on Eris’ wrist itched more each day that it wasn’t fulfilled and Cassian likely felt the same. It had been arranged by Lucien though he had been good enough not spill any of the nasty things that had likely been said of them. They were permitted to return to Velaris for it, perhaps to protect the Illyrian so he could grieve the bond there rather than Illyria or the Hewn City. It had to be done by somebody who knew spell-work, so Helion would be the one to do it. Eris didn’t trust him, but he just wanted rid of the bond so wasn’t about to be picky. As long as it got done.

When the time came, they readied themselves in the Forest House. Ashur and some of his trusted males would be ready to guard the Forest House in case Cassian reacted badly to the separation. After a battle, Eris had relented to the whims of females and his mother would also come to offer support to Nesta. As much as they loved each other, sometimes a female needed another female. Sometimes they just needed a mother to comfort them. He was glad his could be both to Nesta. They had become close, spending time together when he was busy – or even when he wasn’t. Sometimes they sought each other out without him. He knew Nesta needed more friends in this court, but the two she wanted would not be available for this. Nesta could not rely on Emerie and Gwyn in their court because it was too close to Cassian whilst the wound was recent.   

‘Nervous?’

‘Yes. And excited. Relieved. Worried. All of it. All at once.’

‘You’re sure?’

Nesta heaved out a sigh as she adjusted her gown in the mirror. ‘Absolutely.’

They winnowed again to the vast river estate. It was oddly formal as they were accepted by one of the wraiths into a drawing room then tea was offered. Lucien tried hard to give off a casual demeanour, but he kept close to their mother’s side.

It wasn’t Beron that Eris got his cleverness from. Since her husband’s death, his mother’s confidence had grown once more. It had been her who had suggested to Nesta that she could accompany them. As her russet eyes blinked around the room, Eris had to wonder if she was on the lookout for a different Archeron sister. Poor Lucien had endured many questions about his elusive mate. To all of them, he had skirted the truth, even when she had asked when Elain would be brought home for dinner.

‘Hurrah, I am allowed out of bed.’

A pale Feyre Archeron stepped into the room. There were shadows beneath her eyes, but she managed a smile. Nesta went to her and gave her a gentle embrace that surprised both of them.

‘Where is Elin?’

Elin. Named after the high lord’s deceased sister.

‘She has produced something that smells like it came from hell and it’s all over her back so Rhys is dealing with that. It’s too strenuous for me.’ She tapped her abdomen lightly then winked.

They sat in a strange silence. Nobody seemed able to think of any topics of conversation. Thankfully, voices filtered in as they approached.

Helion entered first. His dazzling white clothes had Eris wanting to shield his eyes. Coupled with it, were a golden crown and a band around his muscled upper arm. ‘Nesta Archeron, more beautiful every time...’

The high lord’s voice trailed away as his gaze snagged on a different female.

‘Eliška.’

‘Helion,’ came the curt reply. ‘You were saying how beautiful my daughter is.’

‘Yes.’

But the high lord could not move. Could not speak. He was rooted to the spot, staring at Eris’ mother – much to his annoyance. Maybe it was not Elain Archeron she had planned to meet at all. In that moment, Helion did not look like a swaggering high lord who ploughed his way through countless courts with his charm and appearance. To Eris, he looked like a lovestruck puppy who couldn’t pick his jaw off the floor.

Eris had taken it as a given that Helion would be besotted with Nesta, but his mother too? He and Lucien exchanged a grimace.

The others had stopped behind Helion, wondering what had attracted his attention. Elain shuffled forwards, her pink gown sweeping around the floor.

Lucien swallowed. ‘Mother, this is my Elain. My mat-. Elain.’

Eris felt an elbow in his ribs then Nesta murmured, ‘What the hell is going in this room?’

‘I wish I knew.’

The Illyrians followed in then the high lord with a now-clean babe against his chest, making the room feel a lot smaller than it was.

‘Shall we do this?’ Cassian said it as if it was no more a burden than tidying up. A simple thing that wouldn’t have everlasting repercussions on any of them.

Nesta hooked a finger against his. ‘The trust I gave you here – return it to me.’ She swallowed, then in a louder voice announced, ‘There doesn’t need to be an audience for this. Only me and Cassian need to be there. And, you, of course, Helion.’

The male was hardly listening. Dark eyes were still unbearably staring at Eris’ mother. He’d known they had once been friends. They were the same age. Their fathers had traded goods. She’d mentioned him a handful of times many years earlier, cried even when he became high lord under the mountain after his family’s slaughter. But this was something else. Something Eris did not like. Nor did he like his wife being alone with either of those two males.

Let her do this, sweetheart.

It was his mother’s voice broaching the walls of his mind.

Give them privacy in such an intimate moment.

Mother knows best, I suppose? He replied.

Always.

***

Nesta could not fight the tremble in her hands. Her mood had been jittery all morning, unable to settle fully in anticipation of what lay ahead. And nobody truly knew what did lay ahead. Eris had found dozens of accounts across history of mates who had lost their other half and it never fared well, but for those who chose to end the bond, it was marginally better for the females. Despite everything that had happened between them, Nesta still worried for Cassian. Worried about how he would take this rejection. She knew he’d had nobody growing up until Rhysand stepped in. Knew this was special to him. It was silly to care so much for him when it wasn’t shared. If he had put her first, maybe they would never have gotten here.

His gaze was painful. She’d tried not to look at him the last time she was here, delivering Feyre’s child. It hurt too much to be near him. Despite the best intentions of not letting emotions in, they found a way to creep into every crack that Nesta hadn’t managed to plug. From reading the accounts provided by Eris, she understood what mates were – their rarity, the uniqueness of a bond. To take that from Cassian seemed cruel even for her. But Nesta did not want that. She did not want to be tied to him any longer. Maybe if the bond had never been there, he’d never have looked twice at her. Maybe he’d have loved her for who she was and not who he wanted her to be.

‘High lady soon then, Nes?’

She stiffened at the address. There was no warmth in Cassian’s expression either.

‘No. I do not want that.’

‘I’m sure Eris does.’

Nesta swallowed against the dryness of her throat. ‘No. He respects my wishes.’

That’s why we are in this situation, she wanted to add, because I have a mate who does not and a husband who does.

‘This is what you want? If Eris has forced you into it, we’ll break the deal somehow. I’ll find a way to do it, Nes. Just come home to me. I don’t care about the last few months with Eris. It doesn’t matter.’ Cassian swallowed. ‘I want you to come home.’

Her brow pinched. It was all about him. Him needing her home. Wanting her home. Not because he loved her – had he ever said it? Not because of who she was. Couldn’t he see the changes in her since leaving the Night Court?  

‘This was never my home.’

‘Yes, it was.’

She gave him a wilting smile. ‘When I had been forced into the Cauldron or when you trapped me in the House of Wind? You have never wanted to see me grow.’

Cassian frowned, eyes narrowing. ‘I didn’t want to see you hurting anymore.’

There was no anger in her voice, no rising tones. Just a realisation that this was how it should be. ‘You put me in a box and decided that was how I should be. You cut off all of my thorns rather than be careful around them. Eris is the sun who caused me to grow and even to bloom. He didn’t know who I’d become, but he’s happy with whoever I am. I’m not Morrigan. I’m not Feyre. Maybe if you had realised that sooner, you wouldn’t have hurt me for not being them.’

Helion began his spell work; firstly, he sought their bond by teasing it out from the depths then came the arduous process of unravelling it.

‘Every bond is unique. They differ in their makeup, making it more difficult sometimes to break it. There are some bonds – I’d wager Azriel’s would be if he finds a mate – that are like smoke, unable to be touched properly, harder to find. Some are like spun threads, tangled together.’ Helion gave a soft chuckle. ‘Yours, unsurprisingly, is like steel.’

‘Can you break it?’

Was that hope in Cassian’s voice? A promise that maybe Nesta would remain tied to him for an eternity. The thought made Nesta sick to her stomach. She never wanted to be owned.

‘I’ll manage, but it will take some time.’

Time was something that Nesta had centuries of. It didn’t matter how long it took as long as it was done.

It was odd and unpleasant. There was a constant tug against her ribs and chest like something being forcibly pulled or dislodged. Occasionally, Nesta noticed a slight grimace on Cassian’s lips to match the wrench of magic through their bodies.

Although it was brutal of Eris to demand the end of the bond for saving Feyre, only he could be bold enough to do it – and she would always thank him for it. Eris did what needed to be done. He always did. The thought of a lifetime with him, at his side – never behind – was the sunshine that pulled Nesta through this process. Every tug of magic, every white-hot lance of pain, was a step closer to a future with her husband. No Cassian. No Beron. No scheming. Well, maybe a little scheming because Eris would struggle to give it up. No matter what happened with Briallyn or Koschei, she had a husband who would stop the world from turning to protect her.

Nesta knew it was done before Helion announced it. Something was missing. She couldn’t say what, only that her body knew that something had been taken away. There was a dull ache in its place where Helion had sawed and unravelled the bond. Cassian, too, was rubbing beneath his ribs as if trying to soothe a pain.

Helion departed quietly, giving them a moment to decompress.

‘I hope you’re happy now,’ muttered Cassian.

It was only relief that flooded Nesta’s body.

‘If you think me so vindictive, why did you want me to keep the bond? You paint me as a villain at every turn and then wonder why I can’t love you.’

‘You’d never have loved a bastard-born Illyrian anyway.’

Nesta swallowed. ‘I wanted to. I wanted you so badly it hurt sometimes.’

It was dangerous to push like this when the bond had been wrenched away from him against his will, but Nesta struggled to play nice and jail her tongue, not when Cassian and Morrigan would peck from her at every turn.

‘You should have loved me, Cassian. You should have loved me like I deserved.’

Anger simmered in his hazel eyes. ‘If Eris hadn’t stolen you-’

Her voice cracked like a whip, silencing him. ‘You had me march behind you until I collapsed then you left me outside of your tent. Anything could have hurt me, Cassian. Anything could have taken me. Do not blame Eris that you were a terrible partner who wanted me to suffer to please your high lord.’ Nesta did not know why she was telling Cassian this. Perhaps because this would be the last time they’d have to meet this way. ‘Do you know why I married Eris? So that I wouldn’t be forced back to this court. He put himself in danger from his father and all of you to protect me. It wasn’t love until the Winter Court ball when I realised that he didn’t expect anything from me except to be happy.’

Without realising it, Nesta had got to her feet and loomed over Cassian who still sat on the low-slung couch.

‘So don’t you dare blame him for ruining us when it was all your doing. The bond is severed, Cassian. I hope this is the last time I’m forced to endure your company. Goodbye.’

Colour likely dotted her cheeks as she exited back to the living room. She tried to hold on as long as she could – past the people gathered in the living room – told herself she was the Lady of the Autumn Court now and crying or breaking down in front of the Night Court was not an option.

‘Let’s go home,’ she managed to say as she reached for Eris’ hand. Her mother-in-law stood too, sweeping her head into a graceful incline then took Eris’ other hand.

Dappled sunlight filtered through the gaps in the broad canopies and Nesta let out her sigh of relief to be back in the Autumn Court. Eris’ grip on her hand was tight as if he was scared that she might disappear.

Ashur lingered by the gates to the Autumn Court ready to escort them back inside the grounds, but instead he lifted a bundle from the ground and passed it to Eris then extended an elbow for Eliška. ‘See you later.’

Whatever Eris had planned, Nesta did not want it. She wanted to bury her head beneath the blankets and hide from the encroaching bad mood. A thumb swept against her cheek. His eyes were forlorn, but still he did not speak, only pulled an arm around her to winnow them somewhere.

A wind nipped at her cheeks. They stood upon a stone bridge leading to an island. Atop it was a weathered, stone castle. It wasn’t beautiful like one from a story; it reminded Nesta of a gnarled, old man that had withstood the test of time. Rugged hills stretched out beyond the water, tucking the island away from view.

‘What is this place?’

Eris kissed her temple. ‘Home.’

Her eyes sharpened on the quiet hills. The song of birds soaked into her skin. The landscape was gorgeous, with purple heather streaking the inclines and the sun reflecting off the rippling blue ocean.

‘It was once a residence of the high lords of this court, but my father loathed it. Said it was too isolated – a place for cowards to hide.’ He took Nesta by the hand, leading her over the stone walkway. She realised then that Ashur had presented them with another picnic after their previous one had been interrupted. ‘It is isolated. Apart from a handful of sleepy villages, it’s unknown. It is not on any map because the wards are as good as Velaris’. It is a place for peace. I know the Forest House can be overwhelming, so if you desire a place for privacy then this can be our home.’

When Nesta tried to speak, Eris brushed his thumb against her lips. ‘We can both winnow. It is no issue to return to the Forest House for council meetings. I just want you to be somewhere where you’re comfortable and happy and where you feel safest.’

A castle. Her strange mood had shifted to disbelief. Not because Eris had presented a castle to her, but because he appeared bashful and nervous for once.

They walked through the lofty halls whilst Eris suggested changes they could make, if she approved them, if there were rooms she desired. The stables had already been cleaned ready to bring the horses and there were kennels on the land so the dogs did not have to live in the house though she was sure Safera would not be happy with the arrangement. There was a library which peaked her interest, but the part that made her love him even more was when Eris stopped in a large room that was high enough in the castle to peer out at the snow-capped peaks of the Winter Court in the distance.

‘And this one is large enough for three beds for when we manage to coax Emerie and Gwyneth here.’

Her bottom lip began wobbling.

‘Don’t cry,’ Eris murmured, drawing her close and cupping her cheek. ‘Please, don’t cry. Was it painful with Helion and-’

‘Nobody has ever loved me like you.’

His amber eyes canvassed her face then a lingering kiss was pressed to her forehead. ‘Then more fool them for not appreciating how utterly spectacular you are. From the moment that you stood up against every high lord to tell your story – to make them all listen – I was enchanted by you.’

‘I want to live here with you. I would live in a world without the sun if it was at your side.’ Nesta gave a small laugh as she held onto his arm. ‘Eris, I would follow you into the dark just to hold your hand.’

The nervousness came over him again. He nodded, swallowing audibly, as he peeled himself out of her grip. In his pocket, he reached for something then knelt onto one knee.

‘Will you marry me?’

Nesta’s fingers tangled within his hair. ‘We’re already married.’

‘It was under duress. A rushed ceremony in a nightgown. You deserve better. I know this is the mortal way. Will you marry me again? Marry me properly?’

‘Yes. In every lifetime.’  

Ahhhh it's over. Once again, thank you so much for reading. I hope I've given Neris a worthy story. The castle at the end is based upon Eilean Donan Castle in the Scottish Highlands which is just gorgeous. Rhys might build Feyre a fancy estate but Eris got his princess a castle.

Tags: @owllover123 @rarephloxes @fanboy7794 @sugardoll22 @kitkat-writes-stuff @this-is-rochelle @sv0430 @embersofwildfire