#Not Eris starting the loops

[flowerflamestars]

So, I was rereading No Grave Can Hold My Body Down (again 💕) and I became fascinated by the idea of Ch1 from Nesta’s pov. Her first few loops were pretty short she quickly starts planning, taking notes, and befriending gods. Nesta doesn’t know Lucien very well so I picture her scratching her head, staring at her flowcharts where Lucien’s name is circled with “???” written after it because he’s so much less predictable then everyone else. Why is Lucien, of all people, the only one who seems to change independent of her own actions? If she has to listen to Feyre whine about one of disappearing acts ONE MORE TIME she might hunt him down and strangle him herself. And then she’s moping next to him at the bar at Feyre’s Awful wedding and “she never really loves him either”

Also, WHEN exactly did Elain get a pet HELLHOUND?

PS I love that the loops after Hybern wins Lucien’s just like “fuck this shit. MURDER” and then “fuck this shit I WANT MY MOM”

oh that is so fun a thought!

A few things: while Nesta might present herself, by the time Lucien catches up several centuries in, as having an established pedagogy of time magic bullshit churning away, she fully spent the first few loops going completely insane.

The loops only end with death, or the timeline reset- they don't end when each other dies. So, for example, Loop 4- Lucien kills Tamlin, and he gets thrown into Loop 5. Nesta lives out six years of Loop 4 before straight up murdering Cassian, and getting reset on her way to do the same to Rhysand.

Experientially Lucien, in equal parts due to genuine wonder if ANY of this is real and the fact that being carrying along by a greater, shitty force is a very specific misery he can't seem to escape, lets the timeline happen to him, unless he really can't stand it.

Nesta goes in the Cauldron, or Nesta dies, and the Cauldron thinks this whole thing is the best amusement to exist in millennia.

So Nesta 1)knows everything happening is real, 2) keeps making even small butterfly wing changes that keep having bizarrely huge consequences, and 3) has already spent so long telling herself not to look at Lucien Vanserra he's functionally her own sexy blind spot.

Lucien being singular just seems SO MUCH LIKE LUCIEN to Nesta that it's infuriating but not incriminating.

She's not sure when she says it. She's interested- more now than centuries earlier- he's never fit but finding out why bowls her over. Convinces her that maybe, maybe, Nesta selfish, Nesta wanting really had started the loop in the first place, what she's been afraid of for years.

Lucien never thinks he started it, but he does start wishing it would never end.

As for Daisy, our beloved murder pup- SPOILERS FOR THE TIME LOOP BABES- that's the thing, isn't it? That's the real first unaltered timeline, with Nesta's suicide attempt and Lucien's slow moving collapse and Elain deciding to burn the world down rather than lose her sister. Loop 0.

Like the Cauldron, or Mezo, or other creatures, Daisy isn't quite touching time the same way. Elain is the Seer, and Eris has seer blood. He means to give her a gift to help make the impossible thing they want to do easier and succeeds in making a constant in the timeline. It's seamless. Lucien just expects it, Nesta's used to it- of course Elain and Eris keep being drawn together, of course Elain adopts a primordial Autumn creature, they're timeloops. the same sorts of things will always happen.

Won't they?

[deathberi]

✧･ﾟ: * ･ﾟ RISHE IRMGARD WEITZNER | 7th Time Loop

[talesof-old]

honeyed tale | l.v.

pairing(s): lucien vanserra x fem!reader

warning(s): 18+, smut, mentions of B*ron, rough(ish?) sex, outdoor sex, chasing, not edited so if you see a mistake no you didn’t

word count: 2.7k

masterlist

lupercalia is always eventful in the autumn court

Lucien downed a mug filled with spiced cider and eyed the scene in front of him. Childhood nostalgia gripped him just the same as bitter grief, and he didn’t truly know why he agreed to come in the first place. Maybe it was because Eris was his last living brother after all the madness. Or maybe it was the way his mother had pleaded for him to return despite it all.

He set his drink down. Music was being played by a group of younger fae, leaving everyone else to dance around the giant bonfire, bob for apples, or hang around the many tables of food and drinks. Barrels of ale, spiced cider, and mead lined the clearing they’d taken up residence in.

By now, the revel was in full swing. Laughter echoed through the trees and Lucien was certain he’d already seen at least five different couplings make off into the woods. Anticipation hung in the air for the coming main event, something that would start any moment now. Adults had long since ushered children into bed, and now all that remained were those participating.

His eyes scanned the crowd, shoulders tense.

“You seem off tonight, sunshine.” His heartbeat jumped as he turned to you, a grin already washing over your face.

Dressed in a low cut red dress with far too many slits up the thighs, he knew very well you’d be joining in the festivities of the night. Still, he couldn’t help the way he longed to caress your exposed skin. Your smile turned knowing, and before he could react you were looping your arm with his and pulling him away.

The heat of your body made his throat go dry.

You’d grown into yourself in the time you’d both been apart.

You dragged Lucien away from the table, unsure if he’d seen his eldest brother approaching or if he was distracted. Growing up in the Forest House, the two of you had been thick as thieves. Chasing after each other in the gilded corridors and sharing hidden tender moments in the apple orchards. Over time, however, you found yourself far from the Autumn Court and Lucien found himself a lover by the name Jesminda.

It hadn’t hurt as much as you’d expected it to. Following her death, Eris and you ensured Lucien’s passage to the Spring Court and you minded your own, keeping far from the youngest Vanserra in order to protect your courtly position. Now, you both were finally free of one Beron Vanserra.

“Are you staying tonight?” Lucien swallowed hard, his gaze trained on your face with an intensity you hadn’t had the chance to experience.

The edges of his lips quirked upwards in a smirk you could only describe as wolfish. You raised a brow.

“Is this you asking me to stay, little fox?” You tilted your head to the side, a calculating move he knew better than to dismiss.

“Depends,” you purred. The two of you slowly made your way towards the barrels of mead, and briefly you recalled the last time the two of you got drunk off of it together. You stopped, leaning towards him.

“Thinking about chasing after me tonight?”

Lucien leaned closer towards you, his scent enveloping you. Spices undercut with something bright and green, familiar enough it made your heart ache.

He pushed a stray curl from your face, the warmth of his fingertips sending shockwaves through your skin.

“Would you like me to?” His voice rumbled deep in his chest.

Desire shot through you, but you merely leaned back until you were standing straight again, a playful smile on your face. Off to the left, you saw several of Eris’ lords reaching for the giant bell they’d set up. You couldn’t have timed it better.

“Yes.”

One of them hit it hard, the sound echoing through the clearing. For a few seconds, everyone paused. In true Lupercalia fashion though, those deciding to be prey took off sprinting, and you were no exception.

Laughter and playful shrieks filled the air as you wove through the trees. A few of the male chasers were mock howling, and the sound carried as though the forest itself was making the noise.

Adrenaline rushed through your veins. Maybe Lucien would cave and follow you, maybe it would be someone else who decided to instead. Either way, you were going to get fucked tonight until your legs were weak as a fawn and your mind cloudy.

Lucien blinked at the spot where you’d been standing. You hadn’t seriously run off like that, had you?

Then again, it was you, ever mischievous as a fox.

He moved to run after you, but a fleeting thought made him pause.

Did he really want the first time he had sex with you again to be in the middle of the forest, surrounded by others doing the same?

He shook his head. That part didn’t matter. He wanted you, and clearly you wanted him.

To hell with it.

He broke into the tree line, catching your scent up ahead of him. His ears strained to hear something, anything, as he pressed forward.

You were a wild thing, blazing and brilliant, and he’d be damned if someone got to you first.

A tree branch cracked behind you and you turned, catching a flash of dark brown hair. Lord Asters had been after you for decades, so it was no surprise he had immediately come after you. Handsome and strong. He’d gained quite a reputation on how well he pleased women.

Still, disappointment stirred in your gut, strong enough to send you racing deeper into the orchard. A whistle came from somewhere behind you, your heartbeat racing.

Asters’ scent filled the air, earthy and damp but not unappealing. You almost caved, almost let him catch you, until you caught sight of a certain redhead in the corner of your eye. Your stomach fluttered.

In a matter of moments, you were dancing away from Asters’ fingertips and rushing past Lucien, his golden eye gleaming in the dim light.

Laughter bubbled out of your mouth and into the air, leading Lucien right to the oldest part of the orchard. As you darted through the trees, they were taller and wider, their roots curling as your feet bounced against the ground. Lucien said something behind you, just feet away.

Your legs burned as you ducked to the right, throwing him off and grinning to yourself. A groan of half-hearted annoyance sounded behind you.

Deeper in the woods and off to your right, you heard the tell tale sound of someone long caught.

Heat pooled in your stomach and Lucien swore viciously. Vigor renewed, you pushed on until you reached the oldest orchard trees, massive and looming. You no longer heard Lucien behind you but you knew exactly where he’d meet you.

You ran along the border of apple trees. Their limbs reached for you, the leaves whispering as you passed.

Years ago, the two of you would sneak away from Forest House, all childhood innocence and young love. High Lord Beron sent you away to stay with your cousins in an attempt to control his youngest son. Your heart pinched at the painful memories of your youth. You turned the last corner, coming to a small cave made entirely of tree roots. Impossibly dark on the inside, it did nothing to hide the glowing of Lucien’s golden eye. You grinned despite yourself.

A tanned hand reached out and snatched your wrist. You squealed, stumbling into his lap. The hardness of his erection pressed up against your cunt as you settled, legs straddling his hips. He hissed.

You couldn’t help it, you rocked your hips along the hardness, eyes fluttering close at the wanted friction. Lucien’s hands grasped at your hips, halting your mission. You opened your eyes, a playful pout on your lips. Lucien stared at you with an intensity you’d caught a glimpse of earlier, some kind of wildness that you’d never been privy to.

His chest rumbled in appreciation as his hands began to move, featherlight as he grazed the bare skin of your legs. “You look beautiful tonight, little fox.” He lifted you away from his cock. Goosebumps formed on your skin as his fingers trailed far up your inner thigh, almost to the place you needed him. You nearly whined when he stopped just short of your cunt.

“A little eager,” He leaned close to you, breath fanning your face. You shivered. “Aren’t we?”

The edges of his lips quirked up to form a smirk. You rolled your eyes, flashing a soft smile in response.

His arms wrapped around you, gently unlacing the back of your dress, each loosened string drawing a shaky breath from your lungs. As he moved, copper hair fell over his shoulder. Instinctively, you reached out, brushing it away with a tenderness that had him reeling. Your frame leaned into his; your face pressed into his neck, pressing kisses to the sensitive skin in ways that brought him back to a time he’d long forgotten.

He pulled the sleeves of your dress from your body, the fabric falling down your torso to reveal heaving breasts. In a blink, he’d moved you backwards and latched onto your nipple. You arched, fingers coming round to tangle in his hair. He moaned at the sting.

You tilted to the side, an awkward position, but rubbed your cunt against the fabric of his pants. The friction had your eyes rolling backwards. He tugged at the sides of your dress, the fabric tearing away with a simple pull. If you weren’t so ready to jump him bones, perhaps you would’ve cared.

Instead, you flung the fabric away, Lucien’s mouth attaching to your other nipple. His tongue swirled along the pebbled flesh, teeth grazing the sensitive nub. You gasped, a soft whine leaving your throat. His wicked tongue made thoughts impossible.

Lucien sucked hard on your skin before letting it go with a satisfying pop. He briefly wondered how long it would take to make a mosaic of bites along your body. As he straightened his back, he gazed up at your blown out pupils and glassy eyes. Heat swelled in his cock, heady and incessant, urging him to sink into you. He unlaced his pants with practiced hands, fingers deftly removing them from his body. You lifted your hips to allow for the fabric to drop to his ankles.

Ignoring the way his cock slapped against his abdomen, he wasted no time; Lucien’s fingers found your wet cunt, tugging you back to hover over him and stroking your lower lips before sinking the tip of his finger into you. You moaned, a lewd sound. He chuckled, dark and low, the noise vibrating through your very bones. You rocked your hips against his hand, letting his middle finger sink deeper and deeper until you were as far as you could go. Your cunt clenched around his digit, your juices coating his hand as you used him for your pleasure. As your hips rolled away, he added his ring finger into the mix. You slowly sank onto it, eyes fluttering.

His cock twitched beneath you, aching to replace his fingers. You didn’t seem to mind either way, rocking back and forth, lips parted and head tilted back. He leaned forward, licking a stripe along the column of your throat, grinning as you mewled at the feeling.

Your cunt pulsed against his fevered skin and dripped onto his thighs. Coated them. He withdrew his fingers with an obscene squelch, bringing them to your lips. Despite your whine, you parted them; you took them into your mouth without hesitation, tongue swirling along the lengths of them, from the knuckles to the tips of his fingers. His cock throbbed, turning darker as the seconds ticked on.

It took no time at all to ease into you, your walls clenching tight around his cock, pushing him closer to his own orgasm. He clenched his jaw, a moan bubbling up in his throat.

“Let me hear you.” Your voice took a seductive turn, raspy and low as you spoke into his ear. The vibration of your chest rumbled against his. He lifted his arm to snake around your waist, locking you in as he bottomed out. You moaned at the fullness.

“You like to hear me, hm? Like how you can turn a male into a whimpering mess.”

You’d pulled away enough to send him a wicked grin, raising his free hand to your throat. He groaned at the action. His fingers dug into your skin, your eyelids rolling back at the feeling.

He moved his hips, though the roots digging into his back were enough to cause him to huff in discomfort. He hoisted you up, the two of you nearly falling as he moved you from a sitting position to lying on the bare ground.

“Reminds me of when we were younger.” His golden eye gleamed in the dim light. Your heart thundered in your chest at the feral expression he wore.

“But what I like has changed, I’m afraid.” You raised a brow, undulating your hips beneath his. Lucien’s head dipped down to lick the sweat from between your breasts, teeth grazing the burning skin. You clenched around him.

Like something unlocked within him, Lucien pulled out of you until only the tip remained before ramming back into you. A cry left your lips, your parted legs coming to wrap around his muscular thighs. His pace proved brutal. He rocked into your body with a force that had you reeling, the ache far more pleasurable than you might’ve expected. This was what you wanted.

Sweat coated his smooth skin, his back flexing under your hands as you raked your nails along his exposed skin. You gripped the nape of his neck with one hand, your other digging into the skin of his shoulder as he sucked on your clavicle. He trembled as you clenched tighter around him. Lips pressed to the side of his face, your teeth tugged on the lobe of his ear; he swore through clenched teeth.

You matched his thrusts, his fingers far more expert than they’d been, circling your sensitive, throbbing clit as he moved. The itch to pull his hair but you with overwhelming need. Your fingers slid up his head, locking and twisting in his beautiful strands, and yanked. The next moan to leave his lips was a broken, pathetic noise. One russet eye made contact with your own. His already full lips were swollen, wet with saliva. Lucien’s responding grin had your cunt pulsing. He dipped back down, mouth enclosing around your previously abused nipple. You cried out. His hands gripped your hips, urging you to bend into his with every motion. His teeth grazed your hardened tit. You moaned.

He kept up his pace on your clit, your walls fluttering and thighs quivering. Minutes rushed by and time blurred as you came undone by his hand, head thrown back against the ground and back arched; your breasts rubbing against his chest was enough to send him off the edge, your cunt squeezed tight around his cock to milk him for every drop.

When you came down, body limp and only partly satiated, Lucien laid down beside you, fingers trailing along your sticky body. You hummed, curling into his side. His body radiated heat which proved quite welcome in the biting Autumn air. His arm wrapped around your waist, palm gripping your arse as you lifted a leg to rest it on his.

“It’s good to see you again, you know. Missed you all those years.” Lucien’s lips twisted into a smirk, his eyes closing as he attempted to steady his breath. You kept your gaze on him. Eyes trailed over the curve of his jaw, the shape of his nose. He had been handsome before, but the years away had created him a devastatingly beautiful visage.

A moment’s silence was all you were given before he opened his eye and peeked over at you. “Tapping out on me already?”

You grinned. “If we both can still walk, I’m not done.” His chuckle echoed through the cave before he hoisted you up to straddle him. “Fuck me then.”

+++

[soc69]

Erasermic family general hcs:

- when shinsou has bad dreams or intrusive memories of his time in the system it’s hizashi he goes to, not shouta, because even though hizashi was only in the system a short while he understands what Hitoshi went through and how it feels to be abandoned and not know what to do with all the emotions that comes with it.

- eri used to be terrified on present mic. Not of Yamada hizashi, the sweet guy who signs as he talks and makes her chamomile tea when she can’t sleep, but of present mic who looks like a huge flightless bird and squaks weird slang all the time. The fear was fixed when she saw hizashi undergoing the transformation process one day.

- hizashi and shinsou have developed their own ‘sign slang’. As the ones who’ve used it most throughout their lives and with someone new to try it out with they started making their own signs for internet catch phrases and swear words and it pisses Aizawa off so much that he’s left out of the loop. This, in turn, only further encourages shinsou and hizashi to the point where half the time they’re not even making sense to each other but just gesturing randomly whenever shoutas around to piss him off.

- I’m pretty sure it’s canon that hizashi has, like, no nostrils (or maybe really really small ones) on account of his quirk as stoping airflow through your nose means you can make louder vocalisations, so, although everyone thinks mic would be the only one who can cook between him and Aizawa, the two of the basically function as two halves of the same idiot in the kitchen. Since your sense of smell makes up about 70% of your taste buds, despite hizashi enjoying cooking and be able to follow a recipe, without shouta there to taste test, hizashi’s cooking becomes absolutely repulsive and he has no idea. Shouta on the other hand, is perfectly capable of cooking but just refuses to learn because he thinks the system they have worked out now is perfectly functional.

- the first time hizashi is left to cook for Hitoshi alone during one of his early visits, he suffers such a culinary disaster since shouta wasn’t there to supervise. Mic makes sure to tell Hitoshi to tell him if it’s nice or not but the kid is far too polite for that and struggles through 2/3 of the meal that is somehow both sour and salty while also being so fucking spicy that Hitoshi thinks his ears are bleeding before Aizawa comes home and picks something off hizashis plate and immediately tells mic it’s the most disgusting thing he’s ever made and throwing out the entire meal. Hitoshi is absolutely flabbergasted, tears streaming, nose running, throat retching, as yamada and Aizawa both ask him why the fuck he didn’t say something.

- mic likes pretty much every type of music and has sampled practically every genre ever made and since eri has never had the chance to develop her own taste, he takes her on the axact same journey of self discovery. Eri ends up very similar to mic in that she likes a lot of different things but her absolute favourite genre ends up being ‘kawaii metal’ which mic and Hitoshi both find hilarious and let her play it all the time which Aizawa (who only ever listens to brown noise) absolutely fucking hates.

- Aizawa can’t drive. Like at all. He never learnt, never even took any lessons, never had any interest in it. Mic is older than him by a few months and got his lisence super quick and after that Aizawa decided he would never need to learn because he would always have hizashi to chauffeur him around.

- mic doesn’t get angry much so everyone thinks shouta is the scary one but the more you get to know Aizawa the more of a softy he becomes. Mic, on the other hand, is fucking terrifying when you piss him off. Hitoshi and eri have only ever seen it once when some bitch from Hitoshi’s old home ran into them and got mouthy. He’s the quiet anger type that just just radiates insane unpresidented rage and Aizawa finds it incredibly sexy.

- eri is the kind of kid who collects bugs from the garden and spends hours watching them crawl over her hands in absolute amazement because she’s never seen so many of them before. As we all know, mic is terrified of bugs, but eri did not know this until she invited all her little creepy crawly friends into the house for move night. Cue them all cuddled up on the couch one day when mic feels something crawling over his legs. At first he thinks it’s Aizawa as his legs draped over his lap and tells him to cut it out and Aizawa is like ‘huh?’, looks down, and sees the fattest, juiciest cockroach ever on yamadas leg. Aizawa, who also doesn’t really like bugs all that much, is like “zashi, do not fucking move” and eri catches on, turns around and is like “oh! Patrick is here” which makes mic finally notice and release the most deafening scream ever and jumps five ft into the air which knocks a sleeping Hitoshi to the floor who wakes up face to face with a massive fucking spider and joins yamada in the screaming match while Aizawa is using his quirk on mic so none of them go deaf while climbing the furniture to avoid all the bugs and screaming for everyone to calm down in an uncharacteristically high voice while eri just sits on the floor amongst the chaos like “I just wanted you guys to meet my friends”. The house gets fumigated after that.

[mudandmire]

WIP - ✨Azris time loop au✨

In the first war against Hybern, Eris watches Azriel die to the kings blade. He's young, inexperienced though he'll never admit it, and grasping as he leaves the battlefield. He carries with him the only thing he took from the desecrated grounds: Azriel's dagger, Truth-Teller.

It's only when the same day starts again, Eris realizes something's gone terribly wrong.

~A (very long) one-shot~

"The courtyard's breath is stolen away. Every small sound of Azriel's body fighting for his next breath is absent. A void sits between him and Azriel and he is left in utter silence. Crushing, horrible silence. No longer can he ignore the persistent ache of his own wounds, his own pained breathing. Eris tumbles to the side, off his scraped knees, and stifles a cry when his raw hands land on the rough gravel."

guess who's having fun torturing Eris? 😎

mE. I am ehehe. I've already written 10k for it, not in chronological order or anything, but still. I have no idea when this will be posted, all I know is that I wanted to share because I LOVE time-loop au's. So I'm literally having the time of my life fully realizing the joy of time-loop au's and azris - best of both worlds I'm having the time of my life.

*ahem* also if anyone has azris time-loop fic recs, or literally anything time-loop with azriel or eris please send 👉👈 I'm desperate I can't find any :(

[mintmatcha]

I need to know Lady in Waiting's response to Knight Aizawa being "married" (a mighty need)

A flair of disappointment hits you as you realize Eri is alone. Her dress is haphazardly pulled over her head, her poor little arms barely pulled through the sleeves. Her hands are still halfway through the openings and fumbling with the front ties of her dress, picking and pulling at the silk clumsily. You rush over and immediately start adjusting.

"Is Sir Aizawa not with you today?" you ask. The dresses aren't his Forte, but he at least knows enough to not let her struggle by herself or to wait for you to arrive.

"He's with my dad," the child explains. The knight and the king go back all the way to their childhood. After the war, when Toshinori rose to power, Aizawa was appointed as guard to the princess- a relatively easy retirement gift.

"Is this going to be the dress I wear to the ball?" Eri asks as you free her hands.

"No, your dress is going to be yellow and much bigger, remember?" Last year, when the princess wore pink, Aizawa was forced into a dashing suit and a matching rose colored pocket square. You wonder if this year will be the same; he's rather dashing in yellow, it brings out just how dark his eyes really are.

"Is your knight going to be at the ball, Eri?"

"Mhm, he always lets me dance on his feet." She lets you tie her ribbons into giant, looping bows. "But last time, he said I was getting too big!"

That's the real reason you've fallen for the man. Despite everything, despite how he wants to appear, he's soft and loving. He treats the princess as if she were his own daughter.

You're aware it's a ridiculous crush; the man has treated you kindly, of course, but there's very little chance that he would ever pursue you. Unlike most Ladies in Waiting, your lineage is not very noble. Your father was a general in his day and the King gave you this position after his death to make sure you were cared for.

"You're getting older. When you're my age, you'll get to dance with whoever you want."

She thinks about this for a moment. "But I only want to dance with my knight."

That pulls a laugh from you, even as your chest aches. "Me too, Princess. He's a very good dancer."

The princess giggles along with you for a long while, helping you finish smoothing her dress.

"Do you know if Sir Aizawa is married, Eri?" you ask suddenly.

"Yeah! He is!"

"Oh, that's very good for him." You pull your lips together to keep your smile despite how your chest suddenly aches, "Is she pretty?"

"I dunno-"

"Say 'I don't know.'"

"I don't know." She stresses her correction, "But Mr. Knight is pretty, so his wife is probably pretty too."

Your heart sinks even farther. Of course, he would have a beautiful partner. Your longing and wondering now feels immature; who are you to be wanting after someone of such a status anyway?

"Wonderful." You pinch a smile on to your cheeks, "That's wonderful for him."

[honeybeefae]

Mornin’! For the bingo card, could I request Second Chances with either Eris or Azriel? And you can choose nsfw or sfw. Your writing is great either way and you don’t have to do this at all…

thank you

Can We Start Again? (Eris Vanserra x Reader)

BINGO: Second Chances

(This has HEAVY Taylor Swift vibes so if you needed a mood playlist, put on Illicit Affairs. Also, I had the option between NSFW and SFW and I did SFW just cause I’ve been writing so much smut lately! I wanted to write some hurt/comfort. Idk if anyone is still reading these bingos but I want to finish them so thank you if you are still keeping up and I love you guys!! <3)

WARNINGS: Angst, Hurt/Comfort

You weaved through the crowd of bodies as they spun and dipped, offering pleasant smiles whenever your eyes would connect with someone. It was getting late and you were yearning to go back home and rest, your body aching for the soft mattress and warm sheets that awaited you.

It took you a few more strides before you were able to break free from everyone and get out to the balcony for fresh air. Luckily for you, no one else was out here, your body leaning against the cool stone as you took a deep breath to enjoy the silence.

The party was the same as all the others you attended this year. The same people, the same atmosphere, the same music, it felt as if you were stuck in a never-ending loop. 

For once you just wished something new and exciting would happen. Hell, you would even settle for a new dessert at this point. 

“I thought I saw you escape.” A low, warm voice said behind you. It made you jump and you turned with a frown, wondering what this person could possibly want until your eyes met his very familiar amber ones. 

“Eris?” You ask, your tone full of disbelief. 

“In the flesh.” He smirked, giving you a little bow. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes as you relaxed and rested your elbow on the railing. 

He looked the same as the last time you saw him, with long red hair and eyes full of secrets. You had heard the rumors that he might be here tonight but you had also heard the same at every other party this summer. 

“What are you doing here tonight?” You question, your nerves fizzing from how long it had been since you last talked. “And don’t tell me it’s for the tantalizing conversation. Unless, of course, you have a secret love for court gossip and talks of the harvest.”

Eris shook his head and watched you, his head slightly cocked as he studied you and searched for something. It made you anxious and you suddenly felt very self-conscious, your hands immediately tugging at your outfit. He noticed.

“Stop fidgeting.” He chastised, walking closer to you to take your hand and give it a gentle kiss. “You look beautiful as always.”

“Thank you.” You hum, your hand buzzing as you immediately placed it back at your side. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“Would you believe me if I told you it was because I wanted to see you again?” Eris spoke softly, watching the flicker of emotions that went through your eyes at his confession. You frowned, your aura immediately turning cold as you took a step back from him.

It had been years, years, since you had seen Eris. The last time you had he had left you in the middle of the night, a love confession having just sprouted from your lips after he had made you feel like no one else before. You had been a casual thing for years, the two of you gravitating toward one another for a while until it all came to a head that night.

Some nameless fae male who your parents had chosen for you had asked for your hand in marriage that night, his voice arrogant and head high. He was assured that you would say yes but when you looked at Eris, his face fallen, you realized just how deeply you felt for him. So, you refused the propsal.

Chaos had erupted and Eris was quick to step in and remove you from the situation, taking you to that small cabin in the woods that you two escaped to on nights where you just wanted to be alone. He had wiped your tears, held you close, and then made your toes curl and your body feel electrified.

And afterwards, when you were both lazy with sleep, you told him you loved him. You realized your mistake as soon as you saw his eyes, that look forever haunting you. He had then stood, gave you the key to the house, and left. Never contacting you again.

Yet here he stood, smiling at you as if none of that had happened, and you couldn’t stop the anger from rising.

“No. I don’t.” You respond coldly, your jaw clenching as he frowned. 

“Come on, Y/N, don’t be like this.” He sighed, standing straight to run a hand through his hair. It was something he did when he was frustrated. “I want to make amends.”

“Amends?” You scoff, that anger now turning to rage. It felt as if you were about to spit fire at him. “After all these years? After you left me alone? I am fine to be cordial with you but if you think I would ever want to make amends with you, to be friends, you are denser than I thought you were.”

“What I did was wrong, I know. I live with that guilt every day but I want to explain myself, to let you know that I was wrong and stupid and that I’m sorry.”

You had always wanted to hear him say those words to you, to come in like a white knight in a fairytale and profess his love to you. It had been your dream for years…until you realized you didn’t need it. You were fine without him. If he wanted to leave you, to pretend as if you didn’t exist, then you could do the same.

But what you told yourself and what you actually felt were two completely different stories. You could pretend all you want but at night, or in hazy mornings, your heart yearned for his arms wrapping around you.

“I don’t want your sorry, Eris.” You said with a shaky breath, willing your emotions to stay hidden. “I wanted you. I wanted a life with you. I refused proposals, opprotunites, everything for you. You were it for me. And you left.”

“Oh, Y/N,” He murmured, his voice tight as he reached out for you. “My little fox-”

“Don’t call me that,” You snapped, tears now welling up in your eyes. “Don’t act like you have a right to that anymore. You lost it when you walked out that door, Eris. You ruined everything, left our castle crumbling, and the saddest part is that I still try to rebuild it.”

“I loved you. I wanted a life with you, to run away from the courts and just pretend we were the only ones that existed. I had dreams for us. I still do and it’s the most pathetic thing. I hate it.” The tears were now freely falling down your cheeks as you turned away from him, blearily looking out over the dark forest as you tried to control your breathing. 

You hadn’t meant to reveal all of that to him, to let him know just how much he still affected you, but it was like you couldn’t stop. It was as if someone had taken over your mouth. And maybe that’s what you needed. Maybe now that you got all of it, you could finally move on. You could try to find happiness again.

His footsteps came closer as he stood behind you, careful to not touch you. You tensed, waiting for laughter or anger, just wanting him to finally reject you to be done with it. 

“I’m not expecting your forgiveness nor your understanding.” Eris began, his voice barely above a whisper. “The pain I caused you, after all you sacrificed for me, it is truly unexcusable. Something a monster would do…and maybe that’s what I am.”

Your heart clenched as he struggled with the last part. The two of you had talked about how he saw himself, about the things he was going through with his father, and you knew how much it tormented him. It was a dark stain on his soul and you had tried your best to heal it, to show him how love could heal anything. 

“You always saw the best in me, little fox. Even on my worst days, even now, I’m sure, you’re wanting to soothe me. It’s who you are.” He smiled, his hand raising to graze your back before stalling. “I’ve never met someone like you, Y/N. Someone who cares, truly cares, about others and who loves without conspiracy or greed. You simply love to love and that is such a rare, precious trait.”

The knuckles of your hand were white as you gripped the stone of the balcony. 

“Our past was always full of ill-defined lines between lovers and friends. It was what I thought I wanted, no strings attached, because I had convinced myself in my mind that once it was gone I wouldn’t have anything to grieve.” Eris continued, lowering his hand and sighing. “And when you told me you loved me you made me feel alive. It was the first time in my life I thought life was truly worth living, that I had finally be granted true happiness after the hell that I had been through.”

“I remember looking at you, shock, awe, love, and devotion taking hold of me…until reality washed it all away. You have no idea how badly I wanted to say it back, Y/N.” He suddenly cupped your face, the chilly night air causing your breaths to puff out as he trained his eyes on you. “But I could not give you the life you deserved.”

“The only life I wanted was with you, Eris. I only needed you.” You whispered, placing your hands over his. 

“I couldn’t promise you protection, Y/N. Do you think all those years I wanted us to stay secret? To hide you away like I was ashamed of us?” His voice was desperate now. “I would get on my very knees before you in front of the Court, proclaim you as you mine in front of the Gods, but for all I could do the only thing I couldn’t was keep you safe from my family.”

“What they did to my brother’s lover still haunts me. She was an innocent soul but they deemed her ‘unworthy’ and ripped her limb from limb. I couldn’t, wouldn’t, subject you to that.” Eris shook his head, his thumb running slowly over your cheek as a tear rolled down it. “It was easier to leave you to hate me, to wish me dead. I would gladly ruin myself if it meant I was keeping you safe.”

“Why now? Why after all these years have you come to find me?” You asked, your lips quivering. “I don’t understand. That danger is still there, your family is still alive. What difference does it make?”

Eris gave you a soft smile and pulled your hand to his lips, kissing it tenderly. You felt yourself warm in his arms. He was looking at you the same way he had that night only this time, this time it didn’t fade into horror and pain. This time all you saw was adoration.

“I realized I couldn’t live without you.” He murmured, pressing his forehead against yours. “I was a coward and a fool to throw away someone like you, Y/N. I’ve loved you since the moment we met and I haven’t stopped.”

Your lips turned up in a shaky smile at finally hearing those words. All of the anger and sadness you had been holding onto with him vanished, replaced with that love and devotion that had been buried underneath it all. You closed your eyes and allowed yourself to simply be in the moment, his magic warming the two of you up as the party continued inside. 

He started swaying you gently, the music barely loud enough as you let out a small giggle as you twirled away and back into his arms. Eris pressed his lips against your ear, smiling from ear to ear as turned you and took a step back.

“Can we start again, please?” He asked, his signature smirk on his lips as he gave you a deep bow and a wink. 

You rolled your eyes but gave him an exaggerated curtsy, returning his wink and holding your hand out for him to take. “A pleasure to meet you, my Lord.”

Eris yanked you into his arms and you let out a small shriek, hitting his shoulder playfully as he dipped his head until your lips were near touching. You looked up at him through your lashes, your cheeks flushed, waiting in anticipation.

“I think we’ve both done enough waiting, little fox. Let’s just skip to the good part.” He flirted, sealing your lips against his as you both savored finding each other again. 

[agent-8449]

The Negatives: Masterpost

"Howdy there, to the audience beyond the screen! I'm your host Eris, and this is Late Nights With Disharmonia..."

The Negatives AU was borne, long long ago, by me fucking around with the ancient joke of Soul 2. Mind 2, Heart 2, Whole 2, etcetera. It evolved into something more sophisticated if light-hearted, and now it's psychological horror. Oops!

Firstly; Eris, this Whole, is American. That's the first part of the joke. The second is that he's supposedly everything a normal golden Whole isn't-- loud, confident, in control. The third part is that he's exactly like a normal Whole in those respects anyway. He might have willed away the loop amnesia, but this cold war he's started with himself might be worse.

Total and godlike control of his own Psyche means nothing if he can't stop himself from splitting anyway. His Thirds know what he does, and they're horrible like him too.

Phobos, the Green Heart, is the distillation of what Eris thinks makes him different to other people; acting and ingenuity, sure, but also a casual disregard for their wellbeings and a violent streak. His impulsive, or intrusive, thoughts.

Deimos, an Orange Mind, is what Eris believes the world wants him to be; a pencil-pushing pushover, dull and boring and content with mundanity. Deimos might be calculative, but that's in the literal sense. He's a calculator, with about as much personality.

Nemesis is where it gets interesting. This Teal Soul isn't needed to pretend to be him at all, not really. He's less so Identity, and more... self-hate. Sure, Eris intended for him to be an embodiment of social pressure/"cringe culture", yet all that's done is make his Soul even more viscerally self-aware of the futility of this all. Nemesis was built to hate. To hate what Eris wants to be-- to be critical, never-pleased, and cynical. By god does Nemesis fulfill these criteria. Because-- well-- what is he supposed to do? Not hate this? This insufferable, useless war? These two tumours Linked to his thoughts? The fact that him hating at all is decreed by Eris, and he's playing his role perfectly? So he hates, quietly. The other two overpower him, and Eris uses him again and again and again for the things he himself doesn't want to do.

What a cheery quartet!!!

The delicate balance of Whole and Thirds was disrupted by their additions to the chat. Entirely sick of <making his Thirds> running Youtube content farms, Eris seeks a way to monetize this supernatural happening. Mixed with his total control of his Psyche <due to being his Psyche>, it's a recipe for something finally interesting. Eris is more of a filmmaker than a songwriter, and to create The Perfect Story is his goal. If only it was that easy. Pretending to be nice and helpful in chat, in order to lure somebody over, did not go very well at all. Neither did exploiting the phenomenon of his self-duplication; the fact that sending constructs from his Psyche is literally sending chunks of his Psyche, i.e., him. If they're in the right shape to walk and talk and think like him, well, they do! Eris clones 3 and 4 both met separate grisly demises.

Why? Long story short, they're filled with assumption goop, and if Reality questions that too hard, it becomes real goop. They melt. This is what happened to 3. 4..... got beheaded. By Nemesis. OOPS! Turns out the breaking of the pattern gave the Whole-adoring Heart and Mind enough grievances for Nemesis to convince them to murder him. And thus ended a doomed attempt at coexistence. The following month unsupervised screwed up Eris' life, too, on his return. Punishment only made them hate him more, and now it's all collapsing...

Now, desperation makes men do terrible things.

This is all a very quick summary of the Negatives, of course. Feel free to ask for clarifications! I might even respond in-character... Toodles for now!

[rosesncarnations]

The outfit of allegiances changing 

A quick writing snippet below

25 turned to 50 to 100 and here she was, another winter solstice, another night of long dances with the Autumn Court heir, each one flowing into the next. She didn’t know when Eris had started to in earnest try to court her but it had started with glittering jewelry of garnets, citrines and topazes. Hair pins, necklaces and earrings that she could wear for a decade without ever wearing the same thing twice. Though she was fond of the long necklace of orange sapphires, often looping it to mimic a choker of sorts.

As she had readied for this long night of twirls and chaste kisses to hands, unseen by those of the Night Court in the center of circles of dancers, she looked between the two dresses she whittled it down to. The black dress that hid her arms with gossamer material the faintest blue grey and the red dress. Just about matching the male’s hair that has slowly claimed her thoughts. It was cut deep while have a long skirt that fanned wide when she stood just right.

[prythiansfavoritefox]

Lucien held the pot carefully, afraid that he might smash it. An irrational fear, but one borne of centuries of disappointments combined with his own failures. It was a lovely pot, glazed in the same pink as the eyes of his lost lover. Orange flames had been painted in a lattice pattern across the pot too. Overall, it was quite lovely artwork.

But Lucien had hated it on sight. His feelings  of hatred had lessened now, but…that pot represented cruelty. It represented a bitter bitter end. Although the pot was not large or filled with bone-crushing weights, it felt awfully heavy in Lucien’s arms.

His eldest brother had given it to him. His first gift in a good century or so. He and Eris had once been thick as thieves; Eris was far more a father to him than Beron had ever been, and his true father had not even been aware of his existence. But Beron had driven them apart. Lucien had seen far too much of Beron in him. He hadn’t truly seen Eris. He hadn’t understood.

He had lost faith in the people close to him so many times that Lucien had not dared to believe better of his brother. That hadn’t ended well for him in the past. 

The pot trembled in Lucien’s hands.

An indigo-gloved hand came to cover his own, steadying the shakiness. Lucien instantly eased up at her comforting touch even through the fabric. 

“Thank you,” Lucien whispered. Elain just squeezed his hand before letting her own slide away so that she could loop her arm through his. “I am here for you always,” she answered. Lucien didn’t have words to express the gratitude within him. Her presence beside him made him feel stronger, and finally, he walked out of the doors of the Forest House.

Thought he abhorred the place, it seemed only fitting to start the journey where it had all ended. And now, it would end in a much better place.

They could just winnow to their intended location, but the journey was important. To remember her. To honor her.

“What is your favorite memory of her?” Elain asked as they strode barefoot through the tall grasses of Autumn. Lucien blinked. “I am not sure you wish to hear of me with somebody else,” he muttered. His mate only smiled, her golden brown hair shimmering in the sun. “I am not threatened by your past, Lucien. I only wish to hear of more times you were happy. Your life is marred by so much trauma…I wish to treasure your joy.”

It was times like these that reminded Lucien that he was not the only charmer in this relationship. Elain Archeron: his mate, his wife, his equal. A seer who also possessed doe-brown eyes that could stare into your soul. 

He thought a moment. What was his favorite memory with the pixie? “When we were dancing at a ball once,” Lucien recalled, “That troublemaker dragged me out of the ball and into a celebration with her community amongst the farmers. She taught me traditional folk dances, brought me to their open market, and took me to one of their live comedy performances on the streets. I picked up some bansuri while helping herd cows too. I can still play; do you want to listen?”

Elain’s lips quirked and her brown eyes sparkled. “Perhaps when we get home, adventurer.” Home. Lucien hadn’t had a real one in a while. He tamped down on the tears knowing that once he started, he would take forever to stop. “As the lady wishes.”

Elain snorted delicately but said nothing. The conversation had been a nice way to pass the time; Lucien hadn’t even noticed that they were already halfway to their destination. 

“I can’t believe Eris actually saved it,” Lucien added after a beat of silence. “I thought…it was lost forever. I have had to live with it for centuries. Not just her death, but…the fact that she wouldn’t be able to rest in peace.” 

“I know,” Elain said quietly. “But nothing that happened was your fault.” Lucien nodded, throat too tight to speak. He knew that now. He’d always known it, but his own self-loathing had prevented him from seeing it. But he had learned to love himself again. Elain was a huge reason for that.

It was so difficult to believe that he was actually here, back in his home, and it was a safe place to be. He savored the crisp Autumn air, the strength that flooded into his veins by being in this court. 

At last they reached their destination: the Phlegethon river. “Don’t touch the water,” Lucien warned his mate as they both knelt before it. “It may look lovely, but it’s not ordinary water. The water is so hot that it feels cold to the touch. At least for those without fireborn immunity.”

Elain blinked. “So…only Autumn Court faeries can touch it?”

“Only Autumn Court gifted High Fae,” Lucien amended. Slowly, he lifted the top of the urn.

His hands shook slightly again. “I am here,” Elain murmured, placing her hand on his shoulder. Lucien closed his eyes, savoring that touch, his one tether to this land. Then he opened his eyes and turned the pot over. Ashes began to pour into the river. Lucien watched as the ashes blended with the water and began to flow downstream.

“Goodbye Jesminda,” Lucien whispered. “May your spirit and soul finally be at peace in the afterlife.”

Lucien could’ve sworn he felt a gentle hand tousle his crimson waves, as Jesminda used to do long ago. Perhaps it was her spirit. Perhaps it was the Mother herself. It felt as though a thousand pounds of steel had just been removed from his chest. At last he could breathe again, live again. He turned to the love of his life, whose arms were already open, waiting for him.

Lucien pulled Elain into his arms and squeezed her tightly, one hand going into her hair, the other firmly on her back. She had come here for him. Had helped him mourn Jesminda. She was his strength, his beacon, his light.

“I love you more than anything,” Lucien whispered against her ear. He felt her smile against him before she pulled away. Elain stood up, green vines twirling around her palms. Lucien watched, transfixed, as she waved her hands and began to form a tree. The trunk was tall and narrow, but what was truly impressive was the branches, covered head-to-toe with seemingly hundreds of drooping lavender flowers. “A wisteria,” Elain  answered his unspoken question. “To mark the spot where Jesminda attained salvation.”

Tears began to well in Lucien’s eyes. Everything- all the pain and suffering had been worth it to find her. He would endure it all again should she be waiting at the end of it all. He was a man of many words, yet there were none pretty enough to describe the depth of his feelings for her, for what she’d just done. “You are my everything,” Lucien said simply. “You are the reason why I wake up every morning, who I dream of when I go sleep. It is you who gave me the courage to walk here today, and you…I cannot imagine anyone more perfect.”

Elain beamed, tears forming in her eyes too. “And I cannot imagine anyone more perfect than you. I am simply returning the kindness you showed me in mourning my father by my side. You need not thank me for this. I would do anything for you.”

Lucien stood up and walked over to her. He picked her up by the waist and spun her out. She squealed delightfully, and Lucien finally placed her down, getting on his knees before her. “I will thank you for this, as I will thank you for every little thing you do, because you deserve the appreciation for all the important work you’ve been doing behind the scenes that never got appreciated. You will never be ignored, or shunted to the side, or underestimated, or coddled. I vow to love you and support you in all of your endeavors forevermore.”

Elain covered her face with her hands and began to sob, and Lucien gently pried her hands off of her face, a small smirk on his face. “I thought I’d be the one crying today, but look at you, bawling your eyes out.” Elain gasped and swatted at him. “You rascal!” Lucien grinned before standing up and giving a mocking bow. “I know not what you speak of, m’lady. I am a perfect gentleman.”

Elain rolled her eyes, and Lucien only laughed and pulled her into an embrace in response. After a long moment, they turned around and began to walk back.

Jesminda would never be forgotten. Her memories would live in the hearts of all those who knew her, including Lucien. He would choose to recall the best of her, the joy and good times they had together, a part of his past that he loved. In doing so, Lucien finally allowed himself to be happy again, to live laugh and love again, to start a new chapter of his life with his mate, Elain Archeron.

[clockwork-ashes]

All You Have Is Your Fire - Part IV

Find Part I here :)

Summary: 'I can hear your heart beating through the stone.' For the briefest of moments, Lucien wondered if his mate would know exactly when his heart’s steady rhythm came to a sudden stop.

Note: A huge, huge thank you to the lovely @bettdraws who literally deserves all the credit and whose post inspired me to start writing this. I could not stop thinking about this head canon, and it was so kind of you to let me try and make a story from it :) And a huge thank you to everyone reading!

Tag List: @anishake

Part V >>

The Autumn Court was on the constant verge of death, Elain knew, but it was still the loveliest place she had ever seen. Eris had winnowed them first to the border, where the trees created a canopy so thick, she couldn’t even see the sky. The richest reds, the darkest oranges, and the deepest greens had surrounded Elain. Cora had looked as equally impressed by the change of scenery, and Elain had wondered if the woman had ever left the stifling Hewn City. 

Autumn was everything Elain had imagined the lands of faerie to be like. The chill was biting, she had noticed, cold like the first kiss of winter. She had been stunned into silence, had forgotten she was upset that Eris had not even let her say a proper goodbye to her family. 

Before Elain had had a moment to catch her breath, before she could truly appreciate the wild flowers and the unfamiliar trees, Eris had not bothered to warn her or Cora as he took them directly to the Forest House. 

Eris had let go of her hand so suddenly that Elain had stumbled, and had grabbed onto the woman who would act as her lady’s maid. Cora had gently supported her, shooting an angry glare at the Autumn heir’s turned back. 

Eris had led them through winding halls, windows dark at the late hour, torches their only light. Elain had realised that she much preferred the flickering flames of Autumn to the faelights ever-present in the Night Court.  

Eris had given them a moment to look at the guest suite, all wood and stone and comfortable carpets, before he had told Elain they would be going straight to Beron.

Elain understood that Lucien was in a great deal of danger, but the quick pace at which everything was happening was enough to make her light-headed, unsteady. 

“The High Lord is expecting you,” Eris offered her his arm, but when Elain hesitated, he added, “and it’s best not to keep him waiting.” 

Elain did not reach for Eris, instead she asked, “Because I’m Lucien’s mate?” She very nearly spat the last word at Eris in distaste. Saying Lucien’s name out loud was like a vicious blow, especially since she so often refused to allow herself the liberty. On the other side of the wall it was improper, Lucien wasn’t Elain’s husband, and the familiarity with which his name fell from her lips was enough to rattle her. 

Eris shook his head, the firelight from the torches reflecting off his golden jewellery. “Because he received your letter.” His answering smile was ruthless, that of a wolf. The expression didn’t reach his amber eyes. 

Elain only frowned in confusion, she glanced at Cora. “I never–” 

Elain did not get the chance to finish her statement, not as Eris waved his hand elegantly and a letter floated gently past her face. She snatched the paper from the air, her eyes scanning its contents with growing disbelief. 

The Night Court’s wax seal was still intact and the letter was simply worded, respectful. 

Lord Eris Vanserra, it is with great urgency that I write to you, so that I might request an audience with the High Lord of the Autumn Court…

Elain continued to skim what was clearly a plea for help. Cora moved closer to peek over Elain’s shoulder and she made a low sound of displeasure. 

What surprised Elain the most was not what was written in the letter, but rather the elegant, looping scrawl, exactly like her own. Even the signed name, Lady Elain Archeron, was identical. Her lips parted slightly in surprise at the perfect forgery. 

Before Elain could say anything, Eris spoke, a hidden warning in the tone of his voice. “I received your letter just in time, Lady, my father was growing tired of waiting for someone to notice Lucien’s absence.” His words were careful, so much so that Elain wondered if Eris was worried about someone listening in on their conversation. He offered her his arm once more, a flawless gentleman. 

This time, Elain was quick to loop her arm through his, nodding in understanding. Briefly Elain wondered how Eris had managed to forge the letter so well, but she pushed those thoughts aside, vowing to bring it up again at a later time. The light blue fabric of her sleeve was an ugly contrast to the deep green colour of Eris’s velvet jacket. “I am glad, then,” Elain said softly, “that I sent my letter to you when I did.” 

Elain saw as Eris’s shoulders dropped ever so slightly in relief, although he said nothing in response. The thick oak doors of the guest room opened silently, the long hallway beyond was menacing, shadows dancing as the torches flickered. 

Elain took a deep breath to calm herself, her posture perfect, just like her mother had taught her a lifetime ago. Elain wondered if the steady heartbeat she could hear was her own or Lucien’s, now that distance no longer separated them.   

Eris stepped forward, and Elain followed, Cora just a few steps behind. Elain was grateful for her strong and silent presence, but before all three of them could walk past the stone entrance of the room and into the hallway, Eris paused. 

Auburn brow raised, he glared at Cora with flames in his eyes. “Where do you think you’re going?” 

“I’ve come with the Lady, shouldn’t I stay by her side?” Cora snapped, her words sharp and lacking any of the respect one would have expected her to show a prince. Elain liked her instantly. 

“It’ll only annoy my father,” Eris replied, glancing at Elain before he faced Cora once more. 

Cora looked like a queen, Elain thought, her braid as good as any gold crown. “And leave the High Lady’s sister alone with you?” The last word was a snarl.

“You’re her lady’s maid, not her personal guard,” Eris responded, not taking his eyes off Cora. She continued to glare, and Eris smiled mockingly, daring her to argue. 

Elain felt as though the tension between them could be cut with a knife, locked as they were in their silent battle of wills. 

“Besides,” Eris drawled, “what use will you be against the wrath of a High Lord?” 

A blush stained Cora’s brown cheeks, the fingers of her one hand curling into a fist. Elain wondered if she would have hit Eris, but she did not wait any longer to find out if that would have been the case. 

“Thank you, Cora,” Elain interjected. “I’ll be fine.” Her words were confident, even though Elain herself was anything but. 

Cora did not seem satisfied with the way the night seemed to be unfolding, but all she did was sigh in frustration. “Good luck, then,” she said quietly. “I’ll be here when Lucien is freed.” 

Cora’s words were enough to spark an ember of hope within Elain, but as she walked arm-in-arm with Eris to the throne room, panic was beginning to send unwelcome shivers down her spine. 

“Don’t be afraid,” Eris murmured, not looking at Elain. He continued to walk at an unhurried pace, the sound of his boots hitting the stone in a steady rhythm. The carved double-doors of the throne room towered just a few more steps ahead of them. “No harm will come to you, Elain, I swear it on my life.”  

Elain did not know why she believed Eris’s words, but she tightened her grip on his arm, grateful. The doors opened, the hinges groaning with the weight of the wood, and the throne room was revealed, so unlike the one Rhysand and Feyre had in the Hewn City. 

Beron Vanserra sat on a throne of ancient maple, leaves carved into the thick wood with a steady hand. Elain’s first thought was that he looked nothing like Lucien, but there was a ghost of Eris in the turned down corners of his full lips. 

Elain fought not to shrink into herself, to keep her head high, at his assessing gaze. He was frightening, and Elain could almost feel his power within the space. Beron was the oldest High Lord, Feyre had warned her, and Elain wondered if that made him the most dangerous. 

The Lady of Autumn was a striking figure in a gown the colour of fresh blood. Her throne was just as lovely as her husband’s, although it was smaller. Elain caught the way the lady straightened her back, how she brought herself forward to look at Eris. Her husband did not see the desperation in her eyes as she looked at her eldest son, but Elain recognized the emotion, had seen it before on countless women hoping for miracles. 

Eris stopped right before the pair of rulers, dropping his hold on Elain’s arm. Elain elegantly curtsied, her face downturned, the movements practised, and she was grateful for the lessons she had suffered as a young girl. Elain was surprised momentarily as Eris bowed slightly at the waist beside her, the respectful gesture clearly deference to his High Lord and not the comfortable greeting of a parent.   

“Lady Elain Archeron of the Night Court,” Beron’s voice was harsh like the slash of a knife. “You have requested this meeting, and while I am pleased by your arrival to my court, I can offer you very little of my time.”    

Elain raised her head, smiling pleasantly. “High Lord, Lady” she greeted as her eyes flicked between them, “thank you for welcoming me to your lovely home.” 

“You were most troubled in the letter we received,” Beron stated, raising a dark eyebrow as he silently asked her to make her case. 

“I am troubled still,” Elain responded, trying her best to twist her words together just as faeries did. It came unnaturally to her, but her time in Velaris had allowed her to become familiar with the specific patterns of the High fae. “I’ve asked only for a moment of your time to make a most significant request.”

Beron’s answering smile was cruel, embers flared in his dark eyes. “Then make your request, child.” 

It was intended to be an insult, Elain was sure, calling her a child. Elain was not bothered by it, and she looked straight at the ancient being before her, chin held high. “I have come to request that my mate, Lucien Vanserra, seventh son of Autumn, be allowed a safe return to the Night Court.”

Elain’s words rang clear in the near-empty throne room. The Lady of Autumn’s sharp breath was like the shattering of glass as they all waited for the High Lord’s response. 

“The bond has not yet been accepted, everyone knows this.” Beron waved a hand dismissively. “You have no claim to him.”

“High Lord,” Elain began, and Eris reached for her elbow, tension in the set of his mouth. “We were to be married,” she continued, ignoring his silent warning. 

“When?” Beron Vanserra questioned, casting a devastating glare in his eldest son’s direction. It was clear that the High Lord doubted Elain’s words. 

Panic gripped Elain so suddenly she could barely breathe. “In two weeks' time, on the first day of Spring.” Elain hoped she sounded certain, confident. Eris looked ready to shove her behind him, his body angled in a way that suggested he was ready for a violent confrontation. 

Beron’s lips curled into a vicious smile. “I believe you, Lady Elain, and take no offence, but I still must confirm the truth of your claims with my son.” 

No sooner had the High Lord finished his sentence and the throne room’s doors opened with a groan. Elain couldn’t help but turn around, drawn to her mate. 

You are mine. 

The thought crashed through her mind like a wave against the shore, shocking and unwanted. Elain could finally sigh in relief, though, at seeing Lucien bruised and bloody, but knowing that he was relatively unharmed. 

Lucien looked proud, arrogant, as he was shoved further into the throne room by a careless guard. He did not notice Elain at first, not until she tugged on the golden thread that tied them together. Beron watched them like a predator watched prey, hungry for a slip in their demeanour. 

Elain’s brown eyes met Lucien’s, and all the fire he had possessed a moment before quickly went out. Like the first rays of the sun going over the horizon, horror dawned daybright on the lovely features of Lucien’s face. 

Elain looked at Lucien, the smell of burning wood and dying leaves thick in the air, and she wondered if perhaps she had made a terrible mistake coming to the Autumn Court.

[amnevitahwritesstuff]

Across the Universe (T)

Feyre dies of old age. Rhys becomes a god to get her back. 

Come Away O Human Child (E)

The fae come to our world to kidnap humanity and Feyre finds herself snatched up like all the others.

Like Wine on Your Lips (E)

Rhys and Feyre get drunk and bang. That’s it. That’s the fic.

Stuffed (E)

Shortly after Feyre and Rhys start trying for a baby, Feyre discovers a new kink that her mate is all too happy to help her indulge in.

Take Care of Business for Me (E)

The Pretty Woman AU no one asked for.

The Prison (E)

Feyre is sent to a prison island after committing a murder. But she soon discovers that there is something far more sinister there than her fellow prisoners...

time won't fly (it's like I'm paralyzed by it) (M)

Every day, Rhysand wakes up next to Amarantha in her bed Under the Mountain. A prisoner, a weapon, a High Lord on a leash. He's been down there so long, it's starting to feel like time doesn't matter. Until one day, it doesn't. Feyre's death sends Rhysand back in time, waking up on the same day - over and over. Now, Rhysand must discover how to break the time loop, save his mate, and keep his sanity intact.

The Hungry House (T)

What if the House of Wind decided it didn’t want Nesta to leave?

Blood at the Roots (M)

Azriel feeds bad people to his bloodthirsty dryad girlfriend. 

Be Thankful I Don't Take It All (E)

Azriel thinks he deserves to do whatever he wants to his spoil of war. As a treat. Eris realizes that he’s actually into that.

A Hunting We Will Go (E)

Feyre meets something terrifying in the woods.

I Saw Her Standing There (E)

The story of how the High Lord of the Night Court saved Rhysand's mother and gave her the one thing no one else could.

The Horrors of Writer's Block (M)

A fanfic writer finds herself sucked into her own story after battling with writer’s block and is not allowed to leave until she finishes it. Chaos ensues.

Wicked Games (E)

Bryaxis asks for a much different boon in its bargain with Feyre. 

[acourtofladydeath]

Azris Week Day 2: Familiars

Azriel is away on an important mission, and he’s left behind a trusted companion to watch over his mate. Sariel the shadow has seen many battles, but getting Eris to take care of himself while he’s sick might be the most difficult one he’s faced to date.

Sariel was initially introduced in Chapter 7 of my fic "3 Jewels in the Hewn City". If you want more of his, Eris, and Azriel's relationship I highly suggest starting there!

Starting off my @azrisweek posts with a fluffy little sickfic. There's a snipped below the cut, or you can read the full fic on AO3!

Anxiety caused Sariel’s non corporeal form to shift uneasily through the air, breaking and reforming as the shadow considered what they should do. Eris sensed this, able to understand Sariel even though he couldn’t communicate with the shadow’s in the same way Azriel could. “Don’t you dare tell him.” Eris called from the couch without sitting up. His voice was raw and weak, but the tone was stern.  Sariel condensed, creating a thick black cloud beside Eris’s head as if they could meet the male’s ferocious gaze. The move seemed to say you know I can’t keep this from him, no matter how busy he is.  “I don’t want him getting hurt trying to rush things to get back to me.” Eris said, tone softer and full of concern.  If Sariel had eyes to roll, they would have. Instead, they swam a loop in the air, mimicking the motion in a pattern Eris had long come to understand had the same frustrated meaning. They both knew that Azriel could handle himself, and that they would both get their asses handed to them if Sariel didn’t report his mate’s illness. 

This snippet does not start at the beginning of the fic. Read the full fic on AO3!

Please let me know if you would like off or on my taglist! @pippsmcgee @born-to-riot @chunkypossum @bubybubsters @queercontrarian @yanny-77 @fieldofdaisiies @iftheshoef1tz @secret-third-thing

[danikamariewrites]

Rescue part 2

Eris x reader

Warnings: some angst I think

You stare at Eris with wide eyes. He was serious. This was going to happen. And it was going to happen fast.

Rhys slowly nods his head. Contemplating what to do next. “Let's go talk in my office then.” Azriel and Cassian head upstairs, leaving Mor in the living room entryway.

Eris looks at you, his hands still cupping your face. “I’ll be back. I promise.” He lets go and follows Rhysand up the stairs. You stare after him, immediately wanting him to hold you again. Those three days apart killed you.

Feyre was at your side in an instant, looping her arm through yours. “You must be starving. Why don’t we have some breakfast? Mor, would you like to join us?”

You both look at the blonde creeping slowly into the shadows of the dark living room. Mor freezes, looking between the two of you. “Sure.” She answers tentatively. Feyre leads you to the dining room.

Her sister, Elain, and the twin wraiths setting the table. You had always liked Elain. She was a social butterfly at heart and was always kind. She greeted you with a tired smile.

The four of you sit down at the grand table. Mor sits across from you doing her best not to make eye contact with you. You knew what happened between Eris and Mor. You had just started seeing Eris a year before their engagement was announced. You wondered if she remembered you.

You all chatted throughout the meal. Mor avoided conversation with you.

“Thank you again, Feyre. You’ve all been too kind to me. I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you.” Feyre reaches her hand out to grasp yours. “Knowing your safe is enough.” She gives you a kind smile.

Mor scoffs at Feyre’s reply. Your heads snap toward her as Elain watches silently. “Mor?” Feyre tilts her head in confusion. At that, Mor snaps, “She’s not safe! Not with those monsters! You think when Eris is High Lord he'll be better than his father!?” You lean back in your seat, shocked by her outburst.

Before anyone else can say something you cut in, “Can Mor and I have a moment alone?” Feyre gives you a tight nod, rising from the table and Elain follows her.

You meet Mor’s gaze, she's unreadable. “I know Eris has kept parts of his life from people. He's kept what happened to you a secret because he knows it's yours.” You take a deep breath. “Do you remember me? Apart from being around the Autumn royal family.”

Mor stares at you, confused. Then the realization sparkles in her eyes. She sits up straighter, a slight gasp escaping her red lips. “You were there that day.” You nod. “I could feel Eris screaming for help down the bond. Images of blood and where you were. I knew I had to move fast or someone would catch me.”

Tears started to line Mor's eyes. “I patched you up the best I could, but I felt like I didn't do enough.” At this point, your hands were shaking. “Thank you. You did more than enough.” Getting up and rounding the table to Mor’s side you embrace her.

She held you tightly, soft tears falling down both your faces. “I'm going to help. And I'm going to make sure that monster never hurts you or anyone ever again.” You let a little relieved sigh escape your lips, whispering, “Thank you.”

——————————

Hours later the males emerge from Rhys’ office. You're sitting in the living room with Mor and the Archeron sisters when they found you. Eris looked tense and worried. Cassian and Azriel were wearing the masks of their respective jobs.

Rhys steps into the room, and everyone's attention turns to him except yours. You're too focused on Eris and sending love and reassurance down the bond. “Beron’s execution will happen in five days. Eris needs a little more time to make arrangements, but Azriel’s spies should be able to start infiltrating court tomorrow.”

Eris finally meets your gaze. Before you can ask Eris speaks up, “You are going to stay here until it's done.” You don't bother to hide your shock.

Eris strides over to you, kneeling in front of you and holding your hands gently in his large, slender ones. “Y/n, I don't want you in danger. Or to witness any of this. Think, my love. What if something goes wrong?

“What if he…what if he knows you're there? And he uses you against me. I can't risk you.” His eyes are pleading with you, begging you to understand. “I understand. But please my love, be careful.” You both stand and he pulls you into a tight hug.

Azriel, Rhys, and Eris talk for a few more minutes. Eris and Azriel head to the front door and you follow. “Eris wait.” He turns to you. “I’ll wait outside.” Azriel says, closing the door behind him.

You pull Eris down to your lips by the front of his shirt. He kisses you back with a ferocity that scares you. It made you feel like this would be your last kiss.

Eris leans his forehead against yours, your breaths mixing. “I love you, y/n.” “I love you too, Eris. Please come back to me, please.” The desperation is clear in your voice. If he died you wouldn’t survive it. “I will. I promise.”

He removes himself from you. Eris gives you one last look before walking out the door.

——————————

The days went by far too slow for your liking. Eris had closed off his end of the bond, but you left the slightest opening on your end. Just in case.

The first two days your anxiety was at its worst. Not being able to feel Eris through the bond and the anticipation of Beron’s death had you on edge. Causing you to spend most of your time in the Night Court alone.

On the fourth day Nesta, Mor, and Cassian left for the Autumn Court. You wished them luck on their way out, giving Mor one last hug.

You found Feyre later that night and you sat together in silence as tears ran down your face.

The next morning Rhys left for the Autumn Court. You decided sitting around and waiting was the worst thing to do today. To help calm you down you joined Elain in the garden.

It was late afternoon when you felt it. Power shook the ground so hard you were sure all of Prythian felt it. Elain held onto you for dear life. “Y/n, are you alright?”

Something came through that little opening in the bond. It was so overwhelming you curled up, pulling at the grass. And then it slowed to a small hum of power. It was Eris.

You knew what you felt, what the world felt, was Beron’s power being ripped from him. That he was no longer among the living. You prayed to the Mother his soul was being dragged down to Hell by demons that would make him shake.

But Eris was alive. And that was all that mattered to you.

Picking your head up you looked at Elain, a slight smile dancing on your lips. “I’m okay. I’m okay.” You whispered the last part to yourself. You tilted your head back to the sun, feeling its warmth on your face, knowing you’ll see Eris soon.

After dinner with Feyre and Elain you heard the sound of wings, then feet climbing the smooth stone steps of the house. The three of you shot up from the table to greet the group in the foyer.

Rhys opens the door, entering the home first. Feyre lets out a small cry, throwing herself into her mate's arms. The rest file in, looking tired but relieved. Like a weight has been lifted off all of their shoulders.

Mor gives you a soft smile as Eris walks in behind her. Your gazes meet, tears prick the corners of your eyes. You bound toward each other, pulling each other into a tight embrace.

“You came back.” Eris buries his face in your hair, basking in your scent. “Of course I did. I'd never leave you, my love.”

You pull away, both turning to see the Inner Circle watching you. “I can never thank you enough,” Eris says, “Thank you for your trust and help. I hope our alliance leads to a better world.”

They all nod. Rhys breaks into a wide grin, “I do too Eris.” Eris smiles back at his fellow High Lord. “Well, we will get out of your hair. I'll be in touch in a few days.”

You look to Feyre and Elain, “Thank you.” The sisters give you kind smiles. Eris leads you out the front door. He pulls you into his side and darkness surrounds you. When it fades away you're standing in your and Eris’ bedroom.

You were home. Ready to take on this challenge with Eris.

tags: @nyotamalfoy @auggiesolovey @bubybubsters @baybay123455 @msiecrane

[mudandmire]

✨Azris time-loop AU✨

UPDATE - - -

16k folks! It's not polished in the slightest, also not done, but man am I having fun. I had no idea so many people love time-loop aus!! This is so exciting, I feel like a mouse who found a little mouse colony 🐁

...I think I've gotten to a point where I hate my writing because I want it to get better but also I know it's getting better by objective comparison but also the progress is so slow and I'm so wordy so all my scenes are like over 1k words and it's a pain in my ASS anyway 😎

moral of the story is to never trust what you think about your writing (by extension yourself) after 9pm.

I have SNIPPETS come and get y'all food

---

The archer is somewhere else this time. Eris takes too long trying to find him, and by then it's too late. Rhur goes down with the bodily thunk of an arrow meeting its mark. His form crumpling to the ground as it spears right into his chest, spurting blood as he falls onto his back, the bones of his wings crunching beneath his dead weight.

Rhav is lost soon after. Caught in the throes of devastation, he doesn't see the archer draw another arrow and aim again. Eris's shout of his name falls on ringing ears, and though he throws a lash of flame at the archer, he looses his arrow before the fire can scorch him.

The brother falls. His body splayed beside his kin.

Eris knows, then, this cycle he will not win. Not that there was much hope, but his mind is scattered with how quickly things went wrong. He doesn't even hear the draw of a bow—larger than the ones made for slinging across the back. Wildly, his eyes scan his surroundings taking nothing in. It's only Azriel's voice, rising loud and panicked above his own panting breath, that he's able to break through the wave of hopelessness that had overcome him.

Too late.

The heavy twang of a bow string. Eris's hair stands on end at the sound of a whistle, high and soft as air behind him—Azriel's war cry is lost to darkness.

Eris opens his eyes to the yawning, black mouth of the roof of his tent. His eyes are wide, he can feel his lids stretch in panic as he pats himself down from head to chest to abdomen. A quick death. He can't help the relieved swallow as he tips his head back, squeezing his eyes closed.

Stuck in the pitch black of his tent, the ground cold and hard beneath him, Eris curls up on his side. Dreading the light. Dreading the loud footsteps of Anton signaling the start of another cycle. His breath is entirely locked away in his chest—tightened and painful as he brings his knees up to his sternum. As close as he can get to being small enough to wink out of existence.

Something solid presses through the thin stuffing of his pillow and into the side of his face. Too hard to be the earth, it rises like a crest from beneath and Eris feels dread slide down his spine.

The dagger. Azriel's Cauldron-forsaken weapon Eris had foolishly taken from the ruins that first day. Looking back, he doesn't know if it was in some misguided sense of remorse or remembrance. Either way his lip curls up in a snarl at the thought of its ornate onyx hilt.

A thought dawns; sharp and bright as the dagger under his head. If he could destroy it, would it end the endless days? It sends a foolish spark of hope, burning as a carefully tended fire, into his chest.

Eris works quickly, knowing the sun is not so far away now. He cannot be there when Anton comes—he firmly shoves away the intrusive thought that if this works he'll be able to explain why he wasn't there. Steps at a time; the dagger, his armor, his sword, his pack. Night settles around the camp in a blanket, dawn just barely on the cusp of the horizon, that bleary, opaque blue lightening the sky beyond. The darkness is scattered around the torches, set every couple of feet down the row of tents. Even at such a quiet hour, the faint sound of talking between the guards on watch prick Eris's sensitive ears. He makes sure to walk on light feet—in the way his armor won't brush and clink and give him away.

The stables are too far, makeshift and holding supplies Eris knows will be heavily guarded against thieves. Instead, he aims for a group of stallions near a trough. There's packs of horses everywhere, not enough room in the camp to set up a stable for hundreds of them.

Eris's breaths fogs in front of his face, steaming against his night-chilled skin as he ducks behind the spread of a canvas tent as two guards pass in front of the torchlight.

Their chatter fades, Eris makes his quick dash across the field for the tied up horses. A sleek, black friesian had caught his eye.

Apart from light, it moves like an oil-slick shadow. Eris is careful, walking crouched and slow towards them. These aren't war horses, not like how the Spring and Autumn court bred them.

They snort at his presence, heads dipping and thick lashes fluttering as they stamp a hoof on the ground.

"Shh," Eris hushes them, no louder than an exhale. The night is waning, he can make out the edges of tents and the makeshift buildings now.

"Shh, easy," he says again, taking each step cautiously towards the friesian.

Eris knows from his time with his hounds and in the Forest House's stables, how to handle a spooked horse. Hopefully—he begs against the pounding of his heart—it doesn't come to that. The friesian blinks his big, lake-dark eyes at him when Eris approaches. He doesn't shift nor flinch when Eris runs careful, soothing palms up the side of his muzzle, a gentle caress against the smooth pelt.

"Good." He whispers, easily untying the knot of its reins on the fence post in front of him.

"I apologize for dragging you away," the reins come loose, and he slips them over the friesian's head, "I promise you will not come to harm, friend."

The friesian does not say anything back, his mild manner relaxing Eris's tense shoulders ever so slightly.

They cannot stay long, though, Eris knows. Keeping careful eye on the progress of dawn—sooner or later Anton will come to his tent and find him missing.

"Come." Eris leads the stallion away from the group, getting nothing but a snort in response as he jolts into a heavy-boned trot.

Eris hadn't thought very hard about which direction he would go, he only knew where he wouldn't. The mountains to the east morph to a stunning shade of violet this early in the morning. Gathered around its roots are the dark, tangled shadows of a forest.

Quickening his movements, Eris attaches his pack to the friesian's saddle, hefting himself up with one more comforting pat to the strong neck. One touch of his hand to his hip lets him know the dagger is still there. It's not a comfort, yet he breathes a sigh of relief and leans forward over the stallion's back.

Their escape is gentle—quiet. Though it's difficult to make a horse's hooves silent, if not impossible, so Eris keeps his body tucked as close to the saddle as possible.

The tents are beginning to thin out, dry, sun-worn land crunching under hooves as Eris begins to relax.

"Hey!" Eris's ears perk up at the same time his heart tumbles down from his chest into his stomach.

"Hey—someone help me get this horse!"

One of the guards walking the camp grounds calls out, most likely to his partner on duty. Eris takes a quick glance over his shoulder, revealing the soldier in all his fine, shining armor glinting in the light of a torch in his hand.

Eris's eyes narrow, and with a ripple of heat in his irises, the torch in the guards hand flares. A flame jumps out, tall and licking at the empty sky. The soldier yells in alarm, dropping it as stray sparks fly into his face.

A quick kick of his heels into the friesian's flank sends them off into the direction of the dark boundary of the forest. Eris leaves the clamor of the guards behind him, settling into his seat and trying to get a handle on his pulse as he does on the reins.

The friesian works up to a canter quickly. The dense, strong muscle of his body moving under Eris as he shifts in his seat. He had been riding since he was a boy, ponies no taller than his hounds, until his feet could comfortably fit into the stirrups. It is not new to him, so acclimating is easy enough as they bolt across the landscape, racing for the safety of the shadows.

---

the amount of times I've killed Azriel so far in this draft is insane. I'm trying to make it, like, respectful? It's not death for deaths sake, y'know, I don't wanna kill him just because, but I need to it's necessary. I'm playing the game "how many ways can I describe someone dying" and it's....something. that's for damn sure.

Also I made a map 👉👈 I can't plan battles for SHIT and though I love the artistic-ness of the Prythian map I can't envision anything being anywhere. so. enjoy my crappy little rendition of dawn and day court, not the whole of Prythian cause that would be ridiculous, but I needed something cause my brain just can't picture places I guess

✨ta daa✨ (thank you Inkarnate)

Tag-list: (lemme know if you want on or off)

@chunkypossum @c-starstuff-man0 @molcat07 @futurehunt

[nobodysdaydreams]

Unpopular opinion, but while I’m not a fan of random or spontaneous musical episodes of media in general (there is usually no reason, they add nothing to the plot of show, they’re awkward, the members of the cast who can’t sing are mysteriously absent from the episode or shameless dubbed, it’s weird when they parody a specific musical and force it to tie into the plot), I would have been strangely fine with a Wolf359 musical episode and think it would have actually fit the show extremely well.

The Dear Listeners’ whole thing from the beginning was about music, so it fits the theme extremely well, it’s not like the musical vibes would “come out of nowhere” and if the Dear Listeners are the ones that cause it happen, it would actually make sense. It’s also plausible in the Wolf359 universe as the Dear Listeners can create time loops, clones, and do a ton of stuff that’s already way more impressive than forcing people to sing, and AI like Eris can trap them in a virtual reality so that’s also a possibility.

Not to mention the entire cast would have ATE UP a multi hour special musical episode. Just imagine:

Lovelace. We heard her sing already in Change of Mind, she would rock this. A song about her old crew perhaps?

Minkowski. The whole plot to her musical and her Broadway dreams. Her talent show performance. All of it. Maybe a song about Dominik or whether she regrets coming here. Her dreams of seeing the stars and how now all she wants is to see home again.

Kepler. He’d turn the Whisky speech into a villain song and what a villain song it would be. Casually and smoothly threatening their lives as he twirls the glass in his hand. He sings a reprise on the way out with old lyrics meaning something new or with entirely new lyrics and the final line of the song is cut off when he’s blasted out of the ship, leaving a haunting silence where his last words should be.

Speaking of villains, Rachel. Her rotating between the characters, condescending each of them as an aside, talking about everything she’s done and will do to get ahead, interrupting David Clarke when he tries to have a solo.

Hera. She’d have a nice heartfelt song about her inner feelings, anger, sadness, heartbreak, etc. that Pryce would do a villainous reprise of that has disturbingly similar emotions related to her own disability, but takes a dark and vengeful turn at the end as opposed to Hera’s more hopeful and resilient attitude about her situation. Also the way Pryce sings hers can lead the audience to thinking it’s Hera singing at first until they realize.

Jacobi and Maxwell. They sing a duet about how they doubt what Goddard is doing sometimes, but it’s allowing them to follow their dreams and discover who they’re meant to be (plus how they found family in each other). After Maxwell dies, or the musical hallucination of her disappears, Jacobi has to sing the reprise alone and the hopeful tempo is replaced by one of sadness, anger, and ultimately acceptance as he wishes Alana goodbye.

Hilbert. He would either resist for such a long time then sing a short sad song about Russia and his sister that he claims means nothing, or he’d refuse to sing and finally be forced to sing in a monotonous unenthusiastic off key bland voice with a heavy accent. Go girl, give us nothing. Another option is this is Blessie’s song sung through Hilbert.

Cutter. Do I even need to restate it, this man dragged a grand piano to space so he could dramatically play it before his evil plans. He would eat up a villain number and enjoy every single second of the performance too. Starts out falsely pleasant and sweet, the ominous vibes slowly come in until they’re in full swing.

Eiffel. He’d also insist this was stupid and try to refuse to sing or would awkwardly or sarcastically sing a weird song, but would eventually break down and sing something quiet and heartfelt about Anne and whether he can even be a hero now after all he’s done.

I hope this post finds the right people. Please someone understand my vision!