#honeysuckle-fae

[camlannpod]

Oh noooo your queue tag. Is that. Is that referencing the Rhiannon quote in episode 7

YES. Nice spot!!!! Yeah, I've been waiting for someone to realise that :P

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Honeysuckle.

Pairing: Butterfly!Fae!OC x Reader.

Word Count: 4.2k.

Written For A Very Lovely Anonymous Commissioner.

TW: Non/Con, Fem!Reader, Aphrodisiacs, Dehumanization, Unhealthy Relationships, Unbalanced Power Dynamics, and Borderline Monster-Fucking.

The moment you saw her, you knew that she had to be the most beautiful creature that you would ever see.

Her wings were what struck you first – about ten feet tall and five across, the upper arch curved downward to better complement the large, black splotches currently prying into you through the shadows of the unlit garden. Swirling patterns of orange and red danced across a rich, dusty sort of brown, while white framed the outer perimeter, standing out sharply against the dull foliage. Although you’d initially mistaken her for one of the large, nocturnal birds that’d taken to crashing into your sugar water dispensers in the early hours of the morning, it was clear that she was more or less a woman – her long, sculpted legs bent and tucked against her chest, the arch of her back clear even in the dim light of your lantern. What seemed like hundreds of thousands of braids cast in the same shades as her wings hung to her waist, a pair of furred antennae tangled among them, and domed eyes larger than your fist and blacker than the night sky stared you down, unblinking. It was only when your eyes met hers that you realized your own gaze must’ve been just as invasive, and found the will to turn your attention to more important things than her (admittedly, extremely strange) appearance.

Instead, you poured your energy into the only other thing you could think to do: speaking. Or, attempting to, at least. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—” And then, after a sharp inhale, a steadying breath, “I—I’m staying in the cottage this garden belongs to. Are you hurt, or injured, or—god, do you even speak English?”

If she had any intention of responding, she didn’t plan to do so vocally. The creature—the woman remained where she was, utterly motionless, utterly silent. It was only when you hazarded a step towards her that she reacted at all, her wings fanning to either side as she—

Ah.

So she was hurt.

The position of her wings had hidden it before, but you could make out the cause of her distress clearly, now. From the uppermost tip of her left wing to the lowest curve stretched a jagged tear, as if someone had taken a knife to it. Instantly, a new irritation blended with your prior concern, but you forced yourself not to dwell. There were more important things to focus on, at the moment.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” you repeated, edging that much closer. When she curled further into herself, you paused, lowering yourself onto your knees and placing your lantern on the ground in front of you. “I understand, you’re hurt, and there’s not much I can do to help you, but—” Holding up one hand, you shoved the other into a pocket of your apron, fishing out a single, palm-sized peach. You picked it earlier, planning on eating it yourself, but you’d never been so glad to have forgotten a meal. “You… You like sweet things, right? Are you hungry?”

Tentatively, you held the peach out to her, and before you had time to process that she’d moved at all, a hand had lashed out and snatched it away. You watched with rapt interest as her lips slit apart and a pair of pointed fangs (her maxillary palps, you figured, although you couldn’t be sure) dug into the peach’s tender flesh, her curling tongue lashing out to lap at the flesh and lick up the juice dripping down her fingers. While she was distracted, you moved closer, kneeling less than a full arm’s length from her wings to better admire the way they fluttered with every little movement, seemingly indifferent to her injury. There were more details you hadn’t noticed – she wasn’t wearing any clothes, but her entire body was covered in a fine, brown setae that grew thicker around her neck and chest and thinned as it reached her face and hands. She had an extra pair of arms, too, currently crossed over her chest, tucked so neatly underneath their more expected counterparts that you hadn’t been able to see them at all from a distance. Despite everything, you found yourself smiling. “If you’re in any pain, I can help with that. And—And, if you’re sensitive to temperature, you’re more than welcome to spend the night inside, but only if you’d like—”

Your attention drifted back to her face, and immediately, you cut yourself off. Her gaze was trained not on you, but on the space behind you – more accurately, on your lantern, still where you’d left it on the grass. “Oh,” you muttered, laughing to yourself. She must’ve been more moth-like than you’d realized.

Taking it by the handle, you offered it up to her as well. “I know it’s not much, but there’s enough oil in it to last until morning. If you get cold, I can bring out some blankets, too.”

It was obvious she didn’t understand a thing you were saying, but still, she eyed the lantern wearily. After a moment, she raised the lower of her right hands, angling her fingers and flicking her wrist. As if by magic (most likely because it was, probably, by magic), a perfect ball of light appeared in her palm, stagnant for a moment before rising a few inches into the open air. Wordlessly, she held it out in your direction.

For a long moment, you were silent.

In the even longer moment following, you were also silent.

Finally, when you started to think she might lose interest in you entirely, you managed to spit something out. “C-can you do that again?”

For the first time since you’d stumbled onto her, you saw the corner of her lips quirk upward.

You spent the rest of that night watching a strange, ten-foot-tall butterfly woman conjure strings of light until the sun rose and you fell asleep in the grass.

And at the time, you didn’t know to be anything but relieved that, upon waking, she was still by your side.

~

She healed remarkably quickly – a near-transparent chitin film appearing over the missing portion of her skin within twenty-four hours of her initial appearance. Still, Leo (as you’d started calling her when you realized she could only express her own name through a series of swirling patterns of light and borderline inaudible clicking sounds) seemed to have little interest in leaving your cottage and even less in leaving your line of sight. It took her less than a full two days to start trailing after you as you did your daily work around your garden and the forest that surrounded it, less than a week to start knocking on your windows at night, pouting when you tried to explain the concept of sleep through a language barrier, and today, on your one month anniversary, you’d finally gotten her to come inside properly. Currently, she was poking through your bedroom while you worked at your desk, transferring a never-ending list of borderline meaningless statistics from your roughly handled field journal to more appropriate sheets and charts. Or, trying to work, anyway. Admittedly, it was difficult to take your eyes off of her.

And, as you heard something large and fragile hit the floor and shatter, you were forced to give up any pretense of attempting to. Sighing, you twisted around your seat and immediately found Leo, standing next to your bedside table, what used to be a lamp sitting in shattered pieces at her feet as she stared down at it with a hawk-like sort of vigilance. Her wings were tucked cautiously against her back, lips pursed in concentration. You could only shake your head, grinning as you sighed. She was smart, but curious, and painfully unfamiliar with anything remotely human. It was cute – just how little she seemed to know about you.

(You were aware, somewhere in the back of your mind, that your judgement around Leo was skewed. Mostly, you could chalk it up to scientific curiosity, not wanting to disturb a live specimen as it would act in its natural habitat and all, but even you knew there must’ve been something else to it, something more selfish. It might’ve just been her naivety. It was hard to get mad at someone who didn’t know she was doing anything wrong.)

Eventually, her gaze shifted to you. “Broken,” she said, assertively.

You couldn’t stop yourself from chuckling. She was getting better at your language, even if the words still sounded somewhat awkward on her inhuman tongue. “Very broken,” you agreed, waving her over to you. “I’ll clean it up later – have a look at this for me, first.”

Turning away from her, you fished a thick, leather-bound book out of the chaos that was your desk and opened it to a marked page. “I think you might be one of these,” you said, pointing to an illustration of a half-moth, half-man type creature. Admittedly, the written description lacked many her more other-worldly traits, but there were only so many types of butterfly people to choose from. “They’re supposed to be—uh, extra-dimensional, I think, which would explain your more supernatural abilities, but they’re kind of, um—”

“Hideous. Very hideous.”

“Yeah,” you chuckled. “That.”

She reached over you, one left hand resting on your shoulder while the other flipped through yellowed pages. She’d only been searching for a minute or so when she seemed to find what she was looking for, pointing decisively to an illustration of an extremely beautiful woman kneeling in front of a disemboweled man’s body, her mouth dripping with blood and one of her hands still buried inside of his torn-open chest. The caption underneath it read ‘Fae, neighbors, folk of the air’ in golden illuminated manuscript.

You pursed your lips. Fairies weren’t real, but this illustration did look a lot more like Leo than yours had.

By the time you looked towards her, she’d lost interest entirely, instead fiddling with a picture frame that’d previously been on the corner of your desk. In an instant, you felt your blood run cold. You could’ve sworn you’d hidden all your framed samples before inviting her inside, found every single pinned-up dragonfly, moth, and butterfly and stuffed them all into the deepest, darkest closet you could find. You couldn’t imagine how you would’ve felt – stumbling into an alien creature home only to find a miniature version of your own carcass nailed down behind a pane of glass. She must’ve been so afr—

The frame tilted towards you, and you managed to pull yourself out of your panicked spiral long enough to realize that she was not looking at a preserved insect, but a picture of your housecat – a cute one, too, taken while she was leashed on your patio, sunbathing on her back. You sighed, sinking into your chair and smiling up at her. “That’s Missy. I thought about bringing her, but she’d be a terror on the local wildlife.” And then, more hesitantly, “Do you have any pets?”

You couldn’t imagine Leo taking care of anything, but she seemed fond enough of birds ‘and other insects. Plus, if she did have a pet, it’d tell you something about where she came from – if she had a house, or migratory season, or there were other people with wings and antenna and a spare set of limbs lurking just outside of your peripheral. It was a good place to start, but she didn’t seem to understand the question – only pursing her lips. “…Pet?”

“Like, an animal that you take care of, that you love,” you started, gesturing vaguely, as if that’d make your point any more clear. “Most people have cats and dogs, but—”

“No cats.” Her wings fluttered, her gaze narrowing at the picture. “Big teeth. Sharp claws. Violent.”

“Got it, no cats.”  You slung an arm over the back of your chair. “It’s too bad. Missy was a good girl. You two would’ve gotten along.”

She seemed to think for a long moment, considering. Finally, as one of her free hands came to rest on the top of your head, she glanced towards you. “You are… pet?”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “No, no, I’m a friend. Do you know what that is?”

If she wanted to answer, she didn’t seem to think of it as a priority. Her hand fell to your chin, another rising to cup your face entirely. Her thumbs traced over your cheeks as she smiled down at you, and with an airy laugh, you melted into her palms. “Good girl,” she cooed, her voice saccharine, her tony sappy. “Very good girl.”

It would’ve been a sweeter moment if you hadn’t heard the familiar sound of glass shattering at your feet, your picture frame dropped and discarded with just as little thought.

~

As far as you could tell, her wings were necessary for flight, but not actively a part of it. As the chitin film healed over entirely, the shape and color of her wings seemed to shift, taking on a luminescent green overtone, the eyes on the upper segments fading as their lower counterparts sprouted a pair of long, curling tails. Her fur and hair followed suit, and by the time she was able to get her feet off the ground, she was practically unrecognizable as the creature you’d first taken in. You were proud of her, even if you doubted she needed your support. Or, you wanted to be, at least.

Even after Leo had all-but recovered, she stayed nearby – rarely leaving your sight for longer than an hour. If you hadn’t been so curious, you might’ve been concerned. Butterflies were short-lived, migratory creatures. It wasn’t normal for them to stay in a single place for so long, not unless they were looking for a ma—

You were drawn out of your thoughts as you felt something light hit the top of your head – flower petals, you realized, as pieces of shredded coneflower and button bush trickled down into your lap. You tilted your head back, immediately finding Leo hovering about ten feet above you; tearing apart a handful of flowers petal-by-petal. She didn’t say anything, but she didn’t have to – grinning as she motioned for you to follow her. You didn’t bother trying to resist, only pushing yourself to your feet and trailing after her.

She landed on the very outskirts of your property – where your garden met the forest proper. It took a few minutes of wading through foliage, but eventually, you managed to join her in her makeshift clearing.

The smell of iron hit you, first.

Not rot, but blood – fresh and metallic, strong enough to make you reel back. You almost stumbled, almost tripped, but a larger hand caught your wrist, trapping you where you were. You made no attempt to pull away. No, you were too focused on the—on the corpse in front of you, all blood-soaked feathers and broken bones and spilled viscera. It must’ve been a hawk, or a falcon, something with an absolutely massive wingspan and claws to match. Any other identifying features had been crushed, bent out of shape, or reduced to a fine, liquid pulp that was slowly soaking into the ground.

Your gaze flickered back to Leo, her grin just a touch more satisfied than it’d seemed, before. “Leo,” you started, forcing an unsteady smile. “I know we talked about pets, but—”

“Not a pet.” The correction was as swift as it was sugary. “A treat. A gift.”

Huh.

You didn’t remember teaching her that one.

~

It was more startling than you would’ve expected – waking up to the feeling of feather soft hands.

You guessed that wasn’t entirely true. They weren’t feather soft, and you should’ve known better than to say they were. Velvet would’ve been more a more accurate comparison, or satin – anything soft and rich that seemed to melt where it touched your skin. You couldn’t have been waking up, either, because that would’ve meant you were asleep, and there was no way you could’ve been asleep and staring up at the ceiling of your bedroom, feeling more exhausted than you ever had before. You would’ve liked to sit up, to see what was going on, but you couldn’t seem to move.

Leo was above you, straddling your waist. In her new form, she was practically iridescent – her wings reflecting the dull moonlight as if she was the one glowing. She was summoning her lights, again – drawing strings of silver drew drops with one hang while the other shaped them absentmindedly into a ring, one large enough to fit around your thigh. Or your neck.

For whatever reason, your mind was unwilling to linger on the thought.

She lifted her head every so slightly, her inky gaze settling on you. She was already touching you, one hand cupping your cheek while another brushed through your hair, but it took you longer than it should’ve to recognize just how warm your face felt, to put a name to knotted tension resting heavy in the pit of your stomach. You wanted to push her away, but your arms felt like lead at your sides, and— oh, she was already dipping down to your height, nuzzling gently against the top of your head before her hand found your chin, raising your head as her lips found yours.

It was less of a kiss and more of a prolonged collision, her tongue slipping easily past your parted lips, raking over your own with a measured kind of slowness. Her taste was as sweet as her voice, as her touch – all honeyed nectar and syrupy ambrosia and pure, liquidized sugar. It was beyond overwhelming. It was beyond euphoric. You were melting into her before you could so much as think about stopping yourself, letting out a fractured whine as you moved her lips sloppily against hers, as the tapered tip of her tongue hit the back of your throat and—

And you drew back with a sharp gasp, shuddering as you pressed yourself into your mattress. You shouldn’t be doing this. You couldn’t do this. She wasn’t an animal but god, she wasn’t far off.

“Leo,” you managed, trying to keep your tone gentle, soothing. If she heard, you couldn’t tell – her attention only falling to the crook of your neck, then the dip of your shoulder. “I—I’m not really sure we should be doing this, and I really wish you wouldn’t touch me, and—”

“Quiet.” Just like that, your jaw went slack, that sugar sweet scent intensifying and dulling any coherent thought you might’ve had to a numb, blank static. A deep, rumbling sort of reverberation sparked in her through as she nuzzled into your chest, her body slotted against yours. While one of her hands remained on your cheek, another found the hem of your dress, toying with the fabric for a moment before moving her attention to your neckline, instead. The first tug was gentle, experimental, but her impatience must’ve won over her curiosity; the sound of tearing material filling your quiet bedroom as a single, pointed claw traced a jagged line from the base of your throat to your midriff, the ruined fabric falling away without resistance. “Useless,” she muttered, half-under her breath. “In the way.”

It was an awkward position, her back arched, her wings clasped tightly against one another, but she didn’t seem to mind – her lips trailing over your collarbone, then the curve of your breast. You shut your eyes, but it would’ve been impossible not to feel her tongue lapping shallowly over your nipple. Your hands balled around the sheets as her lips wrapped around the sensitive bud, more of whatever awful substance she produced dripping down your skin, pooling on the flat plain between your breast, spreading a terrible sort of heat to everything it touched. She rotated between sucking and laving, a hand coming up to knead at the unassulted side of your chest with just a touch too much force to be for the sake of your pleasure.

You didn’t want to feel anything. You didn’t want to react. You didn’t want to, and yet, you couldn’t seem to swallow back the low, cracked moans and hitched whimpers spilling past your lips. Leo’s purring grew louder, her spare set of hands finding your hips as they bucked pathetically against nothing. It was almost a relief when she pulled away, lifting her head. Through your eyelashes, you watched her eyes narrow, lips pursing. If you hadn’t known better, you might’ve thought she looked disappointed.

You tried to call out again, to tell her to stop, but your voice remained despondent as Leo repositioned herself, slipping into the space between your open legs. What was left of your nightgown as done away with entirely, and with a hand wrapped around either of your thighs, she bowed her head, her tongue dragging over the length of your clothed slit. Instantly, her expression brightened, and for the first time, you were forced to acknowledge the slow, viscous heat slowly leaking out from between your thighs, forced to listen as she hummed in delight and tore through your panties, the silk as easily defeated as your nightgown had been. Tears formed in the corners of your eyes as her tongue dragged over your now-exposed pussy, lapping up the slick staining the inside of your thighs. Her nose ground against your overly sensitive clit as she buried herself in your cunt, less focused on your pleasure and more dedicated to eating you alive – pointed teeth scraping against tender flesh as she ran the flat of her tongue over your entrance, refusing to let a single part of you go uncared for. Because she was caring for you, like a lover, like a nurse.

Like an owner.

You dug your teeth into the inside of your cheek with enough force to draw blood. She was not a lover, or an owner, and she wasn’t taking care of you – nothing about this could be called caring. You tried to snap your thighs shut, to pull yourself up, but the blunt tip of her prolonged tongue dipped into your entrance and it was all you could do to scream – the noise tearing out of your throat as something pathetic and miserable. If Leo noticed your agony, she wasn’t in a place to care, too busy curling her tongue inside of you, grinding against the clenching walls of your cunt and abusing every spot that made you shake and moan and drip. It wasn’t hard to see what she was motivated by, what she was chasing after, but knowing why she was doing this didn’t make it any easier to endure. You’d never be able to look at her again, after this. You wouldn’t be able to let her stay with you, anymore. You’d have to make her leave.

That was, if you ever found a way to.

You managed to get an arm underneath you, but it didn’t matter. Her unoccupied pair of hands clamped down around your hips, your thighs forced onto her shoulders as she straightened her back and threatened to fold you in half, all-but devouring your cunt with a renewed gluttony. Fuck. Fuck. Her tongue was too fast, too flexible; twisting inside of you, filling you entirely. The pressure on your clit, while not deliberate, wasn’t helping, and it was only a matter of time until you could feel your legs twitching where they were propped on her shoulders, until your vocalizations turned form moans to whines to muttering – all ‘stop’ and ‘no, don’t’ and ‘not there’, hasty and incoherent and humiliating. You couldn’t stop yourself, though.

You were starting to think you’d never be able to do much of anything ever again.

She didn’t stop when you came. You doubted she even noticed; her purring only growing louder, the movement of her tongue taking on a more wild sort of pattern. No, she drew back after you’d gone limp underneath her, your voice dying until those little, keening nothings were the only noise you could make. Distantly, you could feel your body being lowered back onto your bed, Leo shifting above you, then two fingers swiping over your cunt. You felt something prodding against your lips, and too exhausted to resist, opened your mouth. “Good girl,” Leo cooed, her inflection mimicking that of someone talking down to something smaller, something lesser. The taste of your own slick mixed with her saliva flooded your senses, as vile as it was saccharine. “Sweet, and pretty, and good. My good girl.”

Her head dipped, her lips finding yourself. This kiss was softer than her first, tender rather than hungry, lingering rather than desperate. As she held you there, you felt something wrap around your throat – cold as ice and soft as velvet. When you found the will to open your eyes, you looked not towards Leo’s expression, her dazzling smile, but to her right hand and the beaded silver cord tangled around it.

You didn’t have to guess what the other end was connected to.

“All mine.”

[jules-writes-stories]

Eris Week | Day 4 | Hounds & Traditions

Just Enough Light to Cast Shadows

Chapter 23 on AO3

Autumn Court, 518 Years Ago

The Festival of Chance and Chaos

Early in life, Eris Vanserra learned three vital lessons. The first was that magic often masqueraded as the mundane. There was a hidden meaning behind everything. That was next. The third was that he should never let his true heart slip from behind his mask.

The prince was born on Loy Nocce, an Autumn Court feast day celebrating the trickster goddess of High Fae folklore. The Lady named her eldest after the ancient deity— a spirit of chaos, chance, and cunning.

It was a day of games and glamours, brightly colored lanterns, and good-natured pranks. Younglings in costume gorged themselves on sweets, and once in their beds, grown fae would dance around bonfires before wandering off for midnight trysts.

Please read all tags and TW notes before reading the second half of this chapter.

@erisweekofficial @the-darkestminds @fieldofdaisiies @mistandmemories @c-starstuff-man0 @molcat07 @chunkypossum @going-through-shit @talibunny30 @yanny-77 @lilah-asteria @amalhe-kofee @theartofmischief @futurehunt @seihdacalling @honeysuckle-daydreams13 @unanswered-stars

[crowsworks]

@maiuoart for the awesome pics of Talus and his half Brother Periwinkle. Talus' bro is Maerune whom is not done yet, and Periwinkle's bro is Mintear aka Honeysuckle whom is also not done yet either. But these are My Fae guys just some of them. Ennsli and the others are coming. Talus; is part of the guard of the Fae and acts as Judge and assassin for his king and Queen. He doesn't have scars as he is untouchable basically. Periwinkle is also part of the guard however his is ice, he uses ice spears to hit from a distance. Which is why he too does not boast scars.

[fieldofdaisiies]

elain x lucien | warnings: none really, except for a fight between siblings and sad thoughts | masterlist | ao3

She has to get out of the Night Court and go back to the Mortal Lands. She doesn’t want to leave her sisters, her family, but if she stays a moment longer in a court full of darkness and power, she will lose her will to live. Velaris is beautiful, Elain can see this, knows this, but she also knows this is not the place for her to be. She often feels invisible here. No one truly sees her here, she doesn’t fit in. She doesn’t belong here. 

Elain knows that she finally has to go her own way. She has always be dependent on her parents, on her father, on her sisters, on Feyre’s hunting skills, now on Rhys and the life he provides for her here. But it is time that this stops. It is time for her to find her own place in the fae world. It is finally time she does her own thing. To thrive and grow on her own and if she stays here, in the Night Court, this will never happen. She has to go back and start from the very beginning.

“It was his idea.” Not a question. A statement. And it makes Elain‘s chin quiver with anger. So does the look on Nesta’s face. Her chin is held high, her lips pressed in a thin line, eyes full of disbelief and worry. Elain can only glower at her sister, who seems unaffected by it. Nesta only points a finger at the door outside which Lucien is waiting to let the family talk alone. Nesta’s accusation is spoken both in reprimand and warning.

Elain’s fingers curl towards her palm. “It was my idea, Nesta. Only mine, Lord Lucien knew nothing about it,” she firmly says, her lips pressed in a thin line. “I don’t think I can be — I need time away from here. I want to leave the Night Court.”

“But you have never been—” Nesta starts, but Elain cuts her off.

“That is true. I have never been alone or on my own, and I won’t be alone this time. I have Lord Lucien Vanserra with me. And apart from that, I am old enough to do things on my own, I don’t constantly need you watching over me like a hawk.” Elain’s voice has risen so much that it catches the attention of everyone present in the dining room of the River House. Elain hates how everyone is ogling here, like she is a picture in Feyre’s art gallery. 

continue on ao3

general Elucien tag list @rippahwrites @shadowhunter2003 @my-inner-crisis @ladyelain @acourtofthought @itwasalwaysaboutthetea @multifictional @moonlightazriel @brekkershadowsinger @sunshinebingo @gracie-rosee @a-frog-with-a-laptop @aayo-whatt @honeysuckle-daydreams13 @thelovelymadone @berryzxx @jules-writes-stories @bookishbroadwaybish @the-darkestminds @goldenmagnolias @isnotwhatyourethinking

[mother-above]

The Golden Warrior | Chapter 1

Azriel x Reader

Summary: To you, love was a poison that slowly killed. It was something that could make the strongest of warriors and leaders weak and vulnerable. You had successfully evaded romance and relationships for a century until the day you realized it had been plaguing you from within.

Chapters: 1/?

Warnings: 18+, violence, and swearing

*masterlist*

A/N: Hello! This is my first ever ACOTAR fic and I hope I do Azriel and the other characters justice! This fic will follow the majority of the plotline from the 2nd and 3rd books but please note that I took some creative liberties in some parts and shifted from the plotline in the 5th book.

The towering mountains looked especially magnificent against the blue and pink-hued sky. Crisp morning air whipped around you as you whirled past the horizon, your white and gold-tipped wings beating hard and straightening into a glide. This was always the best part of your day, flying just before the sun rose.

You craved the sun’s soft warmth and glow against your skin. Keeping your eyes on the brightening horizon, you focused on the breeze that swept the scent of the wisteria, lilac, and honeysuckle that adorned the Palace. The beautiful home made from sunstone sprawled below you, its bridges, and towers glowing as it waits to be sun-kissed. You couldn’t believe you managed to protect the Palace for 49 years, a pang of guilt flowed through as your fae eyes focused on a rebuilding village miles away.

You were hoping to catch the sunrise today but then two sharp whistles came from somewhere within the castle. With a groan and a roll of your eye, you dove down with blinding speed. With a swoop, you land gracefully on Thesan’s office balcony. You slammed his door open and glared at the High Lord who perched on his desk.

“Did you just fucking whistle to get my attention? Like one of your birds? A simple shout of my name would have sufficed!” you snapped.

Thesan smirked, “Well it worked, didn’t it?”

You grabbed a decorative trinket from a nearby shelf and hurled it at him, “What are you doing up so early? I thought you and Callon would still be rolling in bed at this hour.”

He crumpled a piece of paper and threw it straight onto your forehead. "I may be your cousin but I'm still the High Lord. You can't say things like that!"

With a mischievous smirk, you sat on the couch and clasped your hands pleadingly. With the grace of a seasoned actor, you softened your features and gave him the most innocent look you could muster. "Forgive me, High Lord of Dawn, I was just wondering why you summoned me. You know I don’t like to be disturbed during sunrise."

Thesan wanted to scold you for being so dramatic, but he couldn't, not when you were his little cousin whom he loved fiercely. "Rhysand and his courtiers are coming for a visit in two days.” He held up a hand and gave you a pointed look. “Before you ask, I don't know how long they'll stay here."

All traces of your playfulness disappeared; the face of a hardened warrior took over your features. You jumped up and stalked over to Thesan, your power, and energy rolling off your body.

“Those evil little Night Court brutes are coming to the Palace. Why?”

Thesan looked at you coolly, deciding he was going to approach this cautiously when he noticed the absence of the usual jewels around your neck. “Rhysand wants to come by and have diplomatic meetings and spend some leisure time here in Dawn Court. I have no doubt he’s here for something else, but we’ll find out eventually, and please, when the guests are here, wear your siphons and glamour them if you want. I can’t have them catching a whiff of what you are.”

You grumbled as you waved a hand over your neck to magically place the necklace on yourself. The necklace had three sapphires strung together by a chain of diamonds, it was gifted to you by Thesan when you reached maturity. The largest jewel sat in the middle flanked by two slightly smaller counterparts. It was beautiful and fit for Dawn Court’s royal family, but it also had a purpose. It helped you contain and conceal some of your magic, you could even see your power thrumming underneath it if you looked close enough.

With your overwhelming magic mostly contained, Thesan lets out a breath and finally felt comfortable enough to bark out orders to you. He wanted you to check on all the wards, secure the vaults that held ancient artifacts, and make sure all the guards and servants were briefed about the Night Court. Even though your guests weren’t due for a couple of days, Thesan reminded you to keep your wings hidden just in case they popped by early. Only the Peregryn’s and a select few people in your court knew that you were half High Fae and half Peregryn. And even fewer people knew the extent of your power. Thesan had them partake in an unbreakable vow to never reveal your true nature until the day you decide to reveal yourself.

By the end of the day, everyone in the Palace was exhausted from their efforts to prepare themselves for the upcoming visitors. Callon, who was Thesan’s lover and the Captain of the Peregryn legion was pissed that your cousin had invited them to Dawn. He was running himself ragged and snapping at you the entire day to make sure the troops were ready and planned all the security around the Palace and surrounding villages. Callon was annoying you so much that you had to remind him that he was outranked by you and to watch his tone. He apologized and you just scoffed, he was, unfortunately, a man in love, and it made him a nervous mess. You expected better from the captain of the Peregryn legions.

The sun had set and you, Thesan, and Callon had settled down by the fireplace and shared multiple bottles of wine. They were laughing at a joke Callon made when you heard a faint whisper in the corner of the room. You look and see nothing; you were about to ignore it when another whisper was heard. You looked at the pair, but they were in deep conversation, and no one seemed to have heard it, you looked back again and saw these dark wisps moving from the corner and going past the half-open door. You excused yourself and quickly slipped past the doors keeping the black wisps in your sight. They were no longer whispering but moving faster through the halls, you keep your footsteps light hoping you wouldn’t startle whatever this was. You stealthily followed it around the castle, and it seemed to be looking for something, it wasn’t until it reached the doors of the vault was when you did something. Not exactly sure what to do, you quickly leaned down and wafted the dark wisps with your hand. It spasmed and you swear it was almost startled to see you, it lingered for a few more seconds before disappearing into thin air.

“Mother above, what in the hell was that?” you said out loud.

With the Night Court arriving in a few days, there was no way this wasn’t their doing. Bursting into a run, you screamed Thesan’s name as you bounded up the stairs hoping it gave Thesan and Callon enough time to separate themselves from whatever they were doing in the few minutes they were left alone. You opened the door and Thesan was already standing, his eyes big at the sound of your panicked voice.

“What?” his eyes looked for any bodily injuries. “What is it?”

“I saw these black wisps moving around the Palace. They were trying to go into the vault before I stopped them,” you said.

Thesan frowned and then his jaw clenched, something he did when was he aggravated. “That must be the Shadowsinger, it’s incredibly annoying that he got through the wards. We'll have to strengthen them now. I’ll take the first half of the Palace and you reinforce the wards in the back.”

You nodded and hurriedly made your way to the south side of the Palace. Shadowsingers were extremely rare, and courts coveted them because they were the best spymasters. People could train for years but nothing would ever beat a shadowsinger. Until now, you honestly thought they were this tall tale they’d tell kids to scare them into behaving. You began to feel uneasy, was the shadowsinger in the Palace or was it just his shadows that he snuck in? Either way, you hated that this person was able to infiltrate your court.

***

The day of their visit finally arrived, and you peered in the mirror making sure you looked perfect, you wanted to make a good impression, this was the first time they’d meet you. Your lavender silk dress hung over your body perfectly, you gave a little spin in front of a mirror and examined the low back. Just in case anything turned hostile, your wings will have no obstructions if you ever need it. You waved a hand over your sapphires and glamoured them to be invisible, they were glowing brighter these days and it was easier to hide them than explain why your sapphires are more than jewels. Reaching for a mauve-colored bottle, you reapplied the color onto your lips and considered dusting blush on your cheeks, but you decided against it.

You lifted your hand and tenderly brushed the scars on the right side of your face. There were two parallel jagged lines, one nicked the bottom of your eyebrow and dragged up to your hairline. The other ran across the top of your cheekbone. You weren’t thrilled that it was so prominent, but you never thought to hide it. It was usually the first thing people noticed when they looked at you, the day Thesan was freed from Under the Mountain, he tried to get rid of it but even the High Lord of Healing couldn’t do anything about it. You could glamour it to make it disappear, but you wanted it there. It was a reminder of what had happened when Amarantha ruled Prythian, of what you endured and did for the people of Dawn Court.

Smoothing down your dress one more time, you left your bedroom suite and walked to the entrance to join Thesan and Callon. You were admiring the wisteria that hung along the arches above when the air shifted. Darkness filled the air for a split second then the High Lord of Night and two other courtiers appeared in front of you. The High Lord’s power hits your senses before you could even get a good look at their faces, your eyes are drawn to the violet-eyed male standing in the middle. Your eyes shift to the female on his right and then swept to the even taller winged male on his left. The High Lord was attractive, his feline smile already told you what kind of man he would be. What caught your attention was the winged male, he was the most attractive person you had ever set eyes on. His hazel eyes flickered to meet yours and it took everything in you not to gasp, you didn’t expect his gaze to be so scrutinizing. Rhysand gives a delicate nod to Thesan and his courtiers bow to your High Lord. Thesan returns the nod as you and Callon bow respectfully to the Lord of Night.

Glowing gold and moving with grace, your cousin opened his arms and swept it to gesture to the Palace. “Welcome, Rhysand. Allow me to introduce you to my cousin who happens to be my 2nd in Command.”

A friendly smile graced your lips as you allowed your golden glow to shine through, it was more subdued than Thesan, but you preferred it that way. “Welcome to Dawn Court, High Lord Rhysand. I look forward to getting to know you and your courtiers.”

Rhysand took your hand and pressed a kiss on top, a customary gesture that was a sign of respect to females in your court. The smile he gave you had you fighting a blush that threatened to bleed onto your cheeks. “Please, call me Rhys.”

Thesan introduces Callon and like the tough Captain he was, his greeting was reserved as he sized up the males and female. Rhysand introduced Feyre Cursebreaker and you threw all propriety out the window when you grabbed her hands and thanked her for bringing your cousin back.

Rhysand then gestured to the tall muscular man next to him, “This is Azriel, my spymaster.”

It was then when you noticed the small wisps of shadows that surrounded the tall Illyrian, you did your best not to gawk at them. He was dressed in all-black formal wear, his clothes just as refined as Rhysand and Feyre. The only difference was he was the one strapped with a weapon, from the looks of it something special and much older than you. That handsome man was the shadowsinger, probably the same one that was spying on you a few days before. You’re not sure if he or his shadows know it was you that disrupted its spying, but he showed no signs of recognition as he stepped forward to kiss your hand. You noticed the significant scarring on the tops of his hands and fingers, averting your gaze, you focused on the way his lips pressed onto your skin.

“Lady Y/n,” he said, his voice low and heavenly.

While he wasn’t as outspoken or flirtatious as his High Lord, his hazel eyes held yours in curiosity. It was only broken when Thesan clapped his hands and gestured for everyone to enter the Palace and have lunch before the diplomatic talks started. You fell into step with Feyre who stared up at the wonder of the Palace. Her eyes traveled from the hanging flowers to the bridges and towers of the estate. She tells you that it was beautiful which filled your heart with pride. This was your home, a place that you bled and fought for.

Thesan had used magic to make the dining table smaller, he preferred his meals with guests to be more intimate. It also made it easier to read them if they were in proximity. Thesan and you sat at the ends, a reminder to Rhysand that he was still in your court, and if this bothered him, he said nothing. Callon and Feyre sat by your cousin which left you flanked by Rhysand and Azriel. The Palace conjured chairs suitable for wings for Callon and Azriel, the spymaster nodded in appreciation. With a wave of Thesan’s hand, a feast appears on the table and the smell of roast beef and stir-fried vegetables filled the air. Everyone eagerly dug into the food and compliments from Rhysand had your cousin smiling in thanks.

Casual conversation flowed and it surprised you, this was not what you thought Rhysand and his courtiers were going to act like. You were expecting arrogant bastards, and you bluntly told that to Rhysand’s face. Thesan almost choked on his wine and Callon’s face blanched. Rhysand’s violet eyes widened in surprise, no one had ever spoken to the High Lord of Night like that. Azriel and Feyre looked at you in shock, they couldn’t tell if you meant to be rude or if you were genuinely curious. You innocently looked at Rhysand waiting for a response, no one at the table breathed until a deep and genuine laughter came from Death Incarnate himself. A beat later, the sound of chuckles comes from Azriel.

“In the spirit of keeping up our alliance, I thought it’d be beneficial if we acted more like ourselves instead of the ‘arrogant bastards’ we could be,” said Rhysand, an amused smile on his face.

Content with his answer, you smiled at him and continued to eat completely oblivious to the situation.

Thesan took a deep breath and faced Rhysand. “While my cousin is a strong and competent second-in-command, she has the horrible habit of saying the first thing that comes into her mind. I profusely apologize for her comments, she has much to learn as a courtier. My cousin hasn’t had a lot of experience in court.”

You stopped chewing when you realized how rude your comment sounded. You apologized and Rhysand brushed it off, he told you that it was a smart observation to make. As mortified as Thesan was and embarrassed you were, that conversation ended up making the atmosphere more casual and friendly. You discover that Rhysand is an overconfident flirt, but his advances aren’t disgusting, you find yourself enjoying the banter. It also helped that the true object of his affection was the woman next to him. You had an inkling of his feelings after observing how he looked at her. Feyre was curious and asked many questions, and Thesan answered them patiently. It was Azriel whom you kept stealing glances at, he looked like the quiet type, but his silence was unnerving. His shadows were calm, but you could swear they twitched every time you looked at them.

You were about to ask Azriel about Illyrians, you had never met an Illyrian and you were so curious to ask about his species of faerie when Feyre cleared her throat.

“Were you there Under the Mountain?” asked Feyre. “I don’t think I’ve seen you before.”

Rhysand and Azriel leaned in, they’ve been to Dawn Court a couple of times over the past centuries, but they have never seen or heard of you. They were surprised when Thesan introduced you as his second in command, they were usually well updated knowing who held power in the other courts.

“My cousin,” you said as you shot a pointed look at him. “Is like an overprotective mother hen. He didn’t let me make a lot of public appearances in court until I was about 50 years old and whenever we had visitors, he made sure I was off somewhere doing some training or working with the other healers.”

Feyre’s brow furrowed as she looked at Thesan.

“While suffocating at the time, it was what saved me from being trapped Under the Mountain. I had broken my arm during training the day Amarantha invited the High Lords to that party. I didn’t feel like being a courtier, so I didn’t heal myself and used that as an excuse to stay behind. Only a few faeries knew of my existence, so Amarantha and her people never noticed my absence. The day she drugged the High Lords and used the spell, Thesan used the last of his power to put wards up to protect the Palace and send me a note with instructions,” you said as your eyes clouded thinking of the past 5 decades. “I went crazy the first year, the pressure of protecting the estate and the villages around it was too much. Everyone I knew and trusted was Under the Mountain, I was alone for a while. I raged when I realized I couldn’t leave the court for fear something might happen to it while I was gone trying to get my family back.”

You weren’t mad that he was protective when you were young. Yes, it was isolating but you understood why Thesan did what he did. If they knew the true extent of your power, you’d probably have the biggest target on your back. You sipped your wine and looked at your cousin as his remorseful brown eyes stared back at you. The day Thesan winnowed back to the Palace, you held each other and wept. He promised to never leave you alone again.

Azriel studied your side profile as you talked, he took in every curve of your nose, cheekbones, and lips. You were the female that caught his shadows, they practically ran to him in distress because they’d never been detected while spying before. All his shadows told him was it was a female who discovered them, they failed to mention it was Thesan’s 2nd. His eyes traced the jagged scars that did nothing to hinder your elegance. Your beauty rivaled Morrigan, he even dared to think that you may be more alluring than her. He watched you as you told your story, he could see your radiance dim as if the mere thought of the last 49 years had drained you. He could see the pain in your eyes, it was the same thing he felt when Rhys locked them in Velaris. At least Azriel had his family with him, from the looks of it, those closest to you were trapped Under the Mountain.  

“I understand how you feel,” said Azriel.

All heads turned to him; it was the second time he had spoken out loud since arriving in Dawn Court. Amused, Rhys watched his brother lean closer to you as if he was captivated.

“Something similar happened to me, I can’t imagine not having your family there to help you.” He looked at the permanent marks on your skin. “Your scar—was that from one of Amarantha’s creatures?”

A low warning growl comes from Callon as he glared at the Illyrian, how dare he mention your scar. Rhysand almost spit out his food, Azriel was the politest and most well-mannered person in his inner circle. Azriel hated talking about his scars, yet he blatantly asked you about yours, he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Rhys looked at Thesan to see if he was mad, but your cousin was just as curious as how you would respond.

Your fingers went up to trace the jagged lines, and the memory of torn flesh resurfaced. “This happened about 20 years ago, a Bogge was slaughtering faeries in a village. I’m no High Lord but I was the next best thing for my people. I went and hunted for it or-- at least tried to drive it away but I barely made it out alive, if I wasn’t a gifted healer myself, the scarring would be worse.”

“How did you escape it?” asked Feyre, her mouth opened in shock after hearing that you encountered the wretched monster by yourself.

This was when you had to lie and tell half-truths to protect your other identity. You looked at Thesan and he gave a discreet nod.

“The Golden Warrior came just in time to drag me up into the air. Bogge can’t fly so it wasn’t able to reach me. With teamwork and a miracle from the Cauldron, we were able to kill it,” you replied.

Azriel looked at Rhysand, but his brother was already on it. “We’ve heard about your warrior-- the Golden Warrior,” said Rhysand. “We heard this faerie had deadly power, the ability to bring down armies onto its knees.”

All playfulness was gone from Rhysand’s handsome face, his demeanor was all business. Callon bristled at the change in mood, but the High Lord of Dawn just frowned.

Thesan tutted in annoyance. “You could have waited until tonight’s drinks to bring up politics, Rhysand.” He waved his hand, and the table cleared, and tea and pastries filled the space. “Please continue.”

“We were just curious about the Golden Warrior; his power is something that could be useful in the future.”

Thesan squinted at Rhysand. “You know something I don’t know… what is it? You wouldn’t be visiting me if something big had happened. Is Amara…” he trailed off; he didn’t like saying her name. Especially after he watched her kill one of his Peregryn courtiers and plucked the white feathers of their wings. The next day, she wore a feathered dress to dinner just to watch Thesan and his court try to hide their fury.

“The evil queen is dead and will stay dead,” reassured Rhysand. “I just wanted to visit my allies and make sure everything between our courts is okay. If something or somebody like Amarantha pops up again, I want to know if we can depend on Dawn Court to ally your foot soldiers and Peregryn legions.”

Thesan frowned again and looked at Callon who gave him a small nod. You bit down on your tongue before you could say something that would contradict Thesan in front of the visitors. Your cousin does not like conflict, he tried to avoid it at all costs. He looks at each of his guests who look at him expectedly, his gaze reached yours and you glowed a little brighter as if to beg him to say the right thing.

“My court knows how I feel about war but… historically, you know I’ve always been loyal to the solar courts,” said Thesan.

You exhaled in relief and Rhysand’s relaxed demeanor returned. It wasn’t a clear “yes”, but it was much better than outright rejection. After the table was cleared, you offered a tour of the Palace and its grounds. Feyre gladly accepted and Thesan let you take the lead as you walked through the Palace. Staff, visiting nobles, and citizens both winged and non-winged, waved at your group and you waved back. The Night Court would nod and keep quiet, curious to see how your court was run. They decided that while Dawn Court was a little bit more formal, they saw that they had good relations with their people, and parts of the Palace were open for the public to enjoy, such as the library and gardens.

Rhysand was itching to talk about politics so after leading them to Thesan’s office, they walked in before Feyre insisted you finish the tour while the males talked about some stupid hunt, they had attended in Autumn Court a century ago. The Lord of Night gave her a look of longing before everyone parted ways, it was subtle, but you noticed it. Once the doors were shut and you walked a good distance from the door, you looked at Feyre with a sly grin.

“Is there something going on with Rhysand?” you asked casually.

She looked at you in shock, “No! What makes you say that?”

You made your way to show her the bedroom suites her court would be staying at.

“I can feel the attraction, you’re both constantly looking at each other.”

Feyre’s cheeks turned red. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. He’s the most insufferable person I know, I’m not sure how you can handle all that flirting. Besides, I should be the one asking about your obvious interest in Azriel.”

It was your turn to look stunned as Feyre smirked. “I’ve never met a shadowsinger before, it’s hard not to stare at the shadows moving around him. It’s-- unnerving.” You weren’t lying, it was one of the most peculiar things you’ve seen in your life. It didn’t help that he was the most beautiful male you’d ever seen, but his shadow’s movements and his piercing gaze were hard to ignore. You were still mad he got through the wards, you were hoping to talk to catch him off guard one day and ask him about his spying.

You find yourself getting along with the Cursebreaker even though you knew there were ulterior motives for her visit to Dawn Court. The rest of the day was spent roaming around the castle due to Feyre’s “curiosity”, it was tiring but it was better that you were present instead of Feyre going off by herself. It was becoming obvious that they were letting Feyre look for something and used their meeting with Thesan as a distraction.

***

After dinner, you found yourself feeling extremely restless once everyone retired to their rooms. Wrapping a shawl around your shoulders, you walked out of your chambers for a stroll around the Palace. You were making your way to one of the courtyards when you heard a whisper to your right. Looking at the spot, you see this wisp of a shadow and you huffed in annoyance.

“Show yourself,” you commanded, eyes focusing on a spot in the shadows. You couldn’t see anything, but you swear there was a figure somewhere in all that darkness.

Azriel froze, no one ever saw him when he was in the shadows, he was supposed to be undetectable. The High Lord of Night himself couldn’t see Azriel unless the shadowsinger made himself known but somehow, you saw him. Quickly removing the surprised look on his face, Azriel stepped out of his shadows and was met with your calculating gaze. He couldn’t help but think how beautiful you looked under the moonlight.

“Why were you following me?” Your voice was cold, and all traces of the gracious and friendly host were gone.

As smoothly as he could, Azriel said, “I wasn’t following you, I couldn’t sleep so I decided to go for a walk.” Azriel wanted to cringe, he was capable of infiltrating courts, but he was stumbling.

Detecting the blatant lie, your eyebrow quirked up unimpressed by the spymaster’s skills. You sized him up and then jerked your head towards some cushioned seating in the courtyard. “Come and have tea with me, I need to talk to you,” you said already walking away from him.

His footsteps followed you and it was only until he adjusted his wings and settled down on the cushioned seat that you conjured tea and cookies from the kitchen. You prepared your drink in silence, the both of you eyeing each other in anticipation of who would break the silence. He seemed content to sit there, so you sipped some tea before clearing your throat.

“What is the night court doing here, Azriel? Between you and me, I don’t think the three of you came here to talk about alliances and politics.”

His hazel eyes met yours, he didn’t think you’d be so blunt. “What makes you think that?”

“Your shadows,” you said watching the wisps dance behind him. “I caught them looking around the palace, what were you doing?”

He inhaled slowly, keeping his handsome face neutral. “I was just doing reconnaissance. Making sure no surprises were waiting for us in Dawn Court.”

A muscle in your jaw ticked, “My cousin may be stubborn at times, but we have always been loyal to the solar courts. After 50 years of chaos, how would we even have the time or energy to launch an assault on the Night Court? I don’t know how it is back at Night but we’re still rebuilding most of our cities.”

Azriel’s shadows swarmed around him as he guiltily thought about Velaris. How protected his city was from Amarantha’s wrath. “I was just doing my job. I apologize on behalf of Rhysand; we didn’t mean to offend you.”

“I think you were looking for something the other night,” you continued. “You know…you guys can just talk to us, right?”

The shadowsinger shifted in his seat, squirming under your attentive gaze. “We think Dawn Court is hiding something powerful,” he admitted before realizing what he said.

Azriel wanted to slam his head on the table, he couldn’t believe he just said that. He cursed himself for revealing any information, Rhysand had lectured Feyre on how to deflect questions, who knew the spymaster was the one to need a refresher? He looked at you with this renewed sense of realization, there was something different about you. Were you a siren? A witch? He was the best spymaster in all of Prythian and here he was spouting whatever came into his head. Even if this was his first time meeting you, Azriel felt as if he could trust Dawn Court’s second-in-command.

Fuck. They know we’re hiding something, you thought. Stirring more honey into your tea, you forced yourself to be nonchalant.

“That’s quite an accusation, shadowsinger,” you said coolly. “Something that you shouldn’t repeat in front of Thesan if you want a solid answer for our allyship.”

 This must have been the strangest situation you’ve been in in a while. You and Azriel stared at each other, gazes burning, waiting to see who would reveal their secrets. The visible scars on his hands and wings told you that he has been a warrior his entire life. He was probably the most dangerous faerie you’ve ever met. This male had infiltrated the Palace and spied on you, that act alone should have pissed you off and made you hostile towards the male, but it didn’t. You were only intrigued by the handsome faerie in front of you.

Azriel smirked, “So, you’re not denying that Dawn Court is hiding something?” His voice came out in a taunting purr.

You think about the glamoured sapphires around your neck and the wings that hide beneath your skin, of that dark power that you have. This was why Thesan spent decades hiding you, so other courts and faeries weren’t going to be sneaking around and finding ways to utilize your gifts.

With a bored huff, you lean on the palm of your hand. “We have nothing to hide, Azriel. I think everyone’s just a little on edge after what happened Under the Mountain, scared that someone like Amarantha is going to wreak havoc on our frail country. We’re all feeling vulnerable which is why I think we should call it a night. Politics should be discussed with everyone present in a meeting room, not over tea and cookies.”

The shadowsinger doesn’t respond for fear he would say something stupid again. You had found a way to graciously end what could have been an ally-ending conversation and he was thankful. Who knows what he could have said, he might have even revealed the existence of Velaris or irritated Dawn Court’s 2nd to the point of no return. He stood up and gave you a courteous bow, but not without taking one last look at the strangely magnetic fae with the sharp eyes.

This is going to be an interesting few days you thought as Azriel walked away.

As he sauntered toward the direction of the guest suites, he could swear he could feel your gaze sear through his back. He wished he knew if it was curiosity or if you were imagining driving a knife through his back.

[esoteric-chaos]

Midsummer Masterpost - Spoonie witch friendly

Midsummer, also known as the Summer Solstice.  This day is the longest day of the year. Typically lands around June 21st  (December 21st in the Southern Hemisphere). 

Many cultures around the world celebrate the Summer Solstice in their own ways. Marking a very important event for most.  

Fire is the main association with this holiday as it marks the sun. This holiday also marks the end of the planting season.

Midsummer Correspondences

Colours

Green

Gold

Light Blue

Yellow

Red

Orange

White

Herbal

Basil

Bay Leaves

Lavender

Mint

Rosemary

Thyme

Chamomile

Mugwort

Vervain

Rose

Honeysuckle

St. John’s Wort

Yarrow

Calendula

Sunflower

Marigold

Jasmine

Oak

Cinnamon

Elder

Edibles

Honey

Berries

Cheese

Lemonade

Lemons

Oranges

Tea

Honey cakes

Mead, Ale, Wine

Ice Cream

Animals

Bees

Cow

Butterfly

Dragonfly

Horse

Summer birds (Wren, Robin, Hawks, Eagles, Swallows, etc)

Crystals

Emerald

Jade

Sunstone

Orange or Green Calcite

Carnelian

Citrine

Amber

Tiger’s Eye

Diamond

Pearl

Quartz

Ruby

Garnet

Metals

Symbols

Sun

Fire, Bonfire, Balefire

Sun Wheel

Sunflower

Phoenix

Fae

Herbal

Summer flowers

Rose

Spirals

Spiritual meanings

Love

Life

Light

Passion

Creativity

Healing & Health

Growth

Empowerment

Lust

Fertility

Power

Success

Prosperity

Warmth

Solar energy

Scents

Lavender

Sage

Lemon

Rose

Mint & Spearmint

Jasmine

Rosemary

Verbena

Coconut

Orange

Gods / Goddesses / Spirits

Gaia

Aestas (Roman)

Aine (Celtic)

Brigantia (Celtic)

Venus (Roman)

Aphrodite (Greek)

Apollo (Roman)

Apollon (Greek)

Zeus and Thor (Thunder Gods)

Ra (Egyptian)

Greenman

Oak King

Anuket (Egyptian)

Benten (Japanese)

Any other sun Gods/Goddesses

Need some suggestions to celebrate? I got you covered.

High energy celebrations 

Bonfires

Fae offerings

Create Fae garden

Weave flower crowns

Perform a phoenix ritual

Create a  Besom

Dance and sing

Leave offerings to solar Gods/Goddesses

Divination work

Any solar energy workings

Low energy celebrations 

Ritual bath

Light a candle in honor

Watch the sunset

Meditate with solar energy

Pray to solar Gods/Goddesses

Create solar water

No spoon celebrations 

If you have a sun lamp bask in it

Watch the sunset

Greet the sun at sunrise

Tell yourself kind words

Remember that it’s okay if you cant do much while you are unwell. That you come first and you simply existing is a blessing.

How you celebrate the holiday does not matter. You can choose to do any activity that feels right. These are only suggestions and remember that you're enough no matter what.

[honey-minded-hivemind]

A reader with wings, but instead of big, fluffy angel wings or leathery, sharp bat wings, they got beautiful, delicate fae wings.

While they aren't anywhere near as fast as Peter, they can still zip around on the battle field, making them hard to hit and harder to catch.

The wings themselves are translucent but full of colors. When the sun hits them just right, a kaleidoscope of light shines out. But they aren't just for show, no no no no! They are razor sharp despite being so thin. It's like getting a paper cut from the world's longest sheet of paper.

The fairy comparison doesn't end there, because they can shrink down to fae size! They can be travel sized for your convenience! No room in the quinjet? They can chill in someone's pocket. Not enough seats in Scott's car for a snack run? They'll sit in the cup holders, just don't squish them with your soda. Playing hide and seek? You'll never win cause Reader shrunk down and is hiding in the cookie jar. Room in the mansion gets destroyed, and they got no where to sleep? Set up a Barbie Dreamhouse in someone else's room and they r good to go.

They got a super green thumb and can be found in the greenhouse with Storm growing the weirdest plant hybrid ever. Their powers let them get real down close to the dirt and stems to see if anything is wrong. Though now they are waging a mini-war on the snails and squirrels that keep ruining their garden.

If you wanted to take it a step further, you could make them able to control plants, give them twisty vine hair, and give them pheromones. Instead of animal pheromones, they're plant pheromones, so they work a little differently, but still follow the same concept. Reader smells all floral instead of the musk the ferals have, but they could still track their bby down if they fly away.

Aaaawwww, fae mutant Reader!!! Super creative and cool! They're like the personal garden fairy, but a cut from their wings stings like a wasp!

They're great with hiding and doing missions where they need to spy or gather intel. They shrink down to an easier size, slip in, and simply stay still and listen in as long as it is safe to do so. They need to get away quick? Reader can fly them to safety, just one at a time, though! Someone tried to launch a weapon or hit at Reader's teammates during a battle or riot? Reader is using their wings to deflect anything, or cutting the person who tried to throw a punch. The garden needs an extra set of hands to keep it pest-free? Never fear, Reader will look for any mold, rot, or pests, and get rid of the problem!

They smell sweet, like roses or honeysuckle or lavender, and are beautiful, almost ethereal. Whenever the teens go out, they're making sure no one tries to get near Reader or mess with them, and Reader returns the favor. If someone makes sweet potatoes or a sweet potatoe casserole or sweet potato fries, Reader is right there, ready to taste test them! If anyone needs help lifting boxes or books, or washing dishes, or cleaning up, Reader is there to help!

(They're such a helpful bean, and the teens like hanging out with them, finding them thoughtful and a delight. The adults appreciate their helpful attitude, and do make sure to tell them they're being a big help. It's hard to feel upset with fae mutant Reader, as they're overall a helpful, thoughtful person who is quick to help and doesn't mind spending time with others)

(Cute idea, @sugar-soda! Fae mutant Reader is a delight! Which other mutations did you want to explore? Or any possible parent secret parent plot twists? I hope you're doing well! Thank you for sharing your ask!)

[astra-ravana]

Magickal Herb Sets

Road Opener

• Yarrow

• Garlic

• Ferns

• Mallow

• Lemon Balm

• Mint

• Parsley

• Rosehips

• Rosemary

• Valerian

• Verbena

• Abre Camino

• Pine

• Five Finger Grass

• Allspice

• High John

• Basil

Astral Projection

• Wormwood

• Blue Lotus

• Mugwort

• Huckleberry

• Bakana

• Valerian

• Narrow-leaf Heimia

• Wild Asparagus Root

• Ginkgo Bilboa

• Damiana

• Lo John Root

• Huperzine-A

• Frankincense

• Nutmeg

• Xhosa Dream Root

• Eyebright

• Calea-Zacatechichi

Divination

• Acacia

• Star Anise

• Borage

• Ground Ivy

• Benzoin

• Lemongrass

• Celery

• Althea

• Bistort

• Orris Root

• Goldenrod

• Elecampane

• Agrimony

• Mullein

• Flaxseed

• Broom

• Camphor

Personal Power

• Chrysanthemum

• Aloe Vera

• Eucalyptus

• Peppermint

• Amber

• Cumin

• Bamboo

• Kava

• Calamus Root

• Passionflower

• Ashwegandha

• Bacopa

• Mustard Seed

• Turmeric

• Patchouli

• Shankapushpi

• Dog Rose

Manifestation

• Bay Leaves

• Cannabis

• Holy Basil

• Balm of Gilead

• Dandelion

• Cinnamon

• Lavender

• White Sage

• Lion's Tail

• Dittany of Crete

• Tears of Chios

• Roses

• Saffron

• Irish Moss

• Jasmine

• Alfalfa

• Ginger

For the Fae

• Blue Bell

• Vervain

• Elderberries

• Foxglove

• Honeysuckle

• Hawthorne

• Thyme

• Apple

• Fig

• Primrose

• Orchid

• Rowan

• Echinacea

• Clover

• Mistletoe

• Poppie

• Oak

[lunarblazes]

Ren needs something. His rule isn’t being properly respected—the hermits have grown restless and wild, challenging his authority.

Ren knows that the faerie stories of old are not just stories. There are tales of fae who aid any kind of rebellion, any kind of creature resisting a force, for a price. A small price, if Ren’s plan goes smoothly, which it will. Sir BDoubleO has seen to it that pure iron shackles are crafted and enchanted to bind Ren’s new helper to his will. No betrayals are to be had on this day.

And thus, Ren stands in the shopping district, a world away from where his hired help will find their task. He carefully steps around the faerie circle he’s concocted out of mushrooms around an old, battered stump, wary of getting too close and being sucked in. Fae are dangerous. Tricky. They cannot sense any weakness about you or they’ll pounce on it.

He waits for nightfall, until the stars shine overhead, the shackles in his hands poised and ready to coil around the first hint of faerie fire. As the sun rises, Ren sighs, deciding his hopes must be misguided.

It’s not a bright flash of light, or a spectacular supernova of petals. Ren smells the scent of sickly sweet rose petals, honeysuckle, and lavender on the wind before he’s even seen the creature. He snaps his fingers on instinct. The shackles lunge at the signal, snapping around the vague shape of a fae creature, and Ren smiles, his fangs on display.

“Hail and well met,” Ren says, inclining his head, but not looking upon the creature’s form. “I am King of these lands. Who might you be?”

Ren can feel the thing staring at him as its presence molds around the shackles. He’s forced it to show itself. An irritated sigh wafts in on the summer breeze as Ren continues to stare doggedly at the trees behind the circle.

“I am a traveler,” says the faerie, “and I am quite annoyed with you, King.”

“I require a boon,” Ren says swiftly.

“Don’t all of you?” the fae retorts.

“I offer payment.”

“Well, I should hope so,” it scoffs, “against faerie law not to.”

Ren blinks. He didn’t know that was a thing, but whatever. “I need your assistance. My people, they don’t respect me. I am setting up a gauntlet to test them, to prove that I am their rightful king, and I need your power to assist me.”

The faerie is quiet for a moment, contemplating the request. “I hate that that makes sense. Resisting a resistance. Wonderful technicality, I should have stopped those stupid stories.”

Ren doesn’t quite know what to say to that, so he just clears his throat. “Er, yes, I suppose? You will be paid a diamond, and to gaze upon your task we must travel to the Nether.”

“A diamond,” the faerie says incredulously. “One diamond.”

“Er… yes?” Ren says, trying desperately not to show any kind of hesitation and mostly failing. “That is your payment.”

A long suffering sigh from the circle. “I should have stopped doing this. Blast it.”

“Well, to the Nether!”

It’s only when Ren tries to move the faerie by the enchanted manacles around his wrists that he actually gets a good look at the creature. The manacles are bound to each other with a very large length of chain, large enough to let the faerie move its arms freely, lest they impede its work, and another length of chain sits resting in Ren’s palms so that he can lead the faerie around. He can lead it around and into the Nether by the manacles, and he begins to do so before pausing as he glimpses the creature’s face and freezes.

It has pale skin, only a slight red flush in the cheeks in the colder autumn air, and its wrists are clearly starting to blister. Small feathers wrap around its cheeks and the hollows of its eyes, shining iridescent in the rising sunlight; its hair is honey-colored, golden, and very fluffy, almost like puffy seeds. It doesn’t look very pleased, hissing under its breath when the manacles chafe against skin and leave blisters behind—fae can never touch pure iron. The enchantments might lessen the sting some, but it’s still gotta hurt based on the expression of the faerie being stuck in an eternal mix of annoyance and discomfort.

What’s far more pressing to Ren, however, is that he knows that face. It’s twisted, somehow, projected and dialed up to ten, but he knows who this is, suddenly he’s very sure he does.

“Grian?” Ren asks.

“Took you long enough,” Grian grumps, attempting to cross his arms and only succeeding in burning his forearms with the manacles. “Let’s get on with the stupid project, shall we? Chop chop, I haven’t got all day, especially not for one diamond.”

“You’re not free until I say you are,” Ren reminds him, slightly giddy. “You’ve got all day if I say you have.”

Grian stares at him, then shrugs. “You’re the boss, sure.”

Ren turns back to the Nether portal grinning. Oh this is excellent. Grian is not only a faerie but a powerful enough one to have legends written about him! An ally of the known resistance in the kingdom, and there’s such an easily exploitable loophole to use against him! Their morale will be decimated when they learn their beloved assistant had built an impossible quest against them. It’s perfect! Glorious! Nothing could be going better!

Ren’s so caught up in the glory of actually capturing a powerful faerie that he nearly forgets to stop walking when they reach the vault. Grian yanks on the manacles, snapping Ren out of his daze.

“Earth to King,” Grian says testily. “What d’you want me to do?”

“Right, right!” Ren says, shaking himself back into his skin. “Well, you just—I want each of my minions to build me a vault room in here.”

Ren pretends he doesn’t see the way Grian’s skin crawls at being called a king’s minion. If he sees it, he’ll get caught up in the glory, and he has to pay very close attention to these instructions, or Grian might decide the terms of the contract are unsuitable, and then they’d be nowhere. The manacles were insurance against that; if Grian didn’t like the terms, Ren could just lock him up here until he did!

“Then, every willing citizen of mine kingdom will doth be placed in this chamber! If they defeat the games in the vault, I shall give up my crown. If they cannot rise to the challenge, I shall stay in power forevermore!” Ren continues dramatically.

“Forevermore?” Grian asks.

“Forevermore,” Ren says solemnly.

“Okay,” Grian says, “what do you want me to do about it?”

“I need you to make a room that will cause despair. Make them give up their hope,” Ren says. “They should reach your room and feel as though they’ve hit the worst challenge yet. I want there to be no chance of success.”

If Ren had been looking at Grian, then, he would have caught the way those electric blue eyes of his flicker gold with delight as he phrased his instructions, the way his sharpened teeth nearly outgrow his mouth for a moment before snapping back to their rightful place. Despite his excitement, Grian’s voice is even as ever when he responds, “no chance of success?”

“Mhm,” Ren says absently. He’s just realized that capturing and forcing such a powerful faerie for this project is a great way to legitimize his rule. He’d be the King who tamed an untamable creature, the very forces of the wind and sky themselves! King Ren, the king who bested a faerie, bound him in chains. His people had to respect him after that. “No chance of success.”

Grian smiles to himself. “I can work with that.”

[areyoudreaminof]

A Symphony of Crickets

Late at night, Lucien talks with his infant daughter and reflects on his newfound family. @lucienweekofficial Day 5: Family

“Bah! Bah bah bah!”

Resting on his upturned knees, the fat, red headed baby stared back at Lucien with the same russet eyes he had.

His daughter.

“Bah awah!” She squealed, her eyes wide, her fat little legs kicking every which way.

“It’s too late for that little cricket! We need to sleep.” he laughed, kissing her small, chubby fists.

The clock had just struck midnight, Elain had dozed off next to him in their bed after nursing their daughter. But the little girl didn’t want to sleep, oh no, she took after her grandfather in that respect. She refused to sleep at night, she wanted to play and talk. She chirped and babbled like a cricket as soon as the sun dipped below the horizon. So, in the dim Fae lights, listening to the soft nocturnal noise outside, Lucien talked with his daughter.

“Did you have fun with Uncle Eris today, little cricket? He brought you more toys than you need.” he laughed softly as she squealed in agreement.

Six months had flown by, she was happy and lively and Lucien couldn’t believe he had helped make her, that she was a part of him. Her skin was golden and soft, red hair sat on her head in a thicket of curls. His own russet eyes stared back at him, rimmed with thick brown lashes but she had Elain’s nose and rosebud lips. She even had the same dimples on both cheeks. The healers said she’d be petite like her mother. Beneath her new baby sent, she smelled of honeysuckles and fresh grass, something so uniquely her.

They had not expected a child so quickly, certainly not after Koschei and the lake, and not after finding out that Helion was his true father and being declared as the heir to the Day Court. Elain and Lucien had been thrust from one change to another in such rapid succession that it felt like a dream, half expecting they’d wake up back at the manor again. They’d only accepted their bond a few months before they faced Koschei and they had just been happy to survive that ordeal. They had never expected all of this.

He and Elain had expressed their fears to each other throughout the entire pregnancy. Elain did not want to be as neglectful and cold as her own mother, and Lucien’s blood ran cold thinking of how Beron treated him. Would he have had this fear if he had been raised by Helion? He knew he would never, could never treat any child like Beron had treated him, but the fear still whispered in his ear late at night, on the edge of sleep.

Then, on a warm spring morning, she was born, screaming and healthy. Her arrival came with the dawn, the sun's rays seeming to stretch just for her. The world stopped as the healer placed his daughter in his arms for the first time. Another golden thread wrapped around his heart, a thread old and ancient. In that moment, Lucien knew he would be, that he was better than Beron. He could be the father he always wanted and he would never, ever let his daughter feel unloved for a moment. He and Elain had done a very good job of it so far, he thought. Despite her fears, Elain took to motherhood as easy as breathing. And Lucien felt so much peace and love amidst the sleepless nights. He had a family. A mate and a child, he had a father that claimed him, and his mother was here. He even had his eldest brother again.

In a strange way, his daughter had brought them all together.

Helion had sobbed when he held her for the first time. The High Lord of Day, his father, had expressed his own regret and loss for not knowing of Lucien’s true connection to him, but the beginning of their relationship was awkward as his son was now a grown male. But Helion swore he would not miss a moment for his granddaughter. He had wanted to throw the biggest party the Day Court had ever seen, but Lucien and Elain declined, simply wanting their daughter to be with her grandfather, without the pomp and circumstance.

No, Feyre, Rhys and the entire Inner Circle had brought their own pomp and circumstance for their new niece and cousin. Nyx refused to let anyone else hold the baby when he was around. “She’s my baby!” The toddler had hissed at anyone who walked by. Feyre and Nesta bawled and bickered over her, while Cassian swooped in and stole the little bundle from their arms at random. And Rhys, the High Lord of the Night Court, had spared no expense at providing his new niece with the most elaborate cradle of pine, carved with foxes chasing the sun. Mor had supplied a very frilly and pink wardrobe for the first year. “Oh, a little girl!” She had sighed, as she clapped her red lacquered nails together. Even Azriel had come, presenting a small, soft floral blanket with little rabbits and foxes running through the stems.

Jurian and Vassa, far off as Queen and General Regent of Scythia could not come, due to Vassa being far into her own pregnancy, but they wrote and promised to see each other again as soon as they were able. Lucien missed his old Band of Exiles, and he and Elain were desperate to meet their son, Altan and introduce their daughter to her human family.

Eris came alone when she was a week old. He left his new High Lord duties behind at the Forest House. Lucien had not seen him since the lake, when Eris struck down Beron in the throws of that final bloody battle at dawn. His stoic and cold older brother wept silently when the little babe opened her eyes and curled her small hand around his pale finger. “He lost Lucien,” Eris had said as he stared into her open eyes, “He doesn’t get her. He doesn’t get us anymore. He will never corrupt her.” Eris had come every week since, just to hold her, talk to her, and now as she grew, play with her. Today, he had walked her around the gardens, “I had a very terrible meeting with the courtiers today, dearest.” Lucien had heard him say to the baby, as she cooed and babbled in sympathy. He had officially announced her birth at court, giving his daughter full Autumn citizenship, much to everyone’s shock.

But it was when he presented the baby to his mother, placing her first grandchild in her arms and telling her he and Elain had named the babe for the sister she had lost so long ago, Mathilde, that Lucien felt the weight of the world off his shoulders. His mother’s face, closed off for so long, opened in a way Lucien had never seen. Lucien could not recall his mother smiling in quite the same way before. “She is perfect.” His mother had whispered, “Just perfect.” Now, his mother officially lived at the palace, finally able to accept her bond with Helion, living the peaceful life she had always deserved.

Next to him, Elain stirred. “Is she still awake?” she asked sluggishly, “She can’t still be hungry.”

“No, our little cricket was just telling me all about the Autumn Court secrets Uncle Eris shared with her.” Lucien said as he tickled her fat little tummy, delighting in the deep belly laugh she unleashed.

“Cricket, huh? I really like that.” Elain mused as she snuggled closer into Lucien, and swept back Mathilde’s curls. “It suits her.”

“Are you Cricket then, my darling?” Lucien asked. The baby babbled in a reply, “Well, I think that settles it. Now, if you can say Papa, we can sleep!” Lucien wanted to be Papa, not Father, a title so stiff and formal. Likewise Elain preferred Mama, and they had taken bets of who would get that first word.

“Hmmm, you keep telling yourself that, Lucien. Ma-Ma.” Elain said, emphasizing the m as Cricket stared at her with a wide eyed expression. Lucien grasped her chubby legs, getting her attention. “Pa-Pa, Cricket! Pa-Pa.”

“Pah-bah!”

His heart stopped at first, then rapidly began to beat. He heard Elain gasp, before he heard it again.

“Pah-bah! Pah-bah!” Cricket sang as she smiled and waved her limbs around. “Pah-bah!”

Lucien felt the tears stream down his cheeks before he registered he was crying. Sweeping his daughter up, he and Elain kissed her over and over again. Defeating a death god, escaping his brothers, being thrown out of home and land, Lucien forgot it all. No old guilt and anxiety festered deep in the corners of his thoughts. No memories sought to poison his happiness. No, it was pure joy Lucien felt the moment he heard his daughter say Papa with recognition and delight in her eyes.

Lucien only knew he was here with his mate, who loved him, and his daughter who knew him.

His Elain and his little Cricket.

Taglist: @xtaketwox @wilde-knight @bellatrixship @carmasi @conebrain @corcracrow @damedechance @exinewine @foundress0fnothing @goddess-aelin @gaeleria @itsthedoodle @kataravimes-of-the-shire @krem-does-stuff @kingofsummer93 @lidiacervos @lucienarcheron @labellefleur-sauvage @lovingelucien @melting-houses-of-gold @mossytrashcan @octobers-veryown @popjunkie42-blog @panicatthenightcourt @reverie-tales @rosanna-writer @spell-cleavers @starsreminisce @separatist-apologist @thesistersarcheron @thelovelymadone @the-lonelybarricade @ultadverb @vulpes-fennec @velidewrites @fieldofdaisiies @c-e-d-dreamer @asnowfern @sanfangirl @secret-third-thing @witch-and-her-witcher @iftheshoef1tz @talons-and-teeth

[elmfae]

✨🧚🏽‍♀️Welcome to Fae Friday✨🧚🏽

˚✧₊⁎᷀ົཽ⁎⁺˳✧༚ ˚✧₊⁎᷀ົཽ⁎⁺˳✧༚ ˚✧₊⁎᷀ົཽ⁎⁺˳✧༚ ˚✧₊⁎᷀ົཽ⁎⁺˳✧༚ ˚✧₊⁎᷀ົཽ⁎⁺˳✧༚ ˚✧₊⁎᷀ົཽ⁎⁺˳✧༚ ˚✧₊

On this faery friday, here is a list of some faery friendly plants that the fae folk love. It’s said that any plant that attracts butterflies and bees will attract faeries as well. Happy Friday:)

˚✧₊⁎᷀ົཽ⁎⁺˳✧༚ ˚✧₊⁎᷀ົཽ⁎⁺˳✧༚ ˚✧₊⁎᷀ົཽ⁎⁺˳✧༚ ˚✧₊⁎᷀ົཽ⁎⁺˳✧༚ ˚✧₊⁎᷀ົཽ⁎⁺˳✧༚ ˚✧₊⁎᷀ົཽ⁎⁺˳✧༚ ˚✧₊

Bluebells

Buttercup

Chamomile

Clover

Elderberries

Foxglove

Honeysuckle

Lavender

Primrose

Thyme

Tulips

Roses

Rosemary

Vervain

Violets

~Fae

[eddiebabygirldiaz]

WIP Wednesday

Tagged by @911onabc @rewritetheending @folk-fae @monsterrae1 @wh0re-behavi0r @sibylsleaves @roy-kents @spotsandsocks @buddierights @devirnis

Thank you darlings, muah! 💖

I am really in the thick of first son au, but I am nearing the finish line, I think, which I am thankful for because this angst is killing me. So, here have a taste :

Buck takes a gasping, shuddering breath and clutches onto Bobby, his tears falling freely and soaking into the collar of Bobby’s shirt. “I hate what they’ve done to me,” he whimpers.

“I know, kid,” Bobby says, voice thick. “I know. But I’m here. We’re all here and you’re not alone.”

They sit there like that, Bobby holding Buck amidst the scent of honeysuckle and flowers planted with love and smiles and the churning sea of grass that slowly calms into a bubbling brook leading to Eddie that Buck thinks he just might be able to cross without stumbling and sinking until he drowns.

These past few weeks, Buck has felt like all the good in his life, all the love he has accumulated and earned, all the memories that glowed with precious clarity, were pearls on a necklace: smooth and shiny and elegant and treasured. Then the necklace broke and the pearls scattered, falling to the ground, slipping in between the floorboards, rolling underneath furniture, covered from sight, never to be found again.

He wondered if eventually he’d forget what the pearls even looked like, how they felt in his hands, the honor and joy of possessing them in the first place and being trusted with keeping them safe, but right now, it feels like he’s found a small cluster of those pearls, stumbled across them the moment he gave up the search, like they’ve just been lying in wait for him all along.

Buck cradles the pearls in his hand, their round, iridescent faces shining with images of him and Bobby throughout the years, and he tucks them into his heart as he tucks his face into Bobby’s neck and breathes.

Tagging: @elvensorceress @spaceprincessem @hippolotamus @shortsighted-owl @useramor @messyhairdiaz @fleurdebeton @bigfootsmom @rottenmarigolds @panbuckley @transboybuckley @transbuck @wikiangela @jesuisici33 @betty-boom @the-likesofus @heartbeatdiaz @rogerzsteven @greyacebuckley @bekkachaos @cowboy-buddie @honestlydarkprincess and anyone else who wants to share something!

[jules-writes-stories]

Eris Week | Day 1 | Bonds and Bargains

Just Enough Light to Cast Shadows (WIP)

Azriel x Eris

Chapter 22 on AO3

There was a sharp tug at Rhysand’s tight wards and he looked up from his parchment roll. The familiar scent of bergamot and cherry wine floated across the chamber, and the prince's gut tightened.

Morrigan stood before him in a draped red tunic and fighting leathers. Ever the general, Eris immediately clocked the sword sheathed at her back, a dagger at her hip, and a knife in her left boot. She likely had several more weapons concealed on her person. The High Fae’s red lips curled in disgust, staring down at him.

Eris offered her an indolent smile and nodded his head in greeting. He put his charcoal pencil down.

“Mor. To what do I owe this visit?” His unruffled posture and level voice belied his unease at her presence. The Autumn male gestured towards a chair like a benevolent host, not a jaded captive.

“I’m here to take you to the Hewn City, Eris.” Mor’s voice was full of steel. He schooled his features.

Azriel had promised.

@the-darkestminds @fieldofdaisiies @c-starstuff-man0 @chunkypossum @futurehunt @talibunny30 @molcat07 @seihdacalling @mistandmemories @unanswered-stars @honeysuckle-daydreams13 @going-through-shit @yanny-77 @lilah-asteria @erisweekofficial

[platosshadowpuppet]

All across Britain the Wild sleeps in hidden places. Faced with the spread and noise and metal of the modern world the Fae folk retreated, making quiet places of their own where they could wait out the world of men.

Their favourite valleys, with rushing burns and stands of alder and willow, were folded away. The entrance ways placed between standing stones for those that remembered how to open them.

The high wild places in the hills were swathed in cloud and mist. Now and again you might glimpse another peak through the cloud, higher than your own and appearing on no map, where the heather is always in bloom and the living water runs in bright rivulets among emerald moss.

Whole groves were taken into the Other Place, or set on the move. Many travellers have been lost, chasing glimpses of sunlit clearings, bedecked in honeysuckle and orchids, and the sound of music and laughter. If you were to chase them you would find they always seem to be just beyond reach. The day will grow dark, the paths fade away and, as night falls and you realise you are lost, the laughter turns mocking.

[fieldofdaisiies]

elain x lucien | warnings: none really, except for a fight between siblings and sad thoughts | masterlist | ao3

“Has she come downstairs today?” More importantly, did she finally eat something, Lucien wants to ask. He slips out of his snow-covered boots, placing them next to the fireplace before also discarding his drenched socks so they can dry. Jurian follows suit, shrugging out of his own snow-drenched shoes and socks, then his breeches. 

Lucien walks up to the main dining table where Vassa is sitting, putting jam on what looks like freshly-baked bread, trying her best to not glance at the half-naked Jurian now on full display for her. Normally, Lucien would find this highly amusing. Not today though. He braces his hands on the table, impatiently waiting for an answer. Vassa, nothing but sadness glinting in her eyes, shakes her head at him. “I think I‘ve upset her.”

“What did you do?” Lucien queries, his tone gentle and far from accusatory. Yet, his brow furrows and a sudden feeling of unease spreads through his veins. 

Vassa tells him how Elain joined her for baking. How they spent time together and that Elain noticed him and Jurian outside. Vassa leaves out the details about how Elain looked at him, not wanting to make anything uncomfortable for either of them. She brushes her hand through her locks and sighs loudly. “I made some remark about her being fae and no longer mortal, which is only the truth, but I think it hurt her.”

“It may have hurt her but she finally needs to understand it,” Lucien says, straightening his posture. “There is no going back to her old life, and as hard and difficult it is to understand, one has to learn how to live with it.” He pushes off the desk and heads for the corridor, feet still bare, shoulders squared. “I‘ll go and talk to her.”

How many nights has he spent praying to the Mother to turn back time and give him back his old life. Give him back the life he had with the love of his life. But it was all useless. There was no going back. There never is. You can’t change things that have happened, no matter how hard you wish for them to be different.

continue on ao3

general Elucien tag list @rippahwrites @shadowhunter2003 @my-inner-crisis @ladyelain @acourtofthought @itwasalwaysaboutthetea @multifictional @moonlightazriel @brekkershadowsinger @sunshinebingo @gracie-rosee @a-frog-with-a-laptop @aayo-whatt @honeysuckle-daydreams13 @thelovelymadone @berryzxx @jules-writes-stories @bookishbroadwaybish @the-darkestminds @goldenmagnolias @isnotwhatyourethinking