#matriarchs of marvel

[eleonorpiteira]

Storm ⚡️

Painted for Upper Deck x Marvel, for the 2024 Upper Deck Fleer Ultra Matriarchs of Marvel set

[gufydraws]

Last day of the Matriarchs of Marvel's Sketch Cards: Dazzler, She-Venom, Deathbird and Clea Strange!

Dazzler has been spotted on eBay, good luck~ Under the cut you'll find the extra photos of the shinies on She-Venom and Clea's wips, plus all the cards together!

[twasjane]

[chinesedramaoutfit]

Red cape outfit of Shen Cuixi

[missewoodhouse]

Some additional theatre-history-nerd context on Ozma and gender: Baum was very much a theatre person (he started out as an actor/playwright) and it's been suggested that after the runaway success of The Wonderful Wizard of Oz as both a novel and a stage play, The Marvelous Land of Oz was written specifically with a stage adaptation (ie. armies of chorus girls) in mind. This would place Tip->Ozma within the tradition of actresses in "breeches roles" -- think woman-in-disguise characters like Shakespeare's Viola/Cesario or Rosalind/Ganymede, but also the "Principal Boy" in British pantos (traditionally played by a young woman) or Peter Pan (first staged right around the same time.)

Alternately, if you’re interested in the politics of the later Oz books, I highly recommend looking into the work of Baum’s mother-in-law, the suffragist Matilda Joslyn Gage! (note: I haven't actually listened to the podcast about Gage I linked here, but highly recommend anything on the topic by Sally Roesch Wagner who is one of the guests)

the queen of Oz is a trans lesbian and she’s dating Dorothy

[resurrectionsadamwarlock]

Warlock (1972) #11- Page 18

[illyanarasputinfan]

2024 Matriarchs of Marvel 3x3 Puzzle Card Set “Fleer Ultra”

Artist: Elizabeth Torque

[astrolocherry]

When the Cancer permits you to be close enough to actually know her,

it’s like being let in on a marvellous secret. She exudes liquid lunar essence in a substance. There is depth and the dark side of the Moon, and there is a luminary that lights up your little world.

She is the personification of healing baths, transporting art, matriarchal legacies, and unattainable Feminine ideals. Hardened by what she has so far seen, yet tough in ability to maintain the love in her heart. There’s honour in being born that isn’t centred on pride or personal purpose, but rather about living in private honour. There is a strong vulnerability and a willingness to surrender that is surprisingly unapologetic about who she really is. Ultimately accepting of all that you are because self-acceptance was a major challenge and lesson for the Cancer.

She has moods like weather patterns with clear days and stormy nights, queen tides and tears to cry. And she is at her best when she is at her worst. Take it all or leave it, because absence can mark this presence once she’s part of your life.

Just as you have never known a sky without a moon - she forms a void when she leaves that can’t be filled in.

Cherry

[quitealotofsodapop]

This is set as a hypothetical between S5 and S6 but in the Stone Matriarch variants, the world did not cleanly heal from reality breaking twice over and thus some strange things have started happening. The most drastic of which being an incident in which the Noodle Gang and our favorite monkey ended up falling through time and space into another dimension set several millenia in the past when Wukong was approximately the same age as MK and still a very young monkey.

The most stark contrast, however, is that this world is a world in which the Great Floos never wiped put the Stone Monkeys. Meaning the young Wukong grew up with both his parents.

While everyone else is marveling at the new world and the changes within it, Wukong is having a bit of an existential crisis of his own upon realizing this is the life that had been stolen from him by a flood that happened long before he was ever even hatched.

Its the end of Season 5; MK has tried his best to spread the power of the Heavenly Stones throughout the universe.

When during their celebration party on Flower Fruit Mountain; a portal opens up and drags the gang all inside.

When they all come too - it's to Flower Fruit Mountain.

But not the one they know.

Many spears and swords are suddenly poised at the intruders. They are surrounded on all sides by monkey demons, all wearing plain island-style clothing made of natural materials. Cleary wherever they landed; they've alerted the locals.

Leading the scouts is an eerily familiar monkey - Wukong himself?!

However this monkey doesn't look exactly like Wukong: his eyes are a deep blue rather than gold, and he has a younger, somehow cheekier smile.

His smile only widens at the sight of the Monkey King.

???: "Shihou! You're home early! Wukong: "Who... who are you?" ???: "Ehh? Gege, are you ok? Or are you unable to tell your own brother's face from a horse's bum?" Wukong: "BROTHER?!"

This encounter quickly leads to the gang getting captured by the monkey scouts - who bring him to the Stone Palace.

But not the ruin Wukong refurbished in the early years of his kinghood.

It's THE Stone Palace.

Unweathered by time or nature. It's decorated with tapestries and statues of past warriors and rules. At the end of the entrance hall is an imposing stone throne - upon it sits a ginger-furred monkey.

But it's not Sun Wukong.

It's a female monkey. Older than what Wukong had been when he took the throne. Her body adorned by a large red cape in harmony with multiple jade ornaments. At her side is a brunette male monkey of the same age, readjusting his spectacles at their guests. Guards and retainers, many of whom Wukong and Macaque know from their youth, line the room.

Wukong: "Mrs uh... Matriarch is it? We're a little lost - dimension wise. Where we were, the Heavenly Pillar was breaking and the lines between worlds thinned. We must have fallen through the wrong door." (*As Wukong speaks, the female monkey rises from her throne and walks slowly towards him. Her eyes narrow as she touches his scarf, comparing it to her cape. The whole room seems to draw in a breath.*) Shihua: "Where did you get this?" Wukong: "It was draped over the throne when I found the palace for the first time." Shihua: "Found? Have you not lived here your entire life?" (*A feeling of dread overcomes Wukong as he tries his best to explain*) Wukong: "When I was very young, none of us lived in the Stone Palace. But I accidentally rediscovered it when I fell through the waterfall. There was a plaque dedicated to whomever lived there before us, and a cape resting on the throne. I took the cape for my self when the troop crowned me King- er.. Matriarch." Ye Lin, concerned: "And what of your parents? surely they would not have let a mere cub rule?" Wukong, brow furrowed with sad confusion: "I... never had any parents. I was born alone atop of Flower Fruit Mountain from a lone stone egg. As far as I know, besides Macaque and MK here, I'm the only Stone Monkey there is." (*The two royal monkeys look at each other sadly. The Queen makes a deep sigh as she sniffs the stranger-king's scarf, offering it to her mate to inspect. The brunette monkey takes a sniff, his gaze widening when he recognises the scent.*) Shihua: "That explains it." Ye Lin: "What does, my Queen? How does this young man smell almost exactly like our elder son?" Shihua: "These strangers truly are from another world. Another time even. One where our people did not survive the Great Flood we weathered." (*every single jaw in the room is dropped from shock. The monkey marshals and generals quickly begin inspecting the strangers, grooming their fur and sniffing their effects. The Wukong-double from earlier looks positively smug*) Luzhen, excited: "So he IS Gege!!" Marshal Ma: "No little prince, I've already checked with the Celestial Realm. Shihou is still working off his sentence in the stables." Wukong: "Sentence? Stables? Oh sweet Buddha, you mean I'm still the bimawen?!" MK: "I mean! At least you aren't under that mountain!" Tang, covered in curious monkeys: "What year is this even?" Ye Lin: "I am unsure if our time keeping methods match yours - but the humans on the mainland have recently chosen a new Emperor. A man they call Taizong of Tang." The Monkie Kids, shocked: Σ(°ロ°)! Mei, looking on the bright side: "I can introduce you guys to my Grandpa Lie!"

Of course, now the Monkie Kids/Noodle Gang need to figure out why they fell through a portal, what has changed in this new world, and whether or not the infamous Journey to the West can even happen.

Its very fun AU to think about. A lot of sight-seeing occurs as Shihua glamours/hides the gang as her or her family's new retainers. :3

Au name ideas im thinking; "Stone Royalty au"? or something along those lines.

Btw for those wondering about the "reincarnation" aspect of Shihua's life... Guanyin still exists in this world. Bodhisattva is a keystone character who will find a way to exist. Even if it leaves Shihua mourning her twin who did not survive the Flood.

[parad-ice-lostandfound]

Prompt: "You, whose image the Dark Mirror did beckon forth... If your heart bids it, take the hand of the one reflected in the mirror."

Pairing: Dire Crowley and GN!Prefect/ Yuu/ MC

Genre: Yandere (platonic)

TW: Yandere Dire Crowley, crow man's delusional and literally does not give two fucks, just generally creepy vibes all around.

AN: I am so, so, so sorry for what you are about to read now lol. If you get too confused in the middle, don't worry, I was just as confused writing this but my brain just wouldn't rest until I finished and posted this so here we are. The basic summary of this is that Yuu or the Prefect is trapped in an endless cycle because Crowley overblotted. You might have to read this twice or thrice to understand the how and why <3

He knows.

From the moment he sees them, he remembers.

He remembers and he watches as they do it again.

And again.

And again.

A puppet, unaware of their being handled by someone else, someone kinder and gentler who just wants to keep them safe and sound.

Even if it means trapping them in an endless cycle.

Even if he is the only one who sees and notices and remembers.

Dire Crowley cuts an imposing figure as he stands in his office, facing an ornate mirror. Not the Dark Mirror, no. This particular mirror has its roots in mystical arcane magic, from the times of Jupiter and when the Titans roamed free. Dire has a faint memory of his mother, the Crowley Matriarch, telling him to be careful with it, to pass it down to his heir as she had, to him.

Crystal clear, it beckons to him to reveal himself. To bare himself, imperfections and flaws laid out in the privacy of his office for it to see.

A selfish, sadistic desire to pick apart every carefully constructed lie, each bejeweled facade to show the utter mess of a man that lies beneath it all arises in him; he finds himself indulging in it more often than he likes to admit.

The masked man removes his mask for what is not the first time, and most certainly would not be the last. Sharp golden eyes look on as black ink, once held within the confines of his mask, drips down his face. Times like these make him wonder and marvel at how he has not met his demise yet.

Fingers adorned with golden claws rise and touch the blot, marveling at how cold it feels as it stains his skin. Lesser mages would have been dead long ago, Crowley knows this. Slight dread rises in him at the thought, knowing that his magic reserves are long finished; he lives on borrowed time and magic.

But then again, who cares? As long as he can have them here, where they belong, safe and sound-

A knock resonates through the room, startling the headmage. He quickly puts the mask on his face again and clears his throat, saying, "Come in."

He watches as they walk in, no doubt to complain about something, or to talk about their financial situation. Perhaps he should increase their allowance? After all, it is their being, their magic that sustains him, and allows him to live through these lifetimes watching over the unassuming, now magicless human he had imprinted on and the students they had endeared themself to.

Crowley watches as they speak, unable to stop his lips from curling up into a smile. He hems and haws and lies through his teeth about not being able to find them a way back.

He sees the light in their eyes dim; it is a small change, one that doesn't stay for long. But the magicless human is precious to him, and so he observes them. He watches them leave his office silently, a stark contrast to when their impatience and indignance have them cursing his name to the skies. No outcome, no outburst of their emotions will be able to move his cold, frozen heart to thaw, however; they belong to Twisted Wonderland, as Twisted Wonderland belongs to them.

In their first lifetime, Crowley recalls with the fondness of a father thinking of his grown-up child, they did possess magic; far different in nature, but magic nonetheless. And powerful too, considering the aura of it radiated from their being even as something stopped them from being able to use it.

Crowley wonders if it was so that he could see how invaluable, how indispensable they were.

How the entirety of Twisted Wonderland was made for them.

He did try, the first time, to find them a way back home. Endless efforts were dedicated to researching the existence of universes and multiverses. Of course, such exhaustive research would take time, time which he saw them spend getting close to the students of Night Raven College and fighting overblots.

Seven overblots, in the span of one year.

A record untouched by any other being, mage or otherwise. A record they kept making each and every lifetime they spent in the loop. A record that became his new normal, so much so that he no longer gives more than a cursory glance to the overblots and their aftermath.

He knows how it all ends, after all.

In their first lifetime, his efforts had bore fruit. His studies revealed a way to connect the Dark Mirror to their plane of existence, through the use of the very mirror that was hidden behind his back. His blood had run cold at the revelation, and he spent the next few weeks? months? looking for alternatives. For other ways to be able to send them back.

Until one day, the Prefect found out.

As they angrily interrogated him for the reasons behind his silence, asking him why he would not send them back even though there was a way, he realized exactly why he was hesitant about sending them back.

Crowley had no spouse, no children. But the mirror, the mirror which had been in his family for generations, needed an heir. One who could gain control over it, rather than have it control them like it did with so many of his ancestors, including his mother.

Surely the one dubbed a beast-tamer could tame such a dangerously powerful magical artefact?

He desperately begged and bargained with them, trying to change their mind. Trying to entice them into staying forever in Twisted Wonderland, as his heir. He offered them gold and silver, riches beyond what one would expect a man like him to have. He offered them the immense honour and prestige that came with being a deity that the entirety of Twisted Wonderland bowed to.

But they... they refused to stay. The only thing that was in their mind was to go home. Why couldn't they get it through their head that Twisted Wonderland was meant to be their home?

The aftermath of that argument... Crowley's memories are hazy at best. He remembers waking up in a pool of blot, the sticky ink covering his hands and the top of his face, dripping constantly. He remembers the mirror glowing as he dragged himself to it like a mindless moth flies to the flame even with the risk of getting burned.

Words had slipped through his mouth like the prayers of the devout at the altar of their deity, the faint and familiar hum of magic accompanied by a slight crackle of dark miasma.

"Ah, my dear esteemed benefactor... My proud, beautiful flower of evil. You are truly the fairest one of all," he had spoken, not knowing exactly what spell he was casting. All he knew, was that he was succumbing to the mirror, the same way his mother had; the same way all of his ancestors had, giving into the madness that such unchecked power and magic could create.

"O magic mirror, thy wisdom I entreat... Reveal unto me the visage I seek.." A vision of them, standing on the other side of the mirror, had Crowley try to reach out to them. His hand grazed the solid glass, before passing through it. He watched as their eyes widened and they took a step back.

"You, whose image the Dark Mirror did beckon forth... If your heart bids it, take the hand of the one reflected in the mirror." A shiver of thrill ran up his spine as they gingerly placed their hand in his after giving his words some thought, even with all the doubt in their eyes. He curled his fingers around their warm hand, and pulled.

He later found out that, during his overblot, he had managed to trap a significant portion of their soul in the mirror that was his family heirloom. The mirror rejected their magic, foreign as it was, and somehow those powers transferred themselves over to Crowley.

The words Crowley spoke, was the way to invoke their soul and bring them back each time they left Twisted Wonderland. A reset button, if you will.

Every time they show the slightest hint of wanting to leave, the slightest glimpse of understanding that he is the one they need to defeat in order to go home, he resets. Memories get wiped and Twisted Wonderland moulds beneath his gold-plated fingertips to what it was before. They say time waits for no man, but then again, Dire Crowley is more monster than human now. And so it bends to his will, but not without taking away his memories as well.

But then he sees them.

And he remembers.

[simplegeneral]

It was an early morning in the Sky Queendom, arriving at nearly 5 am at a meeting planned to happen at 9 am, the new queen of the SandWings past her mother queen Burn's passing, Oasis and her envoy had arrived extra early in order for her to prepare mentally to meet the other queens at the now famous Queens' Summit, happening every 5 years, this time earlier thanks to the new sandwing queen's ascension to power.

Depressed, angry and above all else, volatile, queen Oasis has declared speech after speech she would deliver to the queens, but to no avail nor her own approval, being only encouraged by her envoy, the adviser, principal and all-doer Sunny and her father, the ex-king now general Sandstorm.

At around 7 am, queen Moorhen, quite often seem as the matriarch and arbiter of the summit had arrived, so confident she would be the first one there, as always happened, only to find the young queen angrily snarling fancy words around in an attempt to showcase her nobility.

" Your new majesty, queen Oasis. A pleasure to meet you finally face to face. How long have you been here? " She spoke, ever so softly and stern as a mother figure, the mudwings behind her begun to hastily unpack their belongings to guard and offer during the summit.

" Oh. Your majesty.... Queen Moorhen... Of the mudwings, of course! I have been here for a few hours, I believe... " Oasis stumbled in her memories the coherent words to say in such situation.

" Oh three moons! Energetic aren't you? In fact, I do believe where all this energy came from... " Moorhen spoke as she looked Sunny, who was approaching them from the side. " Sunny, oh my, your energy is fueling through the ground or something? Its causing our royal guest here to feel accelerated! "

" No no no, your majesty, I mean, yes, I mean, kinda of. I mean I have been advising Oasis to the best of my abilities... " Sunny yelped cutely.

" Ha ha! Oh well. Delightful as it have been meeting your person, queen Oasis, I may ask, is everything alright? " Moorhen directed towards the young queen.

" Well... I am nervous, absolutely. Such a summit, it seems marvellous but, politicing at home is complicated, and I can not imagine what will be in foreign affairs... 

- Ah, yes, indeed. Come with me, if you don't mind. Lets go to a walk to a nearby pond, we will talk there. You too can come, Sunny. "

The three of them made their way through the bushes, flowers and trees, into a large pond of cristaline waters, so pure they could see all the way to the bottom.

" Beautiful, isn't it? This pond is so refreshing, its waters so pure. It always relaxes me, and you?

- I do feel calmer by its beauty... But, what do you seek to talk with me?

- Oh. Direct to the point, eh? I see. Just like your mother! Ah, Oasis, once you live up as long as I did, the beauty of life is to live very calmly and tranquil. Your mother, queen Burn, and your grandmother before her, Oasis as well, were very agitaded and hard working dragons.

- I believe so. What do you know about my mother?

- A lot. We were allies during the succession war before you hatched. I believe I was one of the few dragons who could stand up to her, be direct, straightfoward, honest, and she always reciprocated. I met very few dragons in my life like her.

- I feel like I am her daughter but... I don't have much of anything of her, not the courage, the strength or the honesty.

- You are only so young! Be patient, queen Oasis. Let me tell you one quick story about your mother's first meeting with the other queens, at this very summit.

- Oh. Oh! Its queen Moorhen's story time!!!

- Calm down, Sunny, you might spoil everything to our guest here before I can even begin! "

The three of them sat down at the edge of the pond, and Moorhen begun:

" Your mother, queen Burn, was as nervous as you are when she first arrived at this summit. The proud warrior had a terrible charisma, her oratory was terrible and she couldn't get her ideas across in a convincing way to the council. As soon as she arrived, usually not so long after me, we would come here to this very pond and I would tell her stories, like I am doing to you, of how her mother, Oasis, stumbled on her words and embarrassed herself at courts held by other queens...

- She did? How do you know that?

- I am old enough! I saw Oasis' rise from a dragonet to the queen she would become. Burn was usually not very kind to anyone who addressed her mother with any lack of respect, but she usually tolerated my mockery because she knew I was saying light-heartedly. Oasis and I were good friends and allies back in a day, so I missed her too, it was all in good heart to remember what seemed to be better days. Oh well... So, the first time she arrived here, you had hatched only a few months before, and Burn had refused to leave you at the wingery of the palace, so she brought you ALL the way over here, and she was desperated!

' Moorhen! ' she yelled, ' I brought my dragonet over here, how embarrassing it will be when I address the council for the first time and she starts crying at the talons of my husband?! '

I said ' Calm down, Burn. I see you could win a thousand battles, but apparently you can not figure out motherhood haha! '

' THIS IS SERIOUS, MOORHEN! ' She snarled at me.

' Alright, alright. Calm down, Burn. Look. If she does cry, so what? She may or may not do anyways. Other queens are also bringing their dragonets because they do want them close, the situation is tense, its our first meeting, for ALL of us, not only you. I can list all of the dragonets who might cry if you would like. '

' Argh... Fine. Thank you, Moorhen... I can bark orders all I want, but properly address a crowd, I have never done that, it feels such a waste of time. '

' Words are more powerful than your talons, Burn. If you seek the other queens to believe in your ability to follow the international laws we seek to establish commonly among the queendoms, you must show yourself capable of reasoning, either you like the outcome or not. '

' I see. You are right... Good thing my daughter is here. I will do it for her, for I do not seek a dangerous world for her to live. '

' Remember Burn. Speak for what you love, not against what you hate. Good luck, my friend. '

- And so Burn and me nodded at each other and departed to the meeting. It was alright. Burn stumbled on her words but she delivered them with her heart in the right place, the crowd was pleased, and she proved to Pyrrhia she was a respectable leader, both in times of strife, and now in times of peace. "

Oasis had paid attention to Moorhen's words like she have never had to anyone, not even Burn in the later years. She spoke:

" Mother seemed so confident, so powerful, I confess, I never thought she could be such a nervous dragon...

- We are all normal dragons at the end of the day, Oasis. And as queens, its expected the most out of us. Known where your heart lies in, and speak with the oratory to melt their hearts, its my elderly wisdom to you, young one.

- Thank you, queen Moorhen. I... I wrote so many speeches to impress, to mark me as a powerful and decisive queen, yet none of them came out of my true beliefs, what my mother, my father, even what Sunny has told me. Maybe its too late to change all of it.

- We still have a hour until the meeting, Oasis. Its not too late.

- You think so?

- I know its not. Rewrite it. And remember the lesson your mother also had, reason your ideals, be ready to be challenged, respect the outcome.

- I will keep this in mind, thank you, once again, for sharing this with me, queen Moorhen.

- Worry not, young one. Expect nothing, deliver everything. You will do well. "

As Moorhen stayed in the pond, ever reflective, Oasis and Sunny departed back to their caravan, Oasis more than ready to write with her heart in the right place.

[gufydraws]

Day 2 of the Matriarchs of Marvel's Sketch Cards! In order: Wasp, Maria Hill, Spider-Woman, The Dryad, Mockingbird, Penance, Elektra as Daredevil, Shuri and Emma Frost!

I spotted Maria on eBay, good luck to the future owner ;)

2/5

I loved using the Molotow Liquid Chrome marker for Shuri's background ✨

[a-court-of-valkyries]

Engulfed In Your Flames

Chapter 17: Nesta and Eris

Neris Week Day 7 (Yes, I know this is late, sorry!)

The weeks leading up to the wedding, Nesta spent much of her time being tailored for multiple gowns made from scratch. The seamstress, Marianna, had woven together dresses that Nesta would have never been able to imagine. One had been a perfect blend of auburn and violet coloring, the sleeves flowing down her arms and her train melting behind her as if she were a creature born for the wind and sky. Nesta marveled at Marianna's creation, but the seamstress had chucked it off to the side before beginning anew. Another one had been a little less elegant but still breathtaking. It was low cut, and the skirt of the gown almost looked as if it was embroidered with crystals throughout. Marianna grumbled before tossing that one away as well. 

When Nesta wasn’t being tailored to, she spent time shadowing Aryanna in making the proper preparations for the wedding. Coincidentally, her and Eris’ wedding festivities would be coinciding with the Autumn Equinox, which celebrates the world beginning their first day of Autumn, so the two celebrations would be held together. 

Something sparked in The Lady of Autumn as she worked and planned over the weeks. Nesta noticed that as long as Beron was not around, Aryanna had lit up with a liveliness and authoritativeness that Nesta had not been privy to before. It was barely there, a dim glimmer, a faint shadow of a spark, but it was more than Nesta had ever witnessed from the otherwise quiet female. She studied how Aryanna instructed the servants, who worked tirelessly, to organize decorations throughout the Forest House, showing them dozens of sketched ideas she made. Nesta aided the matriarch in deciding which meals and desserts should be cooked and baked. When asked, Nesta gave input into what attire would be appropriate for the ruling Autumn Court family to appear in—they would all be dressing in similar formal wear, but only Nesta and Eris would be truly matching. She even helped with writing the invitations for the six other courts in Prythian. 

“Here, my dear, I’ll write this one,” Aryanna said gently as she took the invite meant for the Night Court, a sympathetic look in her eyes. 

“Why do we have to invite the other courts?” Nesta asked Eris later that day when they had taken a stroll through the grounds. It had been drizzling, but Nesta did not mind it one bit. She welcomed the cool droplets as they slightly grounded her from her sizzling anxiety. “When they celebrate the Winter Solstice in the Night Court, no one else outside of Velaris is invited.”

“It’s all part of court politics and new traditions being born,” Eris explained. “For centuries, courts did not extend celebrations to each other. However, after Amarantha and the war, we’ve practically abandoned the old tradition as a way to show each other that the Fae are united when it counts.” Eris threw a ball out into the distance, and his hounds raced to see who would reach it first. “The Night court celebrates alone because for them, the tradition is more in name than practice.”

Nesta furrowed her brows. “How do you mean?”

Eris thought for a minute, trying to choose his words carefully. “Most of the High Lords are not fond of Rhysand. For the sake of Prythian, the rest of the courts worked with him against Hybern, but now that everything is in the past and things are back to normal, we have been careful to distance ourselves from the Night Court. Rhysand has a . . . peculiar reputation unlike what we have seen from any other High Lord. The courts are still furious with him for how he had reigned since becoming High Lord, not to mention his actions Under the Mountain. Then he made your sister High Lady, a female with no prior political experience and who could not even read up until a few years ago.” Nesta listened as Eris spoke. She had never heard these tales before, and Feyre never went into too much detail about what happened when she went to rescue her old love from the clutches of Amarantha. “None of the other courts take her seriously, and to prove our point, her first act as High Lady was to decimate another court during war time.” Eris paused before continuing. “To put it simply, Rhysand needs my alliance just as much as I need his, and that is one of the reasons why I have to formally invite the Night Court. It would bode terribly for them in appearances if I married the High Lady’s sister without them present. They have no choice but to come if they want to hold any sort of propriety, or they risk being made to look worse than they already do.”

In the weeks drawing closer to the wedding, Aryanna had begun to help teach Nesta some of the Autumn Court traditions, history, etiquette, and even some of the dances and music. She had taught Nesta as many dances as she could on her own within one of the ballrooms in the Forest House, but she soon had to enlist one of her sons, Bastian, to help lead since Eris had been away from the Forest House on business that week. 

Nesta had briefly met the rest of Eris and Lucien’s brothers not long after Beron and Aryanna. The introduction had made her skin crawl. The brothers made no effort to hide their obvious and shameless ogling. At Eris’ hard glare, they had quickly averted their eyes and made themselves scarce. It wasn't difficult to see which brother was in charge.

But now, with Eris gone, Bastian made his interest obvious. He stepped closer to Nesta than necessary, held her hand tighter than what should've been allowed. When he laid his hand on her back to begin the dance, he let it drift lower and lower. Nesta glared and shifted his arm harshly, to which Bastian only smirked. 

“Forgive my second eldest son, Nesta. In his growing age he seems to have forgotten the manners I taught him as a child,” Aryanna said as she scowled at her son.

They spent all morning teaching Nesta the different dances that were tradition for Autumn Court weddings and balls. Nesta learned quickly, basking in the rhythm and music supplied by some of the more musically-inclined servants. 

Bastian was not lenient in his attempts however. He subtly tried to let his hand wander again when Aryanna had looked away.

‘Mind your hand, or I'll rip it from your corpse.”

He chuckled but obeyed. “My apologies, King Killer.” Nesta wanted to claw that wretched grin off his face.

Despite Bastian’s attempts to intimidate her, Nesta had been enjoying herself for the first time in a long time. She let the notes flow over her, and eagerly fixed her mistakes when Aryanna corrected her. Nesta hardly noticed the hours flying by. Aryanna was set to end their lesson for today, much to Bastian's delight as he had grown more irritable and fidgety within the last hour. Yet Beron’s clapping hands washed the room in ice.

“Absolutely magnificent,” he noted from the doorway of the ballroom. He did not leer at Nesta as his sons did. His gaze was more one of fondness. Goosebumps formed on Nesta’s arms as he drew closer into the room. Bastian immediately departed, not even needing his father to voice the command. The Lady of Autumn shrunk at her husband’s growing presence in such a rehearsed manner that Nesta forgot her presence almost entirely. Aryanna had become used to living in the shadows, had inhabited them until she had become invisible so Beron could have all the attention. Gone was the vibrant lady as she made herself dull.

“I see my lady wife has been preoccupied with your lessons. How does the female fare, my lady?”

“She is an excellent learner, my lord. She already knows most of the dances,” the Lady of Autumn said with her head down.

Beron hummed in acknowledgement. “Would you care to spare one more dance for your future father-in-law?”

“Of course, my lord.” Nesta said getting into the proper formation. Beron took her hand and began without any go ahead. Nesta kept up easily where he led her. When he sped up, she followed. When he slowed, she matched him with grace. This dance felt different from any other she had done. Beron Vanserra was not a male merely intrigued by the catch of a diamond, but a predator sizing up his prey. As they finished he looked Nesta up and down before taking a step back. Nesta curtsied.

“I will be taking over her lessons from now on,” Beron stated, his eyes on Nesta the whole time.

“Yes, my lord.”

Nesta looked between Aryanna and Beron. “I wouldn't mind continuing my lessons with my future mother-in-law.”

“You will be continuing your lessons with me.” 

Beron stared hard at Nesta. Nesta stared hard back, then nodded.

***

Nesta engulfed Eris’ thoughts as he waited with the priestess at the end of the aisle. He didn't focus on his brothers, though he absentmindedly wished it had been Lucien here instead. He did not spare a glance at his father's proud face. He hardly even noticed the court of who would—if all went to plan—become his future citizens or servants of Autumn, nor did he give any attention to the high lords and representatives of the following courts that had gathered for the celebration of his wedding day. No, Eris only had one focus, and that focus lay with the female standing at the beginning of the aisle. 

Nesta stood straight and tall, like a soldier armed for battle. Her head tilted upwards in her signature stance. Her body betrayed no shiver of fear. She looked solid as stone. Had he not caught the subtle and almost imperceptible shift of her eyes, he'd never notice that the female before him was nervous.

Nesta was dressed in a ball gown covered in gold mesh. Shades of red and orange blended together, bathing Nesta in an illusion of flames, the illusion heightening as she moved down the aisle. Gold colored leaves were embroidered into the belt and neck line of her dress. Her hair was in her usual coronet braid, with a few tendrils flowing by her cheeks. Thousands of faelights hung and glittered from the branches that protruded down from the ceiling, and the light reflected like crystals off of Nesta’s skin. In her dress, in this light, she was Autumn incarnate. 

Eris’ breath hitched when he saw her. A foreign feeling stirred within him, buried deep within his chest. It was one of warmth, a comfort he had never known. An ember glowing, growing. Eris quickly dismissed the feeling. He noticed a faint blush on Nesta's cheeks as she neared him. A lock of hair flowed over her face. Eris found himself wanting to tuck it behind her ear.

The priestess commenced the ceremony. She read from the holy book of Prythian, reciting verses of love and unity from the Mother. She boasted in the story of Prythian’s origins. She sang hymns worshiping the Mother’s glory. 

Before the priestess could begin to conclude their ceremony, she brought forth a small red box wrapped in a gold bow. Opening it revealed two silver rings hidden inside, one slightly bigger than the other. Eris had spent a hefty price with the best craftsman within Autumn’s lands to get the rings just right. 

Looks were exchanged within the audience, but no one dared to speak as they watched the exchange. Eris’ heart beat wildly as he took out the smaller ring. When he finally glanced at Nesta, her eyes had widened, and her lips parted as she exhaled at the display of a human tradition. 

Eris took her left palm, placing the ring on her ring finger. “With this ring,” he stated, the human vows he memorized echoing throughout the room, “I vow to be yours as you are mine. In sickness and in health, for better or worse, for richer or poorer, until death parts us.”

When Eris had finished, Nesta reached for the other ring, placing it on his finger. Her hand trembled slightly. “With this ring, I vow to be yours as you are mine. In sickness and in health, for better or worse, for richer or poorer, until death parts us.”

The priestess then grabbed the ruby colored ribbons and bound their hands together. Eris stated his vows first, then Nesta. “In the eyes of the Mother, in the name of the Cauldron, I vow to unite my life to yours. With this ribbon, I swear from now until our end to be yours as you are mine.” Eris swallowed and looked down at Nesta. Her eyes were a perfect blend of blue and gray that he found kept him steady. Nesta slightly lifted her chin as Eris leaned towards her. Their kiss was soft, only lasting a few seconds before he pulled away. 

The priestess said a prayer of thanks to the Mother. “I now formally present to you, the heir of Autumn and his lady-wife, Eris and Nesta Vanserra.” At that, the guests erupted in respectable applause. 

Afterwards, Eris and Nesta did their rounds around the room, greeting the representatives and leaders from the other courts. Eris did most of the talking as he formally introduced Nesta to everyone. 

“It is a pleasure to see you again,” Tarquin said as he addressed Nesta, “especially when it is under much less pressing circumstances.” The male, despite his young age, had impressed Eris and the rest of Prythian with how quickly and efficiently he had stepped into his role as High Lord of the Summer Court, especially under such strenuous circumstances. 

By his side was Cresseida, the Princess of Adriata. Her sapphire dress greatly complimented her dark skin and white hair. She offered both Eris and Nesta a polite smile. “Good evening, and congratulations on such a beautiful ceremony.”

“Hello, Tarquin and Cresseida. Thank you for taking the time to celebrate with us today,” Nesta said. “It means a great deal to us.” 

“Well, this was certainly not an event to be missed,” Tarquin said. “It is not every day that Prythian witnesses a Cauldron forged Fae and the Prince of Autumn joined together. Eris, you have become a very lucky male.”

Cresseida hummed in agreement and took one of Nesta’s hands in her own. “After so many decades, it is always refreshing to see new faces within the courts. I would love to have you visit the Summer Court one day, Nesta.”

“I would be honored,” Nesta said, her eyes lighting up in excitement and surprise. “I have always wanted to travel.” 

Cresseida squeezed her hand. “Write whenever you are free to. You are always welcome.”

Soft murmurs filled the room once Eris and Nesta finished making their rounds in greeting the other courts. A faint whiff caught Eris’ attention. As he turned to look at the entrance, he saw the High Lord of the Night Court entering the chambers with his High Lady on his arm, her swollen belly catching the eye of everyone in the room. There was no hint of surprise on Nesta's face, but Eris could feel her tense up as she stood next to him. So she hadn't known, Eris thought. He gave her arm a subtle squeeze to let her know she had him for whatever support she'd need. 

Following them was his other sister-in-law, the two Illyrian brutes, and Amren—Eris was never sure what position the new Fae held in Rhysand's court was besides spitting jabs and attempting to appear intimidating. Before the war, he'd been wise to fear her, but in her new body, she was just as average as any other High Fae, and her intimidation tactics were futile.

Rhysand and Feyre made their way to his father and mother, greeting them as customary before making their way to him and Nesta. Rhysand looked cocksure while Feyre looked nervous and jittery. Azriel's shadows slithered around his arms, torso, and legs. Predictably, rage simmered off of Cassian's body. Eris hoped for Nesta's sake that Rhysand would keep his dog on a tight leash. Amren stood next to the brute. It was almost comical to see them next to each other given her short stature. 

“Good evening,” Rhysand said. “I suppose a ‘Congratulations’ is in order.” 

“Thank you, Rhysand. It's very appreciated,” Eris said, lying through his teeth, “but I suppose the same must be said for you and Feyre.” He alluded to Feyre’s bump.

“Congratulations,” Nesta said to them both, her voice genuine.

Feyre subconsciously laid her hand on her stomach. She gave Nesta a small smile. “Thank you.”

“Oh, Nesta, we've missed you so much!” Elain exclaimed. She rushed forward to wrap her arms around Nesta, but Nesta took a pronounced step back. Elain hesitated and then went to stand next to Feyre.

"Sleeping with the Autumn Court heir," Amren immediately remarked, a smirk forming on her blood red lips. "Impressive upgrade, Nesta." Feyre gave her a look but said nothing.

Nesta stared the female down, but it was Eris that spoke. “You are on Autumn Court soil. If you cannot be respectful to my wife, then get out.”

At the mention of their marriage, Cassian released a low growl. Multiple quips came to Eris’ mind, but he decided against them. He would behave himself tonight for Nesta's sake.

“Nesta, can we talk, please?” Feyre asked. She glanced at Eris on her arm and then back to her sister. “Alone?”

“I've said all I needed to say,” Nesta responded. Her tone was void of emotion, like she was speaking to a stranger and not her sister. Eris knew the feeling better than anyone.

“Well, if you will excuse us,” Eris said, leading Nesta to the middle of the room, “I would like to spend the rest of the evening dancing with my wife.”

He led her into the heart of the dance floor before the Night Court could respond, the eyes of the whole room on them. Other couples joined them as well, and soon they were surrounded on all sides, making it harder for Rhysand’s circle to watch over them. “Thank you,” Nesta murmured as she and Eris began to dance. Her eyes were swimming with gratitude as she looked up at him.

Eris nodded in understanding. “Don’t pay any attention to them. Just focus on me.”

Eris’ heart picked up as Nesta moved closer to him. Nesta never faltered as they danced through multiple songs. She was known to be reclusive and closed off, yet here she was in her element. She held nothing back as the notes and the rhythm radiated off of her. To say that Eris was impressed would be an understatement. Eris had mastered these dances as was tradition for the eldest son of the high lord. He’d had centuries of practice, and a majority of his dance partners had been horrid or manageable. He was used to being the best in the room, but with Nesta, Eris found himself racing to keep up with her. He had learned out of necessity and requirement, but Nesta flourished as if she was forged from its very essence. She never failed to impress him, just as she did not fail in impressing him the night before. 

***

The Forest House roared with celebration tonight. They had been celebrating the Autumn Equinox together as a court, since the other courts would be present for the wedding tomorrow. All around him, advisors, nobility, aristocrats, lords and their ladies, along with other friends of the crown gluttoned themselves in wine, food, and dancing. He had slipped away after an appropriate amount of time. Between his father, his brothers, and the many females that kept stepping on his toes during tonight's festivities, Eris took the first opportunity he could to excuse himself from the ballroom and celebrations. 

Eris walked down the halls in irritation. He had still been simmering with rage towards his father on the events that had transpired at Autumn’s border this week. Innocents had been butchered by his father’s command, dissent grew amongst the citizens, and more problems arose than solutions. When Eris had confronted his father about it, Beron had coldly stated, “I do not concern myself with the opinions of commoners. Neither should you.” Eris said no more, but held on to the oath he swore to himself to be a better High Lord when his time came. Soon, he thought. Yet here he had been, forced to celebrate all night when all he’d wanted was to spend his remaining few hours left of the day working in his office. 

He’d almost made it back to his rooms when he noticed a faint glimmer of faelight inside his office. Eris tensed instantly, and his fingers moved to the dagger at his side. His father and brothers would not be stupid enough to boldly snoop through his things themselves, with the exception of Fenryn, the youngest Vanserra. Eris wouldn't put it past one of the snakes that worked for his family to be foolish enough to get caught. Eris could only spot one enemy's shadow from under the door. As he began to open the it, Eris wondered how long he would torture the poor fool to see whom of his brothers or father had set them up to the task, and if a public execution should serve as a clear enough message. Some part of him would enjoy it, if only to find some sort of outlet for his frustrations from this past week.

A sigh of relief escaped him when he saw only Nesta. “Why does it not surprise me that you are here instead of celebrating with the rest of us?” Eris asked as he dropped himself in his chair. Nesta looked up from where she was seated on the bench of the bay window, completely content with a book and a hot cup of tea on the windowsill near her.

“I much prefer the company of a good book,” she simply responded. “Besides, this is not my court, nor is it my holiday.”

“You have as much right as anyone else. Come tomorrow you will be my wife. You live here.” For now. The words were left unsaid, but they hovered in the air between them still. The thought left a bitter taste on Eris’s tongue. He still wasn't sure how long Nesta would stay after Beron was no longer a problem and the Night Court no longer held any influence over her.

“Why is the son of Autumn not engaging in celebration with his people?”

Eris sighed. “There’s only so many times I can tolerate my feet being stepped on. They will be screaming in the morning.”

Nesta snorted. “Not everyone can be as gifted as you,” she said sarcastically. 

Eris cocked his head slightly as he took in Nesta. As always, she wore a simple dress with the same pair of brown flats. Under the light of the full moon shining through the massive window, Eris couldn’t help but think that she was the most beautiful female he’d ever seen. “Do you dance?”

“If I’m asked properly,” Nesta said as she flipped a page, not sparing him a glance. Eris took a closer look at the cover. Nesta had been engaging herself in a tome on the war between the fae and humans five hundred years before.

After a moment, he got up and walked towards her. Even from his office, he could hear the music, the roaring and shouting, and the laughter blaring from the ballroom. As one song ended and another was about to begin, he held his hand out for her. She looked at his hand and then up at him with her blue-gray eyes, eyes like a storm, eyes that he wouldn’t mind drowning in. “Nesta Archeron, will you dance with me?” 

***

He slowed his steps just slightly and backed up as Nesta twirled and twirled and twirled. Her skirts rippled like ocean waves. She caught the eye of every person in this room. Eris stood back and watched in satisfaction and awe. She was Cauldron-Made. Lady Death. His Lady Death. A fiery diamond and a hurricane forged in the midst of a star. There was no limit to her magnificence. Nesta didn't need him. She shined brightly all on her own, and he wanted everyone to know it.

Nesta rejoined herself to Eris after finishing the last twirl. She reached out her hand, and he grasped it eagerly. Eris laid his hand on her waist, bringing her closer. His finger trailed a slow line up the skin on her back, and Nesta slightly arched into his touch. She held in the small gasp from the shivers Eris’ finger left in its wake. Her body responded to his every touch, craving for it. Eris could focus on nothing else but Nesta. How perfectly she fit in his arms, how soft her skin was, how, for the moment, it was just the two of them in this room, everyone else quickly forgotten. “You were wasted at the Night Court,” Eris whispered near her ear. Nesta shivered, and at her reaction, Eris grinned. “Absolutely wasted.”

Tag List:

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@nerisweek

[ask-glory-haddock-and-others]

First, a little bit about me!

I am a minor, so while I may sympathize with the situation in Gaza, I am broke, I don't have a job, I literally cannot send funds, please stop asking.

I work hard on my drawings, characters, and writings, go ahead and critique me, send me tips on how I could improve them, seriously

I'm a bilingual American, and am working on more languages to better communicate with people

Please don't try to talk politics with me, yes, they suck, no, I won't go into details

I love Transformers, Sanctuary, DC, Marvel, Star Wars, Star Trek, ancient myths, Danny Phantom, Percy Jackson, My Hero Academia, Pokémon, One Punch Man, books, and video games!

Anyone and everyone is welcome to Roleplay with me!

I am a HUGE nerd, and yes, I love certain characters and parts of franchises more than others, but am totally willing to hear out your headcanons!

When it's me, the mod, I'll talk like this or ((this)), depending on if we've rp'd together

Characters talk like:

*"" - different colors, boldness, font, or italicized for different characters

"Talking loudish, verge of yelling, character might not even realize that they're being loud"

"Yelling, and knows it. The character might be scared, mad, or happy. Whatever it is, it's an extreme emotion and you can pretty much assume that the character isn't thinking clearly"

This font is exclusively empurata characters, like S4v3, or my Empurata Perceptor and Prowl au

*Sometimes characters don't talk in quotation marks

"This is character whispering"

Ask me my headcanons/rp with me!!!

For:

Any Transformers, of any continuity!

My OCs! The list currently is:

Glory, grandmother and matriarch of the Haddock family. 68 years old and will kick your a$$. Alfred of the family.

The twins, Elio and Ignacia, oldest children and parents of the younger gen of Haddock family (both widowed). 41 years old. Tim Drake and wet grumpy cat of the family.

Oreo Aetos, a stray Glory adopted. 37 years old. Batman of the family. Broke the matrix.

Perseus "Blueboy" Haddock, Elio's son. 17 years old. Nightwing/Percy Jackson of the family.

Anita "Pink Bubble Gum child" Haddock, Ignacia's daughter. 15 years old. Steph of the family.

S.S. J4ckH4mm3r Prime, really old seeker.

S4v3, relatively young Empurata!Minibot. Talks with recordings, can't speak with their own voice.

Redstreak, sister bot of Prowl, Smokescreen, and Bluestreak. Sassy, has lots of trauma. Avoids sparklings and human babies.

Terra Mater, a planetformer.

N1ghtw1ng, a seeker. Cojunx Endura to Fl4m3b1rd. Emotional support bird. No thoughts, head empty. Loves Fl4m3b1rd, flying, the night, and sparklings. In that order.

Fl4m3b1rd, a seeker. Cojunx Endura to N1ghtw1ng. Highly protective. Very smart, can end you with words like an Irish grandmother. Loves N1ghtw1ng, sparklings, flying, and fire. In that order.

S.S. J4ckH4mm3r Prime and Redstreak are Autobots, S4v3 is considering following suit, all other bots are Neutral.

The family of the bots!

<--> means married

《》 means child

《|》 means adopted child

First name is parent, second is child

Fl4m3b1rd <--> N1ghtw1ng

Redstreak <--> S.S. J4ckH4mm3r Prime

Redstreak 《|》 Mercy (( @ask-mercy-tfone ))

S.S. J4ckH4mm3r Prime 《|》 Mercy ((same person))

Alt accounts!

@ask-tf-redstreak

@ask-tf-s4v3

[chinesedramaoutfit]

— Women lock themselves up in the houses for their survival. To be favored by men, we fight to our death. Are women too vicious, or is this world too vicious to women?

[rogueslove]

2024 Fleer Ultra Matriarchs of Marvel: Rogue by Allie Preswick