#Lady writes
Text
A Vintage Love | Steve Harrington x Henderson!Reader
Summary: Steve Harrington used to be your best-friend. Then he broke your heart. Then he became your kid brother's babysitter? And now you're chasing giant cat-eating lizards around Hawkins together. [3.5k]
Warnings: S2 SPOILERS! Enemies-ish to lovers. Cursing. Way too many Star Wars references.
Credits to 10 Things I Hate About You for one minor spiel.
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“Y/N!!!” Dustin yelled, fist repeatedly slamming on your bedroom door, the hinges painfully squeaking for mercy.
You sighed, pushing your headphones off and slinging them around your neck. Subtly slamming your hand against your desk before getting up, you flung the door open with a harsh, “What, doofus?! You’ll break my door down, again!”
Yet your expression and confidence faltered when you saw Steve Harrington next to him. Your childhood best friend (until he became a popular dick), your longtime crush, and your baby brother’s… babysitter?
He was wearing a wrinkled gray jacket over a navy shirt, a pair of tight light-blue jeans hugging his muscular legs – because, holy shit, he was a man, not the scraggly teenager you used to tackle.
And Steve’s heart strings tugged at seeing you after so long. The same, beautiful face. The same eyes. The same nerdy fashion style from before: an Indiana Jones shirt underneath a light vest.
❃❃❃❃❃
You and Steve had grown up together. ‘Glued by the hip’, one could say. Every waking moment was spent in the other’s presence. Walking to school. Sitting next to each other in class. Going to the movies. Lazing at his pool. Rollerblading.
It was a special bond. An affectionate one, filled with hand holding and sun-kissed cheeks; playful shoving and name-calling.
Until one fated day: the start of high school.
With teenage hormones raging, testosterone flooding every ounce of his body, reaching every receptive gland, Steve Harrington wanted recognition.
He wanted, for once in his life, to be noticed – if not by his parents, why not his generation. He wanted a name for himself, a title.
You, on the other hand, couldn’t care less about all that. You were content with what you had, eager to join the reputed Hellfire Club, disregarding whatever labels would be stuck on to you.
And Steve was content, too. He adored you.
But he wanted more. And life bears sacrifices.
He made it perfectly clear on that first day of school, during lunch. You walked up to him, a tray in your hands and a grin on your dimpled face, only to be sneered at by Tommy and Carol.
The most painful expression beset your features as you retreated: pure heartbreak. He saw the way your hands shook when you dropped your tray on an empty table, the liquid pooling in your eyes as you bolted off.
Steve’s chest physically ached. He felt nauseous, overwhelmed. Like his body was fighting against him, trying to stop him from making a big mistake.
He ran after you. But when he heard your cries echoing from the girl’s bathroom, he felt a stake being driven through his heart. A stake made of your devastation. Piercing his taut flesh, cutting every artery and vein, rupturing the sack of cardiac muscle, dislodging itself through his back.
And so he panicked. And so he ran away.
For years, Steve had regretted losing you – losing you for some overrated popularity bullshit, primitive constructs that matter so much to insecure teenagers. And the remorse only hit harder whenever he saw you strolling the school hallways alone, or being pushed against a locker for wearing Star Wars merchandise.
If only he could turn back time.
❃❃❃❃❃
You looked expectantly at Dustin, one hand on your hip.
“There’s a baby demogorgon roaming around Hawkins, his face opened up and he ate Mews, Steve and I are gonna hunt him down, and we need your help,” Dustin rambled. Steve watched in quiet amusement at the expressions flying across your face in rapid succession: confusion, disbelief, grief.
“You’re our only hope,” Dustin added, knowing the reference would win you over.
You knew about the Upside-Down. You had helped search for Will, and then Dustin told you about everything that went down: demogorgons and other dimensions and a bald child named Eleven.
“Mews?” You whimpered out. Dustin nodded solemnly, lips pressed together. You exhaled a sigh, pressing your hand to your temple before shouting, “Son of a bitch, the fuck are you waiting for then! Let’s go! I’ll meet you in the car.” You ushered them out with your hands, at the last minute grabbing Dustin by the collar of his shirt, pulling him so that you could whisper in his ear.
“The fuck is Steve Harrington doing here?” You hissed, teeth clenched.
“I thought you two were friends,” Dustin shrugged.
“Past tense, brother dear.”
“Look, I issued a code red, alright?” Dustin gestured to his headgear. “And nobody else was available. He was my last resort.”
You gently rolled your eyes, slapping him lightly against the head, muttering a short “gimme a sec.”
You pulled on some more decent clothing: jeans, loose sweater, jacket, Nike sneakers. The bangles on your wrist jiggled, blue and green and purple like all the lightsabers of the rainbow; headphones slung around your neck.
You sprinted to the car, jumping in the back. Steve tried to forced Dustin to move, to let you have shotgun, rambling about getting some more humility and learning some manners – all to no avail.
Steve’s eyes hadn’t left you since he saw you locking the door to your house, tracing you longingly, knowingly. He knew your gait better than his own. Recognized the sneakers on your feet, the same pair you bought years ago, creased and muddy. The chain around your neck that you slept with.
“You sure you don’t want shotgun?” Steve looked in the rearview mirror at you.
“I’m good,” you smiled softly, leaning back, feet on the console. Your nose instantly scrunched up in disgust, “Jesus, Steve, it stinks. You hiding a body back here?”
The boy chuckled, scratching his chin, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “You know it, Henderson.”
“It’s bait,” Dustin explained, though you were perfectly content with the banter. “And stop flirting, it’s disgusting.”
“Necrophilia, too, Harrington?” You picked up some bent and damaged roses haphazardly discarded on the back seat, continuing to egg him on much to Dustin’s dismay. A rumble of a laugh bloomed from Steve’s throat.
He really missed you.
Though you didn’t speak another word during the ride, opting to stare out the window and play with the soft rose petals while Dustin rambled on and on, Steve couldn’t keep his gaze off you. He shot fleeting glances at the mirror every few seconds, just to make sure you were still there. That he wasn’t dreaming of a vintage love.
And he suddenly thought the roses suited you much better than Nancy.
❃❃❃❃❃
You walked ahead of the boys, can in your left hand, flinging bits of meat around you with your right, headphones tightly clasped over your ears.
Behind you, the boys were having a quiet conversation that you didn’t even notice, too distracted and deafened by the music blasting in your ears.
“All right, so let me get this straight,” Steve started, confounded, chucking scraps of raw meat around, “You kept something you knew was probably dangerous in order to impress a girl… who you just met?”
“All right, that’s grossly oversimplifying things,” Dustin defended.
“I mean, why would a girl like some nasty slug anyway?” Steve scrunched up his nose in disgust.
“An interdimensional slug?” Dustin grinned. “Because it’s awesome!”
“Well, even if she thought it was cool, which she didn’t, I… I just… I don’t know. I just feel like you’re trying way too hard.”
Dustin looked at the ground, the hint of a frown on his eyebrows. “Well, not everyone can have your perfect hair, all right?”
“It’s not about the hair, man. The key with girls is just… just acting like you don’t care.” Steve’s eyes were fixated in front of him on the tracks, on his surroundings, absentmindedly chucking meat.
“Even if you do?” Dustin asked, minor bafflement in his tone.
“Yeah, exactly,” Steve nodded. “It drives them nuts.”
“Then what?”
“You just wait until, uh… until you feel it.” Steve nudged Dustin with his elbow.
“Feel what?”
“It’s like before it’s gonna storm, you know? You can’t see it, but you can feel it, like this, uh…” Steve squinted in thought, “electricity, you know?”
Dustin nodded. This was, after all, his area of expertise. “Oh, like in the electromagnetic field when the clouds in the atmosphere.”
“No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no,” Steve shook his head, hair bouncing. “Like a- like a- like a sexual electricity.”
“Oh.”
“You feel that,” Steve pointed a finger, “and then you make your move.”
“So that’s when you kiss her?”
“No, woah, woah, woah! Slow down, Romeo.”
“Sorry.”
“Sure, OK, some girls, yeah, they want you to be aggressive. You know, strong, hot and heavy, like a… I don’t know, a lion.”
“Mhmmm.”
“But others, you gotta be slow, you gotta be stealthy, like a… like a ninja.”
“What type is Y/N?”
“What?!” Steve stopped dead in his tracks, turning to Dustin.
“You’re in love with her, aren’t you?” Dustin asked nonchalantly, a blend of sheepish and confident.
“And what makes you say that, Henderson?” Steve squinted at the boy, a pink dust sprinkling on his cheeks.
“I don’t know. I just remember when I was young. You came over all the time. And you always stared at her. And you were always chasing her,” Dustin counted off on his fingers.
Steve gulped, his Adam’s apple bobbing, feelings that never truly vanished suddenly resurfacing like a tsunami wave.
Dustin’s lips curved into an ‘o’ shape, understanding hitting him, “so that’s why you two stopped hanging out. Making her think that you don’t care. I got ya-”
“No, no. Y/N/N’s different,” Steve interrupted. “Ignoring her doesn’t win her over, that’s not why- that was my mist- She’s different than other girls.”
“Yeah, she seems pretty special, I guess.” The only image in Dustin’s head being that one Halloween when you dressed up as Chewbacca and forced him to be an ewok.
“Yeah. Yeah, she is,” Steve affirmed, gaze resting on your figure. The light swaying of your hips and shoulders as you danced to a tune only you could hear. But damn, when did you get so curvy? And hot?
“But this girl’s special, too, you know,” Dustin added, talking about a whole different type of ‘special.’ “It’s just, like, something about her.”
“Woah, woah, woah. Hey, hey, hey.” Steve paused, arm extended.
“What?” Dustin halted at his side.
“You’re not falling in love with this girl, are you?” Steve’s eyes bore into Dustin, stern and serious.
“Uh, no. No.” Dustin shook his head vehemently.
“Come on, you two!” You yelled, turning around and seeing them a dozen feet away from you, huddled together. “Otherwise we’ll be lizard feed soon!”
Steve waved in assent and recognition, continuing to walk, still talking to Dustin, “OK, good… Don’t.”
“I won’t.”
“She’s only gonna break your heart, and you’re way too young for that shit.” Eyes glossed over. A visceral pain emerging.
A solemn expression grew on Dustin’s face, which Steve adroitly noticed. His heart softened. He remembered the same expression on your face.
“Fabergé,” Steve spoke into the silence.
“What?”
Steve pointed to his hair. “It’s Fabergé Organics. Use the shampoo and conditioner, and when your hair’s damp- it’s not wet, OK? When it’s damp…”
“Damp.”
“You do four puffs of the Farrah Fawcett spray,” Steve shyly finished.
“Farah Fawcett spray?” Dustin chortled.
“Yeah, Farah Fawcett. You tell anyone I just told you that, and your ass is grass. You’re dead, Henderson. Do you understand?”
“Yup.”
“OK.”
The two continued walking, flinging meat.
“Farah Fawcett, really?” Dustin questioned. “Y/N uses that.”
“I mean, they’re both hot.”
Dustin shot Steve a slightly disgusted yet bemused look.
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The three of you emerged from the thick of the woods into an abandoned field, a few broken down vehicles scattered about including a bus. You placed the headphones around your neck, scanning your surroundings.
Having donned his sunglasses, Steve nodded while looking around. “Oh, yeah. Yeah, this will do. This will do just fine. Good call, dude.”
Dustin beamed, and you ruffled his curls before a shrill voice called out: “I said medium-well!”
It was Lucas, and next to him a red-haired young girl.
“Who’s that?” You asked, and when Dustin scowled Steve instantly understood.
Extending your hand in greeting, you quickly acquainted yourself with Max Mayfield, more commonly known as Mad Max. A few jokes later, you already liked her, and the two of you instantly got to work, collecting scraps of metal and piling them around the bus, creating a fortification. After watching you discreetly, Steve joined in. Dustin and Lucas, on the other hand, were crouched behind some car, bickering in whispers.
Strolling past, Steve hit the car with a metal chair. “Hey! Dickheads! How come the only ones helping me out are Y/N/N and this random girl? We lose light in 40 minutes. Let’s go. Let’s go, I said!”
“Alright, asshole! God!” Dustin huffed out, simultaneous with Lucas’, “OK! Stupid!”
You all started throwing metal sheets onto a pile, piling it along the bus, rolling barrels, spreading gasoline around. You couldn’t help but revel in the sight of Steve: sweaty, rubbing his forehead with his sleeve, muscles bulging against the cloth of his clothes, jeans increasingly tighter.
You strolled over to a distant hedge to search for more scraps, and at watching you walk off Dustin nudged Steve with his elbow, gesturing with his head to follow you. For all his nagging, your little shithead of a brother happened to be quite protective over you. Steve pretended to roll his eyes, but like a lovesick puppy jogged over, muttering, “alright, alright.”
“Shit,” he heard you hiss. You were crouched down, examining a trail of blood seeping from your hand.
“Hey, you alright?” Steve acknowledged the way you tensed up at his voice, breath freezing in your lungs before that gorgeous smile of yours returned, albeit subdued.
“Sharp,” you pointed to a discarded car door.
“Here, let me.” Steve unzipped his jacket, untucking his shirt and ripping a piece off, despite your vehement protests. He crouched down next to you, head low as he wrapped your hand gently. Small mumbles of “sorry” when you winced at his applied pressure to tie it off. The linger of his hand on yours, the minor sweep of his thumb over your knuckles, like a caress.
“Thanks,” you said. A silence grew. You sat on the little mound of hill, turned towards the setting sun. Steve followed, a slight distance away from you.
After a moment: “Her name’s Max, by the way.”
“Huh?” Steve asked, head turning to you, eyes meeting for the first time.
“Random girl. She’s called Max.”
“Oh, right, right.” Steve nodded, looking into the distance, squinting at the sun. Where were his sunglasses now that he needed them?
“How have you been doing?” You asked timidly, bending your knees in front of your chest and hugging them.
“Aside from chasing giant lizards, you mean?” You giggled, and Steve’s ears marveled at the music. “Yeah, not exactly how I planned to spend my week.”
“I’m glad you’re here, though.” You smiled sheepishly, scratching the back of your neck awkwardly, bangles sliding down towards your elbow.
Steve wanted to say so much: I’m sorry I ever left, I’m not that thrilled about putting you in danger, I’m an oblivious and selfish prick. But Dustin’s shouting for you to return stopped him. Steve stuck out a calloused hand, helping you up. Despite his support, you still managed to trip on a scattered pebble, falling into his chest.
“Easy,” Steve hummed. Your perfume was intoxicating. Your hair tickled his neck. “You always were clumsy, Henderson.”
“Guilty as charged,” you pushed off, surprised at the firmness of Steve’s chest. That wasn’t what middle-school-Steve felt like.
The pair of you walked into the bus. A golden sun setting behind you. A dark and scary night rising.
While Lucas was on the roof, serving as lookout with binoculars glued to his eyes, the rest of you were in the body of the bus. Max on the back seat; Dustin pacing around; you and Steve side by side on the floor. He kept flicking his lighter, an unbearable waiting tension. Palpable, hard on your chest.
“So, you really fought one of these things before?” Max broke the crisp silence.
Steve nodded.
“And you’re, like, totally 100% sure it wasn’t a bear?”
“Shit. Don’t be an idiot, OK?” Dustin spoke, annoyed. “It wasn’t a bear. Why are you even here if you don’t believe us? Just go home.”
“Dustin!” You scolded, shooting him a shocked look, eyes wide.
Max was, naturally, taken aback. “Geesh, someone’s cranky. Past your bedtime?” She crawled up the ladder, next to Lucas.
“The hell has gotten into you?” You asked him, kicking his shin with your shoe.
“Steve told me to show Max that I don’t care,” he shrugged.
“You what?!” You turned to Steve.
Steve stuttered, mouth gaping like a fish out of water, “I-I-I just.”
“That’s the advice you gave him?” You scoffed.
“I’ll be over there… somewhere,” Dustin squeezed away to the front of the trailer, peeking out of the metal holes.
“So that’s your tactic, is it? Is that why you left me, too?” Fury and sorrow taking control of your brain, your actions. You were a puppet in your mind’s hands. “This whole time, were you just pretending that you didn’t care, or did you actually not give a fuck? Because it sure as hell felt like the latter.”
“No, no, no, that’s not-”
“All I ever wanted, Steve, was for you to see me,” you confessed, whispering into the cold night air, unaware of your actions. Tears welled in your eyes, all you could see was blurry redness. Your voice choked up, suffocating.
Steve was silent for a moment. But he caught your words. They didn’t float off. They didn’t ricochet back. They were caught, embraced, and reciprocated: “I never laid eyes off of you.”
Startled, you turned to him, breath catching in your throat.
“Y/N/N, listen to me,” Steve grabbed your hands in his, gentler with the wounded one, searching for your eyes which expertly avoided his. “I made a mistake. A big mistake. Which I- I can’t take back. And I’m sorry. Alright?” You started to pull your hands away, but he gripped them tighter. “I know that means bullshit but I- look, you didn’t deserve any of it, OK? And the advice? It’s shit advice. Cause you’re not like other girls. You’re special. And I’m a blind dumbass. And I care fo- screw it, I love you… too damn much.”
Chest huffing, jaw trembling, the odd tear falling down your cheek, Steve’s calloused thumb rubbing it away before it could slide over the bump of your cheekbone. You finally brought your eyes to his - his dark brown forests of sincerity and pain.
“I love you, too, Steve Harrington,” you voiced. “I always have. But I also hate you.” Your jaw trembled. “I hate everything about you: the way your hair is always so goddamn perfect, the way you make me laugh… and the fact that you broke my heart.”
He went to interrupt you, but you placed your finger against his lips. “A-and most of all, Harrington, I hate the way I don’t hate you. Not at all. After everything, not even a little bit.”
You moved your finger away. It felt like a weight had fallen off your chest, but had somehow latched itself to your foot, pulling you down into an endless chasm. Fat tears cascading down your cheeks. Drowning you.
Until Steve cut the silence.
“I really want to kiss you right now.”
You swallowed, eyelashes wet, emotions rampaging. The adrenaline of confessions erupting.
“Then do it.”
In one swift movement Steve cupped your neck, pulling you against him. You were on your knees, practically straddling him, palms flat against his firm chest. His lips desperately found yours, years of sorrow and loneliness forcefully emerging.
His fingers dug into your skin, your nails latched onto the fabric of his jacket. Neither of you wanted to lose the other. To let go even for a second. For fear that the other would fall into the void, travel to another galaxy, get lost in the vacuum of space.
Pulling away, you brought your forehead to Steve’s, eyes locked together, panting breaths hitting each other. His fingers traced your hairline, the contours of your face, your neck. His jacket bunched in your tight fists.
“Don’t you ever leave me again. I swear on my mother, I’ll kill you, Harrington,” you spoke under your breath, stance not faltering.
Steve flashed his lopsided grin, “If I do, I’ll hand you the gun before going.”
“It’ll probably be your nail-bat,” you giggled, scanning his face. The curve of his nose, the moles scattered like raindrops, the waves of hair.
His expression turned serious, nose bumping against your own as he whispered against your lips: “I won’t. I promise. I love you.”
“I know,” you couldn’t help from saying.
“Ahhh! My eyes!” Dustin yelled from the front, shielding his face with his arms. “Son of a bitch, Steve!”
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Thanks for reading! x
#lady writes#fallingintofiction#steve harrington#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington imagine#steve harrington imagines#steve harrington x y/n#stranger things#stranger things s4#steve harrington fanfic#steve harrington x reader fanfic#stranger things fanfic#stranger things imagine#1980s#joe keery#joe keery imagine#steve harrington angst#steve harrington fluff#steve harrington one shot
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A Court of 'It's giving beauty & the beast' and 'Except you can't tell which one is which'
Spring is rotting away. Not just its Court but across the lands as well. Without it, there can be no new beginnings, no rebirths and nature itself will cease to a halt. And thus Fates dictate that a human and a broken Fae must create a miracle together.
OR
Tamlin thinks that the Mother is cruel for the salvation of his home requires another human’s help while Juno curses whatever entity that Isekai’ed her into this shitty ass book series.
AO3
Chapter 2: It’s the panic attack for me
Juno shares some discoveries. Tamlin is trying to process said discoveries. No one wins.
CH1 |CH3
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Tamlin and Juno’s misfortune began when they woke up beside the Rot. For clearer context, both of them woke up in different parts of the Spring Court, yet at the same time. The sun was shining high in the afternoon sky, the grass had patches of darkness that upon contact, became ashes, and the air was foul. Juno found herself underneath a sad, dying tree that used to be oak. Tamlin opened his eyes beside a murky lake where dead, sickly-looking fishes floated on the surface - both of them terribly confused with a voice faintly lingering in the recess of their mind:
“Stop the Rot. Restore Spring.”
What happened next was a series of more misfortune, more confusion, and an altercation that could only erupt from a Fae who had been betrayed by a human and a human who had no idea where she was. Tamlin, who cursed when he discovered that his magic became so weak that it forcefully shifted him back to his Fae form, wandered further into his Court; where the Rot had feasted upon the lands that all was left were husk. Juno, who was supposed to crash at her best friend’s apartment for their sleepover, searched for civilisation. Both ended up meeting in a wasteland that used to be a flourishing wheat field.
The two made eye contact. The two had no idea how to react at first.
The exiled High Lord proved quicker, eager to lose himself in rage. His life had never been the same when a human female walked into it. From then onwards, his prejudice against mankind had turned to the worst. With his last bit of magic and rationality, he transformed back into a beast and launched himself at the poor human female.
Except the human isn’t as ‘poor’ as Tamlin thought. The beast completely missed his claws despite the human being frozen in shock. He scrambled to his feet, snarling mindlessly. The High Lord was more feral than Fae, and that, in itself, is one of the sweetest forms of escapism. All that drives him are pure emotion and needless violence. So he tries again and attacks, only to stumble upon a weak knee. Tamlin was exhausted in every way - magic, body and mind - and the sight of him was beyond pathetic. The once powerful and dignified High Lord of the Spring Court was reduced to an incoherent mess. Yet he tries to attack again and again… and again. None of the blows were delivered.
“Ok. So. I have no idea what I just did, but this is sad, man.” The human female confessed, a complicated expression on her face. She warily - and a bit annoyed - stepped around Tamlin. “You could talk earlier, so can you quit it already? I really need some answers, and you’re the only one around.” Well, he didn’t talk so much as screaming at her about how humans bring nothing but destruction and that he’ll rip out her throat. Not the most sane person that Juno could’ve come across but at this point, she’s desperate for some information.
The beast didn’t give her an answer, for exhaustion finally took him over, and he passed out.
Tamlin was the only one to wake up a second time. The sun had long set beneath the horizon; the night air was chilling and was only kept at bay by a crackling fire.
“You’re awake, Beasty?” It’s the human female again, and that’s when Tamlin realises he’s in a cave and tied up by dry vines when he tries to wiggle. “I bet you can easily break free from those ropes. That wasn’t an invitation, by the way. I’m really hoping you finally chill the fuck out so we can talk.”
She’s right. He can easily rip the vines off of him, even in his weakened state. “You should’ve killed me when you had the chance,” Tamlin scoffs. “I don’t know what you’re planning, but I can promise you, you won’t be making it out of here alive.”
The human pauses from kindling the fire to stare incredulously at him. “Dude, I told you earlier. All I wanted was some answers! A-And you’re the one who attacked me! What the fuck is your deal?”
“Give them an inch, and humans will always take a mile. Your kind is beyond ungrateful even when I… I…” Anger, self-loathing, and despair threaten to choke Tamlin as the image of one female keeps replaying in his mind. He closes his eyes and lets out a shuddering breath.
“Right…” For a brief moment, the human worries that Tamlin is about to dissolve into a crying mess of a puddle. “I’m gonna be honest; I don’t really care what you’re going through right now. I just want to go back home. So if you can shelf your mental breakdown for some other time and tell me where we are right now, that’ll be great.”
It took a herculean effort for Tamlin to calm himself before finally pushing himself up so he could sit properly. Shadows from the fire dance upon his figure. “Wandered a bit too far away from home, mortal? Did your curiosity drive you to explore beyond the Wall?”
Instead of bristling with embarrassment, the human merely blinks. “What Wall? I woke up somewhere here, underneath a tree.” She explained, and Tamlin did not sense any lies. “Which is weird because I can clearly remember that I was walking up to Nora’s apartment. I don’t think I was jumped or murdered because the street was busy with people. Sunday afternoon - you know how it is.”
She speaks freely with no hesitation or any underlying misdirection. This human is honestly lost and… utterly strange to Tamlin. From the clothing that she wore (he had never seen a female wearing a pair of strange dark, circular glasses on her face before) to her manner of speaking. She worries about her current predicament, that much is given, yet nonchalant too - as if she had already resigned to her fate. Curiosity begins to take root within Tamlin, and after staring at the equally strange-shaped bags beside the human, he decides to ask, "Who are you?"
The human tilts her head as if she didn't expect him to cooperate. "Juno." She replies, still honest. "No last name. I see those pointy ears. I have a good guess as to what you are."
"And what am I?"
"Elves. Maybe Vampires? I know some versions have pointy ears, but I don't see fangs. Siren? But we're not even near the ocean. I guess... a Faerie then."
Tamlin's eyebrows nearly raise to his hairline. She's astute. However, he doesn't know what kind of creature she listed as the second option. "Wise of you to keep your name close to your chest against a Fae."
"Play it safe instead of going in aggro; that's my kind of play style," The human female - Juno, as he now knows - speaks with stranger phrases and words. "Since you're in a chatty mood, can you tell me where we are right now?"
Tamlin tosses her an unimpressed look.
"Aww, c'mon! Look, I'll give you some fruits if you just give me one tiny answer." Juno wheedled and presented two pears from behind her back. They look juicy and healthy. A stark difference from the nearby vegetation. It seems she did some foraging while he was passed out.
At that moment, something unthinkable happened - Tamlin's stomach growl. Hunger finally caught up to him.
"Fine," He snaps, refusing to be embarrassed even when Juno smirks. "Release me, and I'll answer your question.”
“That sounds stupid, but what the hell. I got a feeling that you can't do much in your current state anyway.”
The High Lord has never felt so... so degraded! Even against Rhysand and Feyre! This human female is seriously pissing him off. So he makes his displeasure known through his glare as she unties the vines and plops a pear on his lap. When she turns her back on him, Tamlin entertains the thought of slashing her into ribbons... and decides that he's not in the mood. The two dined on whatever fruits Juno could forage and washed their sticky hands and parched throats with clean water. The food wasn't enough to fill his stomach, but it'll have to do for now.
"Well?" Juno prompted once there was nothing but the crackling fire to fill in the silence.
Tamlin sigh. Something he would have never done before an introduction, something his father would beat him to a pulp for his lack of decorum. However, there's little that he gives a fuck about nowadays. "You're in the Spring Court. My Court - I'm Tamlin, its High Lord." He doesn't even know why he gave the human his name and title. It's not like she would even -
"Are you fucking serious?"
Tamlin expected a tilt of the head, he expected a sign of obnoxious confusion or even a mouth shaped into an 'o' because the information means nothing to a human. Or at least, it should mean nothing to her.
What he didn't expect was Juno's face to twist in utter hatred and recognition that ignited his fight-or-flight instincts. Every bit of his training as a warrior warned him that whatever was in front of him couldn't be human, for Tamlin was familiar with animalistic rage, but this? This goes beyond that.
"You're Tamlin... the High Lord of the Spring Court," Juno repeats slowly as if she couldn't believe it. A part of Tamlin feels insulted, but he doesn't know why. "OH, FUCK OFF! SHUT THE FUCK UP! HOLY SHIT, SHUT THE FUCK UP! FUCK YOU, SJM! I'VE BEEN ISEKAI'ED INTO THE COURT OF THORNS AND ROSES!"
-
This is how the fates of the world change; the worldviews of two characters flipped into a 180°.
Sometime in the night, the fire has long died off. Outside of the cave, a new day is creeping ever closer. Not that it matters to Tamlin and Juno, who might as well be frozen in time due to the sheer absurdity of what they've discovered from each other.
" - LOSE WHATEVER BRAINCELLS I HAVE LEFT WHENEVER I READ SCREENSHOTS OF PAGES FROM THE BOOKS! I CAN'T FUCKING STAND FEYRE EVEN BEFORE SHE WAS RETCONNED IN THE LATER SERIES! I HAVE NEVER HATED A CHARACTER WITH EVERY FIBRE OF MY VERY BEING UNTIL I FOUND OUT ABOUT THAT STUPID PIECE OF WHITE GIRL SHIT AND HER CUNTLICKERS!"
Juno screamed, ranted, cursed, and generally complained very heatedly about a book series called A Court of Thorn and Roses written by a human named Sarah Janet Maas as she paced for hours and hours. Her words were a jumbled mess of pieces from the books and her opinions about the characters, lore and even the maps ("I KNEW THE SERIES IS NOTHING BUT DUMPSTER FIRE WHEN PRYTHIAN IS LITERALLY ENGLAND! SHE CAN'T EVEN CREATE HER OWN MAPS!? WHAT LAZY WRITING! AND PEOPLE LET HER GET AWAY WITH IT? LET HER VILLAINISE IRELAND? WHAT THE FUCK!?"). She's a passionate human - or maybe hateful? - who looked as if she was about to crack open Feyre's or any of her courtiers' ribcage and dig out their hearts so she could feast on them. The manic gleam in her eyes is even more frightful than the King of Hybern’sl.
As for Tamlin, he's provided with two options: Decide that this female is utterly insane or accept the fact that it was fate by a white, mortal woman and her mediocre writing for him to be a villain in someone else's story. And he hates how he's leaning to the latter.
Everything that came out of Juno's mouth aligned with everything that Tamlin went through, everything that he did and did not do. The world that he always knew had been yanked from underneath his feet because -
“ - THE AUDACITY OF THE FUCKING BITCH TO BELIEVE THAT HER ACTIONS HAVE NO CONSEQUENCES WHEN SHE KILLED ANDRAS AND HELLO? WHY WAS HE NOT MENTIONED EVER AGAIN AFTERWARDS!?
Tamlin is nothing more -
“ - AND ANOTHER THING, THAT CLARE BEDDOR BIT!? SCUMMY. SHITTY. AND THE WORST PART? ABSOLUTELY NO ACCOUNTABILITY. ACTUALLY, YEAH, LET’S TALK ABOUT ACCOUNTABILITY - ”
A character to be -
“EVERYTHING THAT YOU DID AS THE STORY PROGRESSED? IT GAVE ABUSER. YOU’RE WAY TO DAMN EMOTIONAL FOR SOMEONE WHO IS A LEADER, MIND YOU, AND LASHED OUT AT EVERY PERCEIVED SLIGHTS AND HARM! I GET THAT YOU WANTED TO PROTECT FUCK’S HER FACE. I GET THAT YOU GOT MAD BEEF WITH RHYSAND ‘CAUSE OF THE PAST. I GET IT! BUT FOR FUCK’S SAKE TAMLIN! YOU COULD’VE PLAYED THE GAME A LOT BETTER!”
Juno suddenly pauses here. She finally turns to Tamlin, who had been silent the entire night. Seeing his grief-stricken face and faraway gaze made her sigh. She strides forward to plant her ass beside him, her voice now soft. “And yet, you’re a much better person than me, Tamlin. ‘Cause if I was told to save my ex’s new lover who has done so many horrible shits to me and my family? I’d spit, piss and shit in Feyre’s mouth before laughing and driving off into the sunset.”
“Used. I’ve been used my entire life.” Tamlin croaks out. His voice is uncomfortably dry. He feels like throwing up, screaming at the high heavens.
He wants to disappear.
“Don’t beat yourself up over it,” Juno sighs. She begins looking around and patting the pockets of her pants. “Apparently, SJM likes to villainise you. You were so thoroughly retconned that it felt like a fanfic where she bashed your character. Don’t let her win. Hell, don’t let the Covid-carrying batboys win either.”
“You just told me that none of this is real! This world, its people and by extension, me!” He roars. He whips his head to the side, hands balling into fists. “I’m a monster, always have been! An irredeemable villain meant to be forgotten while the ‘main characters’ get to enjoy their happily ever after! They won, human!”
Juno rolls her eyes. “So what if you’re ‘irredeemable’? I don’t care about you enough as a character or even hate you! And besides, this isn’t the checkout counter, and you’re not a coupon. Here.” She fishes a piece of chocolate from her pocket and hands it to Tamlin. “It’s valid for you to be upset, but if you don’t face the fact that your story has already ended, you’re gonna continue to spiral like this. It’s not healthy, man.”
Tamlin begrudgingly accepts the chocolate. He unwraps to take a small bite, pleasantly surprised to find it’s filled with caramel. The flavour bursts onto his tongue, and for a moment, the sweetness is enough to tamper with the choking bitterness that threatens to overwhelm him.
“I’m gonna be honest with you - ”
“You weren’t the whole night?”
Juno’s mouth hangs open; she didn’t expect his dry quip. Soon enough, her dark brown eyes dance with mirth.
“That’s cute. Ok, so, what I was trying to say is that exile? Clearly, not a good look on you, Tamlin. The hobo aesthetic isn’t it. Don’t you want your pound of flesh from Shitsand and French Fries?”
She’s genuinely curious, Tamlin understood. Revenge… how many nights did he dream about it? Sometimes, the ‘what ifs’ were the only thing that could help him sleep. What if he still had his army, his sentries? His loyal band of warriors after the wake of Amarantha and Feyre’s attack? He would overthrow Rhysand, finally kill him and then… kill Feyre? The once mortal girl he thought he loved, and she, loved him in return? Thinking about her never fails to send him into a vicious cycle that revenge is merely a pipe dream. And truth be told, he is done with violence especially after the war with Hybern.
So, instead, what he says is, “I just want to be left alone. I’m done with everyone’s bullshit.” It’s as honest as someone like Tamlin could give.
“Fair,” Juno shrugs. “Though I don’t think everyone is done with you just yet...” She trails off. Tamlin follows her attention to the world outside of the cave. Morning has finally risen, and instead of luscious green, what greeted the two was an expansion of black and dry cracks on the ground and lifeless trees. “Quick question: Does the sentence, ’Stop the Rot. Restore Spring.’ means anything to you?”
“Stop the Rot. Restore Spring.”
Tamlin's heart stutter a beat. He recalls that sentence, spoken in his mother’s voice. Now, it echoes in his mind as he meets his eyes with Juno’s.
“Guess you have, huh? Aite. I’ve seen enough anime and read Manhwas about this premise.”
“How… you’ve heard my mother’s voice as well?” Tamlin asks incredulously.
This time, it’s her who is startled. She and Tamlin share the same expression. “What? No! When I first woke up here, I heard that same sentence rattling in my head. Though, I heard it in my Mum’s voice, which is weird because she would never say something so formal to me. It would have been, “Juno! Stop being lazy and go fix Spring already!”
She cackles and slaps her knees. Tamlin ignores her. What does this mean? They both heard the same sentence but in their own mother’s voice? He has never come across such a peculiar conundrum. A single glance at his Court is enough to see the issue at hand - everything is dying or rotting to the core. Tamlin recalls seeing patches of land that appear sickly months after the downfall of his rule and home. Is magic itself leaving the Spring Court? Is that why everything is turning into a husk, and him growing weaker by the day?
As Tamlin ponders about this, Juno entertains herself by rummaging through her bags. Sorting out the items that can help her survive in the long run.
“This is a sign from the Mother,” Tamlin suddenly gasps out, eyes wide with realisation. The cogs in his brain are shifting rapidly as everything starts to fall into place. “I must restore the Spring Court to its former glory before the Rot destroys it completely.” ‘And me along with it’ was what he didn’t say.
“Congrats! You figured it out.” Juno applauded him. In her hand is a thin, rectangular object; her eyes are glued to it. “And it looks like I’ll be helping you out.”
Tamlin immediately scoffs. “I’ve paid the price of needing a mortal’s help,” That’s an overflowing can of worms he never wants to open. “I don’t need anyone’s help. Least of all, you.”
Juno simply hums; his ire sluices off her like water. “Yeah, no, that’s gonna fly with dear, old Mother,” Tamlin bristles, but she continues, “Like I said, I’m familiar with this schtick: The MC falls into a fictional world, gets caught up with the drama, and the only way to go back home is to help solve said drama with some OP powers or whatever. So face it, Legolas Wannabe, your Mother brought me - a puny human - to this shit hole to help you.”
“Just like Amarantha’s curse.” Tamlin replied bitterly.
“Hey, I’m way better than Fry-Her-Face Feyre, alright!?” Juno counters, affronted. She spread her arms as if to prove a point. “I’ll definitely beat your ass if you even think about pulling your old shits again. So! Have we got a Bargain?”
Tamlin narrowed a piercing gaze at her. “You should know better than to strike up a Bargain with me. What? You couldn’t have forgotten what it entails. Not with all your hatred of this world.”
“I didn’t actually read the books. Just picked up enough bits and pieces from mutuals and online posts to get the entire gist of it,” Juno admits without shame. For a moment, Tamlin wondered how someone could hate something so passionately without even properly engaging with it. “You’re right, though; let’s not do a suicide pact. We actually have common sense, unlike some people. So… how are we going to do this?”
“I cannot think of any reasons why you’ve heard the Mother’s voice,” Tamlin ran a hand down his exhausted face. “If the Fates has truly bound us together then… then I will adhere to her words. I will do whatever it takes to stop the Rot. Restore the Spring Court, and you will be helping me every step out of the way. Once it’s over…”
Juno easily jumps in. “Then the opportunity or pathway that can get me home should open up!” She thrust her hand towards him, a pleased grin curling her lips. “I got some ideas on where we can start. You’re in?”
“Tell me more about the books, and I’ll hear you out,” Tamlin demanded, and with nothing else to do, he clasped her hand with his. They’ve sealed the deal. For better or worse, the two of them are in this together now—a human from a world beyond he could ever comprehend and an exiled High Lord who has become Prythian number 1 pariah.
“Oh, I’m gonna dump so many shits on you that you’re gonna regret that sooner than later.” Juno smirks. “Now then, let’s go to your manor. We can start there.”
-
The annual High Lord meeting hosted by Helion was a success more than any of them would ever know. Except for Juno and Tamlin, of course.
After her friendly chat with Feyre, Juno made no detours and headed straight to where her ‘Mate’ was - hanging out with Tarquin at one of Helion’s more publicly accessible libraries. When she found the two High Lords, they were conversing near the lit fireplace. A cosy atmosphere sets around them like a warm blanket on a winter’s morning. Juno would’ve loved to join them (steal any opportunity to talk to Tarquin since he’s her favourite character among the barrel of proverbial rotten apples), but she and Tamlin need to return home so they can plan their next move.
“Hm? Oh!” It’s Tarquin who notices her first when she enters the room. His blue eyes are akin to the loveliest sapphires, and they light up when she approaches them. “Juno, right? It’s very nice to meet you; I’m Tarquin. The current High Lord of the Summer Court.” He pushes himself off his chair to shake her hand—ever the perfect gentleman.
“Same here,” Juno replies, her voice soft, almost shy. A dramatic contrast when she was talking to Feyre. Internally, she giggles like a high school girl who has been acknowledge by her crush. “Thanks for keeping Tamlin busy. His bark is worse than his bite nowadays, don’t worry.”
Tamlin, in his defence, silently sneers at her.
Tarquin cocks an eyebrow as he stares at him and then back to Juno. He wisely kept whatever thoughts he had to himself. “I don’t know about that, but Tamlin has been an excellent company. He was kind enough to share the foundations of this ‘democracy’ that you spoke about during our meeting. Will you reveal your plans about the new form of governing system in the Spring Court?”
Not so much as spoke but more of dropping a bomb on the High Lords and their Mates’ heads. Juno purposely gave details of the barest bones within 10 minutes, enough to get everyone curious yet leave room for doubts. It took everything in her not to laugh when Beron was the first one to fall for it. But since this is Tarquin…
“Everything will unfold in due time,” Tamlin answered for her instead. He casts a knowing look at Juno. She might rant a lot about how terrible the Court series is, from the author to the very cartography of the world, but she also ‘simps’ a lot about Tarquin and Nesta. Her… bias. “I believe the changes that will be happening in the Spring Court would serve as great references to you in the future.”
(When you’re forced to work together with someone in close quarters for an indefinite amount of time, It’s unreal how quickly Tamlin could decipher her otherworldly phrases, slang and words to the point that he’s semi-fluent when it comes to her manner of speech.)
Tarquin inclines his head. “I will look forward to it.” He suddenly hesitated for a moment before genuine happiness overtook him. “I hope I’m not overstepping when I say this: I’m glad to see you back to your old self again, Tamlin.”
The High Lord of the Spring Court searches for any mockery from Tarquin (steadfastly ignoring how his ‘Mate’ is vibrating out of control and is in the process of cutting the blood circulation off in his arm via clenching), and when he finds none, Tamlin is oddly humbled and embarrassed. It was Tarquin who sought him out after the meeting. It was Tarquin who suggested they relocate to the library when he noticed how tense Tamlin’s shoulders were when eyes followed him into the dining hall. It was Tarquin who was the only one among them who treated him as a fellow High Lord instead of as a traitor of war or a mindless beast.
“The old Tamlin died when my Court fell into ruin - ” Tamlin says after a while. His voice is thick with emotion.
“I’m sorry, the old Taylor can’t come to the phone right now - “ Juno interjects underneath her breath, snickering. Tarquin tilts his head, confused.
Tamlin gently elbowed her for the interruption. “Shut it, peanut gallery. As I was saying, it’s better that the old me is dead. Spring is about rebirth, and it’s time I follow suit.”
“Very poignant,” Tarquin replies with a smile. Changes are always heralded by Spring, and he’s glad to see that its High Lord is taking the helm once again. “Then I wish nothing but the best for you and your Mate, Tamlin. May the two of you always be happy.”
“You’re so sweet!” Juno suddenly blurts out, unable to hold back any longer. This beautiful Fae needs to be protected at all costs! “You totally don’t deserve the bullshits from Rice Fail and his Inner Cave. The fucking audacity of those Zionists to trespass into your Court, steal your shit, destroy your building and then reprimand you when you confronted them!? Not to mention how the two of them argued like fucking toddlers over who’s the most jealous, and-and how dare Fugly Fucker use you! You! One of the few things that SJM did right in this world! And can we talk about how if those motherfuckers just talked to you about that damn Books, you’d have easily negotiated with them? What the fuck!? None of them are fit to rule! Oh, and “She’s the High Lady of the Night Court; she can do what wishes” Bitch!? You guys were in the Summer Court! What does that have to do with anything!? Is accountability a word they’re allergic to!? If I was you, I’d - ”
Juno’s mouth is immediately muffled tight by Tamlin’s broad hand.
“She’s your biggest fan,” Tamlin apologises through gritted teeth while Tarquin is utterly taken aback with his eyes wide open. “Don’t pay her any mind.”
“How… How do you - “ Tarquin splutters. Why does she know the exact conversation that transpired between him, Rhysand and Feyre!?
“I’m afraid we must be going now. It was a pleasure, Lord Tarquin.” Tamlin smoothly interrupted. With a glaring Juno in his arms, he Winnowed the two of them back to the Spring Court. Back to the entrance of his manor, which is still under construction.
“What happened to you promising to behave when we’re in the Day Court?” Tamlin demanded once he released the human female. It’s quiet just as they left for the meeting, but now, the night sky greets them with twinkling stars overhead.
“The crimes committed against Tarquin by that shitty ass Court are fucking disgusting.” Juno scoffs with disdain. Without waiting for him, she stepped through the newly repaired doors, and Tamlin rolled his eyes. He follows her stride.
“You realise that he’s probably scared of you now, right?” Tamlin dryly says as the two head deeper. Although it’s been a few months since the two of them started rebuilding the manor, there were still some parts of the area that are in ruins, and the two just can’t move the large rubbles and crumbled hallways all on their own (“What are those muscles for if you can’t lift a simple rock, human!?”, “I work as a dancer you insensitive, fuck! I’m not used to this kind of physical labour!). Still, they have running water, working plumbing and kitchen and a roof above their heads. It will have to do for now. His family home is a shell of its former glory, but after talking to Tarquin, a blooming part of him is excited to start everything from scratch. To create a home where no ghosts of the past or painful memories haunt the walls. “Was there a point to your word dumping on the High Lord of the Summer Court?”
They’re now in the kitchen. Juno perches herself onto one of the high stools, her face scrunched up. “God, you sound like a fucking boomer. Wait, you’re way older than that generation. You’re, what, 500 something? You should be in a museum.” She says, distracted as she rummages through her make-up case.
“I don’t know what that word means.” Tamlin snaps, though there’s no heat behind it. He’d learned that her ire is solely reserved for the Night Court, so whatever else comes out from her mouth is either empty insults or rambles. He rounds the table to heat the stove. He had given Juno what little money he had left from the treasury for grocery and supply shopping this week, and for his part, he became the designated cook and rationed whatever his partner could buy.
“Don’t worry about it.”
“Fine. Now, did you get everything you needed from the meeting?”
Juno looks up from her self-appointed task for the evening: Removing her acrylic nails. A broad smirk transforms her unremarkable face into that of a cruel goddess. “Everything and then some. I got to hit my newest punching bag, so that’s a bonus!”
“Right…” Tamlin grimaced when an unknown scent from Juno’s bottle itched his nose. “Will you now explain why you insisted on following me to attend the meeting? And please tell me it’s not because you just wanted to see Tarquin.” To combat that piercing and irritating scent, Tamlin begins cooking a light dinner.
“Tarquin is everything I imagined him to be,” Juno sighs, a little lovestruck. She giggles to herself when Tamlin tosses a deadpan stare. She then focuses back on her nails. “Nah, but for real, I wanted some insurance. You’re in your Healing Era, Tamlin, and that means our goal is to get you back to full power - mentally, emotionally and physically. It’s your rebirth, remember? And I don’t want anyone from the other Courts to interfere with that.”
The word rebirth continues to strike Tamlin’s core. He’s so exhausted from rage… from grief. He wants to change, but…
“Redemption. Do I even deserve it?”
“Not this again. Rebirth and redemption are two different things, Tamlin. The way I see it, you’ve paid your dues in your own way already. You don’t owe anyone else. You wanna turn your life around? Good. Noble, even. But you gotta do it because YOU want it, not because you’re expected to.”
“I didn’t know that you’re capable of such profound words. It seems that tonight is full of surprises.”
“This bitch! I’m trying to help you feel better!”
“Spare us both and stick to insults instead.”
Because Juno is facing Tamlin’s back, she couldn’t see the tiny grin on his face. The mortal woman has been growing on to him like a moss. He doesn’t know if they’re friends yet, but so far, he enjoys having some company again.
(He misses Lucien.)
“You’re so weird,” Says the literal alien from another world. “While you sort out the remaining bits of your existential crisis, I’m gonna be focusing on the security of the Spring Court. Not a lockdown per se. More like… feeding any unwanted parties some false information.” The last of her black nails clatter on the table. Pleased with the shine of her natural nails, she went over beside Tamlin to wash her hands in the sink before wiping them dry. When Tamlin handed her two plates of simple stir-fried noodles with vegetables, she carried them to the table.
“And how exactly will you be doing that?”
“So… remember what I said when we were in the cave?”
“You have to be specific; I got lost among the venomous spew about the Night Court and the fact that I live in a fictional world.”
“Cute, Tamlin. I meant about how Isekai protagonists are usually given some bullshit OP ability.”
“Elaborate what’s ‘OP’.”
“Urgh, overpowered, you amoeba.”
Tamlin stops eating; his fork hangs in the air. He cautiously asks, “You can wield magic?” He sensed nothing! Absolutely nothing from this human the moment they met.
Juno taps her foot against the floor, contemplating. “I don’t know if it’s magic, but I definitely have something. In fact, it saved my fine ass when you tried to attack me.”
The High Lord remembered as clear as day. He has never been brought to such a pathetic state that every time he tried to attack her, they all missed. A stumble. A mis-aim. A stomach wreck with hunger so bad that he could barely stand upright. A disgraceful performance as a warrior. Was it truly because of his weakened state? Tamlin’s pride wanted it to be otherwise, but the more logical part of him warned him that the unknown was a lot worse. “What did you do?”
For the first time since they met, Juno looks… scared and for some reason, Tamlin’s heartstrings twist. “Ok, don’t freak out. I sorta… control which actions you would take among the many possibilities. And time froze too when I was picking them, so that’s cool.”
“You… controlled my actions?” Tamlin repeats slowly.
She sighs and leans back against the chair, arms folded across her chest. “This is an ability that I’ve seen in Blazblue and Umeniko. Let me try my best to explain it to you in the simplest way since it’s quite abstract in theory. I’ll give you a scenario: Aelin wakes up. She’s sitting at the dining table, about to have breakfast. In front of her is a pancake and a bowl of porridge - two possibilities. She picked the pancakes, but I chose the porridge. The world corrects her actions, and without her knowing, she’s cleaning that porridge bowl.”
Tamlin’s jaw is now hanging, and understanding sinks in. “You can change the Fates themselves.”
“In a way. When you launched at me first, time stopped. I could see 4 other possible actions - you would lob my head clean from that jump. The second possibility was you thrusting a claw at my abdomen, tearing out my entrails. The third is you using your sharp teeth, tearing out my neck. The fourth, now this is interesting, was you stumbling after launching at me. So I picked that instead and did the same for the rest of your murderous attempts.”
Juno could control Tamlin. Just like -
A crash. A shout. Precious minutes vanished from Tamlin.
“ - keep it a secret. No, no - keeping such an OP power as a secret is usually the fastest route to the Bad Ending. Like hell would I follow those YA and Manhwa heroines. Fuck! I can’t remember what you’re supposed to do when someone is having a panic attack. Not touch them? Talk them through it? Uh, Tamlin? Tamlin, can you hear me? At least you’re not blindly lashing out, so that’s good. I hope you can listen to me because I promise you - I swear it, OK? - that I won’t ever mess with you like that.”
“How could I possibly trust you?” Tamlin rasped, his eyes are dull. He struggles to ground himself once more, but when he slowly comes to his senses, he finds himself slumped on the floor. The table is flipped, and their dinner is scattered on the floor with bits and pieces of the porcelain plate. “When you’re the second coming of Amarantha.”
Kneeling at a good distance from him, Juno is insulted. Still scared but uncharacteristically solemn. “How can I assure you, Tamlin? A Bargain? Some kind of blood oath? I don’t know what’s available in this world that can make you trust me.”
Tamlin heard stories about the gods when he was still a Youngling. How they are callous, indifferent, and so easily bored by the monotony of life. How it’s considered an honour, a great blessing to be chosen by them. Hah. Tamlin has lived long enough to understand that being unnoticed by heartless divinities is a true blessing.
It’s mind-shattering to realise that Juno is a young god masquerading as a human to stave off the boredom. One that is still growing, still coming into her divinity - a petulant, playful god with venom running in her veins and hatred burning her forever warm. This is who the Mother invoked as a symbol of salvation for Tamlin.
“Will you use your powers on me?”
“Only for your best interest,” Juno admits. “I’m planning on taking the role of a Support Class whenever you’re in a fight. The books claimed that you’re a powerful High Lord - but not as strong as Rice Failure, tch - and I believe it. But just in case, I can make sure that you won’t encounter any close calls or nasty surprises. Plus, I’m not a healer, but if you’re badly injured on the battlefield and, god forbid, no one can get to you in time, I can just replace your body with another version of Tamlin who is strong, whole and not exhausted by the fight.”
He listens, and he processes everything that this capricious creature says. It’s unfathomable.
Silence stretches between the two. Juno is at a loss; for the first time in her life, she desperately wants to convey her most sincere feelings to another person (other than her bestie and parents) and has no idea how, while Tamlin is painfully aware that there’s really nothing that can stop her from turning every living creature in this world into her playthings.
“I need some time to think about this.” Mother, he suddenly has the urge to get rip-roaring drunk just so he can escape for more than a few minutes. “Are you going to dictate what I’ll do next?”
Juno grins. It’s utterly plastic. “I don’t care about you enough as a character to control every aspect of your life, Tamlin.”
Trust is a fickle thing. In Tamlin’s case, who is a Fae, he could only take Juno’s words as a form of trust. How ironic.
He pushes himself up, choosing not to comment when she flinches. He needs to change his skin and, maybe later, find some leftover bottle of wine or whiskey. Just as he was about to exit the kitchen, he paused and asked without turning around. “Who did you play with?” The implication is clear during Juno’s explanation.
“A vertically challenged hag.”
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Magic
Tallulah has been singing ever since she can remember. When she was very small Wilbur drew her into his arms and told her that music was a kind of magic. That she could change the world with nothing but her words if she wished. Tallulah has never forgotten that.
Even when Wilbur is gone Tallulah sings. She sings on the way to school holding Chayanne’s hand so she doesn’t fall in a creeper holes, she sings during class, she sings with Phil in the garden, she sings in the rain and she sings swimming in the endless ocean.
On her papa’s birthday Tallulah prepares a song just for him. She spends months practicing it getting the tune and the words just right. Finally, on the day she sits and waits watching the stormy sea, waiting for the golden lights of the train to bring Wilbur back to her.
Phil waits with her even as it gets dark and cold one wing shielding Tallulah’s smaller body from the wet. Chayanne paces in front of them sword raised and it’s her who sees the lights of the train.
When when Wilbur finally appears like a ghost out of the fog he looks exhausted. Even after he’s inside, curled up on the rug he looks small and worn. But when Tallulah sings the song she practiced just for him, Wilbur’s eyes light up. And just like that Tallulah makes magic.
#I might put this on a03 later if y’all like it idk#QSMP#qsmpblr#Wilbur soot#tallulah soot#q!wilbur#tallulah the egg#tallulah#lady writes#lady writes qsmp#chayanne the egg
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Female characters who are the sole voice of reason <<<<<<< Female characters who think of themselves as the sole voice of reason but who are actually just as insane as those around them
#meryl stryfe#trigun meryl#trigun#trigun (1998)#I haven’t actually seen tristamp#but based on the gif sets and clips I’ve seen I think it’s still accurate#weiss schnee#yeah I’m a rwby fan so what#there are probably more examples but modern media is sooo bad at writing female characters that I can’t think of any#also old time media#all media is bad at writing female characters#anywho if anyone reblogs this can they put their fav insane lady blorbo in the tags
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all RIGHT:
Why You're Writing Medieval (and Medieval-Coded) Women Wrong: A RANT
(Or, For the Love of God, People, Stop Pretending Victorian Style Gender Roles Applied to All of History)
This is a problem I see alllll over the place - I'll be reading a medieval-coded book and the women will be told they aren't allowed to fight or learn or work, that they are only supposed to get married, keep house and have babies, &c &c.
If I point this out ppl will be like "yes but there was misogyny back then! women were treated terribly!" and OK. Stop right there.
By & large, what we as a culture think of as misogyny & patriarchy is the expression prevalent in Victorian times - not medieval. (And NO, this is not me blaming Victorians for their theme park version of "medieval history". This is me blaming 21st century people for being ignorant & refusing to do their homework).
Yes, there was misogyny in medieval times, but 1) in many ways it was actually markedly less severe than Victorian misogyny, tyvm - and 2) it was of a quite different type. (Disclaimer: I am speaking specifically of Frankish, Western European medieval women rather than those in other parts of the world. This applies to a lesser extent in Byzantium and I am still learning about women in the medieval Islamic world.)
So, here are the 2 vital things to remember about women when writing medieval or medieval-coded societies
FIRST. Where in Victorian times the primary axes of prejudice were gender and race - so that a male labourer had more rights than a female of the higher classes, and a middle class white man would be treated with more respect than an African or Indian dignitary - In medieval times, the primary axis of prejudice was, overwhelmingly, class. Thus, Frankish crusader knights arguably felt more solidarity with their Muslim opponents of knightly status, than they did their own peasants. Faith and age were also medieval axes of prejudice - children and young people were exploited ruthlessly, sent into war or marriage at 15 (boys) or 12 (girls). Gender was less important.
What this meant was that a medieval woman could expect - indeed demand - to be treated more or less the same way the men of her class were. Where no ancient legal obstacle existed, such as Salic law, a king's daughter could and did expect to rule, even after marriage.
Women of the knightly class could & did arm & fight - something that required a MASSIVE outlay of money, which was obviously at their discretion & disposal. See: Sichelgaita, Isabel de Conches, the unnamed women fighting in armour as knights during the Third Crusade, as recorded by Muslim chroniclers.
Tolkien's Eowyn is a great example of this medieval attitude to class trumping race: complaining that she's being told not to fight, she stresses her class: "I am of the house of Eorl & not a serving woman". She claims her rights, not as a woman, but as a member of the warrior class and the ruling family. Similarly in Renaissance Venice a doge protested the practice which saw 80% of noble women locked into convents for life: if these had been men they would have been "born to command & govern the world". Their class ought to have exempted them from discrimination on the basis of sex.
So, tip #1 for writing medieval women: remember that their class always outweighed their gender. They might be subordinate to the men within their own class, but not to those below.
SECOND. Whereas Victorians saw women's highest calling as marriage & children - the "angel in the house" ennobling & improving their men on a spiritual but rarely practical level - Medievals by contrast prized virginity/celibacy above marriage, seeing it as a way for women to transcend their sex. Often as nuns, saints, mystics; sometimes as warriors, queens, & ladies; always as businesswomen & merchants, women could & did forge their own paths in life
When Elizabeth I claimed to have "the heart & stomach of a king" & adopted the persona of the virgin queen, this was the norm she appealed to. Women could do things; they just had to prove they were Not Like Other Girls. By Elizabeth's time things were already changing: it was the Reformation that switched the ideal to marriage, & the Enlightenment that divorced femininity from reason, aggression & public life.
For more on this topic, read Katherine Hager's article "Endowed With Manly Courage: Medieval Perceptions of Women in Combat" on women who transcended gender to occupy a liminal space as warrior/virgin/saint.
So, tip #2: remember that for medieval women, wife and mother wasn't the ideal, virgin saint was the ideal. By proving yourself "not like other girls" you could gain significant autonomy & freedom.
Finally a bonus tip: if writing about medieval women, be sure to read writing on women's issues from the time so as to understand the terms in which these women spoke about & defended their ambitions. Start with Christine de Pisan.
I learned all this doing the reading for WATCHERS OF OUTREMER, my series of historical fantasy novels set in the medieval crusader states, which were dominated by strong medieval women! Book 5, THE HOUSE OF MOURNING (forthcoming 2023) will focus, to a greater extent than any other novel I've ever yet read or written, on the experience of women during the crusades - as warriors, captives, and political leaders. I can't wait to share it with you all!
#watchers of outremer#medieval history#the lady of kingdoms#the house of mourning#writing#writing fantasy#female characters#medieval women#eowyn#the lord of the rings#lotr#history#historical fiction#fantasy#writing tip#writing advice
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i love you, bald/balding trans girls. i love you, trans girls with hairy faces and bodies. i love you, fat trans girls. i love you, trans girls who can't raise your voices. i love you, trans girls with big jaws and adam's apples. i love you, trans girls with broad shoulders. i love you, trans girls with flat chests. i love you pre-E and never-E trans girls. i love you
#our writing#mtf#trans girl positivity#trans woman positivity#trans women#trans woman#trans girls#trans lady
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Jason’s massage therapist deserves a fucking pay raise.
He has no idea how the fuck the dude gives back massages that quiet the goddam pit but you bet your ass Jason is recommending Danny to anyone who looks like they need a massage.
#dp x dc#writing prompt#danny fenton#dc x dp#jason todd#sometimes shit goes weird in the body due to fighting crime#how did Danny get such a job?#why the nice lady who owns the place gave him a place to rest when he first came to Gotham and he never left#Danny: this dude feels a bit death-y#Danny pushing a bit of his ecto outward: this should help him relax
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Any Way the Wind Blows | Steve Harrington x Reader
Summary: You get cursed by Vecna, and find yourself floating in midair while Steve suffers a mild breakdown. [2.5k]
Warnings: S4 SPOILERS! Angst.
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“Woah woah woah, hey, you feeling OK?” Steve asked, gripping your shoulder tightly, his dark brown eyes emptily searching your fleeting ones.
He had just witnessed you entering some form of… trance? He wasn’t entirely sure what it was. And, to be frank, neither were you. It was an out-of-body experience. One moment you were leaning across the counter at Family Video, talking to Steve; the next you heard a deep, rumbling voice echoing behind you.
“Y/N.”
You followed it, past the dark particles floating in the air, to a stiff wooden clock lodged into the wall. The ticking made you wince, the repeated gongs made you shiver.
And then it was over. And you were back, next to Steve.
You blinked rapidly, looking down, lightly shaking your head to clear the confusion.
“Y/N? Talk to me, I’m not a brick wall.”
You glanced up, finally registering Steve’s presence, the concerned look in his eyes, the furrow of his brow.
“What? Sorry, yes, I’m fine, just… just got a bit dizzy there.”
Steve knew you were lying. He could read you like the back of his hand. Better than the back of his hand. He could read you like every perfectly placed hair on his goddamn perfect head. But he didn’t want to press you.
And you. You had recognized the darkness, the ominous atmosphere, the biting tension in the air. You remembered the Upside Down. Yet you didn’t want to believe it was real.
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It started with the headaches. You’d had occasional tension-induced pain before, but this was more frequent, and much more potent.
Steve immediately noticed them. The way you walked away from him, clasping your fingers to your temples, eyes forcefully shutting.
But only after breaking into Hawkins High, ransacking the counsellor’s office, and Max reading out the symptoms that the dead teenagers had experienced did you know that you were in trouble.
In fact, right after she read them out, as the kids continued to rummage through the counsellor’s drawers, you were blinded with pain, pulling away from the arm Steve had wrapped around your shoulders as he leafed through some document.
His brows came together, furrowed. He watched you walk into a darker corner of the room before he quietly approached you.
“You want some aspirin or something?” he whispered, refraining from touching you.
“You got some on you?” You turned around, one eyebrow raised, your other eye slightly closed, blocking out the light.
“No… but I could go get some. I swear, counsellors should be able to give kids medicine. It’s high school, for Christ’s sake. Hormones. Stress…” he paused in his rambling, looking at you with wide eyes, “Can a kiss make it better?”
You chuckled, “I wish, gorgeous.”
Steve slowly approached you, reading your every movement, seeing no signs of discomfort at his invading your space, and thus proceeding. He slung his arms around your waist, bringing his lips to your forehead. It was burning hot.
“Max! Max! Is she OK?! Wake up!” You heard Lucas’ voice gradually increase in panic.
Steve turned as fast as lightning, running over instinctively to see what was happening before his mind even registered his surroundings.
He recognized it. The trance. He looked back at you, over his shoulder, lips parted.
You approached her as well, pressing your palm to her forehead, lightly justling her frame.
You and the boys kept shaking her until she finally emerged, resurfaced. She grabbed your hand, pulling you into the hallway, talking about some clock.
She had factually confirmed your sight of the old grandfather clock.
Both of you were in trouble.
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Everyone knew that Max was in danger, though nobody believed she would die.
But only Steve knew you were going through the same thing.
He tried talking to you about it, shouting obscenities and repetitions of "you're insane!"
But you pushed him away with a small, “I’ll be fine.”
I mean, what could you do to prevent Vecna killing you?
❃❃❃❃❃
Max wanted a moment with Billy, at his grave, to read him a letter.
You, Steve and the kids stayed in the car. Lucas and Dustin sat on the hood, watching, like lookouts. You and Steve were inside, at the front.
The tension was so thick in the air that you could cut it with a knife.
Steve’s hand was sprawled along the window, fingers pulsing, dancing.
You were combing your hair through your fingers, your knee jumping around in anxiety.
Too much time had passed. The waiting became unbearable. You grabbed Steve’s wrist, twisting it to see his watch.
“All right, it’s been long enough.” You stormed out of the car, ignoring the admonitions of Dustin and Lucas. Steve was hot on your heels.
“Max, kiddo, you alright?” You jogged up to her.
She turned her head to the side, softly nodding, smiling.
And then you were back in hell.
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“Y/NNNNNN,” the deep voice growled.
You turned sharply, face to face with… quite frankly, you didn’t know what it was. Vecna? Yes. Human? Human form, once, maybe.
“Stop this!” you yelled, “let me out!”
“It’s time, Y/N. Time for you to join me.”
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Dustin and Lucas noticed Max and Steve’s agitation, sprinting up instantly.
“Y/N?! Y/N?! Baby, you gotta wake up, now,” Steve pleaded, hands gripping your shoulders tightly. But this had happened before. He knew you would emerge from your stupor.
Until your eyes twirled around to the back of your socket.
“Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit,” Dustin repeated, increasingly agitated, increasingly quick.
Lucas only stood back, eyes wide, terrified.
“Shit, fuck, Y/N, honey, come back to me. I’m right here, LISTEN to me,” Steve begged now, hand cupping your jaw, shaking you harder. His hands were trembling. He turned to Dustin, grasping him by his jacket. “Call Nancy and Robin! Go get ‘em! Call Nancy and Robin! GO!”
Dustin had never seen Steve so desperate, so raw. His eyes rimmed with red, his body barely breathing. Henderson sprinted down the hill, tripping over his own two feet. “Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!”
“Y/N you can’t do this to me, this wasn’t how things were gonna work out,” Steve was crying now, pushing your hair away from your face. “I can’t lose you, I-I-I just can’t- WAKE UP FOR GOD’S SAKE.”
Dustin darted back up, throwing a dozen cassette tapes and a Walkman on the grass, flinging his own body along as well.
“What is this?” Lucas and Max pleaded at the same time.
“Her song – what’s her favorite song?!” Dustin was staring at Steve, eyes frantic.
“What?! W-why?!” Confusion laced Steve’s features.
“Robin said if she listens– it’s too much to explain right now. STEVE.” Dustin grabbed him by the shoulders, yelling in desperation, “WHAT’S. HER FAVORITE. SONG?!”
Steve didn’t hesitate, remembering the endless car rides where he let you blast your tunes, bare feet tapping along on the dashboard; the midnight dancing at his house, just the two of you, shameless; the sole moments where, in a haze of silence, you would start humming with your sweet voice.
“Queen. Get Queen. Bohemian Rhapsody!”
The three boys fidgeted amongst the tapes, until Lucas, scrambling, found the correct one. He placed the cassette in the Walkman Max was holding as Steve gently clasped the headphones around your ears, smoothing your hair, placing a kiss on your crown, holding the back of your head in his hand. His other hand grasped your own.
The boys heard the muffled opening. Is this the real life? Is this just fantasy?
❃❃❃❃❃
You had escaped from the darkness, and emerged in some red universe, debris floating everywhere.
“What are you doing in here, Y/N?”
The ground was covered with spiders, the clock’s chimes haunting, echoing in the background.
“Come back to me.”
You spun around and around, examining your surroundings, searching for somewhere to run. Only then did you notice the corpses strewn on the pillars, dark tentacles wrapped around their necks.
“Would you like to join them?”
Vecna emerged from behind a staircase, menacingly approaching you.
You turned around, intending to run, but something wrapped around your ankle, pulling you away.
“FUCK! NO!” You were screaming, desperately trying to grab something.
You were thrown against a pillar, a tentacle wrapping around your throat.
You couldn’t breathe. You were choking.
And then.
Is this the real life? Is this just fantasy?
Music breaking the void.
Looking behind Vecna who had leeringly approached you, you saw a hole in the red. An opening to another world. Your world. There were the kids. And there was Steve.
“Y/N?! Wake up! Please! We’re right here.” Steve was pleading. You saw he was holding you, shaking you.
“Please! Come on!” Dustin, Lucas and Max shouted in tandem.
“They can’t help you, Y/N,” Vecna seethed. “You belong here, with me.”
“Motherfucker,” you wheezed out.
Vecna’s claws started spreading over your face, obscuring your vision. You tried to escape his grasp, but only hit your head against the pillar behind you.
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And then your body started lifting up.
Steve knew what was happening. If Eddie’s story was true, this sole levitation signaled your impending death.
He grabbed onto your hand, holding it, forcing you back down. But the gravitational force pulling you, whatever it was, was stronger.
Your hand slipped from Steve’s, your fingers grazing against his palm. He tried reaching your foot, but it was too late. Your ankle missed his grasp.
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You saw your body float up; saw Steve grab at his hair, pulling it raw; saw the kids yell in fear and frustration.
You started to accept your end.
But not your mind. Your brain embraced the music. Your soul saw the desperation of those kids – your friends, and the love of your life.
“Mama, oooo. Didn't mean to make you cry”
Like often advertised, your life started to flash before your eyes. The good bits, at least.
“If I'm not back again this time tomorrow”
You, Max and Eleven at Starcourt Mall, snapping silly photos in the photobooth, scrunchies and rainbow outfits, peace signs and crinkled eyes.
“Carry on, carry on as if nothing really matters”
Playing Dungeons and Dragons with the boys, their younger faces radiant, so absorbed in the game, shouting with every turn of events, throwing the pieces around the basement.
“Too late, my time has come”
And Steve. Every single fucking moment with Steve. Cause there was no grey cloud. It had been bliss.
Cheering him on at his basketball game, louder than any cheerleader. Jumping over all the bleachers, running up and kissing him when he lost, his hands wrapping around your waist limply, defeated, as you whispered comforting words in his ear.
“Sends shivers down my spine, body's aching all the time”
Hiding together in the storeroom of Scoops Ahoy, playfully flirting, cuddling, Steve’s hair barely contained under his ridiculous hat – which he promptly removed, muttering something about company policy. Robin would bring you both free ice cream, always your favorite flavors, and Steve would insist on having to lick off what was staining the side of your lip.
“Goodbye, everybody, I've got to go”
Visiting Steve at Family Video, sitting behind the counter with him. He never left your side, his arm was always across your shoulder, his lips peppering your face with kisses: your nose, your eyes, your forehead, your jaw, your neck, your collarbones, your lips.
“Gotta leave you all behind and face the truth”
The morning after your first time with Steve, your bodies intertwined, your hands clasping each other’s and laid together against Steve’s chest. You just relaxed, caressing Steve’s face, pushing back his hair. His eyes fluttered open, sleepy, a dazed smile spreading across his face. A look of utter adoration.
“Mama, oooo. I don't want to die, I sometimes wish I'd never been born at all!”
I don’t want to die. I don’t.
With all your strength, you grasped one of Vecna’s tentacles, pulling it off. A rather warrior-like roar left your lips as he dropped you to the ground. You scrambled to your feet and began running.
Running towards Steve.
“I see a little silhouetto of a man, scaramouch, scaramouch, will you do the fandango?”
Vecna didn’t move. He sent boulders and debris flying your way. He tried to stop you.
“Thunderbolts and lightning, very, very frightening me!”
But, let’s face it, however cheesy it may sound, nothing can stop the force of true love.
“Beelzebub has a devil put aside for me, for me, for me!”
You ran. Your lungs burned. Your feet were numb. Yet you ran.
“So you think you can stop me and spit in my eye”
You dodged every obstacle, you jumped over every ravine.
“So you think you can love me and leave me to die. Oh, baby, can't do this to me, baby,”
Your eyes focused on Steve. That was the finishing line.
“Just gotta get out, just gotta get right outta here”
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You gasped, eyes flying open, your body racing down to the ground.
“Y/N!!!” Steve was there instantly, catching you, taking the brunt of the impact.
You were gasping, crying, hyperventilating. Steve was, too. He wrapped himself around your torso forcefully, repeating, “it’s OK, it’s OK, you’re OK, I’ve got you now, beautiful, you’re safe.”
You dug your nails into his shoulder, but he didn’t mind. He had you back.
“I thought you- you were-“ Steve couldn’t bring himself to say it. The notion that he had lost you, that you died while in his hands, in his care…
“I’m still here,” you wheezed out, “can’t get rid of me that easily, Harrington.”
He pressed his lips to your temple, rubbing your arm, hair bouncing as he shook his head at your intact humor. You were back.
The kids had grabbed at you as well, wanting to make sure you were real, that you were alright. With your other hand you caressed each of their cheeks.
Steve held you while you calmed down. He wasn’t letting go ever again.
As the sun continued to set, you were still attempting to regain control over your breath, to accept what had happened.
Dustin, Lucas and Max had made their way to the car, informing Nancy and Robin of what occurred.
Steve just kept his eyes closed, rocking you, breathing your sent in.
“Come here,” you mumbled, pushing away from him, catching his gaze.
He brought his forehead to yours, eyes locked.
“Don’t you ever fucking do that again. You hear me?” he whispered.
You slowly nodded, glancing down at his lips. Your nose bumped his, and then your lips met.
It started as a soft kiss. But gradually became forceful, desperate. Steve’s hand cupped your jaw, your palms were pressed against his chest.
You could have stayed like that if it wasn’t for Dustin’s shouts of “Get a room!”
You chuckled. Steve muttered something about Henderson needing to get his ego in check. He stood up, reaching a hand out to help you.
“Not taking these goddamn headphones off ever again,” he muttered, placing the headphones back on your ears, pressing ‘play’ on the Walkman.
You smiled at him, grabbing his rough hand, clasping it in your own, your small fingers enveloped in his.
“Any way the wind blows...”
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Thank you for reading! x
#help I am obsessed#lady writes#fallingintofiction#steve harrington#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington imagine#steve harrington imagines#steve harrington x y/n#stranger things#stranger things s4#steve harrington fanfic#steve harrington x reader fanfic#stranger things fanfic#stranger things imagine#joe keery#joe keery imagine
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A Court of 'It's giving beauty & the beast' and 'Except you can't tell which one is which'
Spring is rotting away. Not just its Court but across the lands as well. Without it, there can be no new beginnings, no rebirths and nature itself will cease to a halt. And thus Fates dictate that a human and a broken Fae must create a miracle together.
OR
Tamlin thinks that the Mother is cruel for the salvation of his home requires another human’s help while Juno curses whatever entity that Isekai’ed her into this shitty ass book series.
AO3
Chapter 1: Fuck it, we ball
A meeting and a blatant disrespect for all things Canon
CH2 | CH3
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For 7 governmental bodies to co-exist with one another, it’s crucial for the High Lords of Prythian to come together once a year. This annual meeting is crucial because each Courts must establish new trade agreements, honour allies, and exchange information (and sometimes gossip) to strengthen the peace.
This year, the honour of hosting such an event falls on Helion and his Day Court and as the most ostentatious High Lord among them all, he spared no expense in throwing the most lavish party for future guests. Even his people are swept away by his spirit! It’s as if the city has come to life from the streets to the alleys. Music fills the air, and decorations hang on every house, for everyone loves the High Lord and what he has sacrificed and fought for. Here in the Day Court, the adoration for Helion is evident for everyone who visits.
“How long has this festival been going on? Weeks?” The High Lord of the Winter Court, Kallias, comments as he glances down the streets. “What are they celebrating anyway?”
Beside him, his Mate Viviane peeks to where Kallias is staring at - a flower cart full of her favourites. She smiles and replies, “I’ve heard from Helion’s courtiers earlier that it’s because of us. There’s a party after our meeting that’s meant to promote the peace. “I’m looking forward to that.” Underneath the warm sunlight and clad in their regalia, the pair looks like statues crafted from diamonds that have come to life.
“Knowing Helion, it’s going to involve an orgy one way or another.” Another voice joins their conversation. The High Lord of the Dawn Court takes the empty seat on Kallias’ right. Helion has organised an open chamber-tower for their annual meeting that oversees the entire city, a subtle show of power. A magnificent round table made out of wood that no longer exists in their realm rests in the middle just like the streets below. Comfortable chairs are provided for the High Lords and their plus one. From the ceiling to the floor, everything here is lavishly decorated. It’s so shiny that it inspires Thesan’s new automaton project. However, he shelves the new ideas aside in favour of the conversation. “If the two of you plan to stick around after this, I might do the same.”
Kallias and Viviane exchange a look, and something silent transpires between them, for the Lady of the Winter Court is suddenly amused. “Oh my, Thesan. Interested in a threesome? What would the good Captain say?”
The mention of his lover had Thesan in a coy mood. He hopes that all is well in his absence. “I can easily bring him to the party later and propose the suggestion. Orgies aside, it’s been a while since the 4 of us spent some time together after the war.”
“It’s wonderful that things have been slowly getting back to normal after what we’ve been through,” Kallias muses, his mind threatening to wander back to those dark days when he was living Under the Mountain. He offers a tiny smile at his wife, who senses his sudden change in emotion and grasps his hand. “Peace is long overdue in these lands. Let’s hope it sticks.”
Agreeing with his sentiment, Thesan and Viviane shift the conversation to something more lighthearted to cheer him up.
In one corner of the chamber, the High Lord of the Summer Court is deep in discussion with the High Lord and Lady of the Night Court. His ambition to lessen the influence of the High Faes in the Summer and uplift the Lesser ones requires delicate and long-term planning. A civil war is his biggest worry right now, and he needs to avoid that at all costs; hence, he requested some valuable insights from his allies. However, The more they talk, Tarquin begins to realise that he and Rhysand have very different perspectives on managing their people. “I appreciate your advice, Rhysand, but I don’t think bolstering the numbers of my army will help me in the long run. I want equality among the High and Lesser Faes in my Court, not scaring them.”
Rhysand easily shrugs; he and Feyre are wearing their leather fineries just for this occasion. In his mind, Tarquin is still young and still wet behind the pointy ears when it comes to ruling. It should be alright for him to make mistakes here and there. After all, some people tend to learn the hard way. “That’s what I would personally do, anyway. It’s never wrong to strengthen the foundation of your Court. Especially when it comes to safety.”
“I agree! Having a powerful military force isn’t all that bad. You can use it to defend what truly matters to you,” Feyre chimes in, casting a loving look at Rhysand. “Your home. Your family.” And just like that, the two retreat into their bubble - trading lust-filled eyes, arms around one another and utterly oblivious to Tarquin, who just shakes his head. He politely excuses himself to join Kallias, Viviane and Thesan, who welcome him with a sparkling drink.
“You lasted about an hour with the two of them, Tarquin. Congratulations! Was it worth it?” Viviane teases while Kallias surreptitiously keeps an eye on Rhysand and Feyre, who are literally eye-fucking one another in case that shady High Lord overhears his wife.
“His advice was… insightful”, Tarquin decides after some deliberation. He thanks Thesan for the drink. Though he might have forgiven the Night Court for their thievery and transgression, he still won’t forget their crimes so soon. He kept that thought to himself since Rhysand is considered to be one of the most powerful creatures among them. It would be foolish to make him an enemy. “I was hoping for something less offensive and more of a creative suggestion.”
“Still working hard on evening out the playing fields?” Thesan guesses. His flute glass is empty, but it magically refills when he puts it away on an empty gold tray. This pleases him.
“I’ll never stop trying; I firmly believe there shouldn’t be a class difference among the Faes. The Mother makes us all equal from birth, regardless of our appearance.”
“That’s very open-minded of you, Tarquin. Tell you what, If you ever need a second opinion, Viviane and I are happy to host you in our Court.”
“The same goes for the Dawn Court. Oh, don’t look so surprised, little one! Sure, you’re young, but that just means you have so many wild ideas in that head of yours that I’d love to hear about. Call it a mutually beneficial trade, hmm?”
“I see… very well then, thank you, Lord Thesan; I’m also grateful for your offer.”
“To new friendships!” Viviane cheers and raises her flute for a toast. Kallias, Thesan and Tarquin indulge her. “Since we’re talking about Courts now, has anyone figured out what’s been happening lately? There’s a part in Winter’s forest that’s rotted off.” Here, her face is troubled, and even Kallias appears uncertain. “The worst part is that the area is expanding as if the rot is growing bigger.”
Tarquin’s eyes are wide. This time, it’s he who is surprised. “The rot appeared in the Winter Court as well? I’ve been receiving reports from Cresseida that some wheat fields are turning into a wasteland. There was no warning, no cause that we could find. It’s as if it appeared suddenly.”
“I don’t like the sound of this…” Thesan adds in, already contemplating launching his own investigation in the Dawn Court just in case.
Kallias takes a moment to view Helion’s city once more. On the surface, everything looks perfect, but now he’s curious; just what kind of troubles would Helion deal with daily? His Court did receive quite a number of human refugees during the war. “I wonder if the Day Court is affected as well. Maybe that’s why its High Lord is running late.” They were supposed to begin the meeting once Rhysand and Feyre had arrived (being fashionably late as always), but Helion still hadn’t made himself known. Other than personally directing them to this chamber until an aide intervened to whisk him away. Everyone has been amusing themselves since then.
Beron, the High Lord of the Autumn Court, is nursing his drink alone. His thoughts serve as his company, for he opted not to bring his wife along. The other Faes are too caught up in their own matter to realise he’d been eavesdropping on every conversation that was stirred. Fools the lot of them; so quick to ease the guards on their shoulders just because they’re among ‘allies’. With a contemplative hum, Beron raises his glass of red wine to be at his eye level. The dark hue reminds him of his once clear lake turning a putrid red and the surroundings are barren. He, too, had noticed the rot making its home in his Court. He has no time for this new mystery yet when none of his nobles could come forward with an answer and a solution, it infuriates the High Lord.
Voices tapers off when Helion finally Winnows back into the chamber. Shining with splendour with a golden crown on his head and wearing his customary white toga, Helion addresses his esteemed guests, “Apologies for the wait. My courtiers couldn’t get enough of me these days - “ the more perspective ones like Beron and Thesan catch the underlying meaning of his words: ‘Issues has been popping up lately’. “ - I hope the drinks more than makeup for it. They were from my grandfather’s era after all. Now then, shall we begin?”
As soon as Helion said that, there was a crack in the air. Two figures appear without a warning, shattering the pleasant atmosphere. A ripple of shock, utter confusion and subtle wariness spread across the table at the sight of the High Lord of the Spring Court and a human female on his arm.
“Tamlin,” Helion speaks first, breaking the tense silence. He didn’t gape, but he sure as hell didn’t expect this particular High Lord to actually attend their meeting due to his self-imposed exile and preference to escape the world in the form of a mindless beast. The rest of the Courts - especially Rhysand and Feyre - watch their interactions carefully. “Welcome! If I had known all it takes was a party at the Day Court, I would’ve personally sent you the invitation. To you and your…”
“My Mate.” Tamlin answers simply. He looks beautifully put together in all the garbs worthy of the High Lord of the Spring Court, beautiful, just like before. His long golden hair is pulled up into a ponytail, and he’s wearing a warrior's assemble without the weaponry. Instead, silver chains and emeralds that match his eyes hang off his shoulders and chest piece.
Helion easily rolls with it; a part of him is a bit relieved that Tamlin is as standoffish as ever. Familiarity is good; familiarity helps you ground your footing. It’s something that he’s good at. However, the human besides Tamlin is anything but familiar. “Congratulations are in order then. You found yourself quite an intriguing female.” He sensed no lie in Tamlin’s confession despite his perfectly schooled expression. Perhaps he’s feeling awkward at the idea of introducing his female to creatures with whom he has fractured relationships.
“That’s one way to put it...” Tamlin mutters. That earns a sharp elbow at his rib. He just rolls his eyes when the human glares at him.
Inside jokes already? Oh, Helion can’t wait for the gossip tonight! “May I have your hand and name, gorgeous?”
For some reason, the female is unfazed with his flirting, though she did offer her hand for him to kiss it. Her nails are long and sharp, black as the night, with a tiny diamond on each. What’s unfamiliar is the material of the nails itself; it's inorganic. Even the jewellery on her fingers and arms might be gold and silver with a leather band, but the designs are unlike anything Helion has seen before. Intricate yet so foreign. Still, he kisses the back of her hand. “Juno. No last name. Nice to meet you.” The female introduces herself after a while. “I acknowledge every High Lord and their Mate here today.” Compared to Tamlin’s unapproachable demeanour, she’s polite yet distant.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Juno. I hope we can be closer after the meeting, as friends, of course.” Helion winks, wanting to know Tamlin’s reactions. To his disappointment, the High Lord of Spring just nods. The couple settles beside Thesan (a servant appears to add one more chair for the human female), a silent gesture that they refuse to entertain any inane questions. Well then. Helion would just have to wait for the party. Judging by the blatant curiosity of their fellow lords and Mates, everyone is truly looking forward to what’s to come. Except for Beron; the male seems as if he’s using every bit of restraint to hold his tongue. His disdain for humans is as obnoxious as ever.
Helion can’t do anything about that. Instead, he claps his hands—time to get this show on the road.
-
The meeting starts off easy. Since the first on the agenda is trading goods, everyone must agree on the markup prices for what is considered luxury and essentials. Staple food like grains, vegetables, animal produce and meat must be affordable enough between the Courts. The High Lords that have the most considerable sway in the final verdict are Helion, Tarquin, Tamlin, and Thesan since their territories are the ones that output them the most.
“I don’t think it’s fair that Tamlin has the final say for the prices,” Rhysand suddenly interjects. His voice is steady as he tilts his head, much like a panther sizing up its prey. “The Spring Court hasn’t been exporting much supplies since the war. In fact, the number is dwindling.”
Kallias and Viviane hold their breath, waiting for the outburst. Feyre expected the same, for they all could feel her magic coiling tightly, ready to defend her Mate against Tamlin’s outrage. The rest are content to be bystanders for now.
“…Very well. I revoke my ability to vote in this matter.” Tamlin backs off, just like that. He focuses on the scroll in front of him, jointing down some notes, much to the surprise of everyone once more. Rhysand is taken off guard before suspicion quickly passes over, and that’s Feyre’s cue to remain on guard.
“Moving on,” Helion smoothly brings them all to the next topic. There is no need to ruffle any feathers here since Tamlin is behaving himself. “Reparations. I believe it’s in the best interest of every Court to chip in and help the ones in need. The war has taught us that we act as a shield for one another against foreign threats. So it makes sense that the well-being of your neighbour is crucial for our survival.”
An impatient Beron sighs. “Cut the unnecessary fluff, Helion. You want us all to send our precious resources to Spring and Summer. They’re the only ones left still scrambling to build themselves up again. Why should my Court share the burden? Summer can stand on its own again in 40 years or so. Meanwhile, Spring is content to dwell in its ruin and destruction. No matter how fancy its High Lord look today.”
Helion resists pinching the bridge of his nose. He was really hoping that no one antagonised Tamlin, but at the same time, he couldn’t refute Beron as much as he loathed it. There hasn’t been any progress on the Spring Court’s restorations. Its populace continues to flee from their own home, and Tamlin has been neglecting to manage the lands. All things considered, the Spring Court is seconds away from becoming an abandoned territory. Prime for an invasion, and it might be from another Court.
Tamlin gives Beron the attention he’s so desperate for. His composure cracked ever so slightly as simmering rage glimmered in his eyes. “Careful, Beron; one would think the control you are so proud of is slipping. Or perhaps you’re ignorant of what’s truly happening outside your little kingdom instead?”
Beron bristles at the insults and leans forward, ready to counter or attack, but Tamlin isn’t done yet. “Hoard your money. The Spring Court has been rebuilding itself at its own pace; we don’t need charity that disguises itself as with strings attached.” Tamlin sneers.
From across the table, Feyre scoffs. “With what resources? What people and labour? The last report from our Spymaster mentioned that your lands are nearly barren. More and more refugees from the Spring Court are travelling to different territories.”
Viviane bit her lower lip. Everyone knew what Feyre did to the Spring Court, so for her to rub salt in Tamlin’s wounds was a low blow. Even if he deserves it for everything that he has done. The Lady of the Winter Court wonders what his Mate thinks about this and if she’s aware of the history between the two and Rhysand. When she peeks at the human female, Juno (she commits that name into her memories), she’s confused to find her indifferent to the tension-filled exchange. She’s been fiddling with a strange, rectangle object ever since the meeting started; her eyes never stray away from it for even a second. It’s as if she couldn’t care less that her Mate is besieged by the Night and Autumn Court. Viviane found herself disappointed with this human.
“Sitting on that throne of morality doesn’t suit you, Feyre. While I don’t expect or need aid from the Autumn Court, I demand accountability from the Night Court’s actions against me and my Court.” Tamlin’s voice is hard. Any ounce of affection he has for her is utterly devoid.
Rhysand flares in anger while Feyre has no shame even to look chastised. “My High Lady can do whatever she wants - “ Helion didn’t miss the way Tarquin closed his eyes in resignation. “ - you no longer have the right to dictate her. Honestly, Tamlin, I thought you’d be bored with this game already. It’s pathetic that you’re still trying to - ”
“Enough!” Thesan suddenly barks, silencing everyone. He’s fed up with these petty arguments. First, he turns to Rhysand, who does not appreciate the interjection. “Keep your feud outside of this meeting. We honestly don’t care about it.” Next is Tamlin. “While you might not need it, I want to put the past behind us already by extending an olive branch. The Dawn Court will be sending manpower and supplies to speed up your restoration projects. I give this willingly.”
Tamlin tersely nods. His Mate finally reacts - she lifts her head to stare appreciatively at Thesan. In return, Thesan just gives her a tiny smile.
“If the Spring Court is so confident in itself, then I supposed we can send its refugees back,” Rhysand drawls. He leans forward to tap a finger on the table, pretending to think. “It’s only right to return them to their home, though I wonder if they would even want to, considering their faith in their High Lord is in the sewers.”
“They’ll come back.”
Every Fae in the chamber turns to the human female. Most of them had forgotten she was sitting beside Tamlin with how quiet she was. Now though? Now, she wears a confident grin on her face. “Kind of you to worry about our people, Rice Cracker, but we’ve got it handled.”
“What did you just call me - ”
“How?” Helion couldn’t help but ask.
“Simple: we’ll give them democracy!”
-
Those in the Day Court Palace waste no time partying once Helion officially ended the meeting. It dragged on and on for at least half a day before it checked off everything they all needed to discuss.
Beron immediately returns to his Court while the rest lingers to enjoy the feast and atmosphere. The dining hall is crowded with partygoers of all kinds though most give the High Lords and their Mates a respectful berth. Not Helion, though. The moment he stepped inside, he was swarmed with adoring lovers, ragged courtiers and a few scholars as well.
“Enjoy the party, everyone!” Helion had shouted among the chatters and music before he was whisked away. “Do what I wouldn’t!”
They all disperse after that to enjoy the feast to the fullest. Kallias and Viviane help themselves to some food; when a group of nymphs comes over to ask about the villages in Winter, the couple is more than happy to talk to them. Always eager to accept new creatures into their home. Tarquin is listening to scholars and healers from various Courts as they regale him with tales and snippets of their lives. He’s especially respectful to the older ones for their experiences. Meanwhile, Tamlin wandered off somewhere, leaving his Mate - the only human in the dining hall - to fend for herself. She’s nursing a tumbler at the bar, and Thesan was compelled to join her.
“I didn’t know that they serve non-alcoholics too.” He says in lieu of greeting, already scenting the ripe apple in her tumbler. He easily saddles up beside her, understanding why she chose this corner of the bar. It’s quieter here, with the bartender busy attending the drinks, giving the two an illusion of privacy. “You don’t drink?”
Tamlin’s Mate snorts. “Never interested in it. You should’ve seen the bartender's face when I asked for juice. He gave me one with an apple flavour, thinking it was degrading. Jokes on him; this is the best apple juice I’ve ever had.”
Said bartender throws her the stink eye, to which she cheerfully raised a middle finger.
Thesan raises an eyebrow. It’s not bravado. For being the only human among Faes, she displays no sense of fear, wariness or even self-preservation. She might be a Mate to a High Lord, but no one really respects Tamlin as one nowadays. Her status isn’t enough to protect her against his enemies, and with these many people under one palace, one can never be too sure. And yet, she thinks herself untouchable. Thesan doesn’t know where this insane confidence is coming from, and he’s determined to find out as much as she can about this mortal.
“I’ve never seen such strange clothing before or this particular scent around you,” Thesan admits; a heady mixture of peach, vanilla, seawater, and something he couldn’t quite describe lingers around her. “Forgive me for my rudeness, but you came with Tamlin and threw us all off guard.”
“Oh, I bet. I had a strong impression that Tamlin was supposed to quietly disappear in the background as the series went on. Too bad. I don’t respect the books or SJM enough to give a shit about Canon.” Juno says idly, sipping on her chilled juice.
Not a single thing that left her mouth made sense to Thesan, and judging by the female’s disinterest in elaborating, he tried another angle. “I see… and the scent?”
“It’s a perfume; Dialogue with Venus. I wanted a brand that smelled like a French whore. What? You guys don’t have perfumes around here?”
“What is a per…fume?”
Now it’s the female’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “Huh. Interesting. You guys have coffee, silk and stuff - shits that are not from England, and yet I’ve never heard any of the Courts receive trades from overseas. I figured perfumes would be one of the items that were added into the series with no explanation behind it.”
OK, this is getting nowhere fast. While Juno is clearly forthcoming, her answers remain confusing. Luckily, Viviane sashays over. “Hello. We haven’t been formally introduced. My name is Viviane; I’m the Lady of the Winter Court and Kallias’ friend and Mate. I love your tattoos, by the way. I haven’t seen such vibrant and colourful Bargain marks before!” She’s sincere too. A long black viper is slithering underneath beautifully blooming flowers running down her arms, chest and back. It helps that the black crop top bra highlights the artwork. Viviane’s initial opinions about this human female have been changing ever since she spoke up during the meeting. She’s intrigued like the rest of them.
Juno ducks her head, oddly shy now. “They’re not Bargain tattoos, but… thanks.”
She wonders if the humans painted them on then. “So, are you from beyond the Wall?” Viviane wasted no time asking after ordering a drink for herself. The trio makes themselves comfortable on the barstools. “I’m not familiar with human fashion styles but I adore your simplicity yet invoking assemble.”
“Heavy on the simplicity,” Juno agrees with a secretive grin. “As for your question… you could say that.” Her grin widened the longer Viviane waited for her to share more about her life.
Thesan takes pity on her and asks, “What do you think of the meeting? It must be overwhelming.” ‘For a human’, the High Lord keeps that last bit to himself. If he could, he would go as far as to say that Tamlin was callous for bringing her; no one was prepared for the double whammy - Tamlin actually showing up or him introducing his very human, very vulnerable Mate that no one even heard about.
“I went like how I expected it to be; male egos being thrown around like monkey shits. Plus, I got everything I needed from it, so we’re Gucci.” Juno shrugs and finishes her drink in one swing. Her eyes caught Tarquin now among Kallias and Rhysand. Still no sign of Tamlin. “Although… it was nice to see your favourite character in real life. The official artworks really don’t do him justice, but hey, that’s why we have the fan arts.”
Viviane snorts when she mentions ‘male egos’ while Thesan mentally notes that the human’s way of speaking is utterly befuddling. He barely understands half of those sentences!
The three of them continue to make idle talks. Thesan and Viviane made a silent agreement to play the human female’s game and only share the bare minimum about their Courts and themselves. If she picks up on it, she doesn’t seem to be insulted at all. For Viviane, she hopes that the two could be friends because one can never have too many female friends! However, a tiny part of her - the one that has kept her alive all these years - warns not to be so comfortable with this human. Amarantha underestimated Feyre Archeron, and what came afterwards was her demise. And her relationship with Tamlin… the parallels between Feyre and Juno can’t be ignored. A human female appears out of nowhere and is brought into their world by the High Lord of the Spring Court.
History is itching to repeat itself.
The feast continued, and soon enough, most of the attendees meandered to different rooms and areas of the palace. The Faes reveal themselves in the 3 F’s - food, which Helion has generously provided with delicacies from every Court and then some. Fight, which the more rowdy partygoers are raring to take arms and challenge each other at the training hall, and the last…
“What’s wrong?” Juno asks when Viviane and Thesan suddenly cocks their heads at the same time. The direction is at the giant door draped with red drapes.
“It sounds like the party has shifted to a more… sensual activity.” Thesan comments, and Viviane snorts.
“Aite. That’s my cue to leave.”
“Not one for orgies, mortal?”
“Nah. I prefer reading about them instead. Thanks for keeping me company, Lord Thesan. You too, Lady Viviane. You guys are way cooler than the main cast. You deserve a book each, at the very least.”
Thesan shakes his head. “I’ve given up trying to decipher the strange phrases and words you keep uttering all evening. so I will take that as a compliment.”
“Defo,” Juno replies, pleased with her even-tempered companions. “Tell you what, if you ever want to change something about your fate, hit me up at the Spring Court. I’ll do it as a favour.” She gives them two thumbs up as assurance.
As the music slowly dwindles, a clacking pair of heels makes themselves known first before the voice: “Viviane! Here you are. Kallias was wondering if you’d like to - oh.”
Feyre Archeron has not entered the scene. Her beaming smile is now hesitant when she sees the human female between Viviane and Thesan.
“Hello again, Feyre. What does Kallias want now?” Viviane cuts right to the chase. Knowing her Mate, he’s probably starting to miss her.
Feyre’s eyes linger on Juno for a second longer before giving her attention to the Lady of the Winter Court. “He’s with Rhysand and Helion at the southern courtyard. They’re discussing about exchanging administrative records and he wants your input.”
Viviane sighs. She finishes her drink and gracefully gets on her feet. “Duty calls. It’s been lovely catching up with the two of you. Feyre, you and your Mate are always welcome in my Court.” And with that, she Winnows away.
“I should be going back home as well,” Thesan adds apologetically. “There’s something I must check with my Captain. Nice meeting you, Juno. Goodbye, you two, and excuse me.” He, too, leaves in a blink of an eye.
Now, it’s just two females with Tamlin as their common ground.
Without a single word, Juno begins to leave only for Feyre to immediately grab her hand. “Wait! Please. My heart wouldn’t be at ease if I didn’t talk to you for a moment. It’s about your Mate. Tamlin, I mean. I’m afraid there’s a lot of things that he hasn’t told you.”
Feyre can’t help but sound a little desperate; her eyes are imploring. She hopes that it’s not too late to save this female. Whatever reaction she was looking for turns out to be the exact opposite for the human’s lips curl up into a wide smile. There’s something not right about it.
“Oh, this is gonna be so good,” She purrs. She forcefully yanks her hand free, and Feyre is surprised that she can. “Let’s go to the balcony. Fewer people make it more fun.” The human turned around and walked off without even checking if the High Lady was following after her. Not that she needs to. Hesitation may rear its head again, but Feyre is known for her determination and courage against the unknown. The sky is cast underneath a beautiful twilight when the two females step outside. The music is completely muffled when Feyre closes the door behind her. With her back leaning against the railing, Juno allows Feyre to begin. “Well? Let’s hear it.”
Her attitude is beginning to grate on Feyre’s nerves, but she will forever be the protector of the weak and helpless, especially if they’re a human. “How did you and Tamlin meet?”
“Careful. Is that jealousy in your tone?”
Feyre’s face scrunches into a grimace. “Hardly. I was just curious. In his beast form, Tamlin would sooner rip a human’s throat out than romance them. You must excuse me for being horrified that he brought you here today. No one could have predicted this.”
“That sounds like a you problem, chief.” Juno points out. “OK, listen. Fryer - ”
“It’s Feyre.” She corrected with her eyes narrowed dangerously. What in the Mother’s name is a Fryer!?
“Whatever. I want to find Tamlin and go home already. My social battery is drained for the next few months. Why don’t you just get on with it and say what you really want to instead of pretending to be all high and mighty about it? Tamlin’s right; morality really doesn’t suit you and that rapist you call a Mate.”
Anger blooms and spreads within Feyre. Her face is flushed red with indignation as she takes a threatening step towards the utterly blasé human. “Watch your tongue. You know nothing about Rhysand or me! O-Or what we’ve been through. You barely know anything about Tamlin as it is!”
Juno’s smile remains even when the Fae breaches her personal bubble. “I know plenty, and I didn’t even need to read any of the books! Your fandom is composed of roaches; they’re everywhere. On Tumblr, TikTok, and AO3 - you get the idea. And I gotta say, you’re the most disappointing YA heroine that I’ve ever had the displeasure to know about unwillingly. That says something since your contender is Bella Swan. How are you illiterate and stupid at the same time? Girl, pick a struggle.”
Confusion is now mixed with righteous anger, and magic begins to simmer underneath Feyre’s fingertips.
“How dare you,” The High Lady whispers menacingly. “I’m trying to save you from making the most fatal mistake you could’ve done in your short life, and you spit on my goodwill? You have no idea what you’re up against, mortal. Tamlin will kill you. That’s a promise. I strongly suggest you cut ties with him before he hurt you like he did to me.”
“Nah, he can’t.” Juno flippantly waved a dismissive hand before Feyre’s face as if swatting a fly. It’s a shame she’s too distracted to realise that the human female said ‘can’t’ instead of ‘no’. “Besides, I’m built differently; very Will Smitherently.I’m not weak or helpless like you, so you don’t have to worry about me.”
Feyre is so close to snapping and just lit this female on fire. Even Eris isn’t this obnoxious! Juno snickers, knowing that the ‘illiterate’ comment manages to dig under her skin. “So be it. It’s your funeral, after all. Shall I send Tamlin flowers when he inevitably does the deed? As congratulations, of course.”
“I do love flowers,” Juno hums in agreement. “Save your money; you look like the kind of woman who spends it on Starbucks anyway. Oh! Quick question: Is Nyx around?” Here, she curiously stares at Feyre’s stomach.
The sudden mention of her son’s name was the last straw for the High Lady. “You keep my son’s name out of your dirty mouth - “
“So you gave birth to him already? I got the timeline right, at least. Shame. I wanted to introduce you to the concept of abortion.”
Again, with the confounding words!
“Feyre darling? I could feel your magic from the other side of the palace. Is everything alright here?”
Rhysand Winnows to the balcony with Helion at his side. The High Lord of the Night Court watches the two females carefully. His arms open, but before Feyre can rush into his embrace, the human female hugs his Mate’s arm and cuddles close.
“We were just having a girl talk!” Juno beams and looks up at Feyre with an innocent expression. “The High Lady was kind enough to share her experiences regarding Mates. Why, we’re practically friends now!”
For that comment, it’s Feyre’s turn to forcefully shove the human off her and quickly return to Rhysand’s side. Juno merely pouts at the rough treatment.
“Lady Juno, how are you enjoying the party?” Helion easily steps in between the couple and the human female, sensing the tension as clear as day. Hah. “Forgive me for being a poor host. I would have loved to personally attend my most esteemed and mysterious guest if I wasn’t so busy.” He teases with a seducing trill in his voice. Unfortunately, Tamlin’s Mate reacted as she did during the meeting - uninterested and unbothered despite her friendly grin.
“Guess we have to take a rain check on that. Have you seen Tamlin? It’s time for us to go home.”
“I believe he’s in the library with Tarquin. Shall I escort you to him?”
“Thanks, but I can find it on my own. Lit party, Lord Helion. See you around.”
Juno nods at him. Before she returns to the dining hall, she passes by the Night Court couple. “You can’t handle my smoke, but I’d love to see you try, Fly-Fly. The two of you think you’re based for far too long.”
And with that, only 3 High Faes are left on the balcony.
“Based? Based on what?” Helion asks no one in particular.
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Firefly- Qsmp.
Tag list: @orpheus-lament
Quackity sits six feet under in his child’s grave. Flowers decorate the dirt around their body. He yanked them up by the roots and they will never grow again. It feels fitting. Quackity wants to rip up fields and fields of flowers. It’s not fair they get to bloom while his son will never grow older.
Quackity did his best to make them look peaceful. Their favorite red blanket is tucked around their tiny body. Their dark hair is brushed back carefully, the red ribbon that used told back thick curls is knotted around Quackity’s wrist.
He reaches forwards brushes Tilin’s hair back. His hands are raw and bloody from digging into dirt, clawing out a grave but he can’t feel it. He can’t feel much of anything but a rushing emptiness, reaching up to sallow him whole and a quiet anger that digs under his skin begging him to burn and bloody and hurt until the world is a broken as he is.
His ruined hands look wrong brushing his daughter’s pale skin, salt water hitting their cheeks and sliding off their chin. Quackity leans over their body and lets himself fall.
#I wrote this in like twenty minutes#can you tell I’m a little upset?#bonus points if you know what the title is a reference to#q!quackity#qsmp#qsmpblr#qsmp tilin#lady writes
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People who live in small towns are afraid of cities for the wrong reasons. They think you have to worry about crime, but crime has been declining for years, despite media hype. What you have to worry about is megapolisomancy: about the steel and stone and life of the city coming to life as a living thing, a thing of magic and occult forces, that can be steered into a urban augury by the modern seers and sages of the skyscraper. Also there's a lot more smog
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I HAVE MY MOTHER'S FACE AND HER GRIEF
Janet Fitch // Lady Bird (2017) dir. Greta Gerwig // Chen Chen // Youadan Teddy // Ocean Vuong Someday I'll Love Ocean Vuong // Mitski Class of 2013 // 誰も知らない Nobody Knows (2004) dir. Hirokazu Kore-eda // Fatima Aamer Bilal days where my whole world is my bed. // death-born-aphrodite (tumblr) // Ocean Vuong On Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous // Hieu Minh Nguyen Buffet Etiquette
#on self#on mothers#on childhood#on growing up#poetry#poetry compilation#web weave#web weaving#poetry parallels#writing#dark academia#spilled thoughts#spilled ink#spilled poetry#poem#words#dark academia quote#dark academia poetry#janet fitch#lady bird#chen chen#youadan teddy#ocean vuong#mitski#nobody knows movie#nobody knows jmovie#nobody knows#fatima aamer bilal#hieu minh nguyen#mommy issues
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hello trans girls, transfemmes, intersex & nonbinary people, and everyone who takes estrogen HRT, remember that estrogen can make you very tired and sleepy, so as much as you feel you need and often, don't push yourself, and remember to hydrate and get some electrolytes if you take spironolactone. i love u, have a great day
#trans girls#trans girl#transfem#transfemme#transfeminine#mtf#trans lady#trans woman#trans women#nonbinary#enby#transneutral#transneu#trans#transgender#intersex#genderfluid#genderqueer#our writing
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More Anharion and Sarcean ✨🌘
#dark rise#dark heir#anharion#sarcean#my art#mutually obsessive ship ... let them be crazy unhinged insane about each other pls... 🥺#actively writing ANHARION under it i feared some ppl would think this is the lady bc he so shiney..but it's our subbiest subby sub man ok 🥹
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Over Tea
A sudden chill sweeps through Gotham, almost like Mr. Freeze had just attacked only thing was the man was currently locked away in Arkham, and was felt by all. And talked by all via word of mouth and on social media as well.
The clouds and smog that covered their dark city shifted and swirled, a rumble beginning deep inside them as the weather turned from smoggy to rain and thunder with no real warning. The strangest thing was the green glow that could be seen when thunder rumbled inside the gray clouds.
Then like a candle being blown out, the rumbling stopped, the rain ended, and the clouds parted all over Gotham.
For the first time in a while Gotham had a clear sky and it felt... it felt like something heavy had been lifted off the city.
It was this sudden shift and the all felt chill that had set off alerts for Batman and his family. Since early morning since the first change and shift happened he was in front of the Batcomputer trying to narrow down where it started.
After hours of searching with the help of Red Robin, Oracle and strangely enough Red Hood, they managed to narrow down where the odd power had been coming from.
Was still coming from, only very low.
The old and abandoned observatory tower.
-x-x-
"More ecto-tea Lady Gotham?" Danny asked, his hand waving towards the steaming pot nearby.
The woman smiled lightly, her dark painted lips curling up to show her sharp fangs for a moment before saying "No but thank you Young Kingling though I would like more cookies if you don't mind. Now where were we?"
Danny nodded towards her and signaled towards a maid skeleton ghost who walked forward with a tray of cookies. The maid swiftly placed a few more cookies on the spirit embodiment of Gotham plate before bowing and stepping away.
"We were just about to discuss the sentience of the Court of Owls." Danny said as he lightly tapped the large almost mountain of paperwork on the table they were sitting at, floating high above the floor as shooting stars and planets drifted around them. Many ghosts floated around as well, servants that had sworn their loyalty to the Young King, and were preparing things like snacks and drinks for two powerful beings in the room as they discussed business. Nearby doors and windows though were ghostly knights that stood tall and alert, making sure no interlopers interrupted the meeting taking place and ready to defend not only Lady Gotham but their King.
"Ah yes them." Lady Gotham grimaced as she took a drink of her ecto-tea. "That will take some time for us to discuss, they've been running around unchecked for to long and even with my limited abilities to hinder them has been less than ideal."
"You, Lady G, were deeply cursed for many, many years and I just broke most of it." Danny cut in quickly, he was not about to let this wonderful and powerful city spirit blame herself for something out of her hands "Due to said curse you couldn't do much so please don't go blaming yourself. Its mostly broken now, so you can freely start healing yourself and your city self now that jerk demon that cursed you is in Walker's prison for his crimes."
Lady Gotham grew silent for a moment, her dark eyes staring deeply at the young King but then warmly smiled, well as warm as she could seeing how she was Gotham itself. "You reminded me of my Knight, Young King, treating me like this. Not afraid to point out the truth and facts."
Danny gave a light laugh as he took a hold of one of the cookies on his plate and gave a bite "I'll take that as a compliment Lady Gotham. Now about those Court of Owls...."
#danny phantom#danny fenton#dp x dc#blue rambles#crossover#writing ideas#random idea#danny phantom dc#dpxdc#dcxdp#ghost king danny#Danny visited Gotham as part of his new kingly duties to discuss things#only to find the city spirit chained and cursed by a demon#he fought the demon and kicked its butt now that he's cleaning up Pariah Dark bad management#Lady Gotham been trying to save her city self for years but couldn't do much#Her Dark Knight and his bats and birds helped ease the pain#but the demon encouraged and influenced a lot of Batman's rogue's#The Joker is the one he's most proud of#Lady Gotham did her best to save her people from his influence#some listened others didn't#anyways Danny came to Gotham because he noticed a lot of papers for the city and well#again found the demon and fought him#it caused a huge shift in Gotham that couldn't be ignored#and we all know Batman wouldn't ignore it.#Honestly I just wanted Ghost King Danny and Lady Gotham discussing business and drinking tea as they float.#I like to think the Batfam do get to the Observatory and somehow sneak in even with all the guards.#what happens next I leave open for others to play with.#11 pm ideas and thoughts
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