💲13,000,000.00 to anyone who can MATHEMATICALLY prove me wrong! FELLA with THE HELLA GOOD HAIR! 1st thing 1st, LIFE IS A GAME MEANT FOR EVERYONE TO PLAY & LOVE is THE GRAND PRIZE! So while most people will call me a HATER, I'm just THE ULTIMATE swiftie who can read Taylor Swift like a magazine! Blank Space, Love's a game wanna play, eh? @joe.alwyn is N🚫T The King of @taylorswift 's heart as stated in THE reputation volume 0NE magazine TELL ALL INTRO! U not hip to the fact that there was a picture of JOe & Taylor on a picaresque balcony in summer air from JUNE 2017? U need to re-read your rep vol 1 TELL ALL INTRO: 2017 and if you DIDN'T see A PICTURE of it, it couldn't have happened right? putatio in reputation is UNDERLINED on the ALBUM COVER:MEANING : reckoning/calculating : MEANING Taylor Swift DOESN'T make mistakes! U need to rewatch the ReadyforitMV where her 89 is in RED UNDERLINE next to the 91. She nEVEr opens that door behind her into JOE's future, rather she walks away from him in a complete opposite direction where @ :23 (🤟) seconds RED breaks them handcuffs off of her wrists. New Romantics:"THE BEST PEOPLE IN LIFE ARE FREE!" Think of it as ENCHANTED forcing laughter, faking smiles. Begin Again: first time PAST IS PAST. Dancin with our hands tied : IF I COULD DANCE WITH YOU:AGAIN! She chooses RED! They know nothing about. That reputation volume 2 magazine CAMO Jacket 84 Golden Tattoo. 84 GOLDEN TATTOO the only golden tattoo to ever make a mark "ON HER" & NOT a WALL! You are in LOVE: You understand now why we lost our minds & fought the WARS & why she spent her whole life trying to put it into words. @cia RED HORSE:WAR MTMBOF 🤟❤💙💛 #STATEOFGRACE #RED #TREACHEROUS #IKYWT #ALLTOOWELL #TENMINUTES #IALMOSTDO #WANEGBT #STAYSTAYSTAY #THELASTTIME #HOLYGROUND #SADBEAUTIFULTRAGIC #THELUCKYONE #EVERYTHINGHASCHANGED #STARLIGHT #BEGINAGAIN #THEMOMENTIKNEW #COMEBACKBEHERE #GIRLATHOME #TREACHEROUSTAYLORSVERSION #REDTAYLORSVERSION #STATEOFGRACETAYLORSVERSION #TaylorNation #taylorswift #swiftie #swifties #RENEGADE #BIGREDMACHINE #MissAmericana #BRITs @capitalofficial @brits @bigredmachineadjv @recordingacademy @universalmusicgroup @aarondessner @cia 👨🏫 (at New Wilmington, Pennsylvania) https://www.instagram.com/p/CVcGyvEARMm/?utm_medium=tumblr
summary: after a few weeks of adjusting to your new life as a vampire, your friends start to realize that you’ve been avoiding them. what other way to cover up for your sudden flaky behavior than to fake date your neighbor's friend?
summary: just after calanmai, you knew you were due for a visit with the High Lord any day now
word count: 3,447
notes: teehee love u
read on ao3 / masterlist:
Tamlin left shortly after the head in the garden was found which you promptly made sure you did not find.
With the Spring Court’s High Lord presence being called to his northern border overnight, you sat on a plan. One that would either kill you outright or give you answers you so desperately wish.
Catching the Suriel was a choice you didn’t know if you wanted to make. Tamlin had already hunted the pack of nagas as well as scared the Bogge away in recent weeks that it felt like there was a relative safety in seeking out the all-knowing creature. Maybe. Possibly.
You mostly knew what they had to say to you but you still had questions. Why and how you ended up here, how you could go home. Where the real Feyre was. There were too many other questions but those were your priorities.
This mental debate of yours weighed on you for weeks since Calanmai until Tamlin announced he was going north, to the border where there were sightings of Amaratha’s creatures. He still lied and called them the blight. You did recall faintly that this would possibly be the last chance you’d get at confronting the Suriel without notice. Away from both Tamlin’s and Lucien’s watchful gaze.
You waited approximately an hour after Tamlin left, right as Lucient went on his patrol, to grab your nicest cloak- a rich and dark green with golden thread- and left. Where Tamlin would be gone overnight, Lucien would be gone for only a few hours so time really was of the essence. Still, it may be plenty of time to do what had to be done as you'd hoped.
Since you were released from Tamlin’s glamour on your senses thanks to the Illyrian baby himself, it was much easier to find the small clearing in the birch tree part of the western woods. You debated on a snare but chose otherwise. Still, you took a trusty set of a bow with a case of arrows. Could never be too cautious, right?
Without anything more to do than idly pass time by, you sat in that clearing with the cloak in your lap and waited.
An hour passed, then two. It wasn’t until the third hour did you hear it. A soft brushing sound of cloth scraping across the woodland floor. The sound itself cleaved shivers up your spine and made the hair across your body stand on edge. You tensed at the sound and tried to collect yourself.
Your breath shuttered as you solidified your nerves. Standing to your feet, you faced the being you came to meet. “Suriel, I bring you a new cloak in exchange for some answers.”
Slowly, like death, they crept to you, eyeing you. You knew the being was frightening but gazing upon it was an entirely different game. It was haunting yet the gaze it gave you as it approached, felt genuinely surprised as well as oddly welcoming.
The robe was in your hand as you extended it forward, their boney hands took it from yours as it finally spoke. “You seek answers to very interesting questions, world traveler.”
The nickname, the words startled you. They knew. Of course they did, you chided yourself. They know everything, all. Still, it was a surprise. “Then do you know? About me?”
Your breath hitched in your throat as you asked, “How did I come here?”
The Suriel looked down at their new robe and twisted it this way and that, admiring it. For a beat you felt that you’d possibly insulted them until they asked you, “Arrive in this body you wear, or the soul from another world?”
They took a tentative step back and examined you briefly. “You have been here for many years, of this world and not. You’ve traveled through a rip in the world, however knowingly or unknowingly. You are already what those in this world would call Made yet Not-Made. Whether the Cauldron willed it to be or not.”
It didn’t make sense but you listened, stored this piece of a riddle in the pocket of your mind. Stumbling, you asked something that pained you to think about. “Is- is Feyre, the real Feyre, still with me?”
“You are the real Feyre whether you want to be or not,” they snapped.
Cringing at that answer, you pushed on. “Can the original Feyre,” you changed the wording, “take her body back?”
They paused, as if seeking the answer themself. “I do not have an answer for you.”
“What do you know of arrivals like mine? Has this happened before,” you asked desperately.
“A world traveling soul has never occupied a body in these lands, no. But other things, other creatures have arrived here, none quite like you, not with a story like yours. There are tears that open up between this world and others, open for various periods of time. Others have managed to come and go before they’ve shut but others remain trapped here. You, I believe, are neither. Your soul was possibly called here. Like calls to like, after all.”
The way the Suriel emphasized creatures made you think of one person and one person only. Amren. She was of another world, a world you believed was yours and she, herself, was possibly one of the most terrifying beings of your home world. Remembering that sent more shivers down your spine. “Yes,” they continued as if reading your thoughts, “The little ancient one would shoulder your burden, your truths, with you when the time comes. Trust that one and confide in them, they will not betray you.”
Swallowing that fact was welcomed. At the very least you felt like you had an ally in all this mess, even if they did not know it themselves. “Do you think I am meant to do something specific and will be free to go?”
“I do believe that is the first someone has ever asked what I thought, not what I know.” The Suriel paused, reveling in the choice. “No. I do not think so.”
Feeling a little more defeated than you’d hoped, you asked another burning question. “Is there any way I can return home then, on my own? No agenda, no war, no Cauldron?”
“That is something that even I cannot see, child.” Their voice softened at their answer, knowing that those words were likely to pain you more than anything else spoken. Nodding your head, accepting this burst of defeat. The Suriel continued. “You are Made both of this world and the one you hail from. Your entire appearance in this world is shrouded in the same mystery as your arrival here but, you were given the gift of your memories, were you not? You and I both have an access to knowledge that will change the tides of Prthyian, of the war to come.”
“Will there be dire consequences for my choices or am I doing the right thing,” you asked warily. Already unsure if you could shoulder the burden of any deaths that come your way because of decisions you make. Especially the deaths of the Inner Circle. Of people you already love without ever seeing.
“Trust your instincts and you will leave this world better than you found it.” The echo of the dying promise made your eyes water, recalling the circumstances. “I will take my leave now, child,” they said softly, “but not without a final gift of truth for you.”
The Suriel looked down at you, unmoving and unblinking as it spoke its final truth for you. “Stay with the High Lord. Stay with him and you will be safe, cherished, and loved. Your kindness and cunning will rattle the stars but everything will go as it should in this new world you’ve created. Stay with the High Lord, child.”
“I promise,” you swore, knowing exactly which High Lord the Suriel spoke of, more tears flooding your eyes, “I promise.”
What was supposed to be a malevolent faerie turned and walked away from you leaving you unscathed but stopped a few feet away and said without looking back at you, “You are kind for choosing not to ensnare me. I will not forget that anytime soon, if you ever need my council, just whisper on the winds and you will find me. We will see each other again.”
In a rush of sudden wind, the creature disappeared without a trace along with their new cloak. Tearfully, you began to make your way back to the estate and weighed the new information in your head.
It nearly felt like you left this encounter with more questions than answers but you did feel lighter. Knowing that not only were you on the right path but that you also established a relationship with the embodiment of truth by your choices. Choices that, after all these years, you felt more sure of.
When you arrived back at the estate, Lucien had preemptively returned.
You cursed at yourself when he spotted you and went straight to you. “Where have you been? I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” he seethed.
Innocently you gestured to the weapon across your back. “I was hunting.” Again, not an outright lie. The Fox himself didn’t believe your excuse for a moment but shook his head in disapproval. “What is it, Lucien?”
“Tomorrow is Summer Solstice,” he said.
“Is that supposed to mean something to me?”
Lucien threw you a look, recalling the echo of what you had said to him on Fire Night. “The least you can do is be a little more polite to me.”
You smiled at him and rolled your eyes, “I’m nicer to you than to Tamlin- don’t forget. He’s the one who stole me.”
Guilt flashed behind his eyes as he took in your words, even his shoulders sagged. “Just give him a chance, Feyre. He’s trying his best and doesn’t want you to feel like a prisoner here. This house is your home too.”
“I know,” you said, knowing that the sole reason why he is even trying to convince you is to not damn the entirety of the Spring Court to Amarantha. “A few months isn’t going to erase the anger and sadness I feel, Lucien. No matter how many bobbles or nice clothes he gives me. My love isn’t something that can be bought.”
“Do you then? Love him, I mean,” he asks nervously.
“No, not like that,” you say honestly. “I have a love for you, for Tamlin, for every person I’ve met in this Court but it’s not romantic, just a simple joy for being around you.”
Frustrated now, Lucien says, “If you come to the festival, don’t give him false hope. It would hurt this Court more than you could imagine.”
His words settled in your stomach wrongly so you nodded and made your way back to your bedroom to change your clothes and to formulate a plan.
Entering the room you called a studio on the first floor of the manor, you sat down at an easel with a blank canvas laid upon it. You picked up painting early on when you arrived in this world, as a way to honor Feyre. It was her solace and over time, became yours as well. Since you had been shown this room by Alis so long ago, your skills improved greatly but the art you were supplying was lifeless.
The paintings you’ve created were flashes of scenery. There was nothing personal in them, nothing emotional. Just plain landscapes that you had seen over the years and could recall. It was going to be nothing like what you were going to paint today.
You were going to paint the Summer Solstice holiday away, you had decided quite some time ago. In fact, you were going to create something that would further plant seeds of doubt between any relationship between you and Tamlin. This painting would hopefully shatter any and all illusion that you were his property.
The paints you decided to use were spread wide across an array of hues to the point where you genuinely got excited for the actual outcome of painting itself and not the discourse that it will invoke.
Working all day and well into the night, you finally set the brush down. Satisfied with what the final product was, you let it dry until the morning which wasn’t too far off. Your blood buzzed with excitement for what was to come, for who was to come.
Although you had been consumed with your project, you did notice that the front door hadn’t opened until nearly dawn. Tamlin, it seemed, found somebody else to show those will-o’-the-wisps and enjoyed himself. Good.
Tip-toeing around the manor shortly after the High Lord set off to bed, you grabbed a white sheet and took the canvas down to the dining room where you were to have your usual lunch with Tamlin and Lucien. Placing it down not too far from where you’d sit in a couple hours and covering it with the sheet, you made sure to inform a passing worker to make sure to tell everybody to leave it, it was a surprise.
Practically bouncing up the stairs, you changed into one of your more flattering outfits. One you hardly wore because you did not want to give anybody the wrong impression that you were trying to dazzle anybody in particular.
At least, not anybody who lived in the Spring Court.
Lucien and Tamlin were already eating by the time you joined them at the much shorter dining table. You gave them a genuine smile, one you couldn’t even bring yourself to cover or hide. Tamlin was the one who noticed first. “Seems like somebody is very happy today.”
“I am, very much so,” you said honestly.
“You look like a fox in a chicken coop.” Lucien threw a narrow glance your way, no doubt still upset with you for yesterday’s conversation.
A small chuckle left you. “I finished a painting this morning. It’s the first one I’ve done that feels real, feels like an extension of me.”
Both the men raised their brows in mild surprise. “That it,,” Tamlin asked as he pointed to the covered painting in question. You nodded happily. “Show us then.”
“After we eat, I’m far too nervous to share it before I’ve eaten.”
They both accepted your wave of dismissal until the only fox at the table took control of the conversation. “I just received word from my Winter Court contact. The blight took out two dozen of their children.”
The food you had already consumed immediately grew rotten in your belly. “What-,” disbelief coated your voice. You’d forgotten about this attack, you’d forgotten about how it would affect the Winter Court from joining Rhysand in the fight against Hybern. You’d forgotten because you were too caught up in the other pieces of the game. Shame immediately soured the rest of this meal for you.
Lucien looked to you then back to Tamlin and said grimly, “They’re being hit hard, just as the other Courts, all but Night who has remained free from this.”
It was Tamlin who consoled you, surprisingly. “This blight,” he said sadly, “it has been ruining us longer than I want to admit and we have collectively become too weak to fight it. You, Feyre, shouldn’t-.”
He stopped and stood abruptly, throwing one command at Lucien. “Hide Feyre behind me by the window.”
Rising slowly, you watched as Tamlin’s claws and sharpened canines appeared.
Rhysand was here.
Magic filled the air in the dining hall. You wanted to look between Lucien and Tamlin but instead, you focused on the door. Listened closely as Rhysand’s footsteps echoed in the manor, how he strolled leisurely as if he didn’t give a damn.
Both Tamlin and Lucien quickly adjusted themselves to appear as unbothered as they actually were in Rhysand’s presence but it was there if you’d look close enough. How tightly wound Tamlin’s shoulders were as he cleaned his nails and how white-knuckled Lucien was while feigning to gaze out the window.
Stopping just a handful of yards away, Rhysand appeared. So close yet so terribly far.
Tamlin, being a jackass, sniped at him. “What do you want?”
The conversation dragged into something more or less the same as before but you knew, you knew the moment Rhysand took in the extra table setting and then the painting that the charade was over.
“You dare glamour me?”
Rhysand shattered whatever illusion Tamlin had casted and stared at you in disbelief. Lucien backed into you harder, practically squishing the air out of your lungs as you let out a small whimper to be released.
The man stalked closer to where you were pinned and the men had a spat about you which you promptly ignored. It wasn’t until Rhysand flung Lucien halfway across the room did you snap out of whatever you got lulled into. You saw that Rhysand was still talking to Tamlin, to Lucien, about you and noticed that the High Lord of the Night Court had taken your mind in his hand.
“Human minds are so easy to shatter, like eggshells, but you? Yours is almost completely fortified,” he drawled, “so incredibly interesting.”
You felt him then, felt his talons gently scratch at your shield. If you could, you’d have sighed a breath of relief, that all those years of practicing have paid off. Apparently it didn’t matter if you were human or High Fae, practice was practice. You looked at Tamlin who was torn between outright panic and rage as he asked Rhysand to stop.
The Illyrian baby didn’t.
You knew that you had prepared an antechamber in your mind for moments like this, where you would shout and throw things for the potential of sending them to Rhysand once you were able. It was only appropriate to fill that space with thoughts you wanted him to see, wouldn’t mind for him to exploit.
“She has very interesting thoughts about you, Tamlin,” he cooed, now seeing that you viewed Tamlin as childish and easily angered, something you did genuinely fear. “She fears your anger, your rage, and she definitely wouldn’t have been the one to help you. She’s stubborn and cunning, too deceitful for a role like that in our world.”
Then with him still lurking within the antechamber, you flashed an image of the finished painting. Rhysand momentarily stopped his gloating and looked at you then back at the covered canvas. He stormed to it then removed the sheet where he was face to face with something he never expected you to know of.
Before him was an illustration of mountains adorned with three fascinating little stars. Rhysand would recognize it immediately, far sooner than Lucien and Tamlin with the way you made the mountains much more realistic with trees and clouds. But it was obvious, it was clear as to what it was.
Urgently talking back to you, no longer caring to keep his strides casual, he pressed his hand on the side of your head and asked, “How do you know of that place?”
Rhysand released your mind to allow you to answer, “I dreamt of it. I see it in my dreams, I don’t know where it is, I swear.”
“Let her go, please,” Tamlin said, “I beg you.”
It seemed that was all it took for Rhysand to reel himself back in. The mask he adorned for the past five-hundred years slipped right back into place as he let his hand fall away from your skin. “Begging is unbecoming of a High Lord but yes, beg. Both of you.”
Together you watched as Tamlin and Lucien fell to their knees.
“Lower,” Rhysand commanded.
“Please don’t tell Amarantha about her,” Tamlin pleaded as his forehead kissed the ground. “She has nothing to do with any of that, she isn’t involved.”
“Clearly,” your High Lord snorted. He then turned to you, “What is your name, sweet one?”
Instead of giving him the name of somebody who had the very potential to be killed, you spoke a name. Your name. Your real name. Not Feyre Archeron, no. But the one that was yours, one that you hadn’t heard spoken in ten years.
“We shall see if I do end up telling Amarantha about this one,” he looked back to you, “But until then, enjoy your freedoms while you can. I’ll be seeing you Under the Mountains.”
Rhysand’s gaze fell back to the artwork of Ramiel and lingered for a moment until he winnowed away, leaving the three of you shaken in different ways.
Sunshine found himself feeling more and more uneasy as the night went on, but he said nothing about it so as to not ruin Pandora and Sol's very first Halloween with their family. Ivory seemed to notice how their owner was feeling and stayed close to comfort the hedgehog by resting on his shoulder and nuzzling their cheek against his.
"Okay kids, time to head home!" He calls out to the children, a hand resting on his aching back as the little hedgehog and rabbit run back to their parents. The clouds begin to clear and the moon emerges from behind them, causing Sunshine to freeze up and his body to start trembling as the moon shines down on them all.
"Daddy? Are you okay?" Sol asks anxiously, looking up at the taller hedgehog.
#zealous sunbringer | sol |--; #stoic moonchaser | luna |--; #sunbeams and starlight | lunasol |--; #hellguarded #this was such an involved ask but i loved it #cause it gave me the chance to think about n explore their origins #and feelings on their culture #uwu