Night Court - Blog Posts

Hello there!! So a few nights ago I was just thinking about how it's kind of ridiculous that we call Tamlin a tampon. Because a tampon is actually kind of useful, ykwim? And then I was like, but we needed Tamlin so that Feyre would go to Prythian. And then I was like, "Yeah, and you gotta throw away a used tampon cuz it gets toxic, just like Tamlin did" and idk if this was it, but that made me realize that this is it

I NEED a Downton Abbey/ Office style Tv show of the Spring Court estate before UTM/ when Rhys and Tamlin were buddies. It would be all of the servants and household staff gossiping about the two lordlings and how ✨close✨ they are

911 by ellise is the theme song of first half of court of mist and fury.

mornings with rhysand

As the morning lights filters in through the window, you begin to stir. When you open your eyes you notice the wings that are wrapped around you, as well as the dark haired man in front of you. A blush spreads across your cheeks as you think about the night you shared. Rhys notices your movements, and pulls you closer to him. You tilt your head up and place a gentle kiss on the tip of his nose, smiling to yourself. Rhysand mumbles something that sounds like, "g'morning darling." "Good morning my love," you say while giggling.

Rhysand's eyes fully open as he looks down at you, a warm smile taking over his face. "Shall we head down for breakfast?" With a flirty look on your face, you respond, "How about a bath and then breakfast?" He nods his head in agreement and then rises out of the bed. You take a moment to look at him, his wings stretching out before they come to rest against his back. He turns and reaches out to grab your hand, walking towards the bathroom with you.

Entering the bathroom, you lean down to turn on the faucet and jump as he gives you a playful smack on the rear. "Bubbles?" you say while looking back at him. "Of course," he smirks and reaches down under the sink. "We have lavender, vanilla, and a citrus blend. Which would you prefer?" You sigh and say, "Hmmm. You choose." "Lavender it is." He pours the bubble mixture into the faucet and you both watch as the tub fills with bubbles.

You are the first to step into the tub, pulling him in behind you. He sits down and spread his legs so that you can sit between them. You plop down and hand him the shampoo. "Can you wash my hair for me?" He grins, "Lazy woman." You playfully smack his arm. "It's your fault for taking such good care of me." He squeezes the bottle and rubs his hands together to lather up the shampoo before running it through your strands. His nails gently scrape along your scalp before he cups water in his hands and rinses out the shampoo. You two switch places and you wash his hair.

He opens the drain and you both step out to get dressed for the day. You wear your favorite dress, deep blue in color and silky to the touch. He selects a pair of black pants and a form-fitting shirt that accentuates his wings which are currently tucked behind him. You place a gentle kiss on his lips and you both head downstairs to spend the rest of the morning together.

authors note: this is my first time writing anything, so i'm sorry if it's too slow or if i didnt add enough dialogue. i was scared to write smut but might be open to it in the future. constructive criticism is definitely appreciated :) <3 send in requests!

i always knew that michael j fox is like really short but when i see him in the second episode of night court he looks so LITTLE. he has to physically look up to properly look at the other actors and it’s actually the funniest thing in the universe to me

you ever just see a tv show and go, “holy fuck this needs a fandom” and then look online to see that there is practically no fandom whatsoever and there’s only 169 fanfics on AO3?

like guys we NEED to give more 80s sitcoms fandoms. like night court? that show is fucking WILD and desperately needs a fanbase of queer people aged 12-30.

“He thinks he'll be remembered as the villain in the story. But I forgot to tell him that the villain is usually the person who locks up the maiden and throws away the key. He was the one who let me out.” 

~Feyre Archeron

Can't stop won't stop reading ACOTAR at work.

An Insider’s Guide to Velaris: the Winter Solstice Market, 1/?

Me @ Feyre when she gave Rhys a blowie in the tent after Hybern attacked the Summer Court:

A Waltz With Magic

AO3 | Nesta Week 2025 Masterpost |

@nestaarcheronweek

Prompt: Day One - Bonds (Nesta has forged many bonds during the series, from the Valkyries, to Elain and Feyre, to even a brotp with Azriel. What do you think of the bonds she's formed with her family and friends?)

A/N: I wanted to write a fic/drabble where she learns to get comfortable with her magic and not treat it like something horrible. I’m also a major Neris shipper, sooooo

Word Count: 1225

Nesta awoke, panting and drenched in sweat, eyes blown wide as she gasped down air into her lungs. Clawing madly at the blankets now pooled around her waist, she scrambled for something, anything, to dampen the odd, otherworldly glow emanating from her hands. 

As soon as she touched the blankets, though, they erupted into a silver fire that had her reeling back with a shout. 

A sharp pain radiated through her shoulder, and when she blinked open her eyes she realised she was on the floor. Hissing in pain and wincing as her shoulder gave another painful throb, she gingerly got up and began making her way to the bathroom in a futile attempt to calm her racing heart. 

Nothing worked, of course. Her head was aching, and her hands were shaking as she fought to regain composure.

No, no, no, she begged to her powers. Please. Not now. She clamped her eyes shut to ground herself, but the action only made her feel more untethered. The darkness had never helped soothe her, and it certainly wasn’t going to help her now. 

She’d always been more suited to fire than she had been to the night.

Something warm and wet landed on her cheek, and rage filled the already uneasy stirring of emotions in her gut. Stupid girl. Why are you crying?

It was a voice Nesta hadn’t heard in her mind for a long time. It was safe to say that she was startled, but she also couldn’t help her hackles raise at the harsh disappointment that brought back unwanted memories of tears and humiliation.

I’m sorry, Grandmamma. I promise I won’t cry again. Her own voice, only fifteen years ago, pervaded her mind. Meek, shy, and so desperate for the dame’s approval, Nesta hadn’t realised the old woman didn’t care for her until it was too late.

What have I told you about making promises? You don’t, because you never know what’s going to happen. I expected you to listen more. 

You’re going to have to do better if you want to get married someday. No decent man will want you if you keep acting like a flimsy, frivolous child.

I’m surprised your mother hasn’t deemed you a complete failure yet. Then again, I suppose she hasn’t tried to improve you the way I have. Be grateful you’re under the tutelage of someone who cares.

A child needs a good beating and they fall straight into line, that’s what I say. 

Each dialogue, delivered with that same, sharp blow dug nails so deep into Nesta’s heart it was a miracle she was breathing at all by the time her panic had abated.

Nearly all of her episodes followed a similar structure: she’d wake up, panting or yelling, her powers would spiral out of control, and she’d fight to keep them contained but to no avail. It wasn’t unusual for sleep to evade her for hours after that, so she didn’t exactly have high hopes this time around.

Indeed, the silver blaze coating her palms hadn’t subsided in the least. If anything, it had increased, seeming to glow brighter as if it was feeding off of Nesta’s self-hatred and anxiety.

“House?” Nesta managed to croak out, throat parched and raw, presumably from screaming. “Can you replace the sheets on my bed, please?”

It obliged without question, and the bed was immediately covered in fresh, perfumed linens smelling lightly of vanilla and lavender.

While some might say they were the most basic, plain scents, they were also the ones Nesta adored the most. There was beauty in simplicity, she’d realised early on, choosing to forgo any gaudy or tacky jewellery in favour of something more modest and established. It was one of the reasons she’d had so many eyes on her as a mortal girl, she knew. That regal, timeless look she managed to exude had enthralled many, far too many of whom had been predators.

Sighing, she lay down in bed and attempted to cleanse her mind of the thoughts ruminating in her head. They were like weeds, she thought to herself. The longer she let them fester, the worse she would feel.

She had to try, even if no good came of it.

✦ ✦ ✦

Nesta didn’t remember drifting off, only that she did at some point in the middle of the night. She’d woken up decidedly groggier the next morning, the dark circles under her eyes long since having taken hold of her face, but she’d also woken up with a mission. 

Venturing to the Library after training and lunch, she sat down in a quieter section where she knew neither Gwyn nor any of the other priestesses would wander. Their work tended to be on the higher levels, usually from six upwards, and Nesta was currently sitting on level four. 

Taking a quill from the inkpots that stood on every desk, and asking the House to summon a piece of parchment, she began to write.

✦ ✦ ✦

It took Nesta an embarrassingly long amount of time, countless scraps of parchment, and more groans and sighs than she cared to admit before she finished that letter. It was disproportionate, really, seeing as the letter wasn’t more than a page. But the courage she’d needed to summon to write it, and the utter shame and relief she’d felt when she had finally managed to get the words down on paper…

“House? I’d like to get this letter to Eris Vanserra, please.” Her whispered request echoed in the silent antechamber, and she cringed internally. Hopefully, no one would think her insane for talking to a sentient structure.

The letter vanished in an instant, disappearing in a cloud of puffed smoke, leaving Nesta with nothing but her swirling thoughts.

✦ ✦ ✦

Dinner had been quiet and almost….civil, considering the way her other meals with the General had gone. They hadn’t talked, but they hadn’t been hostile, either. To Nesta, that was about as pleasant as it was going to get, and she certainly wasn’t complaining.

Indeed, the stars shone brightly overhead as she made her way up to the training ring. It was peaceful, she admitted to herself, having the area all to herself as she sat cross-legged in the center of the arena. All was quiet save for the occasional rustle of the wind and the call of a distant swallow soaring overhead.

But Nesta did not notice that. She had her eyes closed, and was attempting a mind-stilling. The task was proving more difficult than she would have liked to admit.

While the activity had seemed easier when she’d begun it, it was only now she was realising how difficult it truly was. Calming her head on a good day proved to be difficult enough, but on a day when her thoughts were scattered and there was no one and nothing to ground her? She might as well be asking for a miracle.

Come on, she coaxed. Come out. I know you’re desperate to come out at night. But no matter how she tried, her magic refused to answer. 

Cajoling and pleading did not work; neither did threats. Eventually, Nesta left the ring with nothing to show for her practice save for a block of disappointment that sat deep in her gut, and another sleepless night ahead of her.

A/N: The letter Nesta sends will be revealed on Day 3! I hadn’t planned on doing this, but I’m thinking of continuing this drabble as a series where Nesta goes to Autumn to learn more about her fire and scrying powers, let me know what you think!