#but we love him here still lmao
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
trashyreptilian · 2 years ago
Note
Who the oldest and youngest out of Xanthan,Raphael, and Michael?
Oh, of the three you mentioned, Xanthan is definitely the youngest. He's been around since 1942. While that might seem like a long time to some of ya'll. I promise you it really isn't.
I imagine the archangels would be all created at the same time, so Michael and Raphael are around the same age. But mind you, they've been around for a like what? A few thousand years, since before alternates were even a thing. So yeah, Xanthan can still be considered young for an angel.
22 notes · View notes
bacchuschucklefuck · 4 months ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
this has been a roller coaster of a design journey but finally I can present you: class swap artificer!adaine and rogue!fabian
#dimension 20#fantasy high#fhfy#fhsy#fhjy#fabian seacaster#adaine abernant#fh class quangle#goodbye... goodbye hoodie kid adaine..... we have mecha pilot/power armor adaine instead#I couldnt really land how she'd get a hoodie reliably in freshman year given the abernants pattern of confiscating shit from her#so I kinda switched gear and dug a bit into a like sukeban aesthetics instead. and since shes with the AV club I like the idea of#like a radio coord thing for her. hence the suspenders#I fully admit the sukeban thing is influenced by the hacker woman in ghostwire tokyo who I have a small crush on#she's SO cool. too bad about a number of things with that game#the jacket of useful things is a racer jacket this time bc Im predictable like that#her ensemble in junior year is her tank top + overall it might not be clear enough in the pic...#just had the thought ''man I should do turnarounds for all of them'' and immediately had to slap myself out of it#anyways uh! fabian I have inflicted with my favourite thing to do to characters who like to stealth or fly under the radar#which is Bright Extremely Noticeable Jacket That Hides Your Hands#fabian's ghost motif has led me to the famous horror movie trope of silhouette with iconic jacket from afar#(see Sinister and Alice Sweet Alice)#and I love to imagine him hanging the coat up somewhere and opponents aiming there instead of at him#but also the raincoat is specifically modeled after the yellow fisherman's raincoat#and. that led to. me thinking abt fabian pulling riz up at that cliff with a net instead of the battle sheet lmao#so his junior year design is fully Fishing. which is so fucking funny it has obliterated all other possibilities from my brain#ranger flavour: captain ahab#I still debate making him carry around an actual fishing rod tbh. right now Im giving him a rifle grappling hook thing#gods. I just think High School Classmate Suddenly Gets Way Too Into Fishing is the funniest fucking thing that can happen#thank you fabian. thank you for giving me this. love you buddy#still blanking on kristen but! throughout this whole storm here I've realised I just need to fuck around
353 notes · View notes
mildarka · 2 months ago
Text
Tumblr media
dug up some old Nightmare art from 2 years ago
64 notes · View notes
harrowscore · 7 months ago
Text
can't believe a show based on a videogame (usually games adaptations are notoriously bad, which isn't the case here tho) gave me the beauty and the beast/twisted mirrors/enemies to traveling companions/ruthless antihero+optmistic but still badass heroine who takes none of his shit/age gap but make it sexy dynamic of my dreams. as much as i love maximus and i think he deserves the best writing ever because 1. he's a clever deconstruction of the aspiring Knight bro who's actually a bit of a loser and, as much as lucy, sees the world in black&white at first and then doesn't get what he thought he wanted but what he needs (or at least i hope he'll eventually get it), and 2. he's a cutie and i want an epic love story for him too, it's very funny how they tried to give us a puppy kind of romance and the tumblr girlies still fixated on the "toxic ~she bites his finger off and he cuts hers off and sews it on his hand in what we'll pretend it's a symbolic marriage rings exchange or whatever~ asshole who used to be a nice guy/good girl™ with a lot of spunk and hidden anger but unshakeable morals" kind of relationship.
141 notes · View notes
catocappuccino · 22 days ago
Text
1-BOO altered my brain
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
26 notes · View notes
qiu-yan · 5 months ago
Text
#mdzs#lan wangji#jiang yanli#wei wuxian#jiang cheng#i ask bc i think the subject just never comes up in mdzs. we know how lan wangji feels about jiang cheng (he's a hater) but not yanli#which is a bit strange given how important she was to wei wuxian#uhh given that im the poll runner im not sure if i should share my own opinions. but#imo you can argue for any of these#yanli was made to be the perfect fridged woman so it feels like sacrilege for anyone to dislike her. she's too nice#and given that she's kind of similar in temperament to lan xichen i can see lan wangji thinking highly of her#especially after she sticks up for wei wuxian at the phoenix mountain hunt (it always comes back to wei wuxian)#but i can also see lan wangji focusing on the fact that she married into the sect that ultimately destroyed wei wuxian#he's not exactly reasonable when wei ying is involved. so i can see him arguing that she should have used her position#as wife of the jin sect heir to do more for wei wuxian. or that she should have convinced jiang cheng not to expel wei wuxian#when she was still living at lotus pier. or something like that#this is not reasonable and lan wangji does not have all the facts. but he isnt a reasonable person lmao#grudge holder 100. blame slinger 1000.#there is also the fact that wei wuxian super killed yanli's husband#so in a yanli lives au would lan wangji expect yanli to just get over this? so wei wuxian can be happy?#honestly i dont know#at any rate. in canon lan wangji doesnt seem to think very highly of jin ling. who is yanli's son#which seems to imply to me that he and yanli did not have any sort of friendship or acquaintanceship#so imo the most realistic option out of all the options here#is that lan wangji thinks of yanli as just wei wuxian's dead loved one. and not really her own person#in the end it all comes back to wei wuxian lol#yanyan polls#yanyan speaks#adding second tag bc i talked too much in the tags
29 notes · View notes
jeanmoreaue · 6 months ago
Note
I agree!! *an incoherent rant incoming* Jean imo def moved on from Kevin (in a romantic way; i think he’s not moved on from the whole ‘Kevin left me’ thing ofc but I think he obviously knows and accepts that he and Kevin won’t ever happen lol). And that scene with Renee was obviously a closure/farewell and they’ve moved on to being friends now (also imo while i like their dynamic i feel like they’d never work bc of the whole victim saviour complex, that’d be really uncomfortable and hard to overcome). Jeremy seems like he’s able to handle Jean’s crazy baggage without placating him too much or pushing him too hard. He definitely needs to work on his own shit first (i feel like the way he went all in on helping Jean is kind of giving ‘I am avoiding my problems by getting too involved in others’ problems’) but I think Jean will be the perfect person to help him with that! As you said he’s super perceptive and honestly very empathetic even if he doesn’t show it in the most obvious way. Jeremy would probably really appreciate Jean’s brutally honest approach lol. They’re lowkey perfect for each other ☹️ TSC2 can’t come soon enough
hardcore agree on every single point you made!! i feel exactly the same about Jean and Renee, as much as their dynamic is sweet, i think it would be really difficult to overcome Jean feeling indebted to her (whereas Jean and Jeremy are both growing together) + ya i think Jean has very complicated feelings toward Kevin but i don’t think he’s actively yearning over Kevin anymore
and exactlyy i definitely imagine Jean quietly picking up on whatever Jeremy’s going through and expressing concern only for Jeremy to try and pull a “my problems aren’t that bad and therefore don’t matter” which i don’t see Jean accepting. especially since Jean has an ‘older brother who cares more about other people’s well-being more than his own well-being’ vibe (underneath his slightly prickly attitude lol) i think Jeremy and Jean are really good for each other, Kevin subconsciously knew what he was doing by having Jean transfer to USC 🤨
39 notes · View notes
olivewormz · 7 months ago
Text
Tumblr media
ELLO!!!! GUESS WHO REDID HIS METAL SLUG DESIGNS!!!! i guess you could call it that uuhm
but YEA!! i've been thinking a lot about metal slug lately and i just... couldnt resist redrawing my versions, hopefully i do more in the future for more characters n all, i really want to post more metal slug stuff, i love LOVE these silly guys
im not writing anything at the moment cause i really didnt change my headcanons and im kind of tired to write proper paragraphs (i should stop staying up until 3 am to finish drawings? maybe).
50 notes · View notes
lieutenantselnia · 8 months ago
Text
Tumblr media
I was looking through my 2D Doof image folder and randomly came across this picture I didn't remember I had saved, please he looks so adorable😭💕
30 notes · View notes
benilos · 2 months ago
Text
Glad to see my love for ravio is doing numbers, i hope yall know i have most of hyrule warriors memorized solely because of that boy. Thank our friend Jess for that cuz they gave us a HWDE cart like 4 years ago and weve been extra insufferable since
11 notes · View notes
hauntingblue · 7 months ago
Text
Stampede aka another episode of luffy turning haters into dick riders just with his kind and big heart
#i might understand all the robin law fanfare... its been 26 minutes of stampede......#frobin reigns supreme imo still.....#VICEADMIRAL MOMONGA TOCAME LA PORONGA??? HELLO#THE LOG POSE TO LAUGH TALE???? and hancock arrived ❤️❤️#usopp saving luffh omg.....#blonde buggy..... why are we doing this to out beautiful women...#fujitora is on his own frequency... here you go a meteorite.. whatever happens to all of you and our troops happens goodbye#mihawk intervened bc zoro couldn't do it omg.... nami keep watch he is going to end it all tonight jesus#also persona following mihaw for a second movie ajdjaks.... i love them together honestly#brosalino is the kuma guy's uncle????? nepotism......#calling this guy the heir of the demon.... taking blame off ace akdjsksn.... you know whats funny in movies garp is very like thoughtful and#comprehensive of others peoples issues and then you get to how he raised luffy and like.... wouldn't that have been good there....#and with ace too lmao.... i mean he didnt have abandonment issues but just wait and see to a 10yo asking if he is worthy of living idk...#i get the meaning of it and what he meant but we all know ace didnt get that at the time until luffy got there#usopp.... see how when oda writes the movies it feels different.... first steong world with namo and now stampede with usopp...#the relationship moments really hit.. i was gonna comment about zoro and the cursed sword but that was just focusing on him#well this one wasnt written by oda but supervised i will take it....#hina taking the kids aldjakskal...... smoker and hina best straight ship behind frobin imo..... baby 5 x sai number 3 spot#sabo....... actually thank you bc smoker thinks he can take anybody#hancock and buggy AJSJAKAKLQQ omg usopp dont cry....... luffy will KILL that guy for making usopp feel like that lmao YEAAAH!!!!!#law smoker sabo the luffy lover squad..... each in their own way lmao#hancock its been so long how are you <3 omg law what are you doing here <3 my brother sabo hello.#crocodile made the plan of course.... luffy lover member too#usopps bullets omg....#sanji and zoro against lucci omg..... YEAAAHHHH#wait a second straw hat crew costume by uniqlo design team??? THE DRIP!!!#luffy seeing ace beside luffy with the fire goodbye.... he is EVERYWHERE#talking tag#watching one piece#watching one piece movies
35 notes · View notes
seleneprince · 9 days ago
Text
A Court of Shadows and Blood Chapter 3
Tumblr media
The hallways are carved out of pale stone, lined on either side by torches. No shadowy spots to hide. It's a wide open space, but she barely has the chance to appreciate the details. The eery silence that reigns in there is only interupted by the echo of her hurried steps as she runs.
She doesn’t know where she’s going. Every hallway looks the same. She’s taken several turns already, but can’t, for the life of her, figure out where she is.
But there’s no other option. She has to keep running and hope she finds a way out—or else stay locked up until the monster tires of her and ends her life. Especially now that she’s given him very good reasons to do so.
Nothing has gone as it should since she left for the Wall. Nesta thought that embarking on a life-threatening journey to rescue Feyre was the craziest thing she’d ever do.
Until she was captured by a Fae made of deadly shadows and locked in his opulent room. Until she tried to strangle that same Fae with her bare hands. Until she chained him to his own bed with the very metal that had once been locked around her ankle.
Nesta isn’t naïve enough to believe it will hold him down forever. He’s an ancient being, filled with power. She doesn’t know how, but she can feel it—perhaps the same way she can see through spells.
'Have you ever witnessed something really strange that you had no explanation for, but no one else noticed? Things that just didn't make sense in your mind?'
He obviously knows the reason. It unsettles her deeply that he’s aware of some hidden part of herself, something she doesn’t even fully understand. For someone to know you like that is dangerous. She learnt that the hard way, long ago.
She skids around a corner, nearly slipping as she pushes forward, her pulse drumming louder than her footsteps. The torches flicker as she passes, shadows trailing her like phantoms.
She thinks of Feyre, her sister’s face flashing in her mind, and she clenches her fists, gritting her teeth. Nesta will get out of this wretched place and find her, somehow. She will drag her back home, away from these monsters and this godforsaken land.
That thought pushes her fear down and drives her forward. The iron poker burns her hands as she grips it harder—it’s the only weapon she could find in that room. She’s been planning her escape ever since those hellish shadowy creatures spawned in the room and dragged her from the bed.
She had no way of knowing what time it was, only that she’d been sleeping shortly before they arrived. She’d dreamed of Feyre, of Elain, and for a moment, all was well. Then the dream twisted into a nightmare of black claws pinning her to the bed by her throat, choking her slowly as they dug into her skin. A pair of violet eyes stared at her with cruel amusement while blood trickled down her neck. She tried to move, but her body wouldn’t respond. It was all pain, darkness, pure agony.
She woke up drenched in sweat, gasping for air. Her eyes took in the room, fixing on the orange flames crackling in the fireplace. She buried her face in her hands and, for the first time since she’d left, she sobbed.
She had already stopped by the time those Fae materialized in front of her, her eyes still red and puffy. They were made of shadows and floated around the room, their features barely discernable, save for their loose, flowing cobweb gowns. They didn't say a word even when they reached for her. She tried to fight them off, get their cold inhuman hands off her, but to no avail. The grip around her forearms remained firm.
She knew exactly who had sent them. Shadows were obviously his domain. One of them crouched down, tugged at the chain a couple of times, and unlocked it, freeing her ankle from its weight. The relief was short-lived, though, as they dragged her across the room and into a nondescript chamber, where they stripped her bare and bathed her roughly.
The sensation of hands tearing away her clothes and touching her skin stirred panic and fury, making her lash out in an attempt to push them off. But it was useless. The two shadows forced her to stay still in the tub as they scrubbed her. Then they wrapped her in a thin robe and, to her confusion, began to paint her face and brush her hair.
Their brushes were cold and tickling, their shadowy grips firm whenever she squirmed. They didn’t speak, offering no explanation for their actions—though Nesta had no doubt it was yet another sick game of that bastard.
When they were finished, she hardly recognized her reflection. She looked regal, reminiscent of the noble girl she’d once been. Her face was artfully decorated with cosmetics that subtly enhanced her features, just enough to suit a lady’s propriety.
The shadows didn’t stop there, of course. They seized her again, wrapping her in a dress. It was tight around her torso and flowed loosely toward the ground, cascading over her legs like a sea of stars. The design was unlike anything she’d ever worn—or would have if she had a choice.
"What’s this? Why are you…?" But before she could finish, they dragged her back to the bed, locked the chain around her ankle once more, and vanished as soon as they did so.
She was alone again, processing what had just happened. In their absence, she could feel the nightmare flooding back—the suffocation, the pain, the raw terror as she was killed, again and again. Those violet eyes full of evil.
Nesta decided she couldn’t stay there any longer, trapped as a plaything for these faeries, awaiting her inevitable demise at their hands. She would not let that nightmare become her reality.
Hit with a surge of determination and desperation, Nesta grabbed the metal chain with both hands and began pulling at it repeatedly. Her hands ached, her ankle throbbed, but she didn’t stop. She ignored everything but the relentless clink of the metal as she tried to tear it free, focusing on the sound it made when she tugged at certain angles.
Finally, the cold air hit the raw skin of her ankle, and the chain fell to the ground. She almost sobbed again.
But she wasn’t done. Carefully, she set one foot on the floor, testing her strength. Her eyes shifted to the poker by the fireplace, lying close enough to the flames to sear anyone’s skin if touched on the wrong side. Faeries have skin, too, after all. And it's not so much different from human's, if her experience with her hands around someone's throat were anything to go by.
She began to formulate her plan right there. It was very risky, downright suicidal, but at that point she was ready to try anything for her freedom. So she returned to the bed, hid the chain under the skirt and waited for him.
She still can't believe it worked.
Another turn. Her lungs burn, and the air feels thicker, heavier, with each step. She’s in a maze meant to ensnare her, to lead her back to where she started, drive her to insanity. Her thoughts race, searching for any sense of direction, any logic in this place.
But nothing about it makes sense. Seems to be the rule of the faerie world.
She rounds another corner and stops dead. Ahead, two guards are stationed at the end of the hall, clad in dark armor that reflects none of the torchlight. They haven't seen her yet, too engrossed in their conversation.
Nesta takes a step back and presses her back against the wall beneath it, concealing her body with the shadows. Sucking in deep breaths behind her mouth, she glances back down the corridor. They're still there, seemingly unaware of her presence.
She wonders how it works. Don't faeries smell humans from miles away? That's the only explanation on how her captor found her the way he did. And she knows by what he said that he could, in fact, smell her like a piece of meat. But these guards haven't so much as glanced in her direction. ¿Maybe not all faeries can sense humans?
She tries to make out pieces of what they're talking about. Their voices are the only sound in the hallway, so it's easy for her to listen. Perhap she can hear something useful, a hint to leave this place.
"...to leave. He's...bad mood."
"...prick. Almost worse...other."
"Waiting...company."
They chuckle. A sound so unnerving it makes her skin crawl.
"Vanserra...most dangerous."
Vanserra. A name. It means nothing to her, but they way they say it carries a certain air of authority. Whoever it is, it's someone they have to obey.
Her mind is running through multiple possibilities, strategies to proceed. She has to act now. Every minute she spends here without moving is more time for that monster to find her. She's not that foolish to think the iron poker in her hand will stop him.
Suddenly, the guards begin to move towards her and Nesta's blood runs cold. She turns, sprinting down another passageway, uncaring that they surely heard her now.
She’s running blind again, every hallway an endless stretch of pale stone and torchlight. Her mind flits back to the Fae chained in his bed, his rage as he realized what she’d done. She’s not sure if she’s more terrified of his revenge or the despair of knowing she might never escape this place. That it was all for nothing.
The hall narrows, and ahead, she catches a dim glimmer. She sprints toward it, pressing her hands against the wall. There's a slight fissure in the rock, opening onto a crudely carved, dark subterranean passageway. It's large enough for one person to squeeze through—so jagged and rough that it's obviously not used often.
It’s deathly silent, with a faint, warm breeze whistling through. The sound of footsteps and angry shouts approaching spurs her into action; she squeezes herself into a narrow opening, holding her breath to fit. She remains perfectly still as the guards pass her hiding spot. When their footsteps fade, she moves on. The iron rod scrapes against the stone, and she almost feels sorry for the high-quality fabric of the dress getting ruined. Almost.
The passageway narrows, forcing her to suck in her stomach to keep moving. The smell of burning wood reaches her nose, and distant sounds—voices—grow clearer. Light seeps through cracks in the stone, giving her glimpses of the other side.
Bedrooms. This passageway connects to other fae’s bedrooms. She wants to scream.
Nesta closes her eyes for a moment, steeling herself. She can’t fall apart now. She's already here. Turning back is not an option anymore. And she has to find Feyre.
She keeps moving. The voices fade, and her body bumps into a solid wall. The smell of burning wood is stronger now, drifting from just beyond it.
She presses her hands against the wall, pushing with all her strength until it slides aside. A hidden door, then. As soon as she steps out, it closes behind her.
Before her it's a magnificent bedroom, entirely different from the one she was locked in, yet equally beautiful.
The color scheme is rich in golds and reds, with warm orange hues. Another king-sized bed stands at the center, adorned with exquisite bed linens embroidered in flame-like patterns. The posts are made of real gold, and the fire blazing in the enormous hearth beside it casts an ethereal glow across the room. A large, intricately carved wardrobe stands nearby, its surface adorned with thorny patterns. A small desk is cluttered with scattered papers and books, yet looks as expensive as everything else.
If Nesta were asked to describe it, she’d say this room is made of fire and fury. It radiates a palpable power, as though the very walls are steeped in the essence of whoever resides here. The heat from the fire makes her skin prickle, and a strange, welcome warmth settles over her, seeping into her bones.
She walks around slowly, eyes scanning for exits. She notes a large set of double doors to her right—likely the main entrance—and a smaller, inconspicuous door to the left. Her heartbeat quickens, calculating the odds.
But then she hears faint footsteps, muffled but approaching. Her gaze darts to the wardrobe, and without another thought, she darts toward it, slipping inside just as the door swings open. She presses herself against the back of the wardrobe, the scent of polished wood and faintly spiced cologne surrounding her. Through the crack between the doors, she watches.
A figure steps inside, tall and imposing, dressed in an elegant jacket of scarlet and gold. His movements are fluid, controlled. His gaze sweeps over the room, his expression sharp and focused, as if he senses something amiss.
Nesta holds her breath, willing herself invisible. She grips the iron poker with both hands, ready to pounce.
The Fae moves to the bed, then over to the fireplace, seemingly lost in thought. His fingers trail along the desk, tracing patterns on the scattered papers. And then, he turns on his back and leaves. The sound of doors closing resonate in the room.
Nesta waits until she's sure he's gone. She steps out of the wardrobe carefully, glancing in both directions. Her heart pounds so hard she can feel it in her throat.
Standing in the middle of the room, she watches the flames flicker. Their light reflects off her dress, casting an orange glow that transforms the fabric into the hues of a sunset rather than a night sky. She likes it better.
Suddenly, the flames sink in size and she barely has time to react before she feels a strong hand grabbing her by the arm, grip iron-clad.
"Well, well" a voice low and silk-smooth drawls in her ear, breath hot against her skin. "What do we have here? A little bird who..."
Nesta doesn't even think it.
She whips around and swings the poker, the sharp, burning end aimed blindly at him.
The iron rod connects, glancing off his arm before he jerks back with a low, furious hiss. She stumbles, nearly losing her grip on the poker, but she doesn’t let go. Instead, she takes a shaky step back, holding it between them like a weapon. Her pulse pounds like thunder, her gaze locked on the Fae.
The flames leap higher in the fireplace as he steadies himself, one hand cradling his injured arm. His face twists, not in pain but in something sharper, colder—a kind of restrained fury that makes her blood run cold.
"Quite the little fighter, aren’t you?" he says, his voice low and dripping with dark amusement, though his eyes burn with ire. "I assume you're not the female I was expecting tonight."
He speaks in a unfamiliar accent, different from the other Fae man she knows. His voice is rich and deep in a way that would be attractive in an human man, but coming from someone like him, Nesta refuses to feel anything.
Just by looking at him she knows he’s of the same status—or close—to her captor. He’s taller than any man she’s ever met, with dark red hair perfectly cut over his nape and amber eyes that resemble two flaming orbs. He's dressed even more elegantly than the other bastard, and Nesta has the knowledge to see he has a refined taste and takes pride in his appearance.
Not to mention she can practically feel the power thrumming off him, as palpable as the fire’s warmth at her back. This is no ordinary fae—he’s one of the important kind. The masters.
And this is his bedroom.
Nesta feels the urge to scream again.
He huffs, releasing his injured arm, and she catches sight of a thin trail of blood trickling down his elegantly stitched sleeve. It’s a dark shade of red—almost black—a stark reminder that he’s not human, but a monster.
She holds the iron rod between them, keeping it firmly pressed against his chest, though she knows it’s futile. The sharp end digs in, and he raises an eyebrow, glancing from the poker to her with a look of faint bewilderment.
"Who are you?" it takes everything within her to keep her voice steady.
He snorts. "I believe I should be the one asking that, birdie. This is my bedroom."
Nesta bites her lips, her pulse beating in her ears. He doesn't look threatening, but that doesn't mean he's safe. Yet there's something oddly comforting about this room, about its aura. She can't explain it, but it just feels alluring to her. Just like the man in front of her.
'Focus, you idiot. He's not a man. He's a predator.'
She straightens her spine, trying to appear taller and more confident than she truly feels. She’s no fighter, despite the iron rod clenched in her fingers. Her weapons have always been her words—and she doesn't know to what extent they're useful against faeries.
The fae draws a twisted grin, his fire eyes gleaming with menace.
"How interesting," he takes a step closer to her, the iron pressing further into his chest. "I wasn't aware the Night court kept human pets now."
The fury that flares up at being called "pet" dims in confusion as she processes his words. ¿Night Court? Is that where that fae of shadows comes from?
The red-haired fae picks up on her shock instantly, his grin widening as if he’s uncovered something amusing and entirely to his advantage.
"Oh?" he drawls, a hint of mockery in his voice. "Don’t tell me you didn’t even know? You're dressed like one of them. A wonder we haven't heard of you." He says the last part more to himself, as though she’s little more than a spectator to his thoughts.
Nesta grits her teeth, keeping her grip on the poker tight. "I don’t care about that. I only want to leave."
The fae’s expression shifts, some trace of real interest sparking in his eyes, though his amusement remains. "Leave? And where exactly would you go, little mortal? This place isn’t exactly known for its... hospitality to uninvited guests. Specially if they're humans. She has a...let's say strong dislike for your kind."
He lifts his fingers to trace the iron rod lightly, as though inspecting it. "Besides, did no one tell you it’s rather rude to wander into another male’s chambers?" His tone drips with sarcasm, but Nesta catches the veiled threat in his words.
She truly has the worst luck in the world. Jumping from one sick bastard to another. ¿When will this end?
Nesta’s pulse races. She can feel the power simmering just beneath his polished exterior, as potent as the fae she’s managed to escape from. Her hand tightens on the rod as she meets his gaze defiantly. "You didn’t answer my question. Who are you?"
For a moment, he simply stares at her, the smirk fading as he watches her face with sharp, unreadable eyes. Then, he inclines his head in a graceful bow.
"Call me Eris," he says, voice low and almost purring. "And you, little bird?"
Nesta hesitates. Giving her name to a Fae is a horrible idea, or so she's been taught. But she also thought iron could hurt them and she saw her captor holding it with his own hands to chain her. She's not sure what to do.
But he's given her something more than the other male has. So maybe she can allow herself to be a bit nice.
"I'll tell you if you let me out of here," she replies after a beat, keeping her chin high.
Eris’s smile returns, smug and unbelieving, as if he’s found something truly valuable. "Seriously?" he repeats, letting a short huff of amusement. "I just gave you mine. It's not fair I don't get to know yours."
Her eyes narrow. "You could be lying to me for all I know. Some knowledge is dangerous in the wrong hands."
He stares at her. The corner of his mouth twitches.
"I agree," he clasps his hands behind him, leaning forward. The end of the poker cutting slightly through his exquisite jacket. He doesn't seem to care. "So pray tell, why should I let you leave after telling you my name, mhm? It's dangerous knowledge, after all."
She tenses.
"What could I possibly do against you? I'm just a human."
He takes a step closer to her.
"A human dressed like a member of the Night court, who just intruded in my bedroom with a weapon. Forgive me for being a bit skeptical."
His gaze never leaves hers, and though Nesta tries to keep her stance steady, she feels herself shrinking back involuntarily. His body is on the way to her exit, but it dawns to her that, even if she managed to get pass him by some miracle, there could be more faes outside.
She doesn't have time to think that far ahead. She needs to act now.
The fire cracks behind her, the comforting smell of burning wood caressing her nose. She can do this.
"Please, I just want to go home." Fighting back hasn’t worked so far, so maybe playing the role of a pitiful, scared human will "He kidnapped me, kept me locked in his room like a beast. I escaped by sheer miracle, but I know he's looking for me now."
His eyebrows rise briefly, a flicker of surprise crossing his features before it vanishes, replaced by an unimpressed stare. If Nesta wasn't so well versed in those same tactics, she would've missed it.
She knows Fae look down on her kind, see them as inferior beings. If she plays on that role, she might get the upper hand here.
Eris watches her, the flickering firelight casting his sharp features in a golden glow. His smirk fades and his eyes narrow slightly, as though he’s debating whether or not to believe her tale.
"How exactly did you escape? I know he wouldn't have let you go so easily. And there's no way you could've overpower him."
Shit. He’s cornering her with that question. If she tells him the truth—that she outwitted a powerful fae and chained him to the bed—there’s a risk he’ll see her as a genuine threat and act accordingly. Or worse, he won’t believe her at all. And hand her over to her captor.
Everything's been a risk since she got out of that room. She can't falter. Not now. Not when might be so close to freedom.
"When his servants came to dress me, they unlocked the chain, and forgot to lock it again when they left. I saw an opportunity. I grabbed the poker and ran away before he returned." she sighs. "I almost got caught by some guards, so I hid. That's how I ended up here."
He hums, looking at her in silence, as if pushing her to continue.
"Please, I beg you, let me go. My s...family need me. I must find them. I promise I won't tell anyone about this place. Ever. I just...let me go home."
As she talks, she realizes it's not an act anymore. Every word comes straight out of her heart, her raw emotions. She misses her home deeply, misses her sisters. She must save Feyre from that monster's claws and bring her back home. Her eyes grow misty against her will, but she's too weary to feel asshamed.
She only wants this nightmare to end.
The fae doesn't say anything. Not a sound comes out of him. Nesta doesn't dare to look at his face.
"Home, you say?" His voice drips with an emotion she can't identify. "You really think that's an option for you now? That's why you went through all that trouble? Sweet Mother, I forgot how blissfully unaware mortals are of everything around them." He looks away, his expression serious, contrasting greatly to how he's been acting until now. "And what, pray tell, is it you intend to do once you’re back in your quaint little life? Forget this ever happened? Forget this place? Him?" His tone lowers, his words taunting. "Do you truly believe a creature like him will let you escape unscathed?"
Nesta's blood freezes, her head throbbing. The grip around the iron rod begins to tremble.
"There must be a way, I know it..."
"Let's suppose I let you out of here. What then?" he interrupts her, insisting. Taking her apart. "Do you have any idea where you are right now? How to navigate this place? You don't. Bet you don't even know where the entrance is. You don't have a plan, am I right? Risked your sorry life for nothing."
Nesta moves before her common sense can't stop it. She swings the iron rod again, narrowly missing his side as he sidesteps.
Eris laughs, a sharp, delighted sound, even as he raises his hands in mock surrender. "Oh, you're fun. I like you."
"Shut up. You're a powerful fae, I can feel it. There has to be a way you can help me here. What do I have to do?"
Eris’s smile returns, smug and predatory, as if he’s found what he was looking for.
"Well, I can think of a few ways you can...persuade me to help."
Nesta already recognizes this tone, resisting the urge to roll her eyes and the shiver all through her back. Maybe she should try to aim for the head this time.
"Not that, you disgusting pervert." She grits her teeth.
Eris hums, his expression unreadable as he steps even closer, close enough now that the heat of his body mixes with the warmth of the fire behind her. "How brave of you to say that. Or just suicidal. I can't decide."
Nesta holds her ground, though her instincts scream at her to back away. She won’t cower—not yet. She tilts her chin up, meeting his fiery gaze head-on. "I repeat. I’m no threat to you. If you're not going to help me, then let me go, and you won’t have to deal with me ever again."
Eris laughs, low and rich, the sound reverberating through the room and her body. "You misunderstand, birdie. I don’t 'have' to deal with you. I’m choosing to."
His hand reaches out, catching her wrist with infuriating ease as he gently pulls the poker from her grip. He lets it clatter to the ground, his hand still wrapped around her wrist, firm but not painful. "And now I’m wondering…" He leans in, close enough that she can feel the heat radiating off him. "Why the High Lord of the Night Court went to such lengths to dress you up like his prize, only to let you slip away."
Her pulse pounds in her ears, but she forces her voice steady. "I’m no one’s prize."
Eris’s lips twitch, his grip tightening just slightly. "No, you’re not. You're a pet." he murmurs. "But I think there's something more of you than that. And I really want to find out."
His free hand raises toward her face, and Nesta reacts without thinking. She stomps down on his foot with all her strength, yanking her wrist free as his grip loosens.
But before she can grab the iron rod again, his whole face changes. It’s almost imperceptible, but she notices it, and it makes her wary.
He tilts his head to the side, as if listening to something outside. She watches him, his sudden change in behavior unsettling her enough to keep quiet. The faint tension in his posture, the way his eyes flicker toward the door, and the tilt of his head, as if straining to hear something beyond the thick walls. It sets her on edge.
Her heart pounds in her chest, the icy claws of unease curling around her spine. Whatever—or whoever—has his attention, it makes him pause. And that, more than anything, terrifies her.
A cold, horrifying though comes to her. ¿Could it be him? Has he found her at last?
Suddenly, he turns his head at her with an intense stare. Something flicker in his eyes, and he's frowning. He looks at her as if he's conflicted. ¿Why?
He grabs her harshly by the arms, but not enough to hurt, and basically lifts her up in the air. She doesn't have time to protest before he presses a hand against the wall where she came from and...pushes it open like nothing. Like he does it regularly.
He shoves her inside and gives her a stern look of warning.
"Leave the way you came," he instructs, his tone firm but distracted. "Once you're out, keep your right hand pressed to the wall and follow it. It’ll take you where you need to go. Don’t run, don’t make a sound, and above all, avoid the shadows. They’re not safe." He turns his head to the door again in a pissed off gesture. "And one more thing."
He grabs her wrist, and Nesta feels the cool weight of something pressed into her palm. She looks down.
A knife. Crafted from gold and ash wood.
"That will hurt a Fae far more than burning iron," he says evenly. "Keep it with you at all times. Even a light touch of it will have them writhing in pain."
She can barely process what's happening. Everything feels too fast, his words too cryptic.
"Why are you doing this? What's going on?"
The glare he shoots her makes her breath hitch.
"He's here."
Her chest tightens as her heartbeat thunders painfully against her ribs, each beat like a desperate plea to escape.
"But... I don’t understand. Why are you telling me this? Why are you helping me?"
He stares at her, his expression unreadable, though something flickers in his eyes—a shadow of emotion too fleeting to name.
"We’re not close enough yet to share our secrets," he says, his smile sharp but empty, like a blade with no warmth behind it. "Now go, before I regret it and hand you over to him."
Her mind spins, a storm of unanswered questions she can’t bring herself to voice. Her tongue feels heavy, her thoughts muddled.
But one thing is unmistakable: he’s helping her. For reasons she can’t fathom, this Fae is offering her a chance. A lifeline. And he hasn’t demanded anything in return.
Before she can say another word, he moves to push the wall closed.
"Pity. I didn't got your name in the end," he says, letting out a dramatic sigh. "Maybe next time."
It's so absurd she feels the urge to chuckle. For the first time since she was kidnapped. It's a miracle. Or a sign of insanity.
"Nesta."
"What?"
She locks eyes with him, her gaze unwavering as she stares into those amber depths, like molten fire swirling. Her own reflection in those fiery orbs.
"My name is Nesta."
He blinks.
"Nesta." He repeats, savouring the syllabes in a soft, low tone. "Be careful, Nesta. Everything can be trap here."
She grips the knife.
"Trust me, I know now" she replies. "Thank you. For doing this."
He chuckles.
"Don't thank me yet, birdie. After all, I'm sure we'll meet again."
The wall closes in her face before she can ask, leaving her alone in the darkness once more.
She battles with herself to get moving, her mind still reeling from everything that just transpired. Pressing her right hand firmly against the wall beside her, she begins to walk back on her steps.
Every step is deliberate, her movements slow and calculated, as she struggles to keep silent. Her breathing is shallow, her chest tight with the effort of not making a sound.
If that bastard truly is here, then there’s a chance—pretty big one—that she'll pass by him through this hidden passage, near the damn rooms.
The weight of the knife in her hand is both a comfort and a reminder of the dangers that lie ahead. Nesta moves cautiously, every small sound amplified in the thick silence surrounding her. Her heart hammers in her chest, a constant warning of how close she is to being discovered. The passage feels tighter now, the stone walls pressing in as if the space itself is conspiring to trap her.
As she walks, her mind races. Who was that fae, Eris? Why had he helped her? And why, despite the sharpness in his eyes and the veiled threat in his words, had he let her go instead of handing her over to the other? Surely it would've been easier for him, and spared him any trouble.
Her breath catches in her throat as a thought hits her like a cold wave—was he playing her all along? Or was there something more to his intentions?
The wall beneath her fingers feels cold, unyielding, as if daring her to falter. She forces herself to ignore the creeping dread, pressing onward, trusting in the directions Eris had given her. The passage twists and turns, its walls narrowing at times, forcing her to squeeze through with minimal room to spare. She forces her thoughts back to the present. 'Focus. Get out of here. Find Feyre.'
The low murmur of voices reaches her ears just as she rounds a corner. Her stomach tightens. They’re close—too close for her liking. She slows her pace, flattening herself against the wall as much as she can, holding her breath. Her eyes scan the shadows, looking for any sign of movement.
The voices grow louder, unmistakable now. It’s him. The one she’s been running from.
"Sorry, but I don't have the slighest idea what you're talking about," That's Eris. She recognizes that suave, arrogant tone. "Are you sure you're not just tired? I know she's been keeping you busy lately..."
"Spare me your bullshit, Vanserra," her tormentor growls, and Nesta's heart stops at how close he sounds. "I can smell her here. Where.Is.She?"
Hold on. Vanserra? Did he just call Eris 'Vanserra'?
'Vanserra...most dangerous.'
'...prick. Almost worse...other.'
'Waiting...company.'
¿What was it he said when he saw her?
'I assume you're not the female I was expecting tonight'
Her knees threaten to give out, her breath growing heavy and clawing at her chest. In her desesperation to escape from a monster, she jumped into another one. And made him bleed.
She truly, definitely, has the worst luck in this godsforsaken world.
But he also let her leave. Even gave her a weapon to defend herself against his kind, or so he claimed. So what's the truth here? Why are these creatures so dreadfully confusing?
"Who exactly is 'her'? I don't understand...Oh!" He chuckles mockingly, in that taunting way of this. "Are you hiding something from us, Rhys? It must be pretty important if our queen doesn't know yet."
"I'm warning you, Eris, I'm losing my patience here. Tell me where the fuck she is now, or you can say goodbye to you and your miserable family before tomorrow."
Her pulse quickens again. It’s really him—her captor, the shadowed fae who had claimed her as his. His voice is unmistakable, even though he’s out of sight. Nesta’s stomach lurches with the realization that she’s within inches of him, and the thought of what he might do if he catches her sends a shiver down her spine.
Keep moving, she tells herself. Don’t stop. Ignore them.
But it's hard to do so when they're so close to her, specially the moment Eris replies.
"Keep my family out of our filthy mouth." It shocks her how deadly serious he sounds. How threatening. "They have nothing to do with your personal messes. If I were you, I'll be more worried about Amarantha finding out. I wonder what she'll think of her whore keeping an human pet under her nose, without her permission?
Whore? Amarantha?
Suddenly, there's a loud bang and she has to bite her lip to not scream.
Someone punched a wall, cracked a hole in it probably. She can hear some heavy breathing, but can't tell whose.
"I'm sick of your games, Vanserra." It's him. "I don't like when people tamper with my things. Tell me where you hid her, or I'll fucking slit your throat right here. How would your mother fare mourning another son?"
Nesta takes another step, but her foot catches on something—a loose stone, a crack in the floor. The faint sound is enough to make her freeze, her breath caught in her throat. The voices stop. The air becomes thick with tension, and the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. She closes her eyes, praying she hasn’t been heard.
Seconds stretch into eternity.
Then, a faint shuffle of feet.
She presses herself further against the stone, her heart racing, praying to whatever gods might listen that she’s not discovered. She waits, breath held, her fingers tightening around the golden knife. The faintest tremor runs through her as she imagines what would happen if the shadows, that dark fae that had haunted her every step, found her now.
Her breath escapes in a silent rush, and she forces herself to keep going, her movements fluid but swift. Just a little further. Just a little further. She has move away from them. Far enough to give her some advantage by the time he comes out to get her. Whatever farse Eris had been spouting to distract him is over with her mistake.
Her mind is racing as the path stretches ahead of her—there’s no going back now. She’s committed herself to whatever happens next. The knife feels cold in her hand, despite having been there for quite a while now.
The voices resume, softer now, but she can no longer understand them. She takes it as a good sign.
The passage winds on, the flickering lights from the cracks that guided her earlier growing faint and distant. Nesta’s pulse thunders in her ears as she moves, every nerve in her body attuned to the faintest shift in sound or shadow. She keeps her right hand on the wall, gripping the knife in her left. Eris’s instructions echo in her mind: Follow the wall. Don’t run. Don’t make a sound. Avoid the shadows.
She tries not to think about how close she came to being caught—or how the bastard would’ve reacted if he’d seen her. His threats, his fury—it all feels like a dark storm closing in, and she’s only barely staying ahead of it.
The air grows colder as she moves deeper into the passage, and she shivers despite herself. Her dress feels flimsy and useless against the chill. The fabric whispers against her legs as she walks, the only sound she allows herself to make.
She misses the fire and the wood from Eris' bedroom. She's going insane, no doubt, missing to be in a Fae's presence.
Nesta rounds another corner, her steps faltering as the walls widen slightly. The space feels different here—emptier, less confining. She presses her hand more firmly against the stone, willing herself to keep going. She doesn’t know where this path leads, but it’s better than staying where she was.
A faint, eerie hum creeps into her awareness. It’s distant, almost like a melody carried on the wind, and she freezes. Her breathing stills as she listens, trying to pinpoint the sound. It doesn’t seem like voices, nor does it belong to any creature she can identify. It's almost hypnotic...except she doesn't feel particularly drawn to it. More like weirded out, scared even. It wants to pull her attention, she knows, and she feels how it flies past her body. Her eyes squint around her, trying to see something.
Avoid the shadows, he said.
How is she supposed to avoid them if she's surrounded by them?
Nesta steps back instinctively, her grip tightening on the knife. She scans the dim passage, her eyes straining to see through the gloom. The hum grows louder, closer, and she realizes it’s not coming from one direction but all around her, as if the passage itself is alive and aware.
Her breath catches as a flicker of movement darts just beyond her vision—a shadow, but not her own. Her blood runs cold, and she takes another step back, pressing herself against the wall.
"Not safe," she whispers to herself, repeating his warning like a mantra. "Not safe. Not safe."
The hum crescendos, a low, thrumming sound that resonates in her chest, and the shadows seem to swell, stretching toward her. Panic claws at her throat, but Nesta forces herself to move, keeping her steps deliberate and quiet. She doesn’t dare look back, doesn’t dare think about what might be lurking just out of sight.
The wall beneath her hand feels warmer now, as though guiding her toward something—away from the terrifying darkness. She follows it blindly, her focus narrowing to the rough texture beneath her fingertips and the steady rhythm of her steps.
Finally, she sees it: a faint glimmer of light ahead, spilling through the cracks of what looks like another possible exit. Relief floods her, but she doesn’t let herself rush. Instead, she inches closer, every muscle coiled and ready to act if something—or someone���appears.
When she reaches the door, she feels along its edges, noticing a soft breeze coming from the other side. Her fingers brush against a hidden latch, and she hesitates, glancing back over her shoulder. She can see the shadows writhe in the distance, alive and hungry, and she knows she has no choice.
Nesta pushes the latch, and the wall swings open, revealing a room bathed in warm light. She steps through, the wall closing shut behind her with a quiet click. The hum vanishes abruptly, leaving an oppressive silence in its wake.
It’s a small, empty space, furnished only with a worn-out desk and an old chair, a few cushions tossed carelessly on the ground, and a dusty bookshelf leaning against the wall. The thick layer of dust suggests it hasn’t been used in quite some time—or that no one cares enough to clean it.
She hears nothing but her own breathing. No footsteps, no voices, no hums. The room feels abandoned.
For now, she’s safe.
As if on cue, her knees give out, and she collapses to the ground. The knife slips from her grasp, clattering loudly against the floor beside her open hand. Her shoulders tremble as her vision blurs with unshed tears. The adrenaline that had kept her upright is gone, leaving her raw and vulnerable. Everything—the danger, the fear, the weight of survival—crashes over her all at once.
Nesta hugs herself tightly, pulling her legs to her chest and burying her face in her knees. For a moment, she lets herself break.
Now it's not the time, a voice eerily similar to her Mother's echoe in her head. Focus. Get out of here. Find Feyre.
Nesta takes a long, deep breath, looking up again. She casts a glance to the knife besides her and grabs it. She scans her surroundings again, making sure she didn't miss anything. The knife somehow comforts her, her heart going back to its normal rhythm as her finger traces the ashwood part.
She doesn’t know what more dangers she'll have to face, but she’ll find a way out of this nightmare—back to her sister—or die trying.
She's Nesta Archeron. And she won't break.
14 notes · View notes
sylphwing · 8 months ago
Text
hm. i do not like chilshi 🤔
#sylph.txt#everyone likes to joke abt how much of an epic divorce man chilchuck is#but i dont think he ever even refers to her as his ex-wife. i could b wrong bc it's been a while since i read it tho#idk a lot of his arc is him learning to b more open w others (which is essentially what ended his relationship)#and u can see how much he's grown in the chapter where senshi goes into his past#to me it would b a lot sweeter for him to take on these lessons and go back to her and make things work#it's been 4 years but he's remained loyal to her depite their issues. idk to me it rlly does feel like he still loves her he's just a fool#it's made p clear that he's a coward and that he's quick to run away so actually committing to her would b a nice way to wrap things up#we don't get to see much of his wife so i get y ppl r quick to put him w the only other man in the party#but like senshi knows abt his wife too like i do not think he's gnna b making any moves here bc he has morals lmao#(*only other older man in the party. laios doesn't qualify for old man yaoi to most chilshi likers)#(even tho chilchuck isn't old either but shh they don't care abt that)#when it comes to senshi the changeling chapter def helped him w understanding how old the rest of the party is#but he clearly still views them as significantly younger than him#i don't think he views chil as a child anymore but for the majority of their time together he did#and so going from that to in a relationship is uhh rlly weird to me!#senshi has always taken a sort of parental role upon himself#w him romance is no where as interesting as the platonic bonds he has w the rest of the party#similar to how romance is entirely unimportant to izutsumi in the succubus chapter#idk i def don't hate the pairing and there r some takes on it that i find funny#but for me i just don't see anything between them i think ppl just want an m/m ship to play with#that ao3 gap is only gnna get bigger lmao
25 notes · View notes
sunsetzer · 8 months ago
Text
On one hand, I want a final fantasy 6 remake, because the game is criminally underrated and the amount of fan content (which is all absolutely fantastic btw) is Not Enough for my neurodivergent, hyperfixating brain.
On the other hand, that would inevitably encourage more people to join the fandom, which would be great, except it seems these days the bigger a fandom gets the more toxic it becomes, and I really like what we have going on over here in our little corner. We all just love the game and its characters and nobody fights about who should and shouldn't date who or who you shouldn't like because they're ~problematique~. Nobody's trying to make one ship morally better than another, nobody's calling anyone names or threatening to doxx people who don't agree with their opinions. It's so peaceful and I love that for us. We're just vibing. Moisturized. Unbothered. In our lane. Flourishing.
#as someone who was in an extremely toxic and chaotic fandom and lowkey still traumatized#to the point where I'm afraid to mention which fandom it was/what my ship was#i have to say#i genuinely love it here#i was nervous at first sharing my ships and headcanons but everyone is so chill i was worried for nothing#thank you to everyone I've interacted with who has made this fandom a healing experience for me#i shudder to think about what some of the people i interacted with in a previous fandom would do with ff6#probably would take edgar's flirting at face value and call him problematic for objectifying women#instead of considering the narrative and what we know about him and the way he actually treats women#my man drinks loving and respecting women juice he's not a creep#or that weird moment with relm that admittedly made me double take before i realized what he meant#theyd have a whole campaign against him lmfao#bc those people boil characters alive until they're just a formless pile of tropes and stereotypes#and seem to disregard all positive aspects of a character they don't like which is fine#but then they go and try to force other people to think like they do and ugh#theres a lot of silly moments in the game and aspects of these characters that make them well rounded and realistically flawed at times#and i fear that would get lost in the chaos if the floodgates opened after a remake#maybe im just jaded lmao#im jaded and i have anxiety so im always thinking about The Worst Case Scenario#the collective positive spirit of the dwellers in this fandom might actually foster a positive space if more people were to come in#ff6#my post#i was gonna say maybe this is bc we're mostly adults#but that falls flat when i remember how some of the most toxic and immature people in some fandoms are grown ass adults#who bully each other and younger fans#and some of the most mature and cool people were actually younger#maybe ff6 fans are just built different lmao#also idk how old anyone else actually is there might be teenagers here i just don't think about it a lot
27 notes · View notes
akkivee · 8 months ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
they could be meta besties omg 🥺🥺🥺
20 notes · View notes
octoooo · 9 months ago
Text
Drew something on my phone can u believe it
Can’t believe my first jjk art post is “Nah I’d Win”
Tumblr media
NAH FR CAN YOU BELIEVE IT THIS CAME FROM MY PHONE
22 notes · View notes