#i'm not trying to call anyone out in specific.

[yoyomomiko]

☆ : They're jealous ×

characters: Luffy, Zoro, Sanji, Ace

cw: jealousy (is that supposed to be a warning??), probably ooc, cringe, not proofread, probably contains grammar mistakes, english isn't my first language!!

(a/n): This is like, my first time writing for one piece characters specifically😀 I'm barely in Alabasta but I cannot wait until I finish one piece so that I can write for it😔 ACE IS A NEED UGH -> m.list

★requests are open!!

LUFFY

Luffy doesn't understand jealousy at first and will simply blurt out "Why are you talking to him so much?" without realizing it sounds possessive.

Believe it or not, he can get VERY possessive. You're pretty much just as valuable as his hat, you're his treasure.

That's right, his treasure.

So then, why are you talking to that donkey faced man? He's so ugly, why would you even bother wasting your breath speaking to him?

He'll cling to you like glue, throwing an arm around your shoulders or holding your hand tightly while pouting.

When Luffy's jealous he starts getting loud, making exaggerated jokes or showing off just to grab your attention.

Complains to the rest of the crew (probably Usopp or Nami), asking things like "Why does she want to talk to him when I'm right here?"

He completely interrupts your conversation with the other person by inserting himself, I just kinda feel like he'd do that.

WILL demand you sit next to him at meals and get grumpy if you sit by someone else.

He can't stay mad for long, the SECOND you give him attention, he lights up again as if nothing happened.

If the other person makes you laugh, he'll immediately try to one up them by doing something goofy, trust me, I know

He will casually lean on you or put his hat on your head as a possessive gesture (LUFFY THE MAN YOU ARE)

He's so childish

ZORO

Zoro acts nonchalant but is secretly FUMING inside when someone gets too close to you.

Glares daggers at the other person, making them incredibly uncomfortable without saying a word, he's just like that

Crosses his arms and stands near you as if silently asserting dominance (ugh I need him)

He gets extra grumpy with Sanji or anyone else he sees as competition, throwing insults their way.

He physically can't hide his annoyance and mutters things under his breath like "Tch, what's so interesting about him?"

If you laugh at someone else's joke he's gonna be like "It wasn't that funny."

I feel like he gets jealous if someone compliments you, but instead of complimenting you himself, he'll grumble like "You don't need to hear that from him."

WILL position himself between you and the other person, silently blocking them from getting closer.

I think he lowkey gets clingy after cooling down his jealousy, sticking close to you but pretending it's no big deal.

When you reassure him, he'll pretend it didn’t bother him, saying stuff like "Whatever, it's not like I cared." But deep down, he's RELIEVED.

SANJI

Lord have mercy

Sanji gets visibly jealous and is UNABLE to hide it with his dramatic reactions

He definitely calls the other person out immediately, saying things like "Why are you bothering her, huh?"

He tries to pull your attention back to him by showering you with compliments and affection.

He starts offering to cook your favorite dishes after that, just to make himself seem more worthy than moss head over there

If the other person is flirting, Sanji will step in and sweet talk to you SO passionately it makes the other person back off (simp power??)

He dramatically smokes while muttering "How could she look at someone else when I'm right here..."

Tries to outdo the other person in everything, just to show he's better

WILL ask you "Do you think he's better than me?" with puppy dog eyes

100% gets extremely competitive with Zoro (if it's him you're giving attention to) insulting him while trying to impress you

When reassured, he's back to his usual lovestruck self and saying "I knew you couldn't resist me, my angel!"

Sanji just wants to feel like he's your number one, and your affection always melts his jealousy away.

ACE

MY MAN UGHH

HE'S THE REASON I STARTED ONE PIECE IN THE FIRST PLACE

Anywayss

Ace tries to play it cool, but his temper makes his jealousy pretty obvious.

If someone flirts with you, he'll casually throw an arm around your shoulders and say "She's taken, by the way."

Speaking of throwing, he definitely picks you up and completely THROWS you over his shoulder. It doesn't matter how tall you are or how much you weigh, he ALWAYS manhandles you.

His freckles make it easy to spot when he's blushing out of jealousy or frustration (UGH😫)

He gets restless and starts fidgeting, for example bouncing his leg while watching you talk to someone else (is that my seat right there?)

Stares at the person with a smirk that doesn't quite hide his irritation, daring them to push their luck (you know that one scene in Alabasta where that giant scorpion was in front of him and Ace was like "I wouldn't if I were you" or something like that? Yeah, that's right🤭)

If someone compliments you, he'll immediately agree and add "Yeah, but I noticed that first."

UGH KICKING MY FEET😣

Can get surprisingly moody, muttering things like "What's so special about him, anyway?"

Might act a little childish, poking fun at the other person

WILL casually flex his strength or abilities if he feels the need to, like lighting a flame in his hand and saying "Bet he can't do this huh?"

If you reassure him or show him affection, he'll relax immediately, grinning and saying something like "Yeah, I knew you couldn't resist me."

And he's smirking at you with that stupid handsome face (I need him🚨)

★yoyomiko ★miko

[prolibytherium]

@meghnanimous

Not sure if this is serious but I will answer this for real because I've seen a lot of 'I can't even tell what's wrong with the first one' tags on this post. The first cow I drew in this thread DOES have too much muscle memory of drawing cows to accurately depict what I'm being a little hater about, but it's still not like, a good stylization of bovine anatomy.

I intentionally represented how a lot of people drop distinctive anatomical traits when drawing cows in favor of:

-eyes very close together on a separate flat plane of the face above the muzzle (rather than sticking out on the sides of a continuous sloping face)

-Giving it a doglike nose that's fairly small and/or disconnected from the lip (instead of it being a fairly broad, usually squarish structure that connects with the lip)

-lack of a poll (region of the skull between the horns, specifically an occipital crest). How dramatic a cow's poll is can vary (some come to peaks, some are flat topped) but the region on most cattle is at least distinct from the rest of the skull

-Horns that can be seen growing straight out of the plane of the skull. A cow's horns obviously Do connect to the skull, but from the sides of the poll region rather than adhering to the general slope of the crown

Here's a photo that shows how distinct a structure the poll can be and how the horns relate to it (also a very pretty cow)

So like here's a couple quick, okayish realistic taurine cattle

In my art style I would personally stylize a cow into an anthro design (changing some features to fit a humanoid body plan and to depict humanlike expressions) like this:

Or alternatively here's another go at the cutesy style I did to be an asshole, this time with bovine features:

There's no actual 'wrong way' to draw an imaginary creature such as a Furry and no matter how much I try I cannot stop anyone from drawing a slightly modified dog with horns and calling it a cow, but like, no fun allowed learn to draw ungulates etc etc

I hate when furries draw cows like this

No fun allowed learn how to draw ungulates or die by my blade

[bunnie-online]

── ⋆⋅lucifer nsfw alphabet⋅⋆ ──

warnings: 18+ ONLY. MINORS DNI fem!reader, somnophilia mention, daddy kink mention, general horniness☝🏽😔

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

~♡• Luci's favorite form of aftercare is 100% physical affection, he'd wrap you in his arms and stroke your hair until you both fall asleep.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

~♡• for him? his back/wings. he knows they're impressive and it feeds his ego to watch the reaction he gets when he unfurls them. for you? he's and ass man, no ifs, ands or butts (haha pls laugh) about it

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

~♡• he cums sooo hard, i'm talking shaking, eyes rolling back, wings flapping, etc. one time he came so hard that he accidently broke skin from biting you. (you liked it)

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

~♡• he'll never tell anyone but his long time partner but he's really into somnophillia, like receiving. he wants you to use him while he's sleeping, he'd love to wake up to his cock in your mouth.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

~♡• very much so, he kinda went on a broken hearted whore spree after him and Lilith broke up, something about filling a void left by a loved one by filling up someone else or whatever.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

~♡• doggy or reverse cowgirl, he's an ass man! any position that gets him a full view of your ass, he's down

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

~♡• c'mon, are we talking about the ducky man?! he's goofy for sure but if you're deep in a kinky scene or you need some soft lovin' he'll be serious

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

~♡• he's trimmed for sure, and yeah... the same gorgeous golden locks travel south, if ya catch my drift ;)

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

~♡• he tries to be as light hearted as possible but if you're having a romantic romp, he's gonna be praising you with every thrust. stroking your cheek or your hair. just overall being so loving and attentive

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

~♡• if you two aren't living together, he's jacking off at least 3 times a week. he has a high drive but nothing compares to burying his cock inside you.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

~♡• oh he has a ridiculous Daddy kink, argue with the wall lmao, he also loves some BDSM, and choking

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

~♡• at home, specifically the bedroom, that's the only thing that isn't outta the blue when fucking him, he likes to stick to the classics there

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

~♡• sitting on his lap, running your hands through his hair, oh and calling him Daddy is a sure fire way to let him know you need railed asap

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

~♡• he might have a Daddy kink but he doesn't fuck with ageplay

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

~♡• he definitely prefers giving and oh boy does he show it, he has you coming undone in three minuets flat most of the time. but he will happily lay back and let you suck him off, he loves seeing that pretty little face of yours full of his cock.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

~♡• honestly, it depends on the day, mostly he has rough thrusts will medium pace

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

~♡• eh not often, when he has you he wants to savor you. he's got to be desperate to cum to have a quickie

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

~♡• he's down to try almost anything once, he does have his limits though

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

~♡• he maxes out at 4 rounds, around 15-20 minuets for the first two rounds and 10 for the last two

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

~♡• he loves toys, the more the merrier. he loves to push you to the limit when he fucks you. he'll be pounding into you while holding a vibrator to your most sensitive parts, making you cum over and over again

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

~♡• oh he's a tease but he can't handle being teased. he'll tease you to tears but if you try to get him back he'd give up almost immediately

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

~♡• ooof my favorite question, he's loud. he moans and groans and whines. he's the type of man that moans "I'm gonna cum... oh.. oh fuck.. I'm cumming" or he'll just repeat "I'm cumming.. I'm cumming..!" when he's releasing inside of you. he does it in such a delectably whiny voice, he almost sounds pathetic... it's so sexy. (hi im bunnie and i have a wicked voice kink)

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

~♡• he's a hair puller, he loves grabbing a fistful of your hair and yanking on it as hard has he can. he loves seeing your eyes instantly roll to the back of your skull.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

~♡• 7in length, 1.5 in girth and curves slightly upward

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

~♡• he's a pretty horny being, on a scale from 1-10 hes an 8.5

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

~♡• he tries his hardest to make sure you fall asleep before he does, he wants to provide proper aftercare, especially after those super long sessions. but there have been one or two times he's fallen asleep before you, which he goofily and thoroughly apologized for the next morning

~~~~~~~~~~

i've never done one of these before! that was sooo fun!

~bunnie

[salamander-spark]

Out of curiosity if it isn't much problem, is there anything you could share about your AUs or other ideas? The one about Vee growing up in the human realm really caught my attention but I'm also curious if you are cooking something else

To be honest, I don't really have the brain power to come up with too many ideas for more than one AU. My main story, which I plan on making a fic about eventually, is called Snakes and Mirrors (where Vee gets rescued and ends up in the human realm MUCH earlier, and it's also kind of a swap au with Luz being raised in the Demon realm).

An offshoot I thought of has the older basilisks, Three and Four come with Vee to the human realm. I headcan them being only like, 5-6 years older than vee, and she's a baby at this point. So it's a couple of scared, cold little snake kids being incredibly defensive over their smaller, even more scared baby sister. Then, the three of them get discovered by Camila and Manny Noceda, and after a tense encounter, get adopted real fast.

In the main story, Vee doesn't know she's a demon. She knows she's a reptilian shapeshifter of unknown origin, and she can sniff out and consume strange energy from mystic objects, but that's it. Having siblings that are both able to remember and tell her about the Demon realm (specifically the Emperor's coven) makes her and their new parents terrified of the demon realm, given that those experiments were all the three of them really experienced.

Thirteen years passed, and Vee's older siblings have both finished high school and have begun looking into college/jobs. Vee and Masha find Eda's portal to the demon realm, and shenanigans ensue. They have a lot of assumptions about how terrible the Demon realm is, and in turn, it takes a long time for them to warm up to Eda

I'm not sure how much would change overall for the story, but I think it's an interesting concept.

There was an AU conxept post by LuminousShane about Amity being forced by Odalia into being an oracle, leading to her encountering Evelyn Clawthorne's ghost and she ends up being an actually good parental figure for Amity. I feel like I'd want to make a story exploring that premise just because I don't know if anyone else would make it into a fic. I don't actually have any ideas for it, though, just a thought.

Sorry for taking so long to get to your ask, btw. Idk what took me so long, but I will try to answer some more going forward. I am very inconsistent.

[puddingvalkyrie]

9 Fandom Peeps To Get To Know Better

Thank you for the tag @kellodrawsalot

3 ships I like: uuuuhhhh I don't really ship people? And sometimes I am Against my own characters becoming a couple and then they start dating anyway??? (Tyrian and Will)

IDK it's not that I don't ever it's just that it's not a major thing I do? (I'm not against it or anything)

First Ship: Oh gosh I don't know? See above. The first one I remember is Tai and Sora from Digimon. I drew them kissing one time is what I mean. (Do you see what I mean??)

Last Song: The Dungeon Meshi opening... Uh.. Walking Orchestra by Bump of Chicken?

Favourite Childhood Book: Northern Lights/The Golden Compass AND Dragonsbane/Dealing With Dragons (I cannot choose between the two) (The / is because UK title/US title)

Currently reading: Snuff. I am slowly rereading all of Discworld and am up the the Watch books.

Currently watching: Me and husbando are rewatching Gravity Falls.

Currently consuming: Just got home super hungry after work and had some pitta bread with camembert, a slice of tea loaf and some chocolate raisins

Chocolate raisins are so addictive argh

Also what the heck is with tea loaf. Let me tell you about my Quest For Tea Loaf.

There was this cake we used to be offered sometimes in school lunches. It was delicious and served with butter. Some kinda fruit cake. I never knew what kind. I never, ever found it outside of school. And we didn't have it in high school.

I looked for this cake for years, trying any likely looking fruit cake. Nothing. For decades. Then one Christmas my parents get a fruit cake as a present. And. It's the cake. Finally after twenty odd years, this was the cake! I ask my dad to get the recipe. I MUST have the recipe!

So he does not get the recipe.

But he does find out it is called tea loaf. Excellent. The internet will know.

I find an easy recipe. I make the recipe. It LOOKS right. But it tastes wrong. The taste is wrong, the texture is wrong. It's kinda gross, to be frank.

I look up a different recipe. Maybe that was just a sucky recipe (after all, I've had that problem with banana bread).

OTHER recipe says 'wrap it up and leave it for a few days'.

Huh.

I wrap it up and leave it for a few days.

And somehow, magically, it becomes soft and delicious.

This is it. This is the cake!! After twenty odd years of searching!

Seriously though what the heck kind of cake tastes gross until you leave it for a few days?? That is not how cake works! What the heck?! ...anyway that was last year, this is my second attempt at tea loaf. It is perfect. Argh.

Currently craving: Crisps!! I want some so bad and we don't have any! And it's too late to go buy some but I wouldn't anyway because I have only had just over five hours of sleep and just finished a very long day at work. So no crisps for me.

....I don't think this was how I was supposed to do the meme.

I am too tired rn to tag anyone specifically so please do this if you wanna~

9 Fandom Peeps to Get to Know Better

Ty for the tag @rakiah ! ^^

3 ships I like: Ripperonio (IDV), Jamikali (Twst), Marihilda (Fe3h)

First Ship: Syrup x Urara from Precure 5

Last Song: Start a Riot

Favorite Childhood Book: I just remembered about the My Secret Unicorn/ Unicorn School series while thinking of Black Beauty. I don't think I read more than one book from Unicorn School, but I really loved the little illustrations

Currently Reading: the Wreckers Saga

Currently Watching: Earthspark with Pom! Have also been steadily going through SPN for the first time with another friend (I miss Bobby)

Currently Consuming: Biryani!

Currently Craving: to doze under many blankets

Tagging @kellodrawsalot , @thecupcakewritesmorethings , @soup-du-silence , @hirokiyuu , @spliceyblues and anyone else who'd like to! Feel free to join in or opt out (❁��◡`❁)

[sunieepo]

honestly, if i may, all of this talk about the way people treat trans women has reminded me of an experience i still remember vividly back when i was peripherally part of the tumblr / twitter mfrp community. which please note i was never a very active participant, i personally found mfrp very boring and so i was never really fully integrated into these communities - but while i was in them i did befriend a few trans women and i noticed a very persistent pattern in these supposed LGBT-friendly spaces regarding the moderation of trans women.

there was a persistent issue in multiple different mfrp communities i was peripherally involved in, in which trans women would always be regarded as "abrasive" or "aggressive", for making the same kinds of comments and jokes that tme people were making. and the (majority tme) moderation teams would almost always rule against trans women, silencing them or labeling them as deviants / weirdos for behaviors that they would be much more forgiving towards tme people for.

as a sort of bystander i didn't really have a leg in to comment on the actions of moderation teams, i could only offer being a friend to trans women as i watched them be ostracized from these spaces by the very same people who would plaster "terfs dni" all over their bios. i'm not saying this to pat myself on the back, there is definitely more i could have done in those situations, but i do want to call out why all these "fuck terf" type posts just never really resonate with me, seeing them be rbed by people who i know would just jump at the opportunity to demonize a trans woman again (and i just saw it happen earlier with that stupid shit slinging post falsely accusing a trans woman of something she didn't even do regarding cohost...) (i'm aware op of that post apologized for their behavior but what occurred is what occurred)

it's not enough to say "fuck terfs" and i hate that people always center on the buffoonery of terf behavior instead of centering and caring for and supporting the trans women in their lives. it's really frustrating for me to watch as a staunch feminist to continually see the way the lgbt community has let down trans women. the recent wave of discourse regarding "transandrophobia" is also extremely worrying to me - i have seen a non-insignificant number of posts made by certain people in that community that claim that the lgbt community is Too centered on trans women: as if it's a competition, and as if the visibility of trans women is somehow a boon to them rather than a consequence of people using their cause to simply be performative instead of genuinely uplifting and loving.

sorry this isn't the most well thought-out post, i'm just rambling and i have a lot of complicated feelings on this. i don't want to derail what's happening right now too much by bringing up other topics, but i will say i do think it's inevitable that at some point we do need to confront some of the "transandrophobia truther" type sentiments i've seen lately, because they absolutely are damaging to trans women and lead to situations exactly like this.

please, if nothing else, i really hope everyone takes this as an opportunity to be kind to the trans women in their lives. the least you could do is offer them your support. reblogging posts dunking on transmisogynists is not enough. we need to make our communities safer for trans women, and that doesn't end with car hammer explosion memes.

rbs off because i'm not interested in centering my voice as a tme person and this post isn't really something polished i want escaping from my social circle. if you're a mutual of mine and you're feeling unsure about my stance on some of the topics mentioned above, my DMs are open and i am happy to discuss, but at the very least all i ask is for us to be better to trans women. that's all.

[inkskinned]

so one of the things that's so horrifying about birth control is that you have to, like, navigate this incredibly personal choice about your body and yet also face the epitome of misogyny. like, someone in the comments will say it wasn't that bad for me, and you'll be utterly silenced. like, everyone treats birth control like something that's super dirty. like, you have no fucking information or control over this thing because certain powerful people find it icky.

first it was the oral contraceptives. you went on those young, mostly for reasons unrelated to birth control - even your dermatologist suggested them to control your acne. the list of side effects was longer than your arm, and you just stared at it, horrified.

it made you so mentally ill, but you just heard that this was adulthood. that, yes, there are of course side effects, what did you expect. one day you looked up yasmin makes me depressed because surely this was far too intense, and you discovered that over 12,000 lawsuits had been successfully filed against the brand. it remains commonly prescribed on the open market. you switched brands a few times before oral contraceptives stopped being in any way effective. your doctor just, like, shrugged and said you could try a different brand again.

and the thing is that you're a feminist. you know from your own experience that birth control can be lifesaving, and that even when used for birth control - it is necessary healthcare. you have seen it save so many people from such bad situations, yourself included. it is critical that any person has access to birth control, and you would never suggest that we just get rid of all of it.

you were a little skeeved out by the implant (heard too many bad stories about it) and figured - okay, iud. it was some of the worst pain you've ever fucking experienced, and you did it with a small number of tylenol in your system (3), like you were getting your bikini line waxed instead of something practically sewn into your body.

and what's wild is that because sometimes it isn't a painful insertion process, it is vanishingly rare to find a doctor that will actually numb the area. while your doctor was talking to you about which brand to choose, you were thinking about the other ways you've been injured in your life. you thought about how you had a suspicious mole frozen off - something so small and easy - and how they'd numbed a huge area. you thought about when you broke your wrist and didn't actually notice, because you'd thought it was a sprain.

your understanding of pain is that how the human body responds to injury doesn't always relate to the actual pain tolerance of the person - it's more about how lucky that person is physically. maybe they broke it in a perfect way. maybe they happened to get hurt in a place without a lot of nerve endings. some people can handle a broken femur but crumble under a sore tooth. there's no true way to predict how "much" something actually hurts.

in no other situation would it be appropriate for doctors to ignore pain. just because someone can break their wrist and not feel it doesn't mean no one should receive pain meds for a broken wrist. it just means that particular person was lucky about it. it should not define treatment.

in the comments of videos about IUDs, literally thousands of people report agony. blinding, nauseating, soul-crushing agony. they say things like i had 2 kids and this was the worst thing i ever experienced or i literally have a tattoo on my ribs and it felt like a tickle. this thing almost killed me or would rather run into traffic than ever feel that again.

so it's either true that every single person who reports severe pain is exaggerating. or it's true that it's far more likely you will experience pain, rather than "just a pinch." and yet - there's nothing fucking been done about it. it kind of feels like a shrug is layered on top of everything - since technically it's elective, isn't it kind of your fault for agreeing to select it? stop being fearmongering. stop being defensive.

you fucking needed yours. you are almost weirdly protective of it. yours was so important for your physical and mental health. it helped you off hormonal birth control and even started helping some of your symptoms. it still fucking hurt for no fucking reason.

once while recovering from surgery, they offered you like 15 days of vicodin. you only took 2 of them. you've been offered oxy for tonsillitis. you turned down opioids while recovering from your wisdom tooth extraction. everything else has the option. you fucking drove yourself home after it, shocked and quietly weeping, feeling like something very bad had just happened. the nurse that held your hand during the experience looked down at you, tears in her eyes, and said - i know. this is cruelty in action.

and it's fucked up because the conversation is never just "hey, so the way we are doing this is fucking barbaric and doctors should be required to offer serious pain meds" - it's usually something around the lines of "well, it didn't kill you, did it?"

you just found out that removing that little bitch will hurt just as bad. a little pinch like how oral contraceptives have "some" serious symptoms. like your life and pain are expendable or not really important. like maybe we are all hysterical about it?

hysteria comes from the latin word for uterus, which is great!

you stand here at a crossroads. like - this thing is so important. did they really have to make it so fucking dangerous. and why is it that if you make a complaint, you're told - i didn't even want you to have this in the first place. we're told be careful what you wish for. we're told that it's our fault for wanting something so illict; we could simply choose not to need medication. that maybe if we don't like the scraps, we should get ready to starve.

we have been saying for so long - "i'm not asking you to remove the option, i'm asking you to reconsider the risk." this entire time we hear: well, this is what you wanted, isn't it?

[seleneprince]

A Court of Shadows and Blood Chapter 3

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.

[hadesknockedupintheunderworld]

Okay, so a friend and I went back over a portion in the Season 3 trailer last night.

Because both of us (on separate days), after having watched the trailer a few times, essentially had the question: Is that green shatterspace portal actually Boscage Maze?

When I myself watched it I felt...idk...like the shade of green was different. And then my friend mentioned (after another look at it) that the color was more muted.

And then...we let our brains run.

Mind you, before the trailer or any summaries of the season came out, my friend and I were talking over discord. We'd decided that based on the evidence (Sonic's natural eminence of prism energy, whatever makes him special compared to Shadow, the fact he shattered the prism, etc) Sonic could theoretically have a deeper connection to the paradox prism due to the energy inside him. Then, they threw a what if in the air.

Essentially "I don't think they'll do it, but what if Sonic is the missing piece to the paradox prism. So they won't be able to complete the prism and do anything with it without risking killing Sonic"

To which I said "That would be so cool! And given that I've never believed Sonic's going to have to actually make a big choice between his old friends or his new friends existing—or at least that he'd never actually make that choice and would find a secret third choice—I think a Sonic's wellbeing versus everything he cares about makes sense. That has the potential to hurt the other characters, because if need be, Sonic would do it"

Needless to say we watched the trailer the first time and I was like "No way he was right. Like, it was a good thought, but none of us thought for sure that they'd do it"

Now, with that in mind. As I said, my friend and I decided to let our brains run after feeling that there was a difference between the green shatterspace in the trailer and the one for boscage maze. We couldn't shake the idea that the colors are different, nor the idea that the shape of the portal openings are different. And we've both seen people talking here about how it could be the last shatterspace open or something (boscage maze that is), but to me...that doesn't make sense. Without special context, it doesn't make sense why it would have to be Boscage Maze of all worlds that would be the last to collapse, or why taking Sonic to Boscage Maze of all shatterspaces could be enough to save him. Plus there are other voices talking in that scene. There are other people who would need to get to Boscage if it was truly the last, and if it's just to get Sonic to the closest shatterspace, the characters would have to be fighting in the in between space (between the shatterspaces). And my friend too, from looking at it, thinks that the green shatterspace in the trailer seems like it's farther out at the edges of the place between.

So, we rushed to the episodes to get a clear shot of the Boscage portal, and then a clear shot of the one in the trailer.

Now, turns out we were right about the color difference.

But it's the shape too.

If you've been looking in the main tag, I probably don't need to tell any of you that each portal (the part you enter to enter a shatterspace) is shaped like its prism shard. The first image is a shot of the Boscage Maze portal my friend screenshotted. The portal opening resembles the shape of the green shard, and the green is more vibrant than the more muted green in the trailer.

The shatterspace in the trailer is just...a completely different shape, both in portal opening and the crystals around it. If you need another angle of the Boscage Portal to compare to the crystals surrounding the portal in the trailer, here's another shot.

So, different green color. Different opening shape that would correspond to a prism we haven't seen before.

Let's return to the "Sonic contains the missing piece of the paradox prism and is essentially a living prism shard" theory, and let us also employ the idea that after the prism shattered and each shard landed in one of our alternate green hills, the shards gave off an outburst in energy that allowed the blue shard to fill the shatterspace with water, the green with dense forest, or the purple with mountains of crystal.

Now you're probably saying "But tumblr user hadesknockedupintheunderworld, what about the red shard? We saw a flashback. The red shard didn't just start growing buildings when it landed in what would become New Yolk"

And to that I'd say...you're right! We know based upon the Chaos Council's flashback that they used the prism shard as their energy source (whether they received it when conquering or after the fact), and that they themselves built New Yolk city without using the prism shard (after all, they only knew it as an energy source)

So, I say to you back. What if upon landing in a shatterspace, the shards were initially unstable. So they either caused a major change/addition to the world they landed in, or it's energy was properly harnessed and contained. That wouldn't be so far fetched, right? Because we know that Nine adapted the power core the council built to properly contain and channel the energy of the red shard to create his shatterdrive.

Now, the idea that the shards, while having shared powers, also have specific element based powers is not a new idea to this fandom. So let's run with this idea too, for funsies. If the blue shard corresponds more to weather (creating storms, lightning, flooding) and the green shard causes plants to grow (as examples), what, then, would Sonic be?

I'd say speed. Why? Well, besides the fact that that's Sonic's thing, let's backtrack to episode 1.

As of episodes 1 and 2, we know Sonic's body produces the same energy as the red shard. Before Nine crafted tech to attach to Sonic's clothes, the energy was not properly distributing to his body. Sonic would run and not be able to stop, he couldn't control his speed, and sometimes, he'd even start running without actually wanting or trying to run. In short, he could not control how fast he was going, how soon he could stop, or even when he would just start running. Even his shoes, which can canonically handle his usual speeds, had started to smoke after a while.

Couldn't you perhaps extrapolate from this that...Sonic became unstable upon entering New Yolk, his speed going haywire, and it was Nine's tech that properly contained and channeled Sonic's (he living shard's) prism energy?

And if Sonic is essentially a living prism shard...

Let's go back to the shatterspace from the trailer again.

A shard shape we've never seen before.

My friend and I got to this point and we thought:

"What if this is Sonic's shatterspace?"

As in, if each prism shard corresponds to a shatterspace, what if this is a secret 6th one that corresponds to Sonic?

Earlier I said that the ideas people brought up (without in season context) for how or why Shadow would speed to take Sonic to Boscage Maze wouldn't make sense. BUT

If there's a shatterspace out there affected by/created by Sonic's prism energy, it may not be a stretch for the writers (and our main characters) to conclude that getting Sonic there could keep him from disappearing.

Just...food for thought.

[sskk-manifesto]

\\

[artemistorm]

Just a friendly reminder to tag Tears of the Kingdom posts with the tag "tears of the kingdom" or "totk." If you tag it with "totk" plus more words in the same tag like "I'm so excited for totk!" or something it doesn't actually get filtered. Tumblr only filters posts with tags that are exactly the same as what someone has entered their filtered tags list in the settings.

I've had several things spoiled for me because things weren't tagged properly and I'm sure others have too. I know it's kinda hard to avoid spoilers being in a LoZ fandom, but all I ask is that everyone tag Tears of the Kingdom posts with "totk" or "tears of the kigndom" so that filtered tags works properly for those of us avoiding spoilers. Many people will be grateful to you if you do.

[lucyvaleheart]

.

[daxite]

crazy that there are still adults who get into actual arguments with children over shipping lmfao

[tripably]

new year new philosophy regarding fic: max 20 tabs open and waiting as tbr. no more massive "i'll save this for later" sprees. no more "let me just sort through this entire tag for things that might interest me at some point". no. no more. be in the moment. stop collecting, start paying attention. love patiently.

also: take notes while reading, of things that touched tangibly, or resonated surprisingly, or vibed uniquely, so that those parts can be specifically adressed when thanking the author.

[my-current-obsession]

I see a lot of people saying that the royals (mostly Alfred, but I’ve seen a fair bit of complaining about all the others too) are statistically bad in Engage. I have to wonder, what difficulty is this based off of? On my Hard playthrough most of the royals were my best units, and Alfred in particular was amazing. Ivy and Celine were probably the weakest two - Ivy due to being a bit slow and having AWFUL dex and luck, and Celine just lacking power due to splitting her attention between strength and magic.

Is it just Maddening that they’re specifically bad for? I have not (and will not) played that mode in any FE but my impression is very much that Maddening mode is a different experience and you’re basically forced to play a certain way to win. That’s probably even more true here since fixed growths are in play, so you can’t count on RNG to give you good units. You have to find the ones that the game wants you to use, and stick with them.

For me, one of the biggest joys of FE has always been the RNG of it all - I love the random growths meaning different characters shine (and suck) each run, which encourages you to give different units a try. I love that, at least on Normal and Hard, you have enough breathing room to basically play how you want - favor the units of your choice, reclass whoever into whichever classes you fancy, etc - and doing so MIGHT make your life harder but probably won’t doom your entire run. The versatility and random nature of your units growths makes strategy & combat in this game infinitely more appealing and adds to its replayability.

Like I LOVE Persona games and Stella Glow (which gameplay wise is fairly similar to FE) but in those games the characters are what they are, and the stats on level-up are set in stone. Once you’ve done ONE run and know what works, Complacent Gaming kicks in and you repeat the exact same steps in future runs. In FE even if you use the same characters in the same classes, their performance WILL vary based on how blessed or cursed the RNG has been for them.

If Maddening IS as difficult and particular as I’m assuming, and basically every unit’s viability is determined from the moment you get them and you HAVE to play a specific way to win... is it really right to judge units based on that specific difficulty? Like, sure, so-and-so SUCKS on Maddening, but so does EVERYONE except this specific handful of units and if you use anyone else you’re just hurting yourself.

I feel like we should be judging characters based off a difficulty where everyone is at least VIABLE from the beginning, but judging how likely they are to REMAIN that way based on their growths/classes/personal skills/etc.

To put it another way, what would a tier list of a Maddening run look like? My impression is that it has two, maybe 3 categories of who you can actually use, who gets benched immediately, and MAYBE a middle category of who exists to fill a spot on the team and take a few hits/deal a smidge of damage for just a little while until someone better comes along to replace them. Meanwhile on Normal and Hard you can have a full spectrum of who on average is statistically the best through the worst, with everything in between. And considering several “unusable” units on Maddening are at least GOOD or even better on a normal or hard run, can you really call them bad? At the very least CLARIFY you mean they’re bad on Maddening specifically instead of in general.

[icharchivist]

i understand the point people are making with those posts but it's always a bit funny to me when i see those posts about like "god people are so weird with how they talk about Japanese/Korean culture, imagine we do the same thing with Germany and suddenly start to drop German words into our sentences like that that'd be so weird" and it's like, yeah, i can imagine that, very well, that's what living in Europe in the late 2000s during the Tokio Hotel mania was like.

Like, unironically exactly like that.

I get the original point, i really do, but this might be the wrong example.