#the next two chapters i love so much

[thebiggestfuckgiven]

Chapter 6 of HIDBV is up!!! i can't believe we're finally at this point!

make sure to read the warnings in the notes before you start reading, and most importantly, enjoy :>

[myokk]

she has him wrapped around her little finger😇🤞

[writingbluerose]

「 That Butler, Magic Twisted 」

✦ MASTERLIST | ✦ taglist ( if you want to be tagged, leave a comment or leave your request in the ask box ) : @lulu--lala19 @kiki-kuku @nyuu7 @bleh09 @moonwatcher2005 @toxicm0cha @boredwithlifeatthispoint @mewchiili @1nserturlhere @analiee6 @hheerrmmiitt @acersandterminal @citrine-everhart @paleocarcharias @s7-evermore

1 . AT NIGHT : unknown arrival

✦ summary : the meeting was horrible and your butler's attempts at calming you down seemed to fall on deaf years. Unfortunately for you, another problem will soon rise, and this time it seems like not even your loyal butler could get you out of it

The loud sound of heels clicking against the stone path echoed through the empty streets in a forgotten city in London. It was the dead of night, and you were far from happy. You'd say you were displeased and the last drop of patience you had was long gone. “Damn men and damn company” Trailing behind you, and yet not too far, was your ever so loyal butler Sebastian Michaelis. His eyes scanned your figure, a mix of pity and amusement in his gaze. He quickly made his way next to you and gave you a reassuring smile “Now, now. My lady, you know stress and anger don't do good for you, how about you start to calm yourself hm?” How honeyed his voice sounded, every woman who'd hear such reassuring and considerate words would fumble immediately, unfortunately for Sebastian, you were stubborn, you've been so since the day you've made the futile mistake of summoning him, so therefore, his words fell on deaf ears as usual. Fingers clenched into fist and one angry pout on your mouth you continued to look ahead of you, ignoring Sebastian and still cursing the company under your breath

Ah yes, the company you worked under. Lunara Vogue. A fashion company which you love more than anything. Your talent and ideas have given you a good spot in one of the highest positions, with great colleagues and great opportunities. But, one thing you hated about it was the executive team which unfortunately for you, was made all of men. Men who you wouldn't have a problem with IF they would actually listen to you and your opinions. There weren't many women working in the company and you had told Sebastian this with a very disappointed look on your face while the butler found it most amusing, this modern world and its standards did nothing but confuse him. Coming back, the executive team wasn't really one you would put in charge of such a popular company, they were too full of themselves and thought that they could do no wrong, Sebastian saw it himself on one of the days you released a new line of clothing. And my, they were a troublesome bunch

The sound of your steps suddenly stopped making their way to his ears, and he stopped, looking at you and waiting for your next move. You stopped before a crosswalk to take a deep breath, your eyes making contact with Sebastian's,“I'm sorry Sebastian, I'm so tired it's hard not to get angry at the littlest things” He gave a light chuckle and moved his hand to put your hair behind your ear “Nothing to worry about, little lady. I'll prepare you a bath and a warm meal so you'll rest well tonight” He gave you a charming smile before gesturing at the crosswalk, motioning for you to walk. Your lips pressed into a thin line, you slowly started walking, the villa you had managed to buy with your money was only one out of the four you had outside of the city, and fortunately, it wasn't far, you could almost feel the softness of your bed and the comfortable pillows

But while dreaming, you were oblivious to Sebastian's body language : his shoulders tensed and his eyes scanned the surroundings. Something was going to happen, and he knew it, he knew something was wrong, or perhaps something was...out of place ; He heard it before he saw it : a carriage approaching you two, and fast, too fast and way too close. The man did not waste any time, he grabbed your waist and tried pulling you out of harm's way “My lady watch out!” You barely registered Sebastian's words and touch before you heard a loud *CRASH!* and your consciousness was suddenly cut short

. . .

“...l...dy...m....” huh? is someone calling me? I can't see or feel anything... where am I? “my l...y” ...that voice? Is it...?? “ughhh...Sebastian?” “My lady! Are you feeling alright? Do you have any injuries?” “No, no I'm okay...where...are we though?” “That I'm afraid I can't answer. Strangely enough, I myself lost consciousness and woke up moments before you. Though you probably feel, we're in a quite cramped place” “hm...” Your hands came to feel around you, knocking on the walls that engulfed both you and Sebastian “It's wood...where the hell are we? Moreover, can you get us out?” You felt him nod his head against your cheek “It shouldn't be a problem, but first, do I get your permission to try and listen to any sounds coming from outside?” “You can” You felt him shift slightly so he could be in your place, his hands were tight on your waist and the only thing you could make out of his form were his glowing red eyes that, for the very first time in your life, you saw having a tint of uncertainty in them. You couldn't blame him, when you heard he also lost consciousness it was clear something weird was going on. If this was enough to give Sebastian a hard time, then you fucked up real bad. You felt him shift again : “I can barely hear anything. I have no choice but to break it” “H-hold on now! What if there are people outside?!” Your hand grabbed his arm in a tight grip and you heard him chuckle, low and amused “Come now little lady — his hand came to rest on yours — when have you heard of me being outnumbered? Did you forget? I'm your butler. And if I'll let something bad happen to you then I'm not worth my salt at all” Your eyes narrowed, though you couldn't see, you practically felt his smug smile directed at you “ughh...fine! But don't be a brute! ...for now at least...” Sebastian laughed “As you wish, my lady” You tried backing up against the wall behind you to shield yourself from the impact. You felt Sebastian's elbow right next to your cheek before a very loud smash, and the front of the cramped room fell on the floor

“What is this?!” Sebastian's voice rang through your ears before stepping next to him. The place before you was grand. A dark room with big windows, in the middle of it was a small fountain and on top of it rested a huge mirror, dark and empty. But the weirdest thing in this room was the floating coffins that were surrounding the walls and the many people wearing robes watching from the end of it. “Coffins...Were we in a coffin just now?! What- hey! Where are we?!” Coming closer to Sebastian, his whole body shielded you to prevent any unexpected attacks. His eyes scanned the room, but outside the shiny windows, not one glimpse was familiar to him “Already out of your coffins? My, you two must be some impatient gals” Standing before you, a black haired man with a bird-like mask was looking at you both with a curious yet neutral face, “Who the hell are you?!” Trying to get closer to the mysterious person, he took a step back while Sebastian grabbed your arm in an attempt to hold you back “Calm yourself — his lips came close to your ears, whispering in a commanding tone — we can't take action until we know for sure where are we and who are these people” Looking at you trough narrowed eyes, Sebastian managed to make you stay put, and angrily sighing trough your nose, you took a step back. “Forgive my lady's poor manners. If you don't mind answering, would you tell us where exactly we are? And why?” The man blinked twice, surprised by the butler's gentle and calm tone opposed to the one he used earlier but answered anyway : “Why? Well that's an easy answer! — his lips formed a giddy smile — You both are here because you were chosen!” Tilting his head in confusion, Sebastian looked at the man signaling him to continue and satisfy the rest of his questions “You are at the very prestigious Arcane Academy Night Raven Collage! A collage where talented mages from all around come to learn and control their magic!”

The surprise on your face wasn't missed “... magic?? L-like the-the characters from books? Magic??” The masked man nodded eagerly “You're here because the dark mirror has recognized both of your talents for magic! Has a carriage not come to pick you up and transport you here?” Sebastian's eyes widded for a slight moment before meeting yours, all of what happened suddenly making sense. You stepped from the spot behind him and tried to reason “But this doesn't make any sense! We can't be here! Not one of us...not one of us can use magic! We're just normal people!” “...But that's simply not possible!...” Along with the masked voice, murmurs erupted from all around, clearly what you call 'normal' as in 'you have no magic' was considered anything but in this place. Sebastian's voice made its way over all the chatter “Could you please send us back? We need to go back home” “Oh of course of course! — the masked man hurriedly came to guide you in front of the giant mirror — I don't know how the dark mirror could make such a mistake!” He stopped in front of it and raised his hands against it “O Dark Mirror! Please guide these souls back to where they belong!” Silence. You and Sebastian looked into the dark mirror and then at each other. Moments passed and a face appeared into it, making you stumble back in surprise. The face looked at both of your expressions, then — “Nowhere. There is nowhere where these souls belong. There's no place for the soul who is guided by hunger, the soul that has no purpose, the one who has not allegiance to life nor death, born by curse and bind by contract. There is no place for the soul that was once clean and now binds the mark of a darkness unknown, a soul that is slowly consumed by the emptiness surrounding it. There is no place where these souls shall return!”

Silence. Nowhere...? You opened your mouth to say something but nothing came out of it. The murmurs stopped, no one moved, yet before anyone said anything you still were the one to break the ice : “W-wait a second now...this doesn't make any sense! If that place doesn't exist then how in the world could that carriage find us in the first place?!” “Then may I ask what place you come from exactly?” Before you could say anything else, you felt a hand on your shoulders, “London, we come from a place called London” The masked man put a finger on his chin, thinking “London...I've never heard of such a place” “!?...” “You two, are you perhaps lying to me?” “No of course not! Why would we lie- ” “MYAHAHA HERE I COME!” Before you gave another try at reasoning, one of the grand windows broke, revealing a little creature who got inside. A gray fluffy creature, its eyes were blue, and accompanying the color of them was also the strong and bright blue flames coming out of its ears. The tail also having an odd form, a pitchfork, darker than the color of the gray fur and white tummy. “I heard everything you said out there! And if they can't come to this school then I'll take their place instead!” “How cute, he has a little bow attached to him” A light chuckle was heard from next to you, Sebastian's cheeks had a slight blush to them...ah, he's already lost... “I am the great Grim! And I'm here to take a place at this school and become the greatest mage in the world!” At the monster's words, laughter from all around was heard. Oh? Could he not do that? You felt a bit sorry for him“Q-quit laughing you! If that's how you'll act then so be it! I'll show you what I'm capable of!” “H-hold on there! First you crash our ceremony then-” But the masked man didn't get to finish his sentence, for before he could say anything else, the little beast inhaled hard and let out a big wall of blue fire engulfing the whole room“Careful my lady!” Sebastian jumped back to a safer place holding you tight, but then suddenly your vision got blurry, the screams of the people rushing outside to escape the flames and Sebastian's figure were incomprehensive. Feeling your form getting lighter on his side, Sebastian took a glance at you, his reaction instantaneous“My lady! What's wrong?!” But you barely heard those words. Black and white little spots filled your vision, and for a moment you couldn't hear anything. Then all of a sudden—

. . .

“GRAAAAAHHHHHH!!!” There was a roar, one so strong it shook the earth. Ruins were all around. The windows, all broken, the floor was all cracked, black and sticky ooze coming out of it, as if waiting for an opportunity to strike and corrupt you. The majesty that was once this room was gone, replaced by a dreadful sight, a wasteland with no way to save it. When you opened your eyes, the first thing you saw were the flames. No corner of this room remained untouched by them, the one who did it had truly no pity. Looking closer, you saw them, a pair of eyes, that at first look seemed so full of anger, but you saw it, there deep in them, a sense of hesitance and fear. These eyes belonged to a beast, such a large beast that even if you'd tilt your head up you'd have no success in seeing all of it. He roared again and for a split second you saw something with the corner of your eye before you were blown back. People. People in black robes, the faces they bore could not be seen, as they were cloaked by a dark hood. And the robes... surrounded by all these ruins they remained untouched, brand new. You wonder if these people would be able to save it. They shout, something, but you couldn't make anything of it. You couldn't see them anymore, you couldn't see anything nor could you hear, no more shouting and no more roaring, only whispers, tiny ones : ... don't let go... don't let go...take it...take the hand...take it... don't let go...

Time was short, make it longer, save them, don't let go, take it... DO NOT LET GO OF THAT HAND!

. . .

“My lady! Can you hear me?” The first thing you heard was his voice, you blinked, once, twice, the third time was the first time you tried to escape, but a strong hold held you from moving “My lady. Relax, it's me! I'm not trying to hurt you” Your rapid breathing didn't go unnoticed by your butler, and he was quick to help you calm down. Your senses slowly came back, and before you knew it, the fire disappeared, and in its place, the beast who once caused it stood on the floor, a beautiful and elegant heart shaped collar adorning his neck. In front of him stood a boy, his robe was untouched, as if he didn't walk through those flames at all. He pointed something that seemed like a pen at the beast : “Interrupting our ceremony and then making a mess of the Mirror Chamber? Such a rule breaker has no place here!” “My, my would you look at that? You could always count on Riddle-san to make a good show” “*yawn* Yeah, yeah I just want this to be over so I can take a nap” “Really now, is that all you think about? How unbecoming of a housewarden” The voices you heard were muffled, still recovering from earlier, you barely could register the red haired boy coming closer to you. Sebastian's hand was steady on your side, straightening up, he looked the boy in the eye, waiting for him to see what he would do. He came and pointed his pen at the butler “And you two! Getting out of your coffins earlier then disturbing the ceremony is unacceptable! I'll have your heads as punishment! OFF WITH—” “Now now Mr. Rosehearts, let's calm ourselves” The masked man quickly came to put a reassuring hand on the boy “I will see to these two, so could you please go and handle our furry friend over there?” The boy's lips turned into a pout and he frowned, clearly displeased, but obeyed anyway “Yes, headmage” And turning on his heels, he disappeared. “Now that that's been taken care of. What shall we do with you?” “Excuse my boldness, but may I perhaps ask if you are so kind to see us to a place where we can rest? My lady doesn't feel really well and she needs to sleep to get her energy back” Taken aback by Sebastian's request, the headmage blinked and smiled graciously “Why yes of course! And I have the perfect place where you can stay! After all I am but so kind! Come along!” Before following the headmage's steps, Sebastian looked at you, “Can you walk?” You nodded tiredly and let the butler guide you after the man's steps

After a while of walking, all three of you were in front of an old and rusty gate, and behind the gate, rested a building that could be called a ruin with the state it was in “It has quite the... character” The masked man took Sebastian's words as a compliment and nodded eagerly “Isn't it? Come now let's get inside, I can feel the raindrops starting to fall” By the time you got inside, you could hear the droplets of rain gently hitting the windows inside the lounge “Now I know it's not the prettiest building but it can shelter you from the rain and wind just fine” Sebastian bowed in gratitude “It is more than enough, thank you” Your eyes darted to the space around you, not failing to notice the moldy wall corners and the dusty old furniture that looked like it hasn't been used in centuries. And that damned laugh— wait...laugh? ...hehe...hehe...hehe... The sinister laugh sounded from all around before you noticed a light circling you, and before you knew it, it took a physical form “Welcome to our castle!” and it disappeared “Wha- huh??? What was that??” “Ah yes I forgot to tell you : in this dorm some ghosts have taken residence” “A what now????” Looking above you at the ceiling, two more lights in addition to the first one circled around before taking the form of three ghosts in all shapes and forms “Welcome welcome you two! We haven't had visitors in such a long time” “We hope you'll make yourself at home” The ghost started laughing and playing all about in hopes of spooking you, Sebastian, quickly realizing their plan, chuckled himself “Why thank you gentlemen. We do hope we won't bother you much with our presence” The ghost's shenanigans came to a stop when they realized they couldn't shake Sebastian, so they tipped their hat and disappeared into the walls “Well now that those are gone, Sebastian! Get to clean—” “Now hold on I'm not done talking” “Aren't you?” “While I do intend to let you stay here free of charge I won't allow one of you to slack off while I'll research a way to get you both home. You'll have to earn money for your food and clothes after all, no?” “But how are we supposed to do that? Our belongings disappeared into thin air!” “I'm sure there's something you can have us do — Sebastian's hands crossed on his chest — can't you think about something?” The man put a hand on his chin thinking, then, as if a lightbulb appeared on his head, his eyes lit up. He must've found a solution “I have just the thing! How about you do odd jobs around the campus? For every thing you do I will pay you money! How does that sound?” Before you could give the rotten bird a piece of his mind Sebastian opened his mouth before you “That sounds perfect Mr...hm..., I don't think we got your name, did we?” “Ah! Where are my manners! With all that was going on I completely forgot! I am the headmage of this school, my name is Dire Crowley. And you gentlemen are?” Before you could get a sound out, Sebastian pulled you closer and whispered into your ear : “I do not recommend you telling your real name my lady. We do not know anything about these people, saying your real name could cause problems” You gave him a hesitant look before sighing “My name is...Yuu, the name's Yuu. And this is my personal butler, Sebastian. It's nice to meet you, headmage” “The pleasure is all mine, Yuu, Sebastian! Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll have to go back to the mirror chamber, I'll see you tomorrow, I bid you two goodnight!” He waved you merrily and before you knew it you were left alone in the run-down building

Later that night, you and Sebastian ditched your jackets, leaving them on a chair, leaving him in his waist coat and shirt and you in your shirt only, while the pants were uncomfortable to sleep in, it was better than nothing. “This was literally the last thing I needed! One second I walk on a crosswalk to my own home and the next I'm being transported into another world! How ridiculous!” Sebastian chuckled at your complaint while pouring tea in a new tea set found by the ghosts in the dorm's kitchen. He turned to you and handed you the cup “Such negative thinking. Well, look at the bright side, at least this dorm is more organized than the apartment I found you in when you summoned me” You rolled your eyes at his smirk and drank the tea

After drinking it, you sat on the bed looking at the ceiling before your eyes darted at the butler, watching him cleaning the tea set “I can feel you staring. Can't you sleep?” A slight blush coated your cheeks “...no” He chuckled at you before turning and coming to sit at the edge of the bed, his hand finding its way into your hair, petting it gently “A grown woman and yet you still need me to do this in order for you to fall asleep. How troublesome” You scoffed and rolled over, his hand still petting you “Stay here until I fall asleep... it's an order” “Well, if my lady wishes me to do so I shall comply” You concentrated on the feeling of him petting you, and the last thing you heard before falling asleep was him blowing out the candles

Sebastian looked down at you. What a soft expression you bare, you feel safe with him here don't you? Such a troublesome and dangerous decision you made now, it almost made him laugh out loud. You're so relaxed with him here, in an unknown world full of strangers and yet if it wasn't for that covenant you wore he won't think twice about taking your soul, your soul that shined so bright all for him. Yet he smiled, what was he to do with you? He will admit he was curious about the mysteries of this unknown world and perhaps he'll get something at the end of this too. He turned his head to the window, the moonlight illuminating his face through the drape gaps, eyes glowing red with satisfaction, he smiled,

He can't wait for tomorrow

© writingbluerose 2025

[aroaceleovaldez]

Romantic in nature or not, I always just looked at that scene in MoA with the notion: Annabeth is convinced that Nico, a gay man, has a crush on her in this exact scene (or you know, a different scene in MoA, I don't remember), and since we know that Annabeth isn't the best on the emotional front, she read Luke's intentions incorrectly, and Percy did, as well, due to his jealousy of the guy.

(Now, I know that neither of these are the case, especially since I doubt Nico was thought to be gay until HoH, and this is around the time that Annabeth was starting to be characterized as Never Wrong About Anything Ever, but it's always been my go-to regarding the whole Luke-Annabeth debacle. What I mean to say is that I like your interpretation of the scenes, too)

Oh i actually believe Nico was fully intended to be gay starting around MOA at least (though I do believe Rick claiming he had figured that out about Nico earlier than that), because Rick was absolutely acknowledging queer topics in his writing at that time. Jason's arc particularly in the latter half of HoO is extremely bi-coded and there's just straight up a canonical polyamorous relationship in Serpent's Shadow, which came out several months before HoH.

Which does make Annabeth's line about that in MOA funnier, especially considering by that point Nico has held maybe one full conversation with her in the entire franchise thus far, maybe two or three if you wanna push it. I cannot emphasize enough how little they had spoken to each other - and tbh, continued to not speak to each other. Just in general. Like the most notable interactions the two of them have prior to the high-five scene in BoO are literally both in BoTL and it's one line and then one off-screen scene of Nico breaking up a fight between Rachel and Annabeth (where they were fighting over Percy) entirely for the purposes of going to save Percy. They barely interact in HoO. Nico and Annabeth have a chronic case of their plot lines being in different locations because only one of them is allowed to be active at a time due to their narrative roles. Annabeth is kidnapped for most of the TTC Nico scenes and Nico is at camp when they get to Annabeth, and then in TLO Nico's busy with all the Underworld stuff and flirting with Percy so he never interacts with Annabeth. Then Nico is off at Camp Jupiter when Annabeth's at CHB and then busy being kidnapped for the first stretch of the Argo II mission and only shows up when Annabeth is busy on her Arachne quest. And then Annabeth FALLS INTO TARTARUS when Nico gets there (and proceeds to pine at Percy) and then IMMEDIATELY after Annabeth gets out of Tartarus, Nico skips away with Reyna and Coach to drag the Athena Parthenos to camp. And then FINALLY they interact and it's not even Nico speaking directly to Annabeth really, just high-fiving her after insulting Percy to his face. He literally only says one word directly to her.

Like. I cannot overemphasize the absolute comical degree to which these two avoid interacting. They're like magnets repelling each other. And yet Annabeth is like "I think he has a crush on me - he spoke to me once, allegedly." Like ah yes, sure, HoO. Next you're gonna tell me you retconned them into having a FOURTH conversation! Don't get too wild!

[honeypiehotchner]

you know the fic is going good when it has you doing MATH to figure out who was how old and when, and who was in the BAU in this year and so on

it'll make sense i PROMISE

[blueflyingturtleontheway]

‘This treasure is yours, my friend,’ said Dantès. ‘It belongs to you alone and I have no right to it. We are not related.’ ‘You are my son, Dantès!’ the old man cried. ‘You are the child of my captivity. My priestly office condemned me to celibacy: God sent you to me both to console the man who could not be a father and the prisoner who could not be free.’ And he held out his good arm to the young man, who fell weeping on his breast.

[penumbra-mayhem]

i feel joy and oh how it burns (pt. 2/2)

Tank opens up to Milo about their relationship with Sam.

part 1 // hurt/comfort // 1.1k words

(I hc Tank with a stutter, more on that here.)

——————————————

“Stop hogging the popcorn,” Milo whined, reaching blindly for the bowl with one hand while his eyes remained glued to the screen. 

“St-top t-t-taking all mmmmy kills,” Darlin’ retorted, shielding the bowl from Milo’s grasp with their body.

“Well, if you knew how to aim—”

“Fuck off!” Darlin’ cackled.

Milo beamed at the sound. As he killed two more zombies, he asked, “I’m gonna get something to drink, you want anything?”

Darlin’ shook their head. “N-No, I-I’m g—fucker, that wwwwas mmmmy kill!! ”

He paused the game with a bark of laughter. “Not anymore! Alright, I’m going. There better still be popcorn in that bowl when I get back,” he teased.

As Milo got up, Darlin’ made a playful show of stuffing a handful of popcorn in their mouth. Milo gasped and snatched the bowl from their lap, exclaiming, “Y’know what? I’m taking it with me!”

He scurried into the kitchen with a titter as Darlin’ made popcorn-muffled sounds of protest from the couch. Milo grabbed two bottles of Jarritos: guava for himself and lime for Darlin’ because he knew that if he didn’t as soon as he sat back down Darlin’ would be all puppy eyes and regret and he’d have to get up again.

When he re-entered the living room, though, he found them glued to their phone looking…concerned?

“What’s up?” Milo asked as he set the bottles on coasters and placed the popcorn bowl equally between them.

“N-Nothing,” Darlin’ muttered. They stuffed their phone under their leg, eyes glassy and unable to meet Milo’s scrutinous stare. 

“T, you look…” like you’re about to cry “…upset.”

They waved a hand. “It-It’s n-n-n-nothing, just Sam…”

“Sam?” Milo’s voice hardened, fear flashing in his eyes, “What’d he do?”

Darlin’ looked up at the sudden change in Milo’s tone. They backpedaled as they realized their mistake, “WWWait—”

“Did he hurt you?”

“N-N-N—”

“Don’t lie to me, Tank—”

“I-I’m n-n-n-n-not!” Darlin’ blurted, “N-N-No. Sam wwwwould n-n-n-never.”

Milo sat back, hackles lowering. “Then what is it?”

Darlin’s gaze lowered and they balled their hands, as if the words were inked onto their palms. They couldn’t explain. Milo wouldn’t understand. They barely even understood.

Suddenly, a piece of popcorn hit them square in the face. 

“Hey,” they retorted, glaring at a gleeful Milo. 

He threw another piece. 

“St-top,” Darlin’ whined, throwing a piece in retaliation. 

“Tell me what’s going on and I will,” Milo countered as he pelt Darlin’ with piece after piece of popcorn, “C’mon. C’mon. C’mon. C’mo—”

“Ok-kay!!” Darlin’ exclaimed, hands held up against the savory barrage. They dug their phone back out and pulled up their conversation with Sam. 

“It-It’s just the l-l-l-last mmmessage…” Darlin’ mumbled as they passed the phone to Milo. 

He took it gingerly and read Sam’s most recent text:

Thinking of you, I hope you’re having a good time at Milo’s. I thought maybe later we could get dinner at Finch & Presley’s and then get gelato at that place you like on the corner. Thoughts? No rush, take your time baby. Have fun!

Milo reread it, certain he had missed something. When his third scan still gleaned no clues, he handed their phone back and admitted, “I don’t understand. What’s the problem?”

Darlin’ shoved their phone away again. “He…he’s…so…good.”

“…go on.”

Darlin’ chewed at their inner cheek. “He mmmmakes mmme hap-p-py,” they admitted, “MMMore than I-I thought I-I c-could b-b-b-be.”

“And that’s bad?”

They nodded. 

“How come?”

Darlin’ looked away, shutting themself down again.  

Milo raised his hand slowly in response, popcorn at the ready. 

Catching the movement out of the corner of their eye, Darlin’ sighed in surrender, “WWWhat if I-I don’t mmmake him hap-p-py?”

Milo’s popcorn-loaded hand lowered in confusion. “What?”

Darlin’ shrugged; it was stupid, they were being stupid.

“Hold on,” Milo said, tossing his unthrown popcorn into his mouth before fishing his phone from his pocket. As he searched his screen, he explained sheepishly, “I uh…I like to take candids of the people in my life…and then I keep them, just for me to look at—where is, ah! here we go.”

He thrust his phone into Darlin’s hands.

They were met with a photo of them and Sam on the first night of the Solstice, laughing together in a corner. Darlin’ glanced back up at Milo.

“Go on,” he insisted, “I’ve only met him a couple of times, so I just have a few, but I think you’ll get the idea.”

Darlin’ furrowed their brow but acquiesced.

Sam and Darlin’ at the Solstice the following evening, snuggled together by a fireplace. Sam and Darlin’ on a double date with Milo and Sweetheart, discussing appetizers. Sam and Darlin’ at the most recent pack meeting, chatting with Asher.

They looked back up at Milo, their face and ears a pale pink. Milo secretly took some delight in Darlin's flustered appearance. It was a pleasant change from their usual scowl or worried frown.

“You know what all of those have in common?”

Darlin' shook their head. 

“Sam is smiling. In every single one.”

Scrolling back through, they found that Milo was right. In each photo, Sam had his eyes on Darlin’ and a smile on his face. Sometimes it was small and soft. Sometimes he was beaming, his whole face crinkled in joy. The pale pink deepened to red.

“Sam doesn’t look like that when you’re not in the room. You make him so happy,” Milo murmured, “And for what it’s worth, you make me happy, too.”

Darlin’ handed Milo back his phone and quickly rubbed at their eyes, hoping Milo wouldn’t notice. But, of course, he did. 

“Hey,” he whispered, scooching closer. 

“S-Sorry…” Darlin’ sniffled, wiping the tears from their flushed cheeks in growing frustration.

“You don’t need to apologize, T. You’re allowed to…” be weak “...show how you’re feeling.” 

Milo moved the popcorn bowl and cooed, “C’mere.”

Darlin’ lifted their head to see Milo’s arms stretched out towards them. They hesitated. Milo was sure they’d reject the offer, but then Darlin’ surprised them both as they crawled into his embrace.

Burying their face in his shirt, they whimpered, “WWWhy d-does it-it hurt?”

Milo sagged. In a sense, he’d been right. Sam was hurting them, but it was the one kind of pain Milo would allow. And the only kind he didn’t know how to ease. He tightened his hold on Darlin’, taking a moment to breathe before answering:

“Warmth can sometimes feel like burning when you’ve been cold for long enough. I think maybe it’s the same with joy. But it’ll get easier. It’ll hurt less, eventually. Just give it time.”

[likesunsetorange]

“it was as if spring had come overnight.” will always be the most heart lurching line to me GOD their lives were always so interconnected

[apixphiny]

what are the sillies talking about? :D

[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.

[myokk]

Sebastian Sallow's List of Priorities (in no particular order):

Figure out what the hell I'm going to do when I graduate;

Figure out how the hell I'm going to finish this bloody Charms essay before tomorrow; and

Figure out what the hell is going on between us

Sebastian sits in an undisturbed corner of the library - nobody ever comes to this table because it's tucked away between shelves of incredibly dense magical theory books - and is twirling his quill in his fingers, watching the ink splatter on the list he spent his precious time writing instead of the Charms essay he should be working on. He's far away from the first-years who like to congregate by the windows and watch the leaves fall softly to the ground rather than study for their classes. He's made especially sure that he is far, far away from her.

It's not his choice, mind you, but he needs to be a gentleman about these things. If she needs some time and space to figure out that she's as crazy for him as he is her, fine. But even Sebastian Sallow's patience runs thin, and he's not sure how much longer he can give her to come to her senses before he snaps and takes matters into his own hands. If things were up to him, the two of them would be sitting far too close together now in this secluded corner, and maybe he would need to put a hand over her mouth to ensure her complete silence as he runs a hand up her thigh.

Now that he knows what delicious sounds can come out of her mouth - sounds that he caused - he's been having a hard time concentrating on, well, anything. Sebastian surreptitiously glances across the library to where she's sitting and studying with his sister and Imelda. Ever since the events after their Divination class, Sir Cadogan has taken it upon himself to follow Sebastian around the halls of the castle, tripping through frames and disrupting their inhabitants as he lectures Sebastian on love. The tea party women had managed to convince the knight that he had disrupted an amorous exchange, and Sebastian fervently wishes they hadn't.

The whole school is abuzz with rumors about who it could be. Nobody has even come close so far with their guesses, but Anne and Imelda are having too much fun teasing him about it. Somehow, she has managed to avoid suspicion - he wonders how this is even possible, since she's never been able to hide what she's thinking. He makes eye contact with her - has she been staring at him this whole time? - and she flushes before looking over to Imelda, who's laughing too loudly at something Anne's just said. Sebastian can't tear his eyes away from her profile, his eyes following the curve of her eyebrow, the slight upturn of her lips as she smiles at her friends, her eyes as they dart back to him, her cheeks as she turns an even darker shade of red as she realizes he's still watching her. She tucks a lock of hair behind her ear, and rests her chin on her hand as she tries to look absorbed in what Anne is saying to her.

Sebastian wonders if she's thought about him as much as he's thought about her. Judging by how she had snogged him back, he's positive that she feels the same way, but then he remembers how she had looked at him before she fled, and he's not so sure. He sighs as he looks back to his list, bringing his quill back to the third item and ripping the paper as he crosses it out again. His mind has been going in circles since that moment and he doesn't know what to think. He slowly puts everything into his schoolbag before heading out of the library for yet another freezing cold shower that hopefully tempers his now-permanent state of arousal whenever she's around.

He doesn't notice her eyes following him as he walks out of the library.

He doesn't hear her hurried excuse to Anne and Imelda as she shoves her things into her bag and rushes to follow him.

He doesn't hear her light footsteps as she gets closer to him.

When she puts a hand out to touch his arm as he waits for the moving staircase to stop, with a soft, "Sebastian" accompanying it, he nearly jumps out of his skin. He was so absorbed with thoughts of her, that to see her standing at his side, closer than she had been since they kissed was almost his snapping point.

"Can we talk?" she asks, looking almost embarrassed as she avoids his eyes. She instead looks determinedly at his collar. He thinks she probably notices that he swallows nervously before acquiescing, but she says nothing as she turns and starts hurrying away from him without waiting to see if he follows her.

She must know that he would follow her anywhere at this point.

from my oneshot🫶🫶🫶

I just really wanted to draw these two idiots😭💘

[hexedkakes]

(This picture was made on Magma which is why it doesn’t have my silly little signature! It’s a pain to get a png in there, for me at least I reckon 🤷)

Oh my god, wait— BitterGoober. Lol

More doodles :0

(They aren’t related to each other, I just wanted to draw them like this, lol)

Last one ☝️

I thought of the goofy joke so I drew it 🤷

I love this ship… and apparently a lot of others do too cuz it won a poll on Twitter!!

(Thanks to my friend for sharing cuz I do not touch that app. Yucky gross. ☝️)

[cerubean]

ꔫ nine people i want to get to know better ꔫ

thank you for the tag!! @willowcreektownie ^-^

last song: someone to chill with | erika de casier favorite color: black! (not trying to be edgy i swearr) currently watching: lost (it's so good! i've been missing out) last movie: sinners (go see it i'm not kidding it's so worth the hype!) sweet, savory, sour?: sweet currently reading: the songbird and the heart of stone (i'm only two chapters in and it's been like two monthsl it's kinda hard to get into tbh. i'm always open to book recommendations btw!!) relationship: singlee (see 'last song' for more details) current obsession: binge watching lost in the little free time i have currently working on: nothing sims related atm i'm mostly just trying to settle into my new place and working and preparing to start the summer semester soon ;-;

i'm tagging: @fallstaticexit @catsinmugs @its-opheliasgarden @smulie @giannascorner @sonicblooms @greglunvik @peonypyxels @moonhze + anyone else who wants to join in!! <3

[starlightmeissa]

personally would love more brynjolf. for some reason the 2 of them interacting is just so entertaining to me

ok this took me forever to respond to but ive been playing oblivion and it inspired me. enjoy a very short snipit of a scene i wrote of these two interacting in the rewrite au!

Brynjolf shifts on his feet, leaning back to pull out the chair in hand and sit in it. Tera doesn’t dissuade him. Drinking alone has never suited her. He settles easily, lounging with the airs of a big cat in their favorite hunting spot. 

“You were doing art at the market,” Brynjolf says conversationally. “Pretty portraits.” 

“You were hawking falmer elixirs. A very lucrative business, selling miracles,” Tera replies. 

Brynjolf smiles wide enough to show his teeth. It’s a charming thing, reaching his eyes without losing that sly edge he has going. Makes a person think they’re in on whatever private joke he’s telling. 

“Would you like a miracle?” He asks with just the barest hint of flirtatious tease. A test. That accent shouldn't be legal.

Tera takes another drink of her mead and licks her lips. “I’ve found that blood disagrees with me.” 

Brynjolf chuffs a laugh, then waves over one of the hard eyed barmaids to bring him an ale. Tera supposes you’d have to be hard eyed to deal with a bunch of thieves, bandits, and other associated Riften scum. The Flagon is certainly more populated and larger than it had been in game. And rowdier. 

Tera casts a glance to the room, watching two men burst from their seats at a packed card table and lunge for each other. The bouncer, Dirge, starts towards them from across the wide, round room. He looks much bigger in real life, with big nord hands that could crush skulls and a menacing looking war axe on his back. 

A bald man at the card table says something disparaging about the men now trying to beat each other’s faces in. Delvin Mallory, Tera thinks. The man who hands out jobs and with connections to the Dark Brotherhood. She recognizes the guild leathers on him. He’s already dealing for the next round, ignoring the commotion.

“Some men just aren’t house trained,” Brynjolf says as the barmaid comes back with his ale, setting it down before him and cursing under her breath about spills.

One of the brawling men grabs another patron’s bottle and breaks it over the other’s head. Tera lifts her eyebrows, memorizing the way the glass glitters and the dynamic pose. She really should open her sketchbook up, suspiciousness be damned. 

“But you seem familiar with that sort of thing. My apologies for assuming otherwise,” Brynjolf continues. He pulls a little knife from his belt and uncorks his ale with a deft flick of his hand. Tera wonders if he uses it for locks. It looks about the right size. 

“There’s nothing to forgive,” Tera says magnanimously. She reaches onto the table and opens her sketchbook. Nearby there is the sound of a shout and something being slammed into wood. “I do have the look of someone with house training. Has anyone ever told you you have a very symmetrical face?”

Brynjolf pauses from bringing his drink to his lips, his brows twitching, then finishes the motion. Downs a gulp and sets it down. “No, I can’t say anyone has,” he says dryly. 

“More’s the pity.” 

Tera flips to an empty page, past notes on the inhabitants of Riften she’s already seen so far and interesting gossip she’s heard. She pulls a pencil from her bag and starts sketching the figure lines for the bottle break. Better to ease into these things. If she starts with Brynjolf’s face it may be too strong. And she’d prefer being warmed up before she attempts him. 

“Do you often take notes in that book?” Brynjolf asks, having caught sight of the words in the past pages. 

“I’m observant, I like to keep track of what I see.” Tera finishes the action lines and starts on the details, the heads, then the shoulders, then further down. The scratch of the pencil against paper is barely heard as Dirge tosses the fighting men into the murky waters at the center of the room.  A loud splash, then jeers from the crowd. 

The men should feel lucky that that water isn’t sewage. From what Tera can tell, this is the part of the underground that feeds Riften’s wells. 

“Ah,” Brynjolf exhales, looking a bit pleased. He’s figured it out, then. “Observation is a good skill for an artist.” 

“It pays very well. Though, I hear some patrons aren’t good for the money these days.” 

Brynjolf’s expression sours, just so. “I’m not sure where you heard that, but the guild doesn’t take lightly to that kind of talk.” 

“Any guild wouldn’t. A broker does have to be careful, though. Charity is terrible for business.” 

“I saw you handing coins off to beggars earlier.” 

“The beggars are much more sympathetic,” Tera says, before gesturing around them with her pencil. “Others are not.” 

[rookamell]

In The Aftermath

(Rook is trying to deal with the consequences of her actions. Spoiler: It's not going well)

“The Veil is a wound I cut into the Fade in a moment of desperation while making their prison. It should not exist .”

He took a breath, and she saw him fight to regain his composure.

“I had a host of spirits ready to help when the Veil fell. They would have minimised the loss of life.”

Minimised the loss of life.

The small corpse in Minrathous flashed in front of her eyes. The screams from Treviso as the dragon decimated the city. Neve’s devastated expression. Ashur.

But Rook had come to this confrontation with ammunition. With arrows nocked and bowstring drawn. For once.

“Like the spirits you sacrificed in your war against Elgar’nan?”

She saw the blow hit in the way he blinked. A flinch so small she doubted anyone else would have caught it. Maybe Varric. It sent a shiver of satisfaction through her.

“How do you know of that?” he asked, calmly. Too calmly

“Does it matter?” She asked, and through the anger and indignation she did manage to realise she could perhaps be holding a winning card. That he didn’t know about… whatever it was that they’d seen in the Fade. 

[a-gay-bloodmage]

Mortal Pleasure

(Justice x Anders x Orest Mahariel)

After the loss of Justice, Vigil's Keep doesn't feel the same. Anders' strange and distant behavior doesn't help matters. Orest Mahariel is determined to figure out what's going on and make his friend—or friends, perhaps—feel good enough to share.

Read Here!