#and i feel so trapped. and so angry. and so monstrous.

[erraticroses]

.

[girlwiththoughts13]

No place for a Dragon

Aemond Targaryen x F!reader

Warnings: Targ-cest/ smut!

Word count: 1k

~~~~~

The cold winds and bitter snow that dust over your skin feels far more harsh against the heat your body naturally emits. The frigid temperatures of Winterfell is no place for a dragon. The thought of remaining here until the ends of your days is more frightening than the prospect of marriage. For the lord stark is a kind and honorable man, that rarity alone makes your dreadful thoughts gently fade.

Despite this union being an arranged one-all to strengthen the north as a ally for your mother Rhaenrya- Cregan Stark had done his best the last 2 sennights of your residence in the foreboding halls to quail your concerns of a loveless marriage. He vowed to aways be faithful, and in time, come to love you as deeply as a man loves a woman.

There was no doubt you would preform your duties and give the wolf of the north your companionship, your body, and your name, but your heart was not as compliant.

It's not that you didn't find him attractive or kind or all the things a lady would hope for in a future husband; however your heart simply did not beat, at his more than adequate attributes.

How you wished to rip put your own heart, tear it asunder and remold it to fit the lord stark. He may speak true, as the years come love will grow.

In the main Hall of the keep you clutch onto the furs wrapped around your shoulders and await to meet the kinslayer himself. It has been long since you set your eyes upon your uncle. It seems he is still as brazen as ever, showing up to a house that went against Aegon's claim and alone at that. You wondered what was crossing through his mind. Did he think to take on the soldiers on his own? Even vhagar would not be able to defeat thousands of angry northern men.

Regardless of the trap you suspected, if able, capturing the second son of the whore Queen would be a feat for your side.

Lord stark stood beside you, jaw set and hand tightened around his sword. You could feel his eyes move to the side of your face, no doubt blaming you for the arrival of the man with the largest dragon in the known world.

Continuing to stare straight you decide to break the thick silence. "Will you turn me in to save your house?" The worry has set in your thoughts since the circling of the monstrous beast was spotted. Aemond surely is not here to discuss the notion of peace.

"Do you think so low of me?" You finally meet his gaze and find nothing short of offense, Starks were no oath breakers, to be accused by his betrothed of all people, made him believe he was not doing enough for you or the war efforts.

Before you could answer, the large wooden doors creaked open snapping your stare to the approaching men.

Four men surrounded the dragon prince as they walked, ensuring he did not try to assassinate there liege lord or their princess.

When the men came to a halt your betrothed stepped forward shielding you from view.

"I'd say I admire your boldness but I believe it's just stupidity that has lead you to my lands" Cregan spoke with clear distain and although his back was to you, you know his face is just as thunderous.

"I had to see for myself if the rumors were true, my dear niece being sold off. Tell me Lord Stark has she spread her legs for you yet? If she's anything like her mother then I suppose that answers that." Aemond speaks with a cruel tone and a smirk that never falters splayed across his face. The allegations against you and your mother, wretches a small gasp from your lips.

"How dare you, come here, dishonor Lord Stark and spew vile insults toward my mother the Queen and her daughter? I could have your head for that, send it to your bitch of a mother" The sudden sound of your voice and the threat against his mother struck a nerve if the hard-set in his eye was anything to go by.

"Nyke gōntan daor māzigon kesīr naejot vīlībagon nyke jorrāelagon naejot ȳdragon lēda ao mērī" I did not come here to fight I need to speak with you, alone. His switch to your mother tongue was a obvious slight to Cregan, but you had not time to dwell on that, not when he was asking the impossible of you.

You did not give him the satisfaction of answering him in your native language. "Do you think I'd go anywhere with you alone? So that you may slit my throat or worse take me to the red keep as a hostage of the usurpers?"

"Give me one reason not to string you up? Or send you to the Dragon Queen?" Cregan obviously had picked up on Aemond's intentions and had begun to reach his limits of his presence.

The sinister smile returned on Aemond's face, making your blood run cold, knowing his hand was about to be revealed. "You're right. You could kill me right now or keep me as a prisoner, but not before Vhager burns this entire castle to the ground. I am prepared to meet my maker, are you Lord Stark?"

The Lord of Winterfell goes to rebuttal such a threat but Aemond continues. "Or, niece, we could have civil conversation, after which I promise to return you to your pup."

You step around Cregan, prompting him to reach his hand out to stop you from advancing. He gives you a pointed look, one you return.

You place your hand atop his to soothe his worries. You lean up to his ear and he angles his face down to meet yours. "I'll be okay, your house shouldn't suffer over a mere denial of conversation" The whisper of your voice reaches him and only him. You pull away to show your resolve leaning up once more to press a firm kiss on his cheek. Squeezing his arm as you pass.

Reaching Aemond he holds out his own arm to you, one you ignore. He lets out a chuckle and gives his head a light shake.

As you walk Aemond tells you of a cottage he happened upon, a near by place he had left Vhagar awaiting his return. Although you hate the idea of leaving the safety of Winterfell grounds, Aemond will not budge to a private audience in your quarters, therefore you walk silently beside him.

You stop walking when you both reach the door of the quaint cottage. Vhagar a little off to the side puffing out hot air, that reaches you from where you stand. He looks back at you with amusement. "Scared niece?"

Donning a smirk of your own you proceed onward aware of the mistake you were making and finding you did not care at all.

"Ohh.. Fuck!" The moans run out of your open mouth as your slammed up and down on Aemond's cock in rapid motions. The echo of your skins clapping together Is heard throughout the small space and should any one happen to find themselves taking a stroll near the grounds would surely hear the raptures of your pure pleasure.

Aemond latches onto your bouncing tit, suckling at your nipple and bringing a hand to knead the other. His free hand that rested upon your lower back, reaches up to take a strong hold on the back of your head, yanking the sliver tresses back from where you hidden your head in the crook of his neck.

He moves his feet to root them to the ground, to meet your thrust, your rhythm restrained by the small chair you ride him on.

"Does your pup still believe you a maiden?" His thrust growing harsher at the mention of your intended. "Does he know I've ruined you? Gotten deep inside this tight cunt and imprinted my name on the mouth of your womb?" It is a wonder he speaks as if not strained from supporting your weight atop him and the excursion of fucking up into you.

There is no desire within you to answer. You wish to forget of the realities of the outside world and be here and now. Feeling his warm skin on yours creating fire that stokes you completely alight. This will be the last time you lay together the war of fire and blood rearing its rotten head. You realize that was the reason for this. Showing up and demanding an audience with you. Risking his life for one more night with his princess, his niece, his love.

You place one small palm on his mouth to stop more vulgarness from spewing out. "Just shut up and fuck me harder, unless the dragon would like to yield to the wolf?" Aemond lets out a growl and winds his arms around you, standing to his full height with you in his arms. He manages to stay inside you as he walks you to the near by table. When he sets you down he pushes down on your stomach to lay your back flat against it,

The way he was fucking you earlier has nothing on the way he pounded into you now, practically embedding your skin in the oak of the table. Aemond has one hand on your hip and the other comes up to wrap tightly around your throat cutting off your air immediately. Your hand grabs his wrist but you make no attempt to free yourself from his grasp. Despite the circumstances there is no fear in your body, instead you find hot arousal, one that makes your already wet cunt gush more liquid at the base of his cock.

"My, my, look at this, what a sight" You glance up at him, his eye trained directly on the place where his cock disappears within you.

His deft fingers circle up to your clit and that is your undoing, your legs shake from around his waist and your back arches up, head thrown back, a loud moan tearing through you.

Aemond lifts you up to him, from the gap you made when your back raised off the table. Your head falls on his shoulder, limp from being throughly sated. Gone are the precise thrusts, replaced by quick hard shoves inside you, desperate to reach his peak. Once more he tugs your head back and kisses you deeply passionately, It remind you of when you were children, ignored by your elders and seeking love in each other. Kisses hidden beneath the blanket of darkness.

Aemond's stills and groans quietly as his seed fills you to the very end of you and there is a small part of you that hopes it takes root, so that you may have a piece of him always, even when he is gone.

"I love you" You both whisper, low as if you will be strike down by all the gods if heard.

Mayhap's you have already been scorned by their fury.

[duriens]

everybody's eager to watch Armand through Lestat's eyes in s3 anticipating how monstrous he'll be and how he'll get the full gremlin treatment, and to an extent, yeah, sure, same. but I feel some of us are forgetting how miserable, angry, hurt, and lost Armand appears in Lestat's eyes also. how his pursue of Lestat can't be downsized to just how annoying his fixation is, or how ridiculous, when the line "you've been the slave of everyone who claimed you" actually exists and it is Lestat who says it to Armand, and not in an hateful or spiteful way but in an honest and not unkindly way, because one of the best things Lestat did was refusing to be one of Armand's masters also for Armand's own sake. it's kind of appalling to me that some fans who even read the books can't seem to be able to scratch the surface of Armand's essence and see the tragic truth of what he is and why, when literally Lestat de Lioncourt managed it. (and also the show did tell us, again)

all this to say I hope the screenwriters recognize this about Lestat, though they did alter his character a bit, and don't fall into the trap of oversimplifying Armand's character just to show us a petty, funny, 'cunty' Lestat. cause Lestat might be a lil bit dumb and all, but he never was needlessly cruel or blind to Armand's whole deal.

just a reminder: dreamstat isn't the real Lestat. the stuff he says about Armand come from Louis. the fact Sam Reid insisted so much on telling us "dreamstat isn't real Lestat" keeps my hopes up in regards to how he'll tell his truth in s3.

[unsoundedcomic]

Whumptober 2024 - 12 - "Starvation"

Your aunties and nannas, your sisters and grammas sent you to me, little eggs? Little eggs, to me? Well, I don't have time to draw in the dirt for you all the arteries of the underneath nor the roads of the world up above, but yes, I am Half Spear Flann, and I have walked both, and I have cut spiderpaws down by their shinbones and finished them at the throat.

Yes, that is the way to do it, little eggs. I'm here in your village to refill my flasks, to fatten my packs, and to lay close with your aunties and nannas, your sisters and grammas, to make more little eggs to kill more ugly spiderpaws, but yes, I am Half Spear Flann, and I will tell you the story of why that is my name.

Many years ago in the village of Small God Umyaralech, the salt dog that was the servant of the great salt lizard Shaensigin, I was only Flann, but there was not one better with the long spear than Flann. I could pin a beetle at a hundred paces, slay Redcaps by the dozen. The wanderers heard this and wanted me badly; wanted Flann to join their wandering along the shores of the Deep Hungry Sea.

I trained and packed, and waited for the wanderers to return to Umyaralech's village. I would leave with them and be a Man then. But long past the mating time, they still had not appeared. More time passed, and the Still Season was soon upon us. The wanderers had not brought meat, had not brought roots. The little eggs bawled and fussed, tired of only bug and saflesh on their plates. The Elders took up spears. They took up lanterns. They kissed the wet snouts of their little eggs and left, to travel themselves towards the hinters in search of the wanderers.

Then, one day, a strange light burned from the blackness outside the gates of Umyaralech. Little eggs thought it our elders and wanderers, and whooped and ran to greet them. But this light was not the blue of lymph nor the warm amber of fire. This light was the colour of sickness, and even the bagmoths would not circle it.

For this light was made by the evil spellery of Spiderpaws, and it poured into our village like plague.

Cutting shards flew as the enemy barked its spells. In pieces, the little eggs tumbled to the ground, heads cut from necks, arms cut from shoulders, tails cut from flanks. I took up my spear as our leaders let loose our traps. For we were not so far at the periphery, we of Umyaralech, that we had not heard tale of the ugly giants raiding inak lands in search of ogre bones and sparkling stones. So stones we gave them! Down carved chutes, boulders thundered from the dark, crushing the fragile bones that hold spiderpaws tall. They are very weak, the spiderpaws. Break the knees, shatter the legs. Their bared bellies are soft as pig wool, and their throats open at a touch.

Flann opened many throats that day, and the nannas were like beasts in defence of clutch and kin. Soon, only two spiderpaws remained there in our home. They looked around at the bloodied village that I think they had not expected to find so large, so angry, so hard. Upon the taller of them, three inak set, raking his back open so the white bones showed through the red and we all saw the thump! thump! thump! of his terrified heart! It thumps still! Don't pity the monster, but that long thought thumps still!

The last human was left to me. Towards my snout he flung his monstrous glowing paw but Flann was not afraid. I threw a body at him - small yellow Sarb, my dead friend, who could sing and braid so well - I threw her body, and the demon's spell bounced against it. I vaulted forward, to that soft and unguarded spot between the thighs, and plunged my spear high. Oh, his scream, little eggs. I was drunk on it, as with a cup of bitter aret juice I had enjoyed when the Fanare'she visited. I wanted more! Into his dancing body I twisted my spear head, again and again, until the shaft snapped, I could no longer feel my fingers, and there was no blue of me left beneath the coat of my enemy's red gore.

Yes, inak mine, yes. Always celebrate the death of evil! Draw it out and celebrate it! For it is rare, and it is precious, and you must not be ashamed to find it beautiful.

Weeks passed, and still no wanderers. Still no elders returned from the dark. We did not expect them to. Among the dead spiderpaws we'd found my Nanna's fine jewelled belt, and many of the wanderers ancient and holy blades. We knew they had died in glory and sacrifice. We knew they never again would return home to taste Shaensigin's salt nor embrace little eggs beneath the blue lymph of Tidalsong. Yet, we of Umyaralech would not starve, there, in the Still Season. We would live, and make new eggs, and one day kill more and more spiderpaws. Little eggs would become elders, and I, Half Spear Flann, would become a wanderer and gather more wanderers to me.

And so though there was no roasted fish on our plates then, nor crisp sea cotton nor pinchers nor salt dog, we ate well that Still Season. Spiderpaw flank is not so fine a meal, but it grows little eggs into inak men and inak elders, and if you have opportunity to taste it, my fierce ones, dig your fangs deep.

Now away from me! Go and make sport with the beetles and balls. But send your nannas hither! For the Dark is deep and cold, and Flann would take into it better memories than these red tales that make your young eyes glisten and gleam.

[mswyrr]

"agatha all along" 1x03 SPOILERS

The way I read the themes of the episodes so far and the symbolism of the official Tarot cards, "Agatha All Along" is about healing the core wound of "the covenless witch." Agatha, the Three of Swords, has been dealt the Death card - now is the time to transform, to grow and change. That will come through walking the Road and committing to this coven -- even if she doesn't mean it, the magic is taking her seriously. She'll either die on the Road or come out part of a coven again.

She's spent centuries emotionally trapped in the moment of her coven/family's betrayal. Centuries running from community, because she learned young how terrifying it can be. A community can become monstrous and cruel. That is the ugly possibility that exists within all communities and relationships, in every way that people come together. So she ran and focused on making herself as powerful as possible, so she never needed anyone, so she could never be made weak and vulnerable again. She learned to treat other people like vending machines to just get stuff out of and move on.

But then Wanda forced Agatha into the position she'd feared so much: weakness, vulnerability, powerlessness, and *dependence* on a community. And what did the people of Westview do?

They were kind to her. When she was their weak, powerless, "crazy" neighbor. They were nice to her during her delusions, or at least not cruel, and many of them actively tired to make sure she was as okay as she could be.

And all of this is why, thematically speaking, I don't think Sharon is permanently dead -- this is fundamentally a story of growth and the spell/temporary death Sharon is under is about the way Agatha tries to force sincerity into exploitation (because exploiting others makes her feel strong instead of weak and receiving sincere kindness, when she's conscious of it, makes her angry/afraid), but there's been kindness there for her the whole time.

I don't think she's going to become a Do-Gooder, I think she'll always be a bit of a rogue and morally not committed to some big idea of Good, but she can grow to be able to allow herself to have people she cares about and the exchange of trust and vulnerability and the growth that makes possible. I think that's what's "in the cards" for her. I'm not sure how far this one season will take her into healing and growth, but certainly I don't think we'll have a cloud like Sharon dying due to her behavior hanging over things in the end. That's not really an appropriate symbol for the kind of journey I think this season is about for her. And everything that happens (or SEEMS to happen) on the Road is, I believe, a test -- in one way or another.

[nivenus]

The thing about Joker 2's mutual rejection of the first film's fandom is it seemed perfectly clear to me when I finally watched the first film that Todd Phillips held nothing but contempt for Arthur Fleck.

He wasn't an anti-hero or tragic villain in Phillips' eyes: he was a pathetic sicko.

The hysteria (which I participated in) about whether the film romanticized lonely angry men completely missed the point, as did fans of the film that claimed it was a sympathetic portrayal of mental illness or economic inequality: the film fit neither narrative.

Instead, Joker is a deeply cynical, almost voyeuristic film about watching someone who's already beneath contempt following an almost inevitable spiral into mindless violence, which the mob eats up because they're dumb sheeple.

Arthur isn't portrayed with empathy: we don't get a sense for who he is besides "sad" & "unhinged."* He's clearly creepy & unsettling even before he turns violent and the movie makes a point that his perspective isn't trustworthy. His fictional condition is used to make him inhuman, not relatable.

The same is true of the film's alleged social criticism about inequality and mental health treatment: the film portrays those who are angry at the system as, at best, delusional, and at worst nihilistic. Sure, Thomas Wayne is an asshole but he's also normal.** Neither Arthur nor his fans are.

The closest the film has to a point of view is, IMO, Murray Franklin, the Johnny Carson like night show host who Arthur murders in the final act. He's treated as a voice of reason and his derisive rejection of Arthur is treated as "calling it like he sees it:" Arthur is a terrible comedian.

Likewise, though this exchange has become memetic as a way of talking truth to power, I think it's perfectly clear in context Murray's shock and dismay is supposed to be relatable while Arthur's admission to enjoying killing is supposed to be monstrous.

The problem is... the movie is about Arthur & so the fact that he's such a vapid, uninteresting character means the film is also very hollow. Not only does it have little to say about mental illness or inequality but it also doesn't have anything interesting to say about violent psychopaths.

So it's easy to see why people projected messages on to it the film doesn't actually support: because there's nothing actually going on underneath the surface, for all its obvious aspirations to "high cinema."

The movie gets by entirely on its trappings: it looks and feels like a 1970s Scorsese film and even if you haven't seen Taxi Driver or The King of Comedy that lends it a uniqueness that makes it stand out.

But scratch below that and there's nothing there.

Ultimately, I'll admit to a certain schadenfreude with the second film bombing so terribly, because it honestly feels like what Todd Phillips' efforts deserve: a film where the only real ideas it had were that the mentally ill are contemptible and empathy is for the stupid.

*Also can we talk about the homophobic trappings of Phoenix's performance? I can't be the only one who noticed the effeminate mannerisms and gay lilt Phoenix and Phillips gave Arthur nor the way his obsession at Murray Franklin reads as homoerotic.

This, along with what I've read of Harley's (excuse me, "Lee's") portrayal in Folie a Deux gives me no sense that Phillips' contempt for Arthur has less to do with violent masculinity rather than a general abhorrence of the neurodivergent and those outside a straight, white male neurotypical POV.

**(Also worth pointing out that the central villainy of Wayne, that he had an affair with Arthur's mother and possibly fathered him, is revealed to be quite possibly all a delusion by said mother and not at all real.)

[tinygameroom]

Played some more today and I think Voice of the Paranoid is quickly becoming one of my favorites. I spent so much time exploring the Nightmare that the 'heart, lungs, liver, nerves' mantra became sort of soothing, and him arguing back and forth with The Hero about maintaining it as you lead the Nightmare out of the cabin was very fun. And the Hero taking up the mantra (and sucking at it) was also great.

My favorite bit was when the Hero egged the Paranoid out and took his turn doing the mantra so the Paranoid could advise our decision about whether to let the Princess out or slay her, and his immediate reaction is 'Well don't listen to the Narrator, fuck this guy we hate him.' His absolute distain for the Narrator is so fucking funny and so core. I feel like he and the Hero play off each other super well especially in scenarios like this because the Hero is the simple moral compass who's trying to find the most rational and beneficial solution, but failing all else wants to stand by us and do the best thing, and the Paranoid is fiercely angry and protective and wants firstly to survive, and secondly to spite anyone who tries to control us. I love them both a lot and their dynamic is great.

I think this is also the first time I've heard the Narrator say 'kill her' - it's definitely an uncommon occurrence because the Hero even points it out. The Narrator dismissively says it's the same thing but it's really telling that his word choice is so deliberate, because his words and information are his source of control, and he's set this up the whole time like a noble deed, slaying a creature so dangerous she's practically inhuman, always quick to point out her uncanny or monstrous features as they appear, and yet when he gets desperate in this specific scenario he switches to 'kill' for a moment and emphasizes it.

And if you do kill the Princess and get trapped in her basement, when the Paranoid suggests killing yourself, the Narrator says he doesn't want you to, and when pressed claims he cares about every individual life. Which, obviously this is true, life is the whole reason he's done this. But it feels ironic and hollow when he's just demanded you kill the Princess - he says nothing about valuing her life or it being a necessary sacrifice, and the Hero doesn't bring it up - and you're already trapped in a hellhole where you will either die or exist in nothingness forever.

And it's like, aside from the question of 'what is life without death?' I'm asking 'what is life without autonomy?' because I'm certainly not going to believe a creature who has put me in an impossible situation, continually denied me choice, gotten me trapped in a terrible fate, and then tried to deny me a way out, actually puts any value on my life.

And while none of the voices have the full picture, the Paranoid gets that the Narrator not only can't be trusted, but undermines everything we value.

Also the Nightmare is soso creepy I love her.

[licncourt]

Licncourt you're right as always about female coding and you hit the nail on the head about Louis!

My opinion about Lestat is that he was portrayed as the stereotypical bad woman: vain, shallow, cruel and foolish but beautiful. But he was also a victim whom the narrative constantly forces to forgive and love his abusers because that's the only way he becomes worthy of being loved. It happened with Magnus, Akasha, Armand and also with his father (the only time Lestat didn't want to forgive someone... but was pushed to do so) It's frustrating if you think about it, because that's what society expects of women.

I'm really glad you think so!! He's so girl to me but in the right way, not the Anne Rice way.

I was sooo happy when I read this because !!! You are absolutely onto something here that should be examined further. There's some overlap between Louis and Lestat for sure when it comes to female-coding, both of them being portrayed as over-emotional and somewhat effeminate etc, but it's really cool how the rest contrasts in such an interesting way, like a Venn diagram. I've talked plenty about Louis being pretty directly analogous to the stereotypes of a lustful, weak-willed, hysterical woman whose primary assigned value is beauty, but there's a LOT to say about Lestat too.

I love what you said here because the first part really feels like a throughline tying Lestat to the women who helped established the Bad Woman archetypes in the literary canon like Medea (vindictive and treacherous), Lady Macbeth (power-hungry for personal gain), or Delilah (a calculated honeytrap for "righteous men"). In spite of his anger and mistreatment of Louis, most of Lestat's flaws in the trilogy are strikingly feminine in the literary sense. He's quite literally portrayed as a cruel, shrill gold-digger who dickmatized a rich husband and trapped him with a child.

Yes, he's an angry, domineering man, but it's the impotence behind his anger that pivots towards the stereotypically feminine. Throughout IWTV, he's all bark and no bite, yelling, whining, throwing books and sulking, even having an affair to punish Louis for his coldness and lack of affection versus anything more direct and aggressive. It really reads like the idea of a bitchy housewife tormenting her husband while trying to get her way and take revenge.

In addition, I really like the comparison of him with the wicked mother archetype, a maternal figure who poisons the daughter with her own trauma and anger (Clytemnestra-esque) and creates another monstrous woman in her own image. I've mentioned this before, but I think the creation of Claudia can be read symbolically as a conception, pregnancy, and birth, Louis draining her as a sort of insemination that's useless on its own but is "gestated" or made into a whole (a vampire child) by Lestat/his blood. In those terms, Lestat is immediately set up as a mother figure to Claudia, then again later when she's situated as a direct rival and narrative parallel to him. Generational trauma is passed from Gabrielle to and through Lestat and into Claudia as if he was also a daughter in the chain.

In terms of victimhood, what you said is also very interesting because it's one of the few places where this female-coded Lestat slips through and re-emerges really prominently in late canon despite AR's attempts to masculinize him. In trying to redeem him and make him "perfect", she puts him back into the feminine role with the societal expectation that a woman should forgive her abuser and take the high road, empathize with him even, especially in religious communities (interesting considering AR's wild rollercoaster ride with Catholicism). It's as if Lestat's disdain for Magnus is an unpleasant loose end she needs to tie up so he can be "good" now.

I think it's interesting too that the only abuser that the narrative doesn't ever give a sympathetic sort of pass to is Akasha, the sole woman who inflicted this kind of abuse on Lestat and a victim of bodily exploitation in her own right. Even the Marquis receives the narrative's sympathy as a repentant old man, even Magnus the monster. Not Akasha though. She's just a bitter man-hater and Lestat has to choose whether he wants to be also.

(Btw this is such @nasnyys business and what he screams into the void about every day so I'm making him a part of this. Everyone go talk to him about Lestat and evil woman allegories.)

[yandere-fics]

♡ How She Handles Taking The Knot In Your Body ♡

(This is a continuation of a series of asks where Sawyer and reader body swap, warning smut talk and afab genitalia.)

It helped that you weren't experienced with this so you were a lot more willing to just obey her commands, confused by the intensity you felt the moment you woke up and the fact you were in Sawyer's body instead of your own. You were just so panicked that it made it easy for you to listen to her every word first instead of immediately pouncing on her like she probably would have if she were the one in heat. Still it was just a knot, how hard could it be? She saw you take it every time she was in heat and semi regularly even when she wasn't in heat, perhaps it was that overconfidence that led her to currently being on top of well... herself and trying hard not to grit your precious teeth as she lowered herself down. How the fuck did you do this every time? This literally felt insane and was honestly way more painful than it was pleasurable since she wasn't experienced enough to know which angles hurt and which ones don't.

"D-dearest, I-I need help, please?" It felt pathetic to be whining like this when the tip had just barely popped in, you often took the full thing before she started to ask her for help so the fact she couldn't even do this to relieve the aching you were currently feeling in her body felt pathetic. She was the one who put you in heat while you were trapped in her body so she should be the one to help and yet here she was asking for you to do some of the work when you were also in a very confusing and scary situation.

You weren't in better shape however, your fingers were curled tightly in the bedsheets, your eyes closed tightly, probably very disturbed by the sight of you on top of yourself so if she wanted to relieve your pain then she had to suck it up and be the one to do it. She should have fingered herself open before doing this, everything was going wrong and she couldn't figure out how she had ever thought this would be a good idea.

"C-come here." You mumbled. It was kind of weird thinking about letting her ride your face while she was in your body but it was so much worse watching her almost kill herself taking that monstersity with barely any prepwork. You'd be kind of angry if when you switched back to your body finally your body hurt like hell so you could endure this weirdness for the sake of not being in agony later on.

You were actually very disturbed to learn how fucking long her tongue actually was. Sure you knew in theory that when you fucked an insane amount of her tongue went inside you buttttt you never had looked at it and now that you were in control of it, softly licking at your own clit as she hovered above you, you started to realize that it was freaky big. You had always been way too focused on her giant knot to realize her tongue was also monstrous. It was best not to think about it, all of this was incredibly disturbing and you were finding out just how irritated Sawyer must of felt all those times she could directly shove her knot right into you. Maybe you'd tease her a little bit less next time.

The prepwork only really took a few minutes with how easy it was to maneuver and flex her tongue but for you it felt like hours where her cock throbbed hungrily, begging fo the main thing to finally start. You had to admit seeing your own blissed out face did make you realize why she was always so determined to do it cowgirl or missionary style. That was yet another revelation it was best to lock deep inside and not think about ever.

"Okay let me try that again dearest." You clutched her when she tried to position herself for riding again, this really was not the best plan of hers, if she did it like that it would go deeper and would hurt more so it really was best for you to be on top even if she wanted to be the one to relieve your pain.

"Babe, it's a really bad idea, you should let me handle it." Though you weren't sure if you would be any better with how desperately you just wanted to ram straight inside, this really was an awful situation the two of you were in. You'd slept with her a million times but this whole thing was making you start to feel like a virgin.

"Don't worry dearest, I can do this. Just sit back and aahh r-relax." She squeaked as the tip popped in, her knees involuntarily bucking and causing her to slip and take half of it already. You had to grab her hips frantically to stop her from take the whole thing in an instant as tears welled in her? eyes... This whole thing was just so weird, you had never seen Sawyer even tear up before so seeing the first time she teared up being in your body was an experience. Meanwhile you were 100% not going to last very long with the way things were going. Sawyer was a saint for always managing to last as long as she did with you. You'd have to kiss her feet and like, suck her dick or something as a reward once you finally went back to your correct bodies.

"Stupid, I told you it was a bad idea!" You cringed as you thought about how sore you were going to be when you got your body back all because she was not taking proper precautions, she was literally in your body, would it kill her to not wreck the thing before returning it to you?

"I can take more, j-just let me continue." She whined softly trying to force her hips down more, gasping as her hips finally pressed against the knot. She wasn't sure why she underestimated the size so much, if it hurt so much just to take her cock then obviously her knot which was much bigger would be a beast to take.

"W-we don't have to do the knotting, it's be too much on you, let's just skip it." Although you were pretty sure skipping it would kill you considering you were biting the inside of her mouth just to keep yourself from shoving her down onto it right this very second. Her will power had to be so strong because whenever you said you didn't want the knot she would always stop and respect it meanwhile you felt extremely impatient even if you knew it would have major consequences of your body later.

Your hips bucked involuntarily and she gasped, your walls clenching around her cock and she collapsed against your chest. "Oh, do that again dearest, j-just like that, I p-promise I can take the knot, no issue."

That was a complete lie, her insides felt like they were being torn apart but in the best way and she never wanted this to end even if the possibility of the knot going anywhere near her terrified her. You were completely stupid and just wanted to blow your load at this point though so you pretended not to know it was an obviously lie and knotted her anyway, your hands moving to clench the bed sheets again last second to help her nails from digging into your hips. Well that was certainly an experience, you just hoped your bodies switched back soon, though maybe it could happen after the knot settles, it would be weird to switch back and be on her knot suddenly.

[safyresky]

Grand Tour

Part I

"Pygmys."

"Pygmys?"

"Pygmys. They're fascinating little creatures!" The Prince tapped the glass of the jar he held in his hand. A fluffy little spike ball jumped a bit, spindly legs going wide as it ran all over the jar. "They travel in a big cloud and wreak havoc. They don't mean to, of course. They're just surviving. As we all are. But they do have a tendency to clump and stick to things and they do not come off that easy. We don't have these at the castle! The name is most definitely localized. It'll be exciting to study these closely and—"

"WAIT. THEY WHAT?"

The Prince frowned, turning around and shouting back at the farmer's fields. "THEY STICK."

"OH. WELL THAT EXPLAINS A LOT." The other Prince came around the corner of the farmer's shed, hopping on one foot, covered in pygmys. "Great news, Pyros, Jeremiah. I think I got them all."

"And they're going to eat right through your armour, Blaise. Marvin's going to kill you, you know."

"Not if my twin brother helps me out before then!"

Pyros tried very hard to look stern. He really, really, did. But they'd been travelling cross country for almost a month now and he was feeling quite good being away from home and Blaise looked really very funny with that monstrous big grin of his and he was going to be able to study a creature he could never get his hands on all cooped up inside the castle, so the smile did not slip out so much as it did explode across his face. He laughed to himself, waiting for Blaise to hop right beside him before summoning his staff. Mumbling to himself, he drew a few shapes around his brother, tapped the jar-ed pygmy with the top of his staff, and, once the jewel glowed, tapped the tip of Blaise's armoured foot. The Pygmys flew right off him.

"There we go! Better?"

"Much," Blaise grinned, summoning his own staff. Quickly drawing a circle in the ground he struck his staff in the middle of it. The Pygmys suddenly stopped bouncing around and were pulled into the circle, light stretching up around the perimeter and successfully trapping the sticky little fuzzy creatures within.

"Hmm. Nice. Think that'll hold for the night? I should be able to figure out how to dispose of them by the morning."

"Yeah, it'll hold. And we could always just. Y'know. Relocate them. We don't need to destroy them."

"Blaise, they're pests."

"Maybe they're useful somewhere else! Away from the crops and groves and what have you—"

"AHH! Your HIGHNESSESS!!"

Pyros looked appalled. "Is he calling the both of us? Really?"

Blaise snickered. "Hey, Marvin!" he said, eye contact with Pyros unbroken.

"No no no no NO don't you HEY MARVIN me, Prince Blaise. LOOK at the STATE of the two of you!" The angry drow thrust his hands out at them, face a deeper than usual shade of purple as he caught his breath. "Your armour is COVERED in some sticky substance and WHERE are your surcoats? Tippet? Robes?" He whirled, glaring at Pyros now, arms on his hips. "And YOU, Prince Pyros. WHERE is your ARMOUR?"

Both boys protested, both insisting they did not need the bits they were missing.

"Look, Marv, I've got the armour and Pyros has the robes and surcoats and royal colours so I think we're fine. I mean, between the two of us you have a whole dressed prince!" He grinned, throwing his arm over the drow's shoulders and bringing him in close.

The drow gulped, ducking a bit to avoid the fiery mess that was Prince Blaise's hair. "Your parents will have my head if I don't keep you shipshape and safe and that INCLUDES properly armed AND clean!"

"Marvin, please," Pyros said, raising a hand to placate. "Between the two of us, we'll be fine. We're both nearly masters at the warlock craft—some of us more so than others—and we do have our innate summer sprite lineage at our disposal as well."

"Which some of us excel in, more so than others."

"More so than others—"

Blaise stuck out his tongue with a very immature mlem.

Pyros returned the favour in kind, with a MLEM of his own.

"BOYS! This is really very unbecoming of the both of you—"

Pyros rolled his eyes as Blaise waved carelessly in the air with a very passionate, "Pish, posh."

"What? Pish posh?" Pyros looked perplexed. "Really? Where on Earth—"

"Winter."

"Of course."

"What? It's a fun turn of phrase!"

"You know, you are smitten with that season—"

"BOYS."

"Marv."

"Marvin."

Marvin closed his eyes for a moment, pinching the bridge of his nose. He inhaled deeply. Exhaled. Pressed his fingers together one by one before opening his eyes. "Prince Blaise. Prince Pyros. I really must insist—"

"We're fine, Marvin! Really. Look, I'll clean the sticky off in a snap!" And he did just that. Blaise snapped his fingers, the sticky residue left from the Pygmies peeling off of his armour and disappearing into thin air, the armour itself looking freshly polished. "Boom."

"You still aren't wearing—"

"And I'm not going to! Just like Pyros isn't going to wear the armour!"

"It'll only impede my evening's work."

Marvin wrinkled his nose. He looked like he wanted to protest. "Fine. If you insist."

"And oh but we do!"

"Really and truly. I assure you, we will be just fine. You're dismissed, Marvin."

"Yeah, go enjoy the sights! We don't get to go out often, y'know."

Marvin's nose somehow wrinkled even more. "Very well."

Hands still clasped, he turned on his heel and headed back towards the royal entourage, immediately barking orders and dispersing them throughout the town.

"He's going to kill us."

"Oh yeah. One of these days, for sure. But that's a problem for later! For now, you've got fuzzballs to study, and I've got several other tenants to check in with. Unless you want to join—"

"Absolutely not, thanks. Jeremiah, if you wouldn't mind directing me to your local castor? Prisma, I believe is the name?"

"Sure, your highness. Big tower up the street. Very purple. Can't miss it."

"Much obliged. Blaise, I believe we'll have to stay overnight."

"I'll get Marv on it."

"Shout if he tries to kill you," Pyros said, heading down the path.

"He'll shout louder!"

Pyros laughed, turning at the gate and heading up the street.

Blaise watched him go, chuckling to himself. "Ah. I'd say poor Marv, but he makes it too easy. Anything else you need our assistance with, Jeremiah?"

"Well, there is one thing. It's not so much an assist more so as it is a concern. I'd take it to an audience day but uh, I don't often make it up your way."

Blaise smiled warmly. "Sure. What's up?"

"Well, ah. Your Majes-ah, Highness. Sorry, sorry. I mean no offence, I just—the titles—I—"

Blaise held up a hand. "Don't worry. Just Blaise is fine."

Jeremiah paled. "Are you certain?"

"The only people who care about titles are the King and Queen and Pyros and Marv and they are all not here so yes, I'm positive."

The magibean gulped. "Well, ah, Blaise." The corners of his mouth twitched; Blaise grinned. "I hope you don't take offence to this—"

"Why would I?"

"It's about her snowiness. I don't want to impose or, or suggest anything bad or untoward or—"

Blaise tensed. "Is she okay?"

"Ah, I imagine so, yes. I've not heard anything otherwise. It's just...the crops have been freezing."

"Pardon?"

"Every morning I've woken up and the crops have been lightly frosted. I would've attributed it to the East's natural tendency to frost over, on occasion, but that seemed illogical given the time of year...and then I saw her."

"Who?"

"The Season."

"Winter."

Jeremiah nodded. He wrung his hat in his hands, swallowed with an audible gulp. "Um. Every night. Around the same time. She appears just on the edge o'er there," he gestured vaguely to the farthest reaches of his fields. "She lingers for a bit. And then leaves. And every time I go out afterwards, everything is frosty. And it lasts through to the morning. It melts with the sun, but the frost isn't good for the crops and I can't afford any loss—"

Blaise held up a hand. The farmer stopped abruptly, his heart racing, breathing heavily.

"Have you talked to her?"

"Talked? To a SEASON?" Jeremiah blanched. "I'm just a mere farmer, I could never—"

"She's very friendly. Frosty exterior aside."

"Well, Prince Blaise, if it's not out of turn for me to say...you can interact with her. I cannot."

"Why not? I'm sure she'd stay and chat. She's one of Mother Nature's seasons, she won't ignore you if you have a concern—"

The farmer cleared his throat. "Castes, Your Majesty. Ah, Highness. Sorry."

"Blaise. Just Blaise."

"Right. Well. Being what you are—"

"A sprite?"

"A prince."

"Oh! Oh. Right."

"You travel the same circles as her, as it were. It's normal for you to just. Walk up to a season and talk to her. But not for farmers like me."

Blaise's shoulders dropped. His hair died down. "Oh."

"I'm sorry, Blaise, I didn't mean to—"

"Ah, don't worry about it!" He perked back up, the brief moment of sadness gone as fast as it came on. It was enough to give Jeremiah whiplash. "Every night, you said?"

Jeremiah nodded.

"Perfect. Tell you what. If you wouldn't mind running over to Marv and letting him know as fancily as possible that Pyros and I have decided to stay the night here, and to make preparations. Y'know. Station guards wherever, find us some nice lodgings—"

"Oh! Okay, sure! So something like," he cleared his throat, straightening his posture and holding his hat behind his back. "The Princes have decided to stay overnight. Prince Blaise has asked me to ask you to make whatever preparations you see fit to, and to procure lodgings for them for the night. Like that?"

"PERFECT! Thanks, Jerry." Blaise clapped his arm, grinning. "And while you do that, I'll gather up the rest of the Pygmys for Pyros, and tonight I'll stake out your fields! If Winter comes by, I'll talk to her and see if I can figure out the frost for you."

Jeremiah brightened. "Really? You'd do that?"

"Of course! Why wouldn't I?"

"It's just...you're so hands on! The King isn't. We usually have to wait a few days before the appropriate measures are taken for various issues. You and your brother tackle them right away! It's not—it's unexpected. And, um, to besmirch the character of a Season in front of a royal?"

"Besmirch?" Blaise laughed. "Nah, you're just concerned, is all. And I appreciate you telling me. I'll get it sorted, don't you worry. I'm sure it's nothing."

Jeremiah nodded. "I'm sure you're right."

---

Lodgings set for the night and Pyros hard at work with the local castor, Blaise set himself up at the farthest reaches of Jeremiah's fields, watching the sun fade and the night creep in. The sky was clear as can be, a crisp chill in the air if his visible breath was anything to go off of.

Stars shone brilliantly. Blaise lay between the wheat stalks, hands behind his head, watching the stars as the night grew later still. Hair out, he was surrounded by darkness, enjoying the rare moment of silence and beauty.

Sure, they had stars at the castle. But it was never completely dark. There were always lanterns lit and soldiers marching about, armoured heavily compared to Blaise. There was so much world beyond the castle, and he loved the quarterly outings the King and Queen had the pair of them undertaking, despite knowing full well the reasoning behind it.

After all, he and Pyros were approaching eighteen-hundred. They were well past the age of majority and neither ruler had deemed who would be next in line yet, and it was coming up fast. It was obvious to him that they were trying to keep the two of them out of the way of their decision making. Especially with how Pyros kept asking. And how he himself kept not asking. In fact, Blaise was avoiding the topic entirely. It was clear as the night sky to him that they'd been sent out to give the King and Queen a break, or to test the pair of them, or maybe even both.

He tried not to think about it too much; tried not to bring it up. Pyros got all weird about it, and he'd missed his brother lately. See, going into the advanced studies with the Queen had been...

Intense.

Yeah.

It was intense.

Pyros had doubled down his already double-downed practise and study routine and they didn't get to hang out as often anymore. Not until they'd been assigned to do these outings. And Pyros had been all weird at first, but as their time out grew, his weirdness seemed to disappear, and things felt almost normal which was a very nice change as things were feeling very not normal back at the castle as of late and Blaise Did Not Care For It.

Deep breaths, he told himself. We're not home right now. We're out and about. Just enjoy the night. And also maybe keep an ear out, like you told Jeremiah you would.

His breathing evened out (he hadn't even realized it'd started speeding up) and he cast his gaze back up at the sky, watching the stars twinkle as the planet turned, the cosmic dust coming into view high above him. He sighed, smiling up at the sky, when suddenly a pale, round face obstructed his view, white tendrils of hair framing her flushed cheeks, blue eyes lit up.

"Beautiful night, isn't it?"

"It just got even prettier, if you'll believe it."

She snorted, her head snapping back up—but not before Blaise caught the silly little grin. With one of his own, he sat up, staring up at the season before him.

"Ever the flatterer."

"You love it."

"I don't recall saying that."

Blaise smirked, bringing up a knee. He rested his elbow on it, holding his head in his hand. "You don't need to."

A delicate hand came up, blocking her mouth as she let out a little laugh.

Armour clanking, Blaise stood up, blinking briefly when he realized she was a lot farther down than he remembered.

"Why are you so small?"

She snorted. "I believe it's because you have gotten tall. Er. Still. I'm going to throw out my neck at the rate you're going, Blaise—er, your highness."

"No need for that! It's just us, Winter."

"Oh! Good! In that case!" She shifted, adopting her regal stance, folding her hands in front of her dress. "Blaise. What on Earth are you doing laying in the fields this far east and this late at night?!"

"Waiting for you, actually."

The Season flushed, her posture relaxing. "Oh! That's sweet. Unless I'm in trouble, of course." She paused for a moment, curiosity overtaking the flush. "You'd sneak out for me?"

"I mean, if you asked, probably! But I'm not sneaking around. It's, uh, the quarterly check in."

"Already?"

"Well, it has been three months since the last one."

"Good heavens. Time certainly flies, doesn't it?"

"It would seem so, but you know, I've never asked. Does he?"

"You know, I'm not quite sure! I've never thought to ask either. Perhaps Mother knows?"

"Maybe. You should ask her."

"I'll forward that to management. Right! Now then! You haven't answered my question. What are you doing laid out in the fields this late at night?"

"Waiting for you."

She blinked, dumbstruck. "You were serious?"

"Well, yeah!" Blaise chuckled. He ran a hand through his hair, sparks trailing behind him as it lit up. He took a moment to admire the way the firelight played on her face. There were angles at play, breaking through the childhood roundness. He wasn't the only one who'd grown, it seemed.

"Blaise? Earth to his highness? You there?"

"Yes! Right." He cleared his throat. "Jeremiah—the tenant who lives here? He had a bit of a concern he brought up earlier today when we rolled into town. Apparently his crops are frosting over every night, and though it melts during the day, he's concerned about the long term exposure effects. He thought it was you doing it. Says you've been stopping by every night?"

"Indeed I have! But not for the reason he thinks. Actually, this is great timing because I have a concern to raise with you."

"Oh?"

"It's about Jeremiah's crops. They're frosting over!"

Blaise snorted. "You don't say?"

She nodded, giggling quietly to herself. "Come along, your highness. I'll show you. Right this way!" And without waiting for him to reply, Winter grabbed his hand and led (dragged) him to the corner of the field Jeremiah had pointed out earlier that day. She pulled him down, the pair squatting in the stalks, staring at the wheat. She let go, keeping her hands above her shoulders and maintaining eye contact. "See how my hands are way up here?"

Blaise nodded.

"Right. Well. Look at the wheat."

Blaise did, and immediately found himself frowning as frost crept over the sheaths, tickling the very tops of the plants and settling in for the night. It stretched on, right through the entirety of the field. He glanced back over at Winter: hands still up; no obvious magical signature showing. He felt the magic in the air around them. Her magical signature was not pulling at the threads.

It wasn't her.

"So that shouldn't be doing that."

"What's worse is it won't listen to me."

"What?"

"Watch."

Winter stood up, the heads of the wheat tickling her elbows. Her hands took on a white glow as she pulled them back, and the frost stayed perfectly comfortable on the spikes of the wheat. She gestured towards it violently, the white glow gone, the most frustrated pout on her face. "See?"

"That's really weird. I thought all frost and snow and wintry stuff listened to you?"

"Ah, but even we seasons have our limits. Sometimes nature takes its course and we let it do so. Mother Nature says that perhaps this is one of those times; perhaps nature is trying to tell us something."

"So why doesn't she just tell you straight up?"

"I think she's using it as a lesson. Anyway, I've started my nightly rounds here every day for the past few weeks, trying to see if I can make the frost go away, but nothing I do seems to work! So I looked closely at the pattern, and though the frost is mirroring the shapes of the wheat, there's a slight little group of curls that look quite similar to the pattern that usually resides within the frost in the Snowy Lands to the North of here."

"But it would only be doing that if the crops were on Northern holdings."

"Precisely. I think the current land holder is committing a spot of encroachment. I haven't had a chance to look further into it, but given the facts..."

"It seems likely the land Jerry's using for this year's harvest is actually in the North and not the East."

"Exactly. And I don't think Jerry knows this! I think the Lord here is trying to keep it on the down low." She squinted for a moment. "Leo? Zeo? Neo! That's the one. Bit of a prick, if I recall correctly."

Blaise snorted. "Checks out. He's always complaining about his holdings when we host court." Blaise rubbed his chin. "If he's trying to gain more land, he'll want to do it quietly and carefully. The royal surveyors are the best at their jobs. It would take quite a bit to trick them."

"Precisely. And! We are fairly close to the border right now! The town beyond here is a hub where denizens from both the North and East meet up, do business, and so on. If you played your pieces right, it could be a fairly easy point to start growing your holdings illicitly. Especially since the North is so sparsely populated."

Blaise continued to rub his chin. "That's a hefty accusation."

"Indeed. But it has merit. If you look at the other half of the field, the one that's closer to his farmstead, the crops there are all fine. Not a single bit of frost on there."

"Hmm. Interesting." Blaise stopped rubbing his chin. "I suppose I should go take a look." He smiled softly at her and held out an arm. "Walk with me?"

Winter blinked up at him in surprise. "Oh! Ah, certainly."

She carefully grabbed his arm, her cool touch frosting the burnished metal of his armour. Careful to weave between the rows (least they accidentally crush the wheat), they made their way over to the other side of the fields, where sure enough, not a smidgen of frost graced the stalks.

"See?"

"Huh. That's...okay. I mean. It's not okay, obviously, but I didn't think "land stealing conspiracy" would be on the list this fast."

"But you expected it?"

"It wouldn't of surprised me. At any rate, I'll have to work on this after the check in." He rubbed his chin again. "And I'll have to figure something out for the short term."

"Perhaps, in the interim, there's something I can do to help? I'm sure one of my sisters can move the wheat consequence free while you get this sorted. This way Jeremiah doesn't have any loss? Lady knows what Neo would do if he knew we were on to him."

Blaise's hand stilled. "Oh? You think your sisters would be able to do that?"

"Oh, please. They have this very strange soft spot for me. They would quite literally do anything for me."

"Even Spring?"

"...sometimes. And if not, I can be, ah, very persuasive."

Blaise laughed. "I believe it. Are you feeling okay?"

"Quite all right. Why do you ask?"

"Your hair is melting."

She flushed, her free hand reaching up and touching her very thawed roots. "Oh! Well. That happens sometimes."

"Oh?"

"Yours is literally on fire. And I've been near you for a good moment now."

"I see," Blaise replied. (He did not, in fact, see).

"I'm sure you do. Now, you don't think it's too late to talk to Jeremiah, do you? I'd like to apologize to him and let him know one of us seasons will be on it post haste. He and his family are probably asleep, though, aren't they?"

"We'll go take a gander. He said he'd been seeing you these past few nights, so I wouldn't be surprised if he was still up."

"Very well." Winter tightened her hold on his arm. "Lead the way."

Seconds after they came into view of the small house, Jeremiah popped out the back door, clicking it shut quietly behind him, candle in his hand. "Your Highness! And Your Snowiness!" Frazzled, he bowed twice, his hair nearly catching fire.

"Oh, no need for formality, really. It's much too late in the night for that. And pardon my intrusion. I hope I didn't wake you?"

"No, of course not your, uh. Season-y-ness."

"Just Winter is fine, please. Don't fret. Sorry for the crop fright. I've touched base with Prince Blaise," she gestured towards him, as though her hand wasn't still looped around his arm. "And we think we've figured out the issue. It's all a little hush hush right now, and we'd both appreciate your discretion."

"Of course. Whatever you need."

"Now! In the interim! About your crops! Unfortunately I cannot control the frost that seems to have made itself cozy in your fields. But! My sisters can control the wheat! I'll talk to them and we'll be by in the next week or so to move the crops over to a portion of land that is not being assailed by frost."

"Oh, well, that sounds nice and all, but the unplanted fields are to remain fallow this year, y'know, to replenish the soil and the. And the like." He scratched the top of his head nervously.

"Oh, I'm familiar with the idea, yes. Of course, my sisters are more well versed in it and my mother is, of course, the expert. We can take care of replenishing the soil just this once while we work on the frosty problem back there."

"Really?"

"Of course! Our duty is to maintain balance and help the people, sir. You are one of those people."

"But I'm just a farmer—"

"Ah, pish posh! You are a denizen of Crystal Springs same as any of us, castes be damned."

Blaise guffawed. Jeremiah blanched.

"Does that work for you, Jeremiah? And would your highness be alright with this arrangement?"

"I believe Jeremiah's fields actually supply the castle, too, so yes, absolutely. This'll give me some time to confer with the King and Queen and see if we can get to the bottom of the land issue."

"Then that's settled! Jeremiah, I will be in touch. You best be off now. It's late and you have kids, do you not?"

"Yes ma'am. Two. Very little, quite rambunctious. Give the wife and I a run for our money some days."

Winter laughed. "Then you best be getting some rest. Worry not." She placed a gentle hand on his forearm. "The Seasons and I will take care of your crop issue, okay?"

He nodded, stifling a yawn. "Yes ma'am."

"And really, just Winter is fine. Now then! Off you go!"

Nodding once more, Jeremiah turned around, letting out a proper yawn as he made his way back inside the house. The pair waited for a moment until the final light glowing in the back of the house went out.

Winter hummed. "That takes care of that, then."

"You are a very impressive woman. Have I ever told you that?"

"Haven't the foggiest," she lied, smiling up at him coyly. "I do apologize for taking charge their, ah, your highness."

"Pfft. Don't! Please. I…it’s nice to not have to be all formal and what have you. Can I escort you anywhere?"

"No, I best be off. I've only just started my rounds, you know! There's a whole half of the globe waiting for me tonight beyond these healing waters."

"Globe?"

"Yes. My job takes me all over it, Blaise."

"Huh. I guess it would, wouldn't it? I just...I never really thought about it, you know?"

Winter watched as Blaise looked thoughtful. Smiling to herself, she let out another little hum, tugging on the arm she still held captive. "Perhaps I can escort you to your lodgings for the night?"

"Oh, no need! But I'd ah, appreciate the fine company on the walk."

"Lead the way, then. And do elaborate, if you please."

"Elaborate? How?"

"You've never thought of the world beyond Crystal Springs? Ever? At all?"

They took the path that Pyros had trodden hours earlier, heading straight into the heart of the town instead of hanging the left to the tall purple tower in the distance, where the windows glowed with light, magic sparking right out the chimney. The Royal Guard patrolled the street, local guards in tow the closer they got to the centre.

"No. Never."

"Not ever?"

"Well...okay, maybe I'm a bit of a liar. I have thought about it. But I've been taught all my life that it's unsafe, y'know? As most of the people are taught. That ordibeings would hunt us for our magic again the moment we left the safety of the Springs. So I try not to think about it, and I try to enjoy the cross-continent trip here every time we're sent out. It's nice to remember that there are places, beautiful places that exist outside the castle walls. To remember why Pyros and I are doing what we're doing."

"And even more beautiful places exist outside the continent! Beyond the oceans and the icebergs. There are a whole different set of stars on the other side of the globe at night! It's amazing. It's beautiful."

"And dangerous."

"Sometimes, yes. But not as bad as it was during the Wild Magic era. Most ordibeings have their own set of beliefs and their own versions of magic; they don't really need ours. Oh, they have stories, of course. But to them, they are simply stories and I'd wager that were we to venture out of Crystal Springs...we'd be okay. I mean, my sisters and I are! So is my Mother, and we're out of the continent nightly practically! And the Legendary Figures, they're all quite all right, the ones who roam about."

"Yeah, but they're Legendary Figures!"

"So?"

"I mean...they have more power at their disposal; they don't need to worry when they go out. But we do. That's why we were brought here, right?"

"So the history books say. But that's the thing, Blaise. It's history. We're very stuck in some ancient ways here, when you think about it, and I know you do."

He was silent as they approached a cozy main street, taverns and inns still lit up for the night, though the music had ebbed and silence had descended.

"Look, Blaise. I go beyond the Springs and I'm not a Legendary Figure."

"But you're a season."

"And technically, so are you, you know. We're the same type of sprite! Seasonal as opposed to elemental."

"I know, but I wouldn't want to step on Summer's toes. I wouldn't be allowed to."

"Says who?"

"Who do you think?"

Winter scoffed. "Ah, they're old. Very stuck in the old ways. Sometimes I think that's a bad thing."

"...Sometimes I think so, too. I mean. Mom and Dad are all about power and they interlink it with safety all the time! And when we're out here, I don't have to think about all that! And Pyros stops thinking about it too and it's kinda nice, you know? I mean, they've been here and in power for thousands of years. To think the world is still the same is...insane!"

Winter laughed. "Tell me something, Blaise. Would you still sneak out for me?"

Blaise blinked. "Oh. Most definitely. Between you and me, your snowiness," he leaned in, close to her ear. "I hate being in the fucking castle all the time."

Winter laughed. "I can't believe the magic let you get away with that!"

"I'm that passionate about it! That's why I love these outings so much! I'm not in the castle and," they came to a stop, Blaise spinning her about as the guards in front of the nicest inn in the sector stood to attention and dutifully looked away. "I get to see lovely people like you."

"Well, maybe you should accompany me out one of these days."

"Out like out out? Like out there?"

Understanding the sudden need for less words, Winter nodded. "Oh yes."

Blaise paused, fighting back a grin. "I think I'd like that. A lot."

"Oh, brilliant!" Clearing her throat as the guards shifted, Winter stepped back. "Thank you for the escort, your highness," she said, dutifully casting her eyes down and curtsying most graciously.

"Of course, your snowiness. It was my pleasure," he replied, placing his arm across his chest and bowing back. "Be safe tonight."

"Of course. And good luck on your travels."

Nodding at one another (and biting back grins something fierce), Blaise watched as Winter turned on her heel expertly, fully thawed tresses bouncing about. She nodded most graciously to the royal guards (the few that had been giving the Prince a moment of privacy as best as they could clanking as they stood to attention, scrambling to salute) and disappeared on the spot, the smattering of snowflakes left in her wake drifting down his way.

He gazed goofily up the street, maybe for a bit too long, only coming to his senses when one of the guards beside him cleared his throat. Straightening up, he waved (the guards happily standing down) and walked up the path and into the inn as regal and posh as possible, only dropping the act and grinning to himself when he closed the door to the inn shut behind him.

"And at what time do you think this is? And looking like THAT?!?!? And WHAT is IN your ARMOUR?!!"

Blaise frowned in quite the over-dramatically grotesque manner, one eye squinting in distaste as he plucked a tiny bit of wheat out of his couter. He held it up in front of him, Marv an angry purple blur behind it.

"It would appear to be wheat, Marv."

"And why is there wheat in your armour?"

"Because I was doing my do diligence and investigating a wheat problem in the fields."

"Hmm." Folding a napkin, he got up gracefully, surveying the prince with an unamused look. "And are you sure you acquired it like that? And not, per chance, tousling around in fields with a certain high ranking season?"

Blaise glowered. His hair burnt taller and hotter. He flicked the wheat away, approaching Marv at his full height. "I would appreciate it, Marvin, if you would refrain from using such crude language when talking about any of the seasons."

"And I would appreciate it if you made it easy to be your steward."

Blaise rolled his eyes, hair dimming. "I'm not the one you should worry about, Marv." He stepped around the drow, heading towards the stairs. "You and I both know that." He paused by Marv's table, grabbing a bun from the small bowl of bread in front of him. "You're not staying up to wait for him, are you?"

"Indeed I am."

Blaise snorted, half chewed bread going flying. "He's not coming back here for the night."

"I beg your pardon?"

"He'll spend the night with the castor."

"No he will not."

"Yes he will." Blaise spun on his heel, clanking up the first two steps. "So you MIGHT AS WELL get some sleep. You're so grouchy when you don't."

Marv's undignified yell gave Blaise great satisfaction as he bounded up the stairs, polishing off his pilfered bread and ducking into his room (one of two heavily guarded doors). He chuckled to himself, throwing off the armour (the burnished metal casually floating itself into a neat pile) and the layers underneath until he was left in nothing but his briefs. He slid into bed, arms behind his head as he thought of the world outside the healing waters and well beyond the floating icebergs.

---

The morning dawned bright and early, as it was wont to do in the early fall. Outside, the grass was crisp; a fresh layer of frost slowly melting as the sunlight hit it.

Up and at 'em and fully armoured once more, Blaise bounded down the stairs, barely able to withhold his snort when he saw Marv snoring at his table, head on his arms. Carefully, he pried a napkin out from under the bread basket, conjuring a pencil and writing something down very fast. Satisfied, the pencil disappeared and Blaise crumpled the napkin in his fist, sliding up to the counter top and clearing his throat.

Marv shot up. "Gah! Your Highness!"

"Morning Marv! I guess he didn't come in last night, huh?"

Marv cleared his throat, stepping up and righting his table. With a wave of his hand, his robes straightened themselves out, his hair looking less bedhead-y and nice and neat. "I am…unsure."

"Mm. That checks out. Ah! Tilly!"

The barkeep let out a meep, rushing to curtsy. "How can I help ya, your highness?"

"I was just wondering if there was a washroom I could use down here." He glanced over at Marv surreptitiously. The Drow was distracted, talking to Kira, the chief of security. With a flick of his wrist, Blaise slid the crumpled napkin towards the barkeep, glancing down at it and back up at her.

Catching his gaze, she reached out and uncrumpled the napkin. Her eyes skimmed the words quickly, brightening as she finished reading the hastily scrawled message. "Ah! Of course! It's just behind the staircase! There's a hallway. Make a right, and it'll be right on the end."

Blaise grinned. "Thank you, Tilly."

She bobbed her head. "Of course!"

Chuckling to himself, Blaise grabbed the crumpled up napkin, crushing it up in his palm and reducing it to ash. He followed her instructions, grinning when he turned the corner and sure enough, there was the back exit, door wide open as staff brought in the groceries for the day.

Excusing himself politely, Blaise scrambled around the staff, ignoring the scrambly bobs as he looked up and down the street for any sign of his counterpart.

There was none.

Avoiding the front of the inn, Blaise put out his hair, blending in with the crowd as best as he could and reaching out with his mind.

He was close. Just coming down the path and turning towards the main street.

Blaise rushed past the taverns, turning up the street (briefly skidding), relieved when he saw Pyros coming down the path. His gaze was intensely focused on an object in his palm as he headed down the way, looking very, very dishevelled.

Hey. Hey. Hey. Look up.

Blinking, Pyros looked up, making eye contact with Blaise, who was grinning maniacally and waving boisterously, in Pyros's very humble opinion.

I didn't realize you could wave as loud as you could speak.

Blaise laughed, bounding up the street and coming to a stop beside Pyros, turning on his heel and falling into step. I am a sprite of many talents! He smirked, his hair lighting up with a soft whoosh. We have a problem.

We do?

Well, you do. Blaise cleared his throat, pointing to the bottom corner of his own mouth. "You got something there. What is that, Jam? Jelly? Ketchup? Dye?!"

"I've yet to wash up. Figured I could do that in whatever rooms Marvin secured for us and have a nice breakfast before getting down to business."

"Not to be confused with the business you have obviously already gotten down to."

Pyros glanced down at his outfit. It was...wrinkled; dishevelled. The, uh...dye (lip paint. It was 100% lip paint) was smudged on his face AND his hands, he realized, and Lady only knew where else! His outfit was covered in magical residue and glitter that seemed very not magical. "Okay, and? What's your point?"

"Marv knows you didn't come in last night. Your royal hinny is screwed and not in the fun way I imagine it to have been last night."

"I would appreciate it if you didn't imagine my royal hinny in any capacity whatsoever."

Blaise snickered. "It's not literal."

"Good."

"Thankfully! My royal hinny is very clever and very suave and snuck out to intercept you which thank the LADY I did because voila!" Blaise snapped his fingers, and Pyros was suddenly looking as pristine as he would've had he gone home and done his morning toilette before emerging for the day. "All fixed up, and now it'll simply look like we are walking back to town together, having gotten up to none shenanigans whatsoever last night."

Pyros flashed him a wry smile. "Really? None shenanigans? From you?"

"None whatsoever."

"That'll be the day. And oh, there he is. Right on time."

"Brace yourself. I already had my lecture. He's had all night to think of yours."

"WHERE have you BEEN!" Marv marched down the street, three guards behind him, Kira at his side. "I turn around for one second and you disappear—"

"Very unwise, Blaise."

"And YOU! I leave you alone for a night and you DON'T come HOME?!"

"I was busy!"

"Yeah you were. Grrrr—oof."

Blaise rubbed his stomach as Pyros retracted his arm, standing at full height and looking down his nose at Marvin. "As you were well aware, Marvin, we had a sticky—" (a pause for Blaise's snort and another whack, on the chest this time) "—situation to find a solution for. And since Blaise requested it to be non-lethal, it required a bit of an…intense magical research session."

"You could've sent a letter! A scry, a fireball literally ANYTHING! You are a prince! The both of you! If something happened to either of you that would be very very bad all around."

"Ah, please. We can handle ourselves."

"And if anyone did anything to Blaise short of killing him, they'd give him right back. Ten minutes, tops."

"They'd give you back in five."

"Is that a challenge?!"

"NO! There will be NO challenges of this particular sort!" Marvin pinched the bridge of his nose. "I am just looking out for the two of you. And if the both of you MUST mess about in the evenings at least elicit some decorum and for Goddess's sake let me know."

"Mess about?" Pyros raised an eyebrow at Blaise. "None shenanigans, eh?"

"None whatsoever."

"Hm. How's Winter doing?"

"Very well, thanks."

"Lady help me. At LEAST you are presentable, Prince Pyros."

Blaise flashed him a smug look. Pyros sighed. Thank you.

His twin grinned. Anytime.

"Feel better, Marv?"

"There is nothing short of an overnight stay at the springs that could make me feel better."

"We'll add it to the itinerary for you. So! Pyros! How'd it go?"

"Very well! We managed to isolate the sticky bit of the pygmys and extract it from them, reducing them to harmless little fluffy. Things. As for the sticky secretion, Prisma had the delightful idea to isolate it and use it to make a new kind of adhesive. She wants to test it first, so we only have the one at present.” He lifted the object in his hand—an unmarked tube. Also slightly covered in glitter. “She'll be joining us shortly to do just that."

"Where is she now?"

"Placing little sticky absorbing devices across town. This way, should the pygmys start secreting once more, the devices will use the magic we imbued within them to take it right off and store it."

"And the pygmys?"

"Can now bounce around no more harmful than, say, a tumbleweed or Blaise when you wake him up too late in the day."

"Hey!"

"He's right, your highness."

Blaise made an undignified sort of moaning and or groaning sound in his throat. "Whose side are you on here, Marv?"

"Mine. And it is a lonely, fruitless side, let me tell you. Now then. We've much to discuss and itinerary changes to make so, let's go eat and then go about our day. I shall have a setting put out for this castor of yours, Prince Pyros."

"Very good."

"Shall I set one for her snowiness, Prince Blaise?"

Now Pyros grumbled while Blaise held back a snort. "No, no. That, uh, won't be necessary. She'll be coming by at a later date to touch base with the tenant whose fields are frosting over. She's, uh, not joining us for breakfast." He scratched the back of his neck, sheepish.

Pyros smirked. “You’d like that though, wouldn’t you.”

“Immensely.”

“Shame we can’t switch.”

“Alas! She is a season, not a talented castor.”

Deciding against chiding the pair of them for their silly little banter, Marvin pressed his fingertips together. "Hmm. Very well. Come along, you two."

Clapping, Marvin set back towards the inn, hands behind his back, head held high. The detachment of guards that had surrounded him now surrounded the Twin Princes, ushering them forward while preventing them from backtracking or making any other attempts to escape and or engage in tomfoolery, as it were. After all, they had a schedule to keep. Rounds to continue on and issues to address. Being behind simply would not do. Not for Blaise, not for Pyros, not for Marv or any other members of the royal detail that'd been sent out to keep the peace, as it were.

---

Days later the Twin Princes found themselves once more shut into their carriage, both boys looking out the window with similar, thoughtful frowns. The carriage rumbled on, rain splattering the rooftop as the sun shone brightly.

Thoughts in faraway places well beyond the sun showery path before them, Blaise let out a melancholy sigh.

"Hmm. That's not good. You're usually rearing to get to the South."

"I do love me a good beach."

Pyros smiled to himself, glancing back out the window. Thunder rumbled in the distance.

He could ask mentally. Didn't even need to ask; could just pop on into his head and figure it out for himself. It's not like he blocked his end of their connection; neither of them did.

But it was a lot more fun to outright ask.

"Hey, Blaise."

"Mm."

"What're you thinking about?"

Success! His twin smiled through the hand pressed onto his face, the severity dropping and revealing the more carefree brother he was used to. "Land disputes. You?"

"Pygmys."

"Pygmys?"

"Pygmys. See, here's the thing." He leaned forward in his seat, hands folded between his knees. "The word pygmy is just that! A word! It usually denotes something smaller than the regular. And they used it to describe those small fluffy things."

"What would you call them instead?"

"Hmm. Don't know. Fluffs? Fuzzes? Fuzzies? Fuzzballs? Furries? Furbies?"

"I don't like that last one."

"Nor do I. Furby sounds like it could be a curse word. Like, a good and proper curse you'd cast, not a cuss word." He paused briefly, taping his nose. "Now, here's the thing. If the word pygmy denotes a smaller version of something, it begs a question."

Blaise dropped his hand from his face, giving Pyros his full, undivided attention. "Go on."

"If these pygmys are called that by the locals simply because they are small, is there a bigger pygmy? A giant pygmy to rule them all? A fuzzball the size of both of us?"

Blaise laughed, a right and proper loud laugh. "Maybe that's why they're so sticky? Maybe it's because they stick together and make a big ol' clump of fuzzball and THAT'S the one fuzzball to rule them all!"

Pyros lit up. "Ou! I didn't even think of that possibility! Now, IF that's the case, where is it? Where does it reside? What does it want? And should we find it?"

"Or will it find us..."

Now Pyros found himself snorting, the pair of them laughing up a storm to out storm the sun shower outside.

The carriage rumbled on, bringing the princes closer and closer to their next stop, their laughter echoing about the entourage. Guards perked up; Blaise's horse whinnied happily, trotting up to the window and trying his best to shove his little head into the carriage with them.

On the covered seat of the carriage, Kira chuckled, elbowing Marvin gently.

"You gotta admit. It's nice to see the two of them getting along and in such high spirits."

"Kira, if I admit that, I am sure it will be my downfall. I have a reputation to keep, you know. Lady only knows what'll happen if I destroy it. All my credit!"

She laughed. "Of course, of course. Goddess forbid."

She looked away, smiling to herself, because even Marvin could not hide the slight smile their jovial (and, quite frankly, very unbecoming of their station, if you asked him) hooting and hollering brought to his face.

[shannonsketches]

Thinking about Restorative Justice AUs this morning and I'm gonna copy/paste from the friendchat

part one:

Like yes okay I did listen to the apology song from book of life recently and after a moot posted something about the producer interview where zelda might’ve dismantled the monarchy after seeing how kingdoms are formed but didn’t have time in the game and I had feelings about it but imagine an TotK au in which the sages wanted to make gan human again because the circumstances of his corruption were also rooted in evil and the power of friendship means sovereign states full of love or something whatever you get me but like, they do the thing where they’re working on reigning gan in by seeing him (tm) and when it starts to work sagebody rauru is like ‘what are you doing he’s a monster No restorative justice (/personal grudge bc yknow he killed his wife)’ and light arrows him which makes him get monstrous again and goes after rauru and the kids have to figure out how to stop two stupid dogs from ripping each other and the whole world apart again

part two: (Re: That ^⁠ )

because I got hit with Apology Song from Book of Life AND I Know Who You Are from Moana -- Restorative Justice AU in which Riju is the one that can reach him because she knows what it's like to be a kid in a position she didn't ask for (in fact the exact same one he was born into) who is doing her best and she knows how angry and scared he must've been because she is also angry and scared and she knows he must be loyal to the darkness now because he felt betrayed and forgotten by his people but they still remember who he was before and she knows he used to be a hero and she knows he just wanted to keep his people safe and she can forgive him if he can forgive her but his enemies are her friends now and his people are okay they're okay and he doesn't need this power anymore his people are safe his war is over and he can come home to rest (die, finally)

and what if rauru light arrows him but hits riju (she's okay) and gan gets beasty and fights rauru and zelda splits them up and chains gan and rauru is like 'good chained like the beast you are' and goes to kill him and finds out he is also trapped by Zelda's light magic and she's like 'no this is fucking over goddammit i've seen how a kingdom is made and all of this is wrong i'm dissolving hyrule' and rauru's like '>:0 princess zelda-' and she's like 'QUEEN ZELDA. I AM THE DAUGHTER OF HYLIA'S LIGHT AND YOU WILL HEAR ME' and she banishes him back to the sacred realm so he can see his wife and be at peace whether he likes it or not and she destroys the malice/gloom on Gan and fixes Riju's injury with one like big untapped power boom she's been trying to reach this entire series and Gan can just sit with Riju and get to see her, this strong young Gerudo who is so brave and loves her people so much, and he can just idk crumble into sand and be part of his desert again

there was a Whole Movie in my head this morning

Bonus:

So Riju gets the closure of knowing she did destroy the evil that killed her mother and also gets to see and know and bury a legendary gerudo king and help his soul find the peace he clearly couldn't get on his own and Zelda gets the closure of knowing the cycle has ended and her power was ultimately used for good and Link gets the closure of just getting to hug all of his friends after a supernatural war

now he can go be babygirl to his boyfriend and his boyfriend's wife

and zelda can go be a hippie communist like her great great great great great x100 grandmother before her

and Baby Teba whose name escapes me can go be a great archer and Yonobo can go back to doing mining and capitalism

inevitably pissing off a dragon in the depths who will come out and eat them all

[lonelylonelyghost]

Wonderful world:

A boy who lived in all things dying

met an angel from hell

I originally wanted to talk about Eun Soohyun and Kwon Seonyul separately, but they are so intertwined with each other that I can't really speak about one without mentioning the other.

They both are sooo messed up but in the best ways

(for me, obviously, not them)

(Flawless plan. Absolutely no chance of it backfiring)

Seonyul knows that his father is guilty. He knows that what he did was objectively horrible. But that was his father, the man who loved him so much. And then the person who took his father away from him told everyone that they would do it again if they could.

Seonyul's hatred towards Soohyun is not entirely logical, and he is aware of it. But hate is a strong enough emotion that kept him going. Through his father's death. Through the mistreatment by others for the crime of being related to a murderer. Through his mother's accident.

He glomed onto Soohyun and his revenge, like a person drowning at sea would at a live wire, the thing that is actively killing him but also the only support that was available to him.

So, then he meets Soohyun. Seonyul knew all that he could about her because he took the phrase "know your enemy" a little bit too literally. Everything is moving smoothly according to that plan that he'd spend years to perfect.

Except...

Soohyun was not what he expected.

Soohyun is empty. She's had her revenge, and there are no regrets in her heart, but it also brought no satisfaction, no resolution, nothing. Her son is still dead.

Despite all that, years later she somehow keeps going, for the sake of her family, whom she doesn't want to inflict the excruciating pain upon, the same that she's been subjected to already. She's not perfect, but she's kind, composed, compassionate and so, so smart.

So, when Seonyul meets her, really meets her, he's confused and angry. How dare you, my father's killer, be a good person? How dare you arrive again and again in front of me, asking questions and looking concerned?

How dare you have the same scars as me?

Even other people around him notice how much they resonate with each other. It's becoming harder and harder to fuel the hatred in Seonyul's heart. She's burned his world, so it would only be fair for him to do the same to her in return, no? His revenge is going well, so he should be happy.

Right?...

But why does he feel so hollow?

But Soohyun is also not the kind of person that would just stand and take the blow silently. What I absolutely love about her is that it's clear why she is revered by so many people around her. She's wicked smart and has a monstrous amount of self-control. So, when everything around her starts crumbling down, she is not rushing into the traps that are laid out for her, instead she quietly, calmly, starts her own investigation.

They should be enemies, they must destroy each other, but neither is willing to truly hurt the other.

Because at the end of the day, they are the only people in this world who get each other

Their dynamic is soooooo good, you guys. At every stage. Goddddd

[daisychainsandbowties]

i love stealthing tlou 2 because the environments make it a lot of fun but it’s also just… incredibly unsettling. like, i creep around i plant explosive traps & i target the dogs first and hiss “shut up” right before plunging a knife into some girl’s neck. i hardly ever feel bad about it

the way the gameplay frames the narrative like that is so genius. i’m having fun, i’m killing dozens and dozens of people and when the explosions go off out of sight the remaining WLF soldiers shout out the name of the person who just stepped on my mousetrap trigger & got smeared on the walls.

it’s just… so bloody & quiet & horrible & intense and it culminates with that girl playing her video game and ellie just becomes more and more monstrous and also then you watch her take off her shirt and she’s bruised and abraded and her hands shake and she’s so angry but you know why, you know why and it excuses nothing, but when i first played the game it felt like justice, for a while. until it didn’t.

and then of course in the second act you have to learn the names of these people and understand the backdrop to your murderhobo vengeance quest across the city. the Scars and Abby and Lev and i hope you had fun but guess what there are humans literally everywhere and this is bigger than you. even the smallest part of it (Lev) is bigger than all the violent revenge in the world.

i mean, that part of the game. Seattle and the absolute unrelenting horror and fury and tenderness and humanity and loss and hope and fire and blood… it’s a beautiful piece of storytelling and half of it is the game showing you as it did at the end of the first game that the people you love and relate to and have sympathy for are oh-so-perfectly capable of being someone else’s monster

[s-creations]

maybe 💞 luigi and daisy? or prince peasley ill leave it up to you!! :D i hope youll have a good day, take care of yourself and remember to drink water!! :D 🫶

((Sorry for no Daisy. I shall offer to small stories instead. Also, I have pop! XD Hope that's a good substitute. ))

💞 Post-nightmare cuddles (Link to Post)

(Peasley's Nightmare.)

His skin crawled. 

He felt wrong.

Wrong body.

Wrong form.

This wasn’t him. 

What had happened? 

Everything hurts. 

Everything felt like it was on fire.

He was angry. 

It wasn’t his anger. 

He wasn’t sure where the painful burning was coming from.

He just need it OUT!

A movement caught his attention. 

He latched out. 

A bundle of green crumpled to his feet and-

Peasley let out a sharp gasp as he sat up. Eyes wide as his heart hammered in his chest. The dark room slowly comes into focus from the light gently pouring in from the open window. A gentle breeze washing over him, making Peasley realize how uncomfortably warm he was. Burning on the inside by freezing due to the dew resting on his skin.

Clarity came further feeling a hand on his shoulder before an arm was gently warped around him. Peasley looked over to find Luigi. Who was looking at the distraught prince in worry, even with how half awake the human looked. 

Oh, that’s right. Peasley forgot that Luigi had stayed in his room that night. 

He’d not expect this to happen. 

“I…I’m sorry,” Peasley whispered softly, “I didn’t mean to wake you…”

“Are you okay?” Luigi replied worriedly, inching closer. 

“...Kind of.”

“Do…you want to talk about it?”

Peasley let out a slow sigh and leaned against Luigi. Shoulder slumping as he attempted to get comfortable. “I just… Do you…remember when I was turned into that dragon-like creature?”

“When we first met? Yeah, it was definitely one memorable introduction.” Luigi attempted to lighten the mood. But all it got was a small smile out of the prince.

“I…keep having nightmares about that time. I was placed into a monstrous form that had no control over my emotions. I was so..angry, upset, filled with rage. I…” Peasley let out another sigh as he scrubbed his face. “I’m trapped like that once more, but there’s no relief. Instead I…I think…”

“You don’t have to keep going if it makes you unhappy.” Luigi said quickly. 

Peasley shook his head, “I-It’s fine, I need to get this out of me. It’s all a confusing blurr, but I…I think I kill you? I-I don’t know, I just know that there’s just a bundle of something unmoving and it’s green and I think it’s your shirt and-”

He didn’t argue back as Luigi pulled him closer, letting out shaky breaths as he’s cradled. Luigi gently whispering, “You’re okay, you’re okay, it’s just a dream…”

“I just…w-what if it actually ha-happened?” 

“But it didn’t. You were saved and led the way to defeating Cackletta.” Luigi placed a kiss on Peasley’s temple, rubbing his arms gently. “I’m okay, you’re okay.”

The prince let out a slow sigh and nodded, “Yeah…we’re okay…”

_____________________________________________________________

(Luigi's Nightmare.)

He was so cold. 

He couldn’t move.

He didn’t feel anything but he knew he was…scared…

What was happening? 

Where was he? 

Mario? 

Peach? 

Heck, he’d even take seeing Bowser at this point.

Why couldn’t he move? 

Why-

Why did it feel like his head was splitting in two? Make it stop! Please make it stop!

His whole body felt as if he was being torn apart! 

Why couldn’t he scream!?

He knew his mouth was open in pain but he couldn’t hear anything!

Why was this happening!?

“Fret not, Mr. L, you’re serving your purpose well…”

Luigi couldn’t tell if he screamed from waking from his dream or from falling out of his bed. He was scrambling up onto his fours in the next second. Wide eyes filled with fear darting around the room that he slowly realized that he was in his bedroom. The one in the home he and Mario shared on the outskirts of the Mushroom Kingdom. 

“Luigi?” 

The quiet voice pulled the human to the other person standing in his room. Peasley was dressed in an old t-shirt of Luigi’s and a pair of boxers. Something that would have set Luigi’s heart a flutter under normal circumstances. Now however, with how fearful Peasley looked and how he still felt about that dream, Luigi was more nervous that he was caught so low. 

“P..Peasley?” Luigi quietly choked out. He couldn’t help but flinch back when the prince slowly knelt before him. 

Peasley paused at the action, offering a small smile as he shifted to sit instead. Sitting cross legged and holding out his arms. A silent invitation for Luigi. Who took it immediately, crawling over and practically collapsing against Peasley. Saying nothing more as he allowed tears to silently fall down his face. 

On his part, Peasley didn’t ask for information. He knew not to pry, he knew Luigi would talk to him eventually. At the moment, however, he just needed to show that he was here to support, to comfort, and know rest would come later.

[dragongod800]

The Warning in the Window

I don’t remember falling asleep. One moment, I’m at the table, finishing a cup of tea, and the next… I’m here, in this strange version of my kitchen. Everything looks almost normal, but just enough is wrong to make my skin crawl. The walls are slightly warped, leaning inward, and the shadows seem darker, more alive somehow, pooling around the edges of the room.

There’s a window on the far wall. I don’t have a window there—at least, I’m pretty sure I don’t. And yet, there it is, wide and dark, filling the room with a dim, sickly light. It’s like a hole cut into reality, showing something that shouldn’t be seen.

I squint, trying to see through the thick darkness on the other side. My heart skips a beat as a shape slowly presses up against the glass. It’s a face—a massive, twisted face that fills nearly the entire window. It’s not like any face I’ve ever seen. The skin is stretched too tightly across its skull, veins bulging and pulsing under the translucent skin. Its eyes are huge, but uneven, one larger than the other, the irises a sickly yellow, ringed with red. They bulge from their sockets, unblinking, as if they’re desperate to see me.

Its mouth is frozen in a wide, unnatural grin, lips stretched back to reveal rows of crooked, broken teeth, each one sharp and mismatched, some far too long, jutting out at odd angles. The gums are an angry, bruised purple, and I can’t shake the feeling that if it moved even slightly, those teeth would tear through flesh without hesitation.

The creature doesn’t move, doesn’t blink—just stares, its monstrous eyes locked onto me, that grotesque smile frozen in place. My stomach twists, and every instinct screams at me to look away, but I can’t. I’m trapped in its gaze, paralyzed by the horror of it.

Then, words begin to scrawl across the glass, as if etched by an unseen hand. The letters are shaky, uneven, like someone scratching them in a hurry: “You should wake up before you forget how.”

A chill settles over me. I swallow, my throat dry, but I can’t tear my eyes away from those words—or from the face behind them. Its expression hasn’t changed, that grin still stretched far too wide, but its eyes seem… darker now. Hungrier.

The letters shift, rearranging themselves with a faint scraping sound: “It’s getting closer.”

My heart pounds, and I glance over my shoulder, almost involuntarily. There’s nothing there—just the warped walls and heavy shadows pressing in from all sides. But I feel something in the air, a pressure, as though I’m not alone, as though something is lurking just beyond my line of sight.

I look back at the window, and the creature’s grin has grown wider, impossibly wide, splitting its face almost in half. The corners of its mouth are stretched so far back that the skin has started to tear, small rivulets of dark fluid seeping from the edges. Its eyes are fixed on me with an intensity that makes my skin crawl, as though it’s trying to communicate something through sheer force of will.

New words scratch their way onto the glass, barely legible but enough to send a shiver down my spine: “If you see it, it’s too late.”

I don’t know what “it” is, but dread coils in my stomach. I feel the urge to get up, to run, but my legs won’t move. I’m rooted to the spot, staring at this hideous, unnatural face, its broken teeth glistening as if wet, that twisted smile curving into something almost… triumphant.

Another scratching sound fills the room, louder now, coming from behind me. It’s faint at first, like nails dragging across the floor, but it’s getting closer, and I can almost feel the weight of it pressing down on me.

The creature’s eyes widen further, and for a split second, I think I see pity in those unnatural, bulging orbs. But the expression is gone as quickly as it came, replaced by that same horrible, frozen grin.

The last words appear, scrawled across the glass, the letters jagged and desperate: “Don’t turn around.”

My breath catches in my throat. The scratching grows louder, inching closer, the sound now accompanied by a faint, sickly wheezing. I can feel it just behind me, the air thick and cold, pressing against my neck. But I keep my eyes on the creature in the window, forcing myself not to move, not to look.

The creature’s mouth opens slightly, enough for me to see the glistening darkness inside, as if it’s about to say something. But no words come, only a faint, echoing whisper that seems to seep into my mind: “Wake up… if you still can.”

The darkness around me thickens, the shadows pressing closer, and I feel myself slipping, fading, my mind caught somewhere between here and… something else.

With one last look at that twisted, nightmarish face in the window, I close my eyes, hoping—praying—that when I open them, I’ll be back in my own bed. But the scratching, the wheezing… it’s still there, creeping ever closer.

And as I force my eyes open, the darkness remains, the creature’s face burned into my mind, and I realize with a horrible certainty:

I never woke up.

[agentmarcuspike]

I want the angry woman reading list plz!

and i shall gladly provide!!

just realized some of the books on the list are in norwegian, but i'll include them anyway in the hopes that they'll be translated soon

so here's my list of books about angry and unhinged women, with links to goodreads (fuck amazon but)

"Hidden Bodies" by Caroline Kepnes these are the books the series "You" are based on, and in this sequel we meet our queen Love Quinn

"A Certain Hunger" by Chelsea G. Summers for anyone interested in reading about a woman eating her partners like a fucking spider (affectionately)

"How to Set a Fire and Why" by Jesse Ball the world simply wasn't made for girls so let's burn it

"Dette har jeg aldri fortalt til noen" by Maria Kjos Fonn a collection of short stories about women trying too hard or not at all to fit in, and the secrets we keep to ourselves

"My Year of Rest and Relaxation" by Ottessa Moshfegh you know this. one thing about me is i'll swallow anything this woman writes whole.

"Skutt i filler av Mads Mikkelsen" by Hedda H. Robertsen short and real about how obsession blurs the lines between fantasy and reality. for example, is mads mikkelsen actually fucking you up the ass so hard you bleed over the kitchen counter or are you just thinking about it because a dilf-y customer at the bookstore you work in spoke to you in danish? can be hard to tell

"Her Body and Other Parties" by Carmen Maria Machado i can only quote the critics: "Bodies become inconsequential, humans become monstrous, and anger becomes erotic. A dark, shimmering slice into womanhood."

"In the Dream House" by Carmen Maria Machado do you like mean women? well you'll love GAY mean women. beautifully painful and real about abuse in wlw relationships

"Grown Ups" by Marie Aubert (translated by Rosie Hedger) you know when you're 40 and child free and your younger sister gets pregnant and you're terrified to end up like your mom so you *** * ***** ** **** and **** * *****? yeah...

"The New Me" by Halle Butler i love when women hate their lives and are mean. "a young woman trapped in the funhouse of American consumer culture."

"Sharp Objects" by Gillian Flynn is there a single Good™ woman in this books? don't think so <3 self-harm representation, yay

"Gone Girl" by Gillian Flynn you know this one <3 the original Good For Her

"Surfacing" by Margaret Atwood i mean she's not angry but she's definitely not right in the head. grief and memories, bad husbands and delusion

feel free to add to the list!! i will if i come across any more, these are just the ones i've remembered lately. have fun reading <3