#tasked to SLAY the princess!!!!)

[abby-howard]

A background from the Pristine Cut that I have been wanting to share for ssooo long.

Yes, those chains were hand-drawn link by link :]

Here's a close up, and raw pencils for another background that I was proud of:

Just wanted to share.. that is all....

[blacktabbygames]

[generative-adversarial-nitwit]

i will NOT blorbo the protagonist/player character of slay the princess i wont. i wont do it. i wont stoop to it. even if he IS babygirl

[tharrb]

Slay the princess amphibia au

[salty-an-disco]

WHY DID I NOT KNOW THE SKILLS IN DE ARE ALSO REFERRED TO AS “THE FURIES”????

[kate321sblog]

I can only say that my slave has good taste when it comes to boots/ high heels, 

Thank you 🍒☺️

Do as you’re told slave

[delphientropy]

slay the princess is SOOO did system core its actually genuinely so interesting

yeah you gotta do a task and the Voices In Your Head™️ start bickering and talking and sometimes its quiet and other times its so deafeningly loud and when other people realise that you have voices in your head they go "thats not normal, what do you mean you hear voices?"

one voice argues "no im not some shard of glass. im. im me."

another whispers a mantra "heart. lungs. liver. nerves."

one is optimistic

one is angry

one is cold

one is in love

one is paranoid

the shards of glass thing immediately reminded me of how systems are seen as a fragmented mind like???

[cinnbar-bun]

the jotaro munchies have HIT…. can i please request a pt.4 jotaro and some good domestic family fluff w smolyne…. i am so…. soft for her……

A/n: Okay so I'm going to cheat and combine like... the 4-5 requests I got of 4taro and Smolyne into one!!!

Domestic Family Fun Time (ft. Smolyne)

Summary: After recognizing he needs to be at home more, Jotaro is tasked with joining in on some of the activities you and Jolyne often partake in together!

Today's activities... slaying an evil monster and doing makeup.

Rating: SFW- pure fluff and comedy!

Word Count: ~1.4k

Notes: Reader is GN! but they do know/use makeup. Never specified if Jolyne is your biological/step daughter, and no mentions of Jolyne's mom- so feel free to imagine whatever you want! I imagine Jolyne as about ~5-6 here.

Taglist (if you'd like to be added, please fill out the form in the pinned or message me!): @gingernut1314 @adeadcreator @child-ofdust @starr-l1ghtt

Jotaro does his best to rectify some of his absence in the house since Jolyne was a newborn. He’s more present now and tries to support you and his daughter. 

Still, he’s the same stoic man, so don’t expect him to be so different now that he’s at home. He’ll be taking these duties very seriously, keeping an eye on the house, never taking a break, always work and- 

Oh who is he kidding? Even if he tries to look tough, Star Platinum is pretty much always exposing him. Star Platinum can’t help but reveal how happy and excited Jotaro gets at home with you two. 

Jotaro isn’t too used to dealing with Jolyne as she gets older, in the sense that she is becoming more active and starting to formulate her own thoughts. Still, he tries his best to work with his hyperactive daughter. 

Jolyne loves playing games and being physical. One of her favorite things to do with you is pretend to have to save you from a big monster while she is a super cool ‘fairy mermaid knight’. Normally, you two would play this by yourselves, but since Jotaro has been focused on being at home, he gets to witness these games. 

At first he stood off to the side and watched as Jolyne jumped off the couch and hit a large pillow covered with a blanket that served as one of the ‘minions’. He noticed how active you were in playing along and expressing with Jolyne, which he took note of for future reference. 

The next few times you played pretend, Jolyne beggggedddd Jotaro to please please please pretty please with a cherry on top play mermaid fairy knight with her. 

He wasn’t sure what his role was supposed to be, so he awkwardly asked, making her brainstorm. 

“Um… hm… well…” 

That is, until you had the brilliant idea to play the ‘evil villain’ and ‘kidnap’ Jotaro (put him inside the foldable pink castle playset). Jolyne was so excited to play along, and you began monologuing like a cheesy villain. 

“Now, young princess, I’ve kidnapped your father and placed him in this indestructible fortress where he can never leave! Mwahaha! Look at how terrified he is!” 

Jotaro just stands there, unsure of what to do, before you nudge his arm and gesture with your face for him to act along. He nods and then in the most bland tone ever- 

“Ah… I am… so scared. Please Jolyne. Save me.” 

You and Jolyne had to look away and stifle your laughter from that awful performance, but quickly got back into character. 

Jotaro uses Star Platinum to help Jolyne jump higher or make her feel like she is gliding for a bit. 

You hammed up the evil act while Jotaro would make the most monotone ‘screams’ as you ‘tortured’ him (tickling him or kissing him all over his face). Jolyne would yell back or gag playfully and then smack you with her fake weapon. 

Of course, you had to give a riveting performance and fake die dramatically before laying on the ground with a silly face, making Jolyne squeal happily and run up to Jotaro. 

“Thank you, Jolyne, for saving me. I’m in your debt.” 

Jolyne gets smug and talks about how of course she was going to save him, she’s his dad, and she’s gonna be a cool hero just like him!

Cue you nearly breaking character to sob and Jotaro mumbling a ‘good grief’ while tilting his hat down to hide the fact he also wants to break down at how cute Jolyne is. 

He makes sure to make her favorite dinner after- pizza rolls.

Another thing she manages to whisk you into doing is makeup. Jolyne loves to try it on and even put it on you. Sure, you end up looking like a brightly colored clown at the end, but it’s quite fun. 

Jolyne loves how colorful and sparkly she looks by the end of it when you finish her makeup. 

One day, though, while Jotaro is watching a documentary on dolphins, Jolyne comes up to him with her makeup kit and asks (read: says) to do his makeup. Jotaro is unsure at the suggestion- he’s never even worn makeup before- and seeing you walk behind her with lime green and purple eyeshadow and red lipstick makes him nearly second guess if he should do it. 

But one look at Jolyne’s face (which is done up in very pretty blue makeup thanks to you) and he sighs and accepts his fate, promptly closing his eyes and pausing the documentary. 

You join in with Jolyne and help her apply the makeup, properly showing where everything should go. 

“Ah, see, we have to apply the foundation here like this-” “Damn, dad, you’re pale!” “Jolyne-!” 

Jotaro knows this is going to be a mess but he’s finding it admittedly hilarious how serious you and Jolyne are taking this. Star Platinum is smiling widely at the both of you and eagerly pointing at different products as you two apply them.

“Hm, which color should we choose, Jolyne?” “Ah… I think dad should get green! No, wait, black!” “Black, huh? A bold choice, dear.” 

Everything goes pretty smoothly until he comes upon perhaps the worst torture known to man. 

Doing his eyelashes and eyeliner. Before you can even apply the eyelash curler to him, he opens his eyes and gasps. Hell no. That is NOT going anywhere near him. 

“Jotaro! It’s safe, I promise!” “The fact you need to clarify that it’s ‘safe’ tells me it isn’t.” “Stop being a baby and just close your eyes.” 

He relents after a bit of arguing, only to feel his heart stop when you bring the eyeliner out. 

“You are not putting a pencil in my eyes.” “It’s not in your eyes, it’s around-” “No.” 

Jotaro swears this is supposed to actually be a torture device. There’s no way that people around the world willingly put this stuff on. He cannot keep looking up without blinking a million times as you try to put the eyeliner on. 

“Stay still!” “Don’t put a pencil in my eyes then!” 

Jotaro honestly would rather fight Dio again than bother putting on eyeliner again. 

Finally, you finish and he releases the breath he held in��� until you bring out mascara. 

Kill him. Please. This man is so damn twitchy with it and ends up getting the mascara around his eyelids. 

“You messed it up, dad!” “Sorry, Jolyne. Good grief, the things you two make me do.” 

After all that pain, Jolyne volunteers to do his lips. She grabs one of her lip balms and once Jotaro tastes it, he grimaces and gags. 

“What is that?!” “Coca-Cola! The Fanta one tastes the best, but you can’t have it because it’s my favorite.” 

Finally, it’s time for him to see the results of you and Jolyne’s silly game. 

“Wow… green lipstick… I didn’t even know they made that…” “Right? So what do you think, dad?” 

“I think I look like a zombie…” 

You laugh and press a kiss to Jotaro’s cheek. “A very handsome zombie.” 

He sighs and shakes his head before grabbing the two of you to pull you into a hug. 

“Thank you. Now how do I take this off of me?” 

Jolyne screams that he can’t because he looks so cute and she needs to commemorate it. She runs to her room and gets the old digital camera he got her then demanding the two of you pose in your ‘beautiful’ makeup. 

“Come on! Say cheese!” 

The three of you have a small photoshoot with it, which you ended up having printed at the store later. The photo with you smiling and hugging Jotaro while he has a tiny smile is proudly displayed in the house. In her teens, years later, Jolyne gets embarrassed by it and often hides it when her friends are over, asking you throw it out or something. She still secretly loves the memories of it so she wouldn’t actually want you to do that. 

Jotaro still has some ways to go when it comes to playing and taking care of Jolyne, but he’s slowly getting there. He’s happy he chose to make more of an effort and that you gave him another chance to prove himself. He can’t imagine another life than the one he has now. 

And… he can’t imagine feeling safer and more content than he is now, especially seeing you and Jolyne laughing over the photos you all just took.

[a-hermit-pining]

Geto as a House Husband

Genre: Fluff Pairing: House husband Geto x Reader AN: I love him. He's so damn pretty. Who should I write next?

Have you seen him? He is mother material. Born to cook forced to slay. Let's say in a different world, you whisk this beautiful man into the domestic bliss of marriage.

Massive cottage core vibes with this one. He is very taken by the idea of not being regarded as a killing machine. Immediately busies himself with the task of decorating your shared home.

Just take this man away. Elope to mountains and save him (hermit begs you).

Wedding planning is another demon. He debates every single decision. Asking you about your preference between white gardenias or white peonies. (You love him and he is too sweet for you to say out loud that you for the end of the world cannot distinguish the flowers)

He creates elaborate flowcharts to compare the pros and cons of different cake flavors, or insists on stress-testing the honeymoon resort's structural integrity with a cursed technique (much to the staff's bewilderment).

Let's not even get into Gojo's best man speech. No one really recovered from that.

DIY projects are his shit. Renovating a raggedy old dresser into a vintage masterpiece is where his magic lies. Let this man cook.

Your home with him is a a whimsical blend of vintage finds and hand-stitched throw pillows adorned with subtle wards against lingering curses. Even the strategically placed spider plants weren't just decorative – they doubled as a natural barrier against negative energy (a discovery that both surprised and amused you).

His transition into a normal 'monkey' life was endearingly awkward, like the time he spent hours meticulously decoupaging a floral pattern onto a chair, muttering about the inefficiency of glue compared to a simple binding spell.

And the day Suguru is introduced to the world of crocheting, your world flips on its axis. The pure look of joy on his face unravels the seams of your heart as he presents you with the mood changing octopus on your birthday.

Weekends with him are craft days. With a classic rom-com in the background as he sits next to you, his hands busy in the dance of needles and yarn. Better even your fingers run through his hair, braiding his hair only to wake up to your husband with perfect mermaid waves next day.

You both are the kind of sickly sweet couple that cause Shoko to gag in cringe during holiday gatherings.

Your husband glows with the simplicity of life. His hands busy themselves with crafts, chores, gardening, never a moment of rest even in the hull of domesticity.

He is your Disney princess that rushes out to refill the bird feeder with the first rays of Sun, hums pleasantly at the sight of a perfectly baked batch of cookies, or paints the most delightful sceneries on your ceilings.

Geto Suguru was made to create. He loves the fresh scent of sheets, experimenting with new flavors of tea, or going down the path of BookTok with Faerie romances much to your astonishment.

It isn't long before, you both end up adopting teeny tiny twins from the local orphanage. Suguru's darling girls he spends his life nurturing.

He took to fatherhood with the same surprising zeal he brought to everything else. His days were filled with braiding tiny pigtails, reading bedtime stories with dramatic voice inflections (complete with a surprisingly convincing rendition of a grumpy troll), and building elaborate pillow forts that rivaled any jujutsu barrier.

And on nights when dreams of a different reality kept him away, you held his hand in yours. Calling your girls for a family sleepover in the living room. That was all it took to whisk the sadness away from your beloved's eyes.

[kate321sblog]

I can only say that my slave has good taste when it comes to boots/ high heels, 

Thank you 🍒☺️

You’d probably be turned on by the amount of physical labor I put into this room

[ty-bayonet-betteridge]

has anybody done "TLQ and the Voices try to solve the Hanged Man case whil Harry Du Bois and the skills are tasked by the Narrator with slaying the Princess" or do i have to do everything myself

[katkalis-the-horror-fanartist]

Whats the order of hierarchy in this au? Who's the most powerful to least powerful?

(also op that art where zoth and abducius are dancing together make me so insane/pos)

GLAD YOU LIKE THAT ONE. They have a few other things they do together too...But that's for other times 😅

These Tierlists should sum up the question. Defense Levels and Power Levels:

Then, under this cut, I'm putting the details as to why they're ordered like this! I'm also adding much needed details to be known about all these characters!

Hierarchy List (and facts)

Considering both Strength and Defense.

• Yan Luo Wang Diyu: Princess of Death. Astral Life Reaper. Brings Death. She holds complete power over her respective astral circle. All events that happen within are all orchestrated and catered by her.

• Drugia Fleuretty: Nightmare Designer. Humans have assumed that she designs clothes in the nightmare, but this is not the case. Drugia's talent is creating and designing eldritch monstrosities that reside in the Astral Circle. These creatures of fear and suffering, created by her hands (and sometimes Izanami's) send irreparable dread into many that witness them. Along with her dreadful ability, she too is rendered nearly immortal, with no known weakness. Some say that, with her knowledge and talent, she can someday destroy other Astral Circles nearby with an army of beasts from realms unknown.

• Quachil Uttaus: Misfortion Bringer. Astral Guardian. Due to their abilities, none can best them. Their misfortune is deadly, as it causes attacks to miss, injuries to become more fatal, and human organs to fail to function properly (sudden ailments such as heart attacks, strokes, etc.). Due to this, fortune absent for their opponents, Quachil's success rate for winning in a battle is set in stone as 100%. This power of Quachil's is also able to protect residents of their Astral Circle, bringing misfortune to anyone that attempts to harm any of them. As long as Quachil is aware of said confrontation. They often are, but rare cases can occur where they are fixated solely on one task.

• Chaugnar Faugn: Occultist. He controls cults circled around Yao Luo. He commands groups of her worshippers, which is already a high priviledge, yet alongside that, his defense and power are close to infinite. His weakness is undiscovered. It is said that only the Princess of Death herself can cease his life. Of course, she never will. So he reigns alongside her and is able to command her followers to defend her, himself, and her partner Orcus.

• Shub Niggurath: Famine Bringer. She is able to cause crops to be unable to grow and livestock to become malnourished and ill. Her famines can devastate entire continents of humans, and sometimes even other residents of the Astral Plane as a whole. In these cases, humans brought to the Astral Plane for soul and bodily consumption will also wither away as livestock would. Even beyond planet Earth, she is feared. Though it is believed she does have a weakness: To be decapitated by a golden axe blessed by either a god of war or a goddess of fertility and bounty. It is said however that, even if she is somehow slayed, remnants of her soul may last and continue to spawn random bouts of drought and famine.

• Zoth Ommog: Ritual Leader. Similar to the past Astral entities, Zoth is akin to a hellish god. The rituals he conducts provide many effects, defects, abilities, and assistance. Centuries ago, this sinful, lustful monstrosity was imprisoned by gods. However, Yao Luo successfully planned and initiated tactics to free him. He has since honored her and resided in her Astral Circle, providing her and her fellow residents much from his rituals. Considered the most vile entity amongst the Princess' domain, most fear him, aside from a select few admirers and slaves, whom of which Zoth marks with special sigils and engages in heretical acts with. It is said that he does have a weakness: being pierced in the heart with any golden object that has been blessed by a god of purity. This however may still prove impossible, as his heart rests within his throat, which is shielded by the very collar the gods had imprisoned him with. That, and runes he created beneath his flesh grant him many defenses.

• Teutates Taranis: Annihilator. Considered the most proficient and deadly combatant in the Princess' Astral Circle, it is said that Teutates can best any that cross his path. He, like a few other Astral Residents, has his own select group of humans and beasts that obey his commands. His subjects are marked with specific tattoos and all go through a blood pact with him. His skill in battle and talent for both swift kills and agonizing annihilations make him a formidable challenge in battle, even against other higher demonic entities. Some theorize that he has a weakness: stabbing out his eyes. Others, however, say that he is able to sense foes without sight and that this is no weakness of his. But recently, some have thought about another possible weakness of the annihilator: shooting him between the eyes with an arrow coated in a sedative. Something powerful enough to alter his brain function.

• Anazareth Anazarel: Curse Creator. After having practiced under the guidance of Yan Luo herself, Anazareth has mastered many terrible and effective curses fit for many situations. She also has a sigil bestowed upon her by Zoth in Yan Luo's will that not only increases the potency of her curses compared to others, but gave her the ability to effect even those that use magic to protect them from said curses. This sigil in turn granted her other moderate demonic powers and altered her appearance, giving her horns. She is in high enough authority to have her own followers like Zoth, Abducius, and Teutates. Her owned subjects have special tattoos on their collarbones, cheeks, or backs, and all have at least one horn as a result of them. Some say that cutting off her horns is her weakness. Other say that you must specifically burn the base of the horns after cutting them off, otherwise they may grow back. This proves difficult in idea, as she must be completely still for this to be done properly.

• Ishtar Ereskigal: Pestbringer. Similar to Shub in the aspect of affecting entire populations with food-stunting issues. Her pests range from cockroaches to rats to locusts and even mosquitos plagued with disease. Ticks, fleas, and bedbugs aren't even out of the equation. While she too can hinder farms, she can also infect households and wild environments. Her ability to devastate wildlife as well has granted her a vile, disgusting reputation. She may also use pests to assist in torture methods. It is said that her weakness is submerging her in holy water, which is already difficult to aquire in the Astral Circle. And even from Earth, it must be a decent amount.

• Abducius Morail: Mutilator. Though not as high up on the hierarchy ladder, the Mad Mutilator is heavily feared by many in the Princess' Astral Circle. His taste for agony and screams of pain lead him to be as torturous as Exael Lanithro with nearly as much battle prowess as Teutates Taranis. He takes intense euphoria and ecstasy in performing near-deadly operations and Frankenstein-esque crafts on living victims with no sedation. Even other higher-ups show slight repulsion towards him. He has some disfigured followers of his own, each one mutilated and/or branded in various ways. From skinned body parts to burned or exposed bones to body parts and organs of different animals. He has no specific weakness as he is closer to a human, but his own modifications to his body grand him decent defense, both physically and magically.

• Barbatos Barrabam: Human Hunter. Assigned an important job that benefits the Princess, Barbatos is well respected among his peers and superiors. He both speaks and acts straight to the point, always set on completing his goals with accuracy and no wasted time. Others may play with their prey, but Barbatos plays no games. They say he can see through walls. It is theorized that only being fully crushed beneath unbearable weight is enough to hault him and end his streak of humans hunted.

• Ah Puch Xilbalbá: Bone Breaker. Usually tortures mortals and disobedient slaves alongside Exael. He also often assists Abducius in breaking bones in victims in order to encourage their bones to heal improperly and become disfigured for Abducius' own enjoyment. In battle, every crunch of bones fuels him to become more violent, and once his opponent can no longer move, he may simply rip their bones out completely.

• Exael Lanithro: Torturer. Owning more twisted instruments and machines than any Astral Resident, Exael rarely runs out of torture methods for his unlucky victims. While some prefer to inflict harsh violence against their select subjects, Exael prefers more psychological and lengthy approaches, from water torture to slowly pumping victims with poison to using machines to stretch and rip victims apart. It is unknown if he takes satisfaction from his job though, as his expression rarely changes from his usual, somber look.

• Nyogtha Z'mog: Gravedigger. Though she is never often seen fighting, most if not all around her respect her. Sometimes, even humans captured and brought to the Astral Circle have minimum qualms with her. Harm against her, whether successfully applied or not, calls for instant torture. Though she has never truly proven herself in a fight, some say that she has swiftly ended the lives of those near-death with the shovel she often uses. She has also been seen using electricity to charge herself, leading to her never needing any rest, which even some superiors of hers indulge in. Her dedication to her job grant's her protection directly ordered by Yan Luo, and none dare to test to see if she is truly able to slaughter efficiently.

• Orcus Dis Pater: Skin Collector. Although nowhere near as high on the social ladder as Yan Luo, he is kept in close company to her. None have ever figured out why she keeps him so close. Orcus himself rarely speaks to others outside of the Princess' chambers, but when he does speak, those around him listen intently. Eagerly. It is said that skins he wears come from slain victims in the Astral Arena, and others have caught wind of Yan Luo working on a cloak for him. One made of 1000 skins.

• Lilith Lilitu Lilit: Witch. Brought into this Astral Circle by her best friend Anazareth. Though she has no specific assignments, she has never crossed nor annoyed the Princess, and therefore is allowed to spectate. However, recently in the past 100 years or so, she has taught herself more spells, and plans to ask for tutoring from Yan Luo, as Anazareth got.

• Izanami Yomi: Face Deformer. Her title may seem weak compared to others, but her worth comes from the fear she garners from those subjected to her ability. Her deformation powers can greatly affect the outcome of different gastly creations made by others. Whether it be carving faces for Drugia's monstrosities, sculpting faces of horror in Abducius' creations, or simply weakening an opponent by disfiguring their facial features, she has proven to not be as useless as her title makes her seem.

• Yog Sothoth: Vampire. Previously nameless before he was named by the Princess herself. He was accepted into her Astral Circle as long as he performed his designated job loyaly. His job requires him to tread between the boundaries of humans and the Astral Realm and use his looks and charisma to lure humans into being captured by his co-worker of sorts, Barbatos. It is well known that his looks are not completely of his own free will, but designed by Drugia and Anazareth as means of making him more appealing to humankind.

• Xezbet Xerbeth: Soul Eater. Xezbet shows little to no participation in Yan Luo's events. Little to nothing is known about his existence and why he has not been sent elsewhere. Some say it is because of his ability to unnerve mortals into submitting, while other say that he is only kept here to someday be harvested of all souls he has devoured.

• Dagda Crom Cruach: Soul Scarecrow. Little is known about Dagda as a whole. From his existence to his appearances in the Princess' domain. Like Xezbet, one can only hypothesize why this strange entity lurks about.

[blacktabbygames]

In case you missed it, Slay the Princess finally has a release date, and we've got a fully animated trailer to go with it!

Slay the Princess is a horror-comedy and romance visual novel where a ~mysterious narrator~ (Jonathan Sims) tasks you with slaying the a princess (Nichole Goodnight) before she ends the entire world.

But will you trust him? Will you trust her? Can you trust anybody?

The demo has about three hours of content, so if you'd like to check it out, you can download it from Steam and itch. And don't forget to wishlist the full game!

[superblysubpar]

Princesses Can Slay Dragons Too:

dad!eddie munson x mom!fem!reader

an Easy Like Sunday Morning story

summary: you're overworked and stressed, Eddie's an oblivious but well meaning husband & dad, and a trip to the cabin with familiar faces might be just what you all needed. | even if a fic is not marked 18+, my blog is

7.7k words (listen, I know it has no business being this long. I worked on it for a year. Idk what happened, okay?)

warnings: please read the new "general warnings" on the masterlist linked above - "reader" has a "name/nickname", mentions of Ronance, mentions of alcohol, mom stress and a little bit of description of some blood/injury and parental panic/ descriptions of shock about it. There is a twinge of "poetic", quick descriptions of smut as well as brief discussion of "unplanned" pregnancies.

This started from an ask last March, which I've since lost (so sorry anon if you're still out there), and it grew and sat and grew some more and then sat some more and now here it is. I've grown very, extremely, emotionally proud and fond of it. Hope ya like it! 💛

Summer, 2004

“Baby, volume,” your voice calls out over the faint music playing, the thrum of wheels against the highway and the wind. Eyes remain shut, but furrowed lines form above your brows when you hear the familiar ding of a coin being grabbed. A palm rests on your thigh, fingers squeeze gently around it as the music of the level starts its loop again. 

You need a coffee. Or thirty. Yes, thirty is good. 

“Squirt,” his tone full of warning, yet somehow still sounding sweeter than the syrup that clings to all of their fingers and the gray fabric of the old van’s seats.

Despite the early morning breakfast stop at McDonald’s being nearly twenty-four hours ago, and your insistence on packed sandwiches and veggies for lunch, and a stop for a sit down dinner - the stale scent of greasy food feels heavy in the air. Which has your brain cycling through the list that will rid your family of the trip when you reach your final destination - get out of the car, wrangle them into pajamas, teeth brushed, fight about sleeping when it’s already almost morning, clothes into washing machine, air out the car, make the grocery list for the week…

Screw coffee - you need a shower, you need a shot of alcohol, you already need a vacation from your vacation. 

A particularly loud grunt and the sound of something hitting or fighting or shooting has you opening your eyes, blinking away the sleep in them to find the dark highway lit by two gold headlights, showing off the yellow lines flashing past the driver’s window. Your mouth parts, ready to be the one to tell them no, like you always are, when he stops you. 

He grabs your hand, his thumb soothing over your knuckles as his voice drifts gently into the backseat, “Come on, I don’t wanna take it away…”

It’s endearing, the way he always tries, the way he gives them a couple of chances. Because at this point, you’re ready to take the damn game and chuck it out the window. This level is haunting you, all you’ve heard every second of every day, even when you’re peeing or trying to shower. You’re pretty sure you’re dreaming in the pixelated graphics, the sound effects now accompanying your daily tasks. 

A loud sigh falls from the backseat and with it, you’re certain the console is nudged one level lower. 

You hate that of all of your children, the one most like him is still awake. 

Sure, they’re all little gremlins, heathens, as he likes to call them - little tenacious mini monster versions of him that drive you up the wall but somehow make your chest ache with too much love. 

But this one, this one takes the cake every time. 

Eddie beats you to it again, the silver of his rings glinting in the green light of the dashboard as he lets go of your hand to reach into the back without looking. Out of the corner of your eye you see his bicep flexing, gently shaking the tiny knee in his big hand as he talks to the road sternly, “Lace. Volume off completely until I say otherwise, or Mario and Luigi are my best friends the rest of the week, capisce?”

“Caposh,” she grumbles, big red chucks swinging up towards the console and back down, her little legs don’t quite touch the ground yet, much to her dismay. 

You keep reminding her that she has lots of time to be as big as her siblings, that her ever growing shoe size and the jeans you bought for the upcoming school year (which she’s already complaining are too tight - remember, you need to ask Katie about hand me downs from Liv, or shit, maybe even Grace, this weekend) tell you she is going to keep growing - and fast. Part of you can’t wait, and the other part wishes she’d slow down. 

The sound vanishes completely and Eddie’s hand finds its way to your thigh again when you sigh. The part that wishes she’d grow up faster stirs, lit by the flicker of resentment when she listens to him so easily and not you. 

Eddie’s fingers run up your thigh, then back down, skin beneath the denim buzzing as he squeezes softly and clears his throat. 

“I think someone deserves an apology though, don’t you? ‘Cause I believe I heard you were asked already…”

“I’m sorry,” she squeaks and you can’t help but look over your shoulder at her when she does. 

For once, her eyes are on you and not the game, big and brown - just like his - and truly sorry. You smile softly as her brows furrow under bangs that just refuse to stay straight. She blows them away with a big huff as she whines, “It’s just so hard.”

Your head nods, temple resting on the seat as you murmur, “Yeah, I know. Thank you for turning the volume off when your dad asked though, I really appreciate it.”

Eddie swallows, his finger aimlessly circles over the skin above your knee as he blinks at the road. 

He’s always amazed when you do that. 

Far more patient than anyone deserves, far more understanding than any of them appreciate, and much too good to him. For him. Especially with how things have been lately. 

Eddie knew it’d been a little rough, with him being gone so much and the kids’ schedules just growing more cramped as they got older - summer was no longer the lazy days of kids riding around on their bikes and doing squat. It was full of sports and clubs, friends, all requiring a constant need to be dropped off, picked up, carted too and fro on seemingly hellbent on never lining up schedules. He’d been trying, he really had, to help you balance it all, but he had tunnel vision for things at work, he was so focused on his own shit he didn’t realize how much everything was affecting you. 

How much being alone with three kids, two goldfish (scratch that, one, but still), a dog, and a house that seemed to have endless tasks to keep it running was breaking you. 

He finds your hand and pulls interlaced fingers to his lips, kissing your knuckles, your wrist, your palm, all while keeping his eyes on the road. You close yours again, trying to focus on the soft press of his lips to your skin and not the reason why he’s doing it. 

You know he’s thinking about last weekend.

On Friday, Caroline had complained that you only sewed new straps on her ballet slippers instead of getting new ones altogether. She was practically in tears because all the other girls in class had new leotards, new skirts, and new shoes and you promised you’d figure something out. She retreated with red cheeks and a slam of the bedroom door, stereo blaring behind it, the cusp of terrible teenage years promising to be worse than the twos. 

After that, Michael shoved you off when you tried to hug him as you dropped him at the school for a baseball practice with an exasperated, “God, mom, stop!” - nine was grown up and he was much too cool to be a momma’s boy anymore apparently. 

And to top it all off, Lacey had been following you around the house, that stupid game dinging and singing everywhere you went, one of the fish died and Lacey asked when it was coming back, and you somehow burnt the hamburger helper for dinner.  

When Eddie got home, he found you hunched over the coffee table next to a precariously placed glass of red wine, a sock in one hand and a shirt in the other, piles of laundry neatly folded around you and your favorite movie playing on the TV. If it weren’t for the position that was sure to have your back feeling rough tomorrow, your soft, even breathing revealed you were dead asleep. 

He had tried to ease you up, move you to the bedroom while trying not to wake you like he used to when his body was much younger, but you had shot up at the touch of his hand, the lightest sleeper of a mother of three. You blinked heavy eyelids while mumbling through sleep thick words about lunches for the two eldest who would be gone all the next day. Eddie had assured you he’d make them, and you were fairly certain you were back to sleep before your head touched the pillow. 

The next day though, something inside of you snapped. 

It had been better than the one before, but not great. You hadn’t showered, there was a leak in the kitchen that hadn’t gotten any better all week. The only break you had all day was picking the kids up from their activities, and making them a snack as soon as they dropped gear in haphazard piles in the entryway. 

After hours on hold, you just started clanging around with tools you didn’t know how to use, your head throbbing from the lack of coffee or water and the sound of Mario grabbing another coin somewhere to your right. 

Where was the real plumber you had asked Eddie to call? Maybe, if you concentrated hard enough, Mario would leap out of Lacey’s console, climb down the drain, and fight off the little mushroom guy who was-

You smacked the wrench against the pipe, repeatedly, like it had personally threatened you. 

“Woah, woah, woah. Sweetheart, stop! You’re gonna break it!” 

Eddie grabbed your wrist, pulling you up to see him standing with pizza boxes and staring at you with wide, blinking eyes. For a second, the sight of short curls starting to gray on the ends and lines next to eyes that were constantly squinting because he was smiling or refusing to wear sunglasses, had you forgetting you were mad, or stressed or…maybe you were just tired?

He cocked his head, trying to catch the gaze you let fall to the floor quickly as the kids shrieked about him being home. Eddie didn’t even get his question of if you were okay out before arms were wrapped around his waist and legs, all vying for his attention. 

You had swiped at your nose to ward off the familiar sting, pulled down plates and started filling glasses of milk and juice, before shoving the casserole you’d had prepped into the freezer. 

Then he snapped his fingers, smoothing a hand over Caroline’s hair and said, “Oh, hold on. I think you’re gonna like what else I brought home a lot more than the pizza.”

He left for the hallway, returning quickly, holding something behind his back that she tried to peek at and he tsked, singing, “Uh-uh-uh. Hold on. Your mom told me you were upset about your ballet slippers…”

Your shoulders rose, the pour of apple juice freezing over the glass. 

He didn’t. 

He smiled at you, oblivious, then at Caroline’s squeal of excitement and he kept going, “These aren’t new, but my co-worker’s daughter barely used them and…Ta-da!”

Eddie held out a shoebox with essentially brand new shoes and your body felt numb as you listened to her scream how much she loved them and him, squeezing him in a fierce hug as he kissed her temple. 

Caroline held them up to you, proudly, and you smiled, nodding, saying something, you don’t even remember what. You ushered everyone to the table. 

Lacey stood next to her chair, eyes darting over the hand-held game clutched in her fingers. 

“Lacey, put it away, time for dinner.” 

Ding! Bloop, bloop, bloop blah-bloop-de-bloop. 

Eddie slapped pizza onto plates, licking stray sauce from his thumb, “How was everyone’s day? What’d you do?”

“Lacey, I’m not telling you again. Put the game away.”

Her eyes flew up to yours, something fiery and far to recognizable behind them that made you blink as she just said, “No.”

“Oh!” Eddie passed you pizza, oblivious, “How was lunch? Did dad do as good as mom?” He ruffled Michael’s hair as your daughter and you glared at each other. 

Caroline nodded her head enthusiastically around a too big bite and Michael turned to you, pizza in his mouth on display as he talked, “It was so good. Can dad make our lunches every day? His was way better.”

You stood up from the table, without warning and without a word, walked to your bedroom, and slammed the door. 

Were you having an adult tantrum? Maybe. Were you proud of it? Absolutely not. But the rush of tears that fell down your cheeks and the sob that overtook you was the kind of angry crying you simply do in private and you had needed to get there quick. 

Footsteps jogged down the hallway behind you, the sound causing you to turn the lock on your bedroom door through blurry vision and gasps around your tears. As the knob tried to turn, you moved away with a hand over your mouth until the back of your knees hit the bed. 

“Babe, open the door.” Eddie’s voice was soft as the knob rattled again. 

“Liv, what the hell, open the door.” 

You choked on a sob, fingers still over your lips so you barely got out, “I’m fine, Eddie, just…have dinner without me. I’ll eat later.”

The handle spun back and forth again, the sound of his forehead hitting the wood and his pained tone slicing through you, “Olivia, please open the door.”

You curled yourself on top of the bed, watching the handle through blurry vision slowly stop moving. Closing your eyes as the tears fell swiftly, you prayed it was the kind of crying that would just knock you out and put you to sleep, because god, did you need to sleep. 

Only a few minutes later, maybe not even, the door swung open to reveal Eddie on his knees with a flashlight between his lips and a screwdriver in his hands and you, sobbing on the bed. 

He jumped up at the sight of you curling your arms around your waist harder, at the way you rolled away from him and pressed your wet cheek into the pillow. At the way your hoarse voice called out, “Please leave me alone Eddie.”

The door closed, the lock clicked, and there was a distinct sound of both items he held dropping to the carpet with thuds. The bed dipped and the heat of his body curled behind you, fingers gently brushed over the damp skin of your cheek and neck. 

Your body shook with more tears, eyes squeezing closed tighter when he pressed his nose to the back of your head while his arm wrapped around your waist, and he waited. 

The tears eventually slowed, your chest started to fall and rise more evenly, and the light filtering in through your curtains started to turn lavender, then blue. Eddie managed to remove your jeans without waking you, and he pulled the duvet up over your shoulder as he bit his lower lip raw. Your face still didn’t look relaxed, like it was crying and worrying even in your sleep. 

He left the room with with his fingers rubbing at the back of his neck, walking past the bathroom where water sloshed over the counter and soap slid down the-

Taking several steps backwards, his mouth opened, then closed at the sight in front of him, before he finally found his words and quietly asked, “Whatcha doing?”

His three children stood in a line in the mirror, looking at him in the reflection. Lacey held a stack of plates and silverware on the left, on her toes, pink socks (that were supposed to be white, but there must have been a laundry incident he was unaware of) fully submerged in bubbles, her little arms hoisting them to rest on the counter halfway. Caroline stood in front of the overflowing, sudsy sink, her hands invisible inside it, and Michael next to her with a rag and plate. 

“We’re washing the dishes,” Caroline shrugged, like it was obvious. 

He leaned against the doorframe, rubbing at his jaw as he hummed, “I…see that. Why are you doing that in here?”

The three kids blinked at him, and he tried not to smile, because you weren’t kidding that they eerily looked like him when they did that. They were all clearly confused, and then Michael said, “The kitchen sink is broken. It has been all week.”

Eddie closed his eyes, your cursing under your breath and beating up of the pipes when he got home making much more sense now. 

All week? Why hadn’t you told him? 

Shit, had you told him?

He cleared his throat and he tapped on the frame. “Right. Well, thank you for doing them. Try to stay quiet, mom’s sleeping.”

His body had barely turned out the door before Caroline called out, nervously, “Is she okay?”

Eddie wasn’t a fan of lying, even if it was to protect feelings. But the sight of his three kids with concern evident on each of their faces told him they’d know if he did anyways. Something told him they already knew she wasn’t and it was him who didn’t know the answer. 

He sighed, entered the room deeper and kissed the tops of each of their heads, before he threw some towels over the floor that had puddles of water accumulating.  

“I think she really needs to sleep, and I’ll talk to her later. But I think you guys doing the dishes really helps. Thank you.”

So while his kids did the dishes in the bathroom sink and you slept, the dog and…one…? goldfish kept him company in the kitchen where he inspected the sink. 

It was an easy fix, but he didn’t have the part, and his stomach tensed with guilt as he thought about how you probably, definitely, asked him to look at it or call someone right away and he forgot. A simple drive down the street to the hardware store tomorrow, he’d have it fixed in less than an hour. 

He put the tools away in the garage, above the label for them that you must have made and he went into the small office space in search of a post-it to put on the sink. The office was intended for you, but years and kids and projects went by and soon it became a dumping ground of all things house. 

When he reached the desk, he found what he was looking for. There were plenty of post-its, in a variety of colors, lined up in a neat row above a large, tightly and neatly filled calendar. 

Eddie swallowed as his fingers brushed over the names of his kids, him, the fucking dog and fish - all with their own color. The house, the bills, the errands…all of it had colors, schedules, a science, a system.

But the thing was, you weren’t a part of the system - you were the system.

There was nowhere, in that entire calendar, that had anything remotely relaxing for you on it. No dinner or wine night with any of the girls. No book club with Nancy anymore, maybe because they moved, but he had a feeling it still wouldn’t be there if they hadn’t. No dates with him. He couldn’t remember the last time he took you out, or hell, made you dinner - when was the last time he even cooked dinner for the whole family?

He swallowed as he read over the entire month, and the next and the next. Anything that would have been considered free time, or your time was full of laundry, grocery shopping, dusting the fucking baseboards, because apparently you do everything? 

And Eddie knew he had colosally, monumentally, brutally, fucked up. 

So when the kids were in bed, and the kitchen was clean, and the lunches for the next day were packed, and the laundry was folded and put away, Eddie crawled back into bed behind you. 

He didn’t think you were awake, carefully letting his arm curl around you and his lips brush your shoulder in a wordless goodnight, an apology, a promise to talk about it as soon as you woke up. But then your words floated out and hung in the dark room and a tear slipped down his cheek.

“I’m sorry.”

Eddie sniffled, trying to reign it in, he cleared his throat, but you were already rolling to face him and he had his palms pressed to his eyes as his words left him all scratchy and on the brink of a full blown sob. 

“Sweetheart, don’t you dare fucking say it again.”

Your fingers had curled around his wrists and tugged gently, until watery eyes were blinking at your own and you shrugged and whispered, “But I am.”

His lips found yours in a bruising kiss, noses squished together and gasps of air between parting mouths, fingers clutching at hips and necks as your legs tangled. 

When was the last time he fucking kissed you like he meant it? Like it wasn’t a quick goodbye, goodmorning, or a hey, doll, how was your day as he half listened? 

He shook his head, mouth catching yours in quick kisses between each softly spoken word, “No, I am.”

Your palms pressed to his cheek as your leg hitched over his thigh, breathless as he traveled over your jaw and down your neck for the first time in what felt like months. 

Maybe it had been. 

“Can you,” you tugged on short curls behind his ears as his tongue traced your collarbone which made you both groan, “Jus-just let me apologize?”

Eddie practically growled out the word no before his lips were back on yours. 

It was fast fingers pulling at clothing and sharp teeth nipping at lips and skin, no foreplay, ‘just fuck me’ quick, and quietly because of the kids, kind of sex, until it wasn’t. 

It only took him three thrusts to realize it wasn’t what he wanted. Quickly becoming memorizing touches that glided over skin and held with care, it was lips that whispered apologies and all the things he loved about you into yours, quiet and passionate pushing and pulling with each other, and hands gripping the others as you came together and said everything you couldn’t with intense eye contact, fingers deep in the curls at the back of his head as his name left your mouth only to be swallowed by his.  

His lips brushed down your shoulder and back up, over your collarbone and chest as your fingers scratched at his scalp gently. 

He hummed against your throat before whispering, “I think we should go to the cabin next week.”

“Eddie…” you started softly, already panicking about the missed events the kids would have to make up, the packing, the-

“Stop,” he kissed your jaw, then hovered over your face so his big, brown, sweet eyes could look down at you, “I can hear the stress coming out of you, and I just got it all out.”

You laughed quietly, fingers pressing to your eyes as you shook your head. Unconvinced, and if you were tired before, he’d just made you even more so.

Eddie kissed at your fingers, your nose, your cheek until he was nudging at the fingers again with his nose. 

“Baby, I promise, it’ll be a good vacation. I think we could all use it. And I swear, I’ll be the parent. You kick your heels up and get drunk on shitty wine with Katie, okay?”

And here you were, doing just that. 

The late/early morning arrival was not the shit show you were sure it was going to be. The kids listened immediately about being quiet entering the cabin at the late hour, especially after Eddie said if everyone woke up, the entire day on the lake would be ruined. 

You woke up, without an alarm, for the first time in…you didn’t know how long. Greeted in the kitchen by Steve’s wife, Katie, quietly squealing and grabbing you in a hug that seemed to melt the tension from your shoulders. Eddie handed you a steaming cup of a coffee accompanied with a kiss on your temple and a swat to Steve’s chest when he tried to do the same. 

The kids were already showered, dressed, fed - fruit and waffles and minimal syrup thankfully - and outside playing. You had your suspicions this was all largely due to Steve and his wife’s doing. If you dwelled on it too long, the comparison to how much better they were at the whole parenting thing than you could drive you insane, so you tried to ignore it. 

There was only one argument with Lacey about the Nintendo, and Eddie snatched it and pocketed it and simply shrugged at her scowl when he did and said, “Told ya, babe.” Michael complained about lunch, but only until Nora, Steve’s eldest and seventeen, said “Oh, I love chicken salad” with a wink in your direction. You’d never seen Michael eat so quickly before and he was a garbage disposal on a good day. 

And now, your heels were “up” leaning against the deck’s railing from your spot on the floor, a wine glass was in your hand. Katie was telling you all about Nora’s new boyfriend, Charlie, who Steve positively hated, as Eddie and him stood nearby, with beers and watching meat on the grill or whatever men do. 

“Charlie is the least of our worries though,” she waved her hand with an eye roll, sipping the pink wine with a grimace, “I mean, you know. They’re monsters. Why’d we have them again?”

You laughed, shaking your head, “If you think yours are monsters, mine might literally be the devil incarnate.”

She snorted into her glass and you laughed, swiping at your lips with a shrug, “Okay, too far. But god, they’re…I don’t know. But, seriously, you and Steve…”

Your voice fell as the boys yelled over the grill at two of the girls doing cartwheels dangerously close to the fire pit. 

“You guys, you really know what you’re doing. You’re a good team.” You smiled sadly, looking at the back of Eddie’s head and then at her. 

She was watching you closely, a tilt of her head like she was trying to figure you out, before she grabbed your hand and squeezed it and admitted, “I yelled at him about loading the dishwasher wrong last week. We didn’t talk for three days.” She frowned and shook her head and looked over at him and he flipped his spatula and winked at her and she smiled and turned back to you. “Things aren’t ever what they seem on the outside. We all have shit. It just matters if your shit is something you can trudge through together. If you can help clean it off each other.”

She frowned at the wine she started pouring. “I don’t think this wine is helping with my metaphors, but you get what I mean?”

You nodded, taking in Eddie’s profile as he talked with his hands and got louder as he told a story to Steve. 

“Yeah, yeah I do.” 

It was silent as you both stared at the guys, sipping your wine, until you whispered, “So he loaded it wrong, huh?”

“So wrong!” She exclaimed, grumbling, “Who puts plates all willy-nilly? They go in a straight, neat-”

“I said I was sorry!” Steve shouted from the grill, his hands on his hips as he glared at the two of you. 

Katie stuck her tongue out at him and he shook his head with narrowed eyes and she grinned, a quiet and not as silent as they thought conversation about her paying for that later. 

You looked away, smiling into your wine glass when you caught Eddie’s gaze. He looked a little shocked when you made eye-contact, his cheeks flushed pink and you cocked your head with bunched eyebrows at him. 

An unanswered silent question though, because the kids all shouted as a black SUV pulled up the long, gravel driveway. 

A tall, lanky body jumped out of the backseat of the car before it was even in park, a head full of bouncing red waves shooting across the grass towards the literal swarm of children screaming, “Aunt Robin!”

She was down, on the ground, in literal seconds, the children forming a nice heap on top of her that the four of you all yelled about getting off at the same time, sharing grins that only parents who grew up doing the same thing and feel wrong for telling them not to could. 

Your eldest, was bounding over to the car, along with Olivia, ready for the third to round out the little trio of three musketeers - Zoey Wheeler. 

As they hugged and squealed about being back together, you all started down the steps to greet the late arrivals. 

You couldn’t help but notice Caroline standing a touch away from Olivia as the two other girls gossiped about something from school. 

But then Nancy was enveloping her in a tight hug, “Hey kiddo, hear you’re gonna be in the windy city pretty soon.”

Too preoccupied with your own waving of arms to tell her to stop talking, you didn’t notice Eddie whip his head over at Steve, who blinked with his hands raised. 

Your head fell as Caroline turned to you with curious eyes and a quiet, “What?”

Eddie opened his mouth to explain, but you were already talking, him blinking behind you. 

“I…I haven’t even told your dad. It was supposed to be a surprise for your birthday. You and me, driving to Chicago to go to this dance store that Zoey and Olivia go to. It’s not new stuff, but their dance troop shops there and it’s all really nice stuff and - oof!”

Caroline’s arms were squeezing you harder than they ever had, face pressed against you as her words got lost and muffled, but didn’t lose their meaning when she said, “Thank you so much mom.”

Your fingers ran over her hair, lips pressed to the top of her head as you enjoyed the hug for as long as she’d let you. “Of course, honey. Happy early Birthday.”

The girls quickly started discussing what they’d do on the trip, and Nancy winced out an apology you told her was unnecessary as you hugged, all while Eddie gulped down his beer and Steve narrowed his eyes at him which made Eddie wave him off, grabbing another beer out of the cooler. 

“I am in need of assistance,” Robin called weakly, from her spot on the ground, now abandoned by all the children who were quick to return to their activities. 

Nancy sighed and drawled dramatically, “Coming, dear.”

Robin groaned from the ground, but giggled. “Thank you, sugar-pie.”

“Robs, I’ll leave you down there…” she warned. 

“Fine,” Robin shrugged, blue eyes staring up at the matching sky, “Dingus will-”

He was already hoisting her up, and grabbing her in a big hug only the two of them could find comfortable from the amount of squeezing suffocation. 

Nancy looked at you and Katie and sighed. 

“Wine.”

You were both already handing your glasses over with smiles before she could finish the word. 

She was thoroughly tipsy by her third glass, and the stress you could sense when she arrived - maybe it was a thing all you mom’s could sense, or maybe it was because of being old friends - was melted from her face as she called out, loudly, excitedly, “Robin!”

“Yes, my love?” 

Robin’s legs swung as they dangled from her hoisted up spot on the railing by the men. A baseball hat turned backwards over waves tinted red and silver and a sly smirk resting on her lips as she looked at her wife with more love than should be possible in a human. 

Nancy’s cheeks flushed and you all snickered into your glasses, because you all knew what was coming next. 

“I, uh,” Nancy cleared her throat, as big, blue eyes tried to blink innocently, “I need to talk to you. Inside.”

Robin grinned and nodded, “Lead the way, Wheeler.”

Nancy frowned, but clumsily made her way inside with a giggle. 

With a hop down, a salute, and a quiet, “Duty calls, boys,” Robin followed, all of your “boos” and “ow-ow-ow’s” slammed on by the door. 

Katie pulled out a stack of cards, the boys finally came over and joined you, and your legs crossed over Eddie’s lap as you hid your deck from him with a terrible poker face. 

He soothed his thumb over your ankle bone, wet his bottom lip before he grinned at you. “Baby, remind me to never take you to Vegas.”

“You have taken me to Vegas.” You touched your cards to your nose, hiding your grin.

Eddie sucked his teeth as he nodded, “Right, right, how could I forget.”

“Seriously dude,” Steve moaned at his cards, frowning, “Vegas was a mistake.”

Katie smacked the back of his head and he flinched, but with a glint in his gaze at her, “What the hell was that for.”

“They got Lacey because of Vegas,” she scolded, “It wasn’t a mistake.”

“Believe me, I remember. I don’t remember much, but that I do. It’s sort of hard to forget the results of that trip. What with the children who came out of it. Lacey, Annie and-”

“Luke is stupid!”

Steve sighed at the now sherbert colored sky. He groaned, “I knew it was too good to last.”

You rolled your eyes as you dropped your legs from Eddie’s lap as Lacey stomped up the stairs, huffing. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Eddie sit up, but you were already grabbing at your daughter’s crossed arms and pulling her towards you. 

“Woah, super mean word, let’s think of a better one.”

“A buttface!” She frowned, but didn’t resist your embrace as she climbed onto your lap, a privilege that was fleeting. 

“Nope, try again.” You shook your head, letting your chin rest on the top of her head as a hand soothed up her spine, while hers gestured wildly in search of the right word. 

“He’s…he’s…impossible!”

You hummed, great word - especially for a seven year old. 

“Why is he impossible?” You asked quietly, Katie taking the hint and getting Steve and Eddie to go back to a semi-normal conversation and their cards. 

Lacey fiddled with your shirt collar, grumpy and big lips pouting just like her dad. “We were playing Dragons, and he said that I had to be the princess and stay in the tree house while he fought the dragon and saved me! I don’t want to just sit there!”

Steve smiled around the lip of his beer and Katie rolled her eyes, looking at you with a mouthed, “We’ll talk about that later.”

“Ah,” you adjusted in your seat, hugging her closer as her fingers roamed to the necklace around your throat. “I would be frustrated by that too. I like helping. I don’t want someone to come rescue me, either.”

You glanced up at Eddie who smiled softly at you, watching intently. 

“Right. So I’m not playing. I don’t like him anymore,” she huffed, breath warm on your already sweaty skin and fingers leaving something sticky and smelling like pine trees all over you. 

“You don’t, huh?” 

“Nope,” she popped the ‘P’, but her gaze wandered over to the yard where the boy in question fought his sisters with sticks. 

It took you a bit, and maybe you were just soaking up the smell of her strawberry shampoo, or the way she fit perfectly in your arms, but you finally asked softly, “Hey, you remember Dimitri and Anya?”

Lacey shifted with a dramatic sigh, but she nodded. 

“I’m pretty sure they didn’t like each other either. But, then Anya showed him she could do anything he learned to do, right? And he listened to her? She helped save him in the end, remember?”

“Spoilers!” Steve grimaced and Lacey giggled which he smiled and booped her nose at. 

“So,” you lifted your daughters chin, big eyes that reminded you of someone else peering at you unwaveringly as you continued, “You go tell that Harrington boy that Princesses can slay dragons too.”

“They can?” Lacey asked, unsure, unconfident, in a way that melted your heart, put it back together and melted it again. 

You nodded and cleared your throat, trying not to cry. “Absolutely.”

She started to climb off of you, but you tugged at her waist, brushing a curl behind her ear as you smiled, “And baby?”

“Yeah?”

You kissed her forehead and whispered, “It’s okay to need some saving sometimes. If you want or need the help, kay?”

She nodded, kissed your cheek, and hopped off, bounding down the stairs with a sing-song call to her tone, “Ohhhh, Luuukkkee!”

Lifting the cards from the table, you smiled at the sound of your daughter antagonizing a Harrington and before you could make a jab at Steve, fingers were under your chin, and Eddie was tilting your head, lips on yours and stealing all of the air from your lungs. 

His tongue swiped over your bottom lip and his hand cradled your jaw as you opened for him without thought, fingers curling into the fabric of his t-shirt until loud clearing of throats came from your right. 

You broke away with a gasp, but Eddie pulled you back in for one more press of his lips and a whispered, “Sorry,” as he sat back down looking not sorry at all. 

Steve tried to hide his grin as he threw a chip into the pile and Katie grinned at you as she quipped, “Wow, guys, you’re worse than the lovebirds inside.”

Eddie didn’t look up from his cards, but he raised his eyebrows. “I seem to recall an incident in my home on my kitchen counter on my daughter’s first birthday, Katherine.”

“Touche, Edward, touche,” she beamed as Steve choked on his beer. 

He quickly changed the subject, swiping beer from his lips as he looked at you. “You’re gonna have to show me how you did that.”

Your wine glass froze halfway to your mouth and he laughed, coughed, covered his mouth with his fist. “I meant the talk with Lace. Not the kissing. Now that you guys’ll be closer we can…”

Eddie hung his head as Steve trailed off and you quirked an eyebrow. “Closer?”

Katie took a large gulp of her wine and Steve gestured to the grill with a hook of his thumb over his shoulder, “I’m gonna…”

“I’ll help!” Katie jumped up and followed. 

“Eddie, what’s going on?”

He sighed, set his cards down, scooted his chair closer to you before his hands grabbed yours.

“I got a promotion, sort of.”

“Wh-what? Eddie, that's great!” You squeezed his hands, your heart hammering in your chest because he wasn’t looking at you still. The knowledge that there wasn’t really room for a teacher to get promoted stirring in your brain. “Wait, how…”

He grimaced, thumbs swiping over your knuckles as he nodded. “Right, yeah. So, it’s not so much a promotion, as it is a completely different job, at a completely different school. Or um, University.”

“In…in Chicago?” You were starting to piece it all together.

“Mhm,” he hummed, biting at his bottom lip that you instinctively reached up and pulled away from his teeth gently. He finally looked up at you, worried, and apologetic, but hopeful. “It’s, it’s a really great job. Tons of benefits. At the university. Way more pay. Flexible hours. I’d-I’d be home so much more. And I know, I know that moving is insane. But I just…”

He rambled, and you got lost, because you were thinking about telling the kids, about uprooting your entire life, about never seeing the patch of wall that the kids heights were on again. Your routine, your system, your grocery store, all pulled out from under you. 

But then you then thought about how you’d only been on this vacation for a day and how much less stressed you were. How Steve and Katie and Robin and Nancy would be in the same city as you again. About how happy your kids were with all of them, how happy you were with them. The support you’d have. The promise of more time with Eddie. The adventure.

“Okay,” you said softly, interrupting whatever he was saying.

Eddie blinked at you, mouth parted in surprise. 

“Okay? Okay what?”

You shrugged. 

“Okay, let’s do it. Let’s move. Take the job.”

Eddie swallowed, he scooted closer and he cupped your jaw, thumbs grazing over your cheekbones as he murmured. “Okay, let’s do it, like you’re excited and want to, or okay let’s do it, like you don’t think you have a choice and you’re stressed and sad and I’m gonna have to unlock the door with the screwdriver again?”

“I mean,” you laughed, brushing over the worried lines of his forehead as you did, “Okay let’s do it. It’s gonna suck to move and tell the kids, but I think…”

They always tell you, you see stuff in slow motion in moments of panic, fear, but you never really believe it until it happens to you - seeing it all happen before it did. 

“Oh my god!” 

You were pushing back from Eddie, yelling your daughter’s name as she climbed up a tree, her foot about to step on a branch that looked dead and rotting even from this distance, and then she was falling. 

There was a boy shouting beneath her, and his older sister’s shouting at him, screams of mom and dad that all four of you raced towards. 

Everyone’s footsteps except Eddie’s slowed when you saw the eyelids fluttering over brown eyes pooling with big, crocodile tears and the leg already swelling with bright red trickling down from it. 

Katie was shouting about grabbing the girl’s from inside, about ambulances and driving. Steve was pulling at all the other kids, reassuring them it was fine, and Eddie was focused on Lacey and Luke. 

You don’t really remember what you did. You had arms around you and you spoke, but you don’t know what you said. Ushered into a car by big hands and a little one grasping yours tightly. 

In the end, all it was, was a deep gash in her leg, nothing broken. Luke a little worse for wear with a fractured wrist, but he beamed when Lacey signed her name on the cast and asked you how to spell Princess before it, then kissed his cheek and told him thank you for saving her. 

The rest of the week was the same as the first day after that, save for the two kids who huddled next to each other on the couch on the deck, their temples pressed together as they shouted at the screen of the Nintendo Eddie gave back almost immediately. Day three of watching his kid that close to a Harrington boy made him rethink the whole move and said it wasn’t happening anymore, which Steve promptly replied with, “Dude, they’re seven. Wait till she’s seventeen and dating a guy named Charlie.”

Nora’s head had perked up from coloring with the younger kids, an expression almost identical to her father’s as she scowled. “I thought you liked Charlie!”

“I do, I do sweetie.” Steve rubbed at his temple and gave Eddie and you a look that said he really did not like Charlie. 

Time moved too quickly, and the light-hearted moments turned to memories, and soon bags were packed by the front door, and everyone was restlessly sleeping, not ready to say goodbye just yet. 

Which is how you found yourself quietly making your way down the stairs to the kitchen, when you woke up to the empty bed and cold sheets. 

You found him in the living room, eyes glued to the hand held device, his thumbs jabbing at it while he frowned. 

“She wasn’t kidding,” he whispered, the girl in question tucked into his lap, her leg propped up on a pillow and drool spilling down his white shirt. 

His arms flexed with each press, tattoos that were rarely on display anymore dancing under each movement. Short curls that the flecks of gray in stood out in the moonlight. Lines of worry and laughter all over his face, brown eyes gifted to all of your children because of the same ones maintaining their gaze on the console. 

You slid onto the couch next to him, curling into his side with a yawn and a gentle rearrange of Lacey’s legs onto your lap. Fingers gesturing for him to give it to you. 

Eddie handed it over, his arm scooping Lacey closer to his chest while his other wrapped around your shoulders. 

You kept your eyes on the game as you whispered, “I’m sorry.”

The breath huffed out of his nose hit your jaw as he quietly laughed, “Babe, what?”

Mario leaped over blocks as you told him again, “I’m sorry. I froze, I don’t know what happened. Thank you for taking care of her, of all of them, I don’t-”

“We’re a team,” he kissed your cheek, his smile stayed pressed to your skin, “You know, a wise woman once said, ‘it’s okay to need some saving sometimes. If you want or need the help.’”. 

A hum from your lips that fought a smile as his fingers squeezed your shoulder. You couldn’t help but grin at the screen though, when you pressed A for the final time. 

“I think I know her. Same lady who said Princesses can slay dragons, too, right?”

The screen lit up with little fireballs, trills and chimes coming from the console signifying you beat Bowser - this time, all of which you quickly tried to cover up as Eddie shushed. 

“Mommy,” her sleepy voice muffled in his chest.

“Yeah, sweetie?” You whispered, console silenced. 

“Volume,” word almost lost to the yawn she gave before she was snuggling back into the crook of Eddie’s elbow and was out again. 

Eddie tried not to snort or let his laughter shake her as your mouth fell open in shock and he took the Nintendo back, moving on to the next level. 

You shook your head at your daughter, and glanced down at her wrapped and injured leg, at the peaceful features of her sleeping face. 

“Man, you’re lucky you’re so cute,” you sighed. 

It was silent for a while, and your eyelids started to flutter closed too, when Eddie spoke again. 

“I totally thought Bowser was a turtle.”

[sergeantsporks]

My favorite tactic in Slay the Princess is to question the Narrator's worldbuilding and make him go "irrelevant shut up and do your job" oh no Mr. Narrator, you're sooooo trying to push your little story, why don't you tell me the details. Not the basic task, no, no, question the little details. What's the princess eat and drink if there's no people to bring her food, hm? Give me your story bible, Mr. Narrator.

[salty-an-disco]

here's this silly little thing with Quiet's character progression throughout their loops in my Heathens AU

Originally, was gonna do 3 confirmed loops (as in, the ones I'm gonna go in detail about for my AU, they could be looping indefinitely and never even know, but these are the ones that matter for the story), but decided to go with 4 cuz it fits better for the character arc I have in mind for Quiet

expanded thoughts under the cut

So, I've been roleplaying the Heathens route in my own game as a way to help me flesh out my thoughts on Gary and the routes themselves, and it really helped me solidify my thoughts on their character.

For the first loop, the main idea was just that: 'Baby's First Slaying'

This is Quiet's first time in these woods (that they can remember). They don't know anything else about the world or themselves, only that there's a task they have to fulfill. And while it sounds a bit weird, 'saving the world' sounds like an important thing and maybe something they should try to do.

For the 1st Loop, the routes went as such–

Adversary -> Eye of the Needle: Welp, might as well try to slay this princess!! Unfortunately, Quiet couldn't help talking a little bit, and ended up giving the princess time to retaliate. He didn't back down tho, and gave it his all to slay her.

When he came back, very weirded out by everything, he thought he'd just have to slay the princess again, but no, things are different! The princess is different, she's so much taller and has different things to say! He is honestly fascinated and wants nothing more than to talk to this princess and get to know her more. Unfortunately, that's not what she wants, and the disappointment is almost more hurtful than her crushing his skull.

Witch -> Connected Wild: For whatever reason, the hero really wanted to just save this princess. Forgoing the blade completely and immediately going in to rescue her. He was honestly so excited to meet her, and the door shutting on his face only strengthened his resolve. Then– she began chewing her own arm like a rabid animal. It was like getting hit by a tree branch while sprinting at full speed, and before he could even realize it, he was already stabbing her. Now it's do or don't, he either finishes this or he dies.

He appears back with a weird taste on his mouth and the sudden thought that maybe the princess was always bad news and he just didn't realize it– he still wanna talk things out, see if maybe it wasn't all just a misunderstanding. He still took the knife this time around tho, just in case– The princess seems as suspicious and cautious as he is, and it's obvious she intends on hurting him no matter what he chooses, so might as well go out swing. So you attack. Fighting dirty the same way she is, full of resentment and fear the same way she is, and the two of you get crushed together by the cabin's wilds. When you come back, you do everything you can to not go back to those feelings, and even manage a look into something beautiful–

Next few routes:

Empty Cup: He tried to go through with slaying her this time. He didn't succeed.

Spectre: He did succeed this time! Annnnd that's the reward? Seeing and talking to the princess is much more fun than this, so he helps her out this time.

Happily Ever After: He successfully saved her this time, but this princess was just so…… shallow? Uninteresting? He tried to probe for more but it just seemed to break her, so he suggested staying in the cabin instead, where they both can feel safe. And it worked! Now they can just sit together and eat and play games and not kill each other forever!! So what if they both feel hollow inside? As long as they keep the flames going it's fine, right? ………Right?

Loop 2

The hero is on a path in the woods. But there's something…… dreadful, about this whole thing– a fear he just can't seem to shake off. That no matter what, things will just get worse the more he tries–

While Quiet completely forgets previous loops, there's always a lingering feeling that follows him from previous loops. And the feeling ends up tainting their choices and the routes they go through. For this loop, which I fondly nicknamed it The Dread™️, it's a feeling of fear and paranoia that sticks with him, so of course the first route he gets this time around is–

Nightmare -> Moment of Clarity: He tried to ignore the feeling of dread as much as he could, even ignoring the blade offered to him, he wouldn't let this weird feeling cloud his judgement– and he thought he was doing a pretty good job at it, even refusing to kill or save the princess until he had more information, but theeeeennnnn things started going awry really quickly. He still didn't want to give him to this fear even as he stared down His Nightmare, with his organs just barely holding on, and continued to refuse to make a choice either way till he couldn't anymore.

Next few routes:

The Stranger: Nope. Not even engaging with this cabin–

Wraith from Spectre: OK, fine, let's slay this princess– Oh, you gotta to be kidding me!! (tried to leave Spectre once he saw it was just a ghost, getting Wraith with Paranoid and proceeding to throw her in the pit)

Burned Grey: The Dread™️ didn't leave even in this perfect-looking fairy tale, and is what pushed him to stab her even as she didn't fight it at all.

Wounded Wild from Beast: It was only when looking at what remained of the monster that hurt him, with her heart exposed for everyone to see that he realized– she's just a person. She's been just a person all this time– and he kept hurting her out of a fear of what she could become, not realizing it was him turning her into someone who could only lash out. As he sees all the paths he took in reverse order, he feels empty and remorseful.

Loop 3

That remorse turns into a want to figure out what exactly is going on and how to best help each other in this next loop. He's much more cynical and questioning here, doubting every word the Narrator says, but also not quite able to fully trust the princess just yet. This leads to spiraling routes that only seem to revolve around an endless cycle–

First few routes:

The Cage: I mean– how could he not lol. So intent on puzzling everything out he just traps himself and her all the tighter on this narrative neither of them chose.

Wraith from Nightmare: In his quest to figure things out so that he can do right by her, he only end up re-walking a similar path– the scenery is a bit different, but the destination is the same endless pit.

The Den (with Skeptic): He wanted so badly to reach out to her, to give her a chance to prove his instincts wrong, but the doubts in his mind only trapped them both underneath the earth where they starved.

The Fury from Tower: He tried another already walked path, and was forced to raise the blade to her. The overwhelming divinity he found in the basement by the next time was so difficult to talk through, he felt like he had no choice but to fight against her.

and last, but not least–

The Witch -> The Thorn: once again they were walking towards the basement door, and when Narrator took control of his body, he didn't even bother to look for a way to defy him this time–

Seemed like things were going another eerily familiar path. He kills her, earning her distrust, so they both keep trying to kill each other– till he decided 'no, we're not doing this–' and threw the knife at her feet. It was hard to believe things could really be just as simple as trusting one another to leave the cabin for good, but after everything he's been through, he can only feel relieve drowning out any more doubts he might have.

Final Loop

The Stranger: He can't help it, he still tries to avoid the cabin one last time.

The Damsel: He puts his entire faith and trust on her, and is rewarded by the ability to leave (somehow, it both surprises him and also not at all).

The Witch: He still tried and failed to save her a second time. He's not even all that upset when she shuts the door on his face, and can only smirk at seeing her surprised face when it disappears.

The Spectre: He expected the reward to be lackluster, and already knew he'd be freeing her before even getting to the cabin that second time.

The Prisoner: He couldn't help one small remaining curiosity and went to check the second shackle– patience still rewarded him in the end though.

Then Contrarian is in the final cabin this time, and Quiet throws the blade out the window instead of taking it with him again, "just in case", and they finally break the cycle for good!!! :D