#the princess is so good at making me feel feeble and pathetic in this game. i had no idea. i am so so happy. this is gender euphoria

[tawnysoup]

Found my fav Slay the Princess route recently. Dragon my beloved. Your horrifying beak mouth was an impossible-to-refuse lip syncing challenge 💖

Shoutouts to @blacktabbygames for making such a cool game!

[spunkpunx]

Say You Love Me - Jimmy Darling

Plot: Reader is heartbroken when she hears Jimmy has lost his hands, but when they're replaced he decides to make up for lost time

Word count: 3105

Warnings: Smut, Smoking, Mild violence

The words hit me like a ton of bricks when Dell brought the news. Jimmy's hands were gone. My Jimmy's hands were gone. Taken. That no good piece of shit Richard Spencer and his lies. I couldn't believe Elsa had fallen for his bollocks, but I supposed that was his game. The rest of the freaks stood in shock.

"Oh no, not Jimmy!" Ima cried over dramatically. I felt my blood boil. My skin crawled as she wailed. I felt my ears burn up with my rage. She'd been here not five minutes and here she was, caterwauling over what they had done to him. I couldn't out loud admit what I felt about Jimmy, but I sure as hell could let it be known how I felt about her. I ran at her and swung one hard punch to the side of her head. The force did not knock her over, but the shock certainly did. 

"Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!" I spat out the words repeatedly as I continued to hit her face and chest once she had fallen. I felt my eyes prick as I screamed at her, before Paul and Eve pulled me away. The second the anger cleared I collapsed in tears. Penny came over to me as Eve followed Dell out the tent. She held me tight as I sobbed into her chest. Ima was taken out the tent, bloodied and bruised and sniveling. I lifted my head only to spit in her direction.

"Shh, shh," Penny cooed, stroking my hair. 

"What have they done to him?" I whimpered, my voice coming out far more feeble and cracked then I had ever heard it. "How's he going to survive in there without his hands?"

"I don't know," Penny told me, honestly. "I'm sure he'll find a way."

She took me back to my caravan and I poured myself a drink. I pulled an ashtray out the cupboard and lit a cigarette.

"You don't have to watch over me Penny. I'm sure you probably best go check on your man."

"I don't want to leave you like this," she admitted, sat delicately on the edge of my bed. She was still so beautiful, despite the lizard tattoo, and so kind as well. I couldn't bear to be around anyone at the minute though.

"I'll be fine," I told her softly, but when she didn't move I snapped at her. "Piss off! I don't want you here!" I hadn't meant to be so harsh, but she gathered herself up and left. I knocked back my drink in one. It burned my eyes and stung my throat but I hoped for my own sake it would help me sleep.

I went through more alcohol and more cigarettes. My ashtray overflowed. My head was spinning as I reached toward the bottom of the bottle. With my head heavy I fell over into my bed and pulled the covers round myself, only bothering to clumsily remove my shoes before shutting my eyes tight and trying to forget my thoughts. I lay there, my mind playing a reel of horrors of what could have happened to Jimmy. I pictured him beaten in a jail cell, battered to death like Meep was, or sat in despair at his own situation. I knew he couldn't have killed those women, even if he didn't, because he was here in this caravan when it happened. I knotted my fingers into my hair, reeling drunk. I was just as bad as he had been. 

I eventually passed out, but kept waking, sweaty and restless after nightmares. At one point my stomach turned and I chugged up my guts off the side of my bed. I rolled back over after that and caught half an hours rest before I woke again. The night went on like that until the sun rose and Eve came in to get me up. 

"Oh sweetheart," she muttered upon seeing my sorry state. She delicately picked her way to the bed past the vomit and brought me out of bed to go sit on the seat I had. I blubbered pathetically while she tossed a towel over my mess and brought me a glass of water. I was still slightly drunk, but tried to be as co-operative as possible. Eve sat next to me, pulling me in for a hug while I continued to feel like a maudlin burden on her. She took me over to have breakfast with the others, and I hiccuped my way through some bread and butter, as everyone threw pitiful stares my way. I began to sober up. 

"I'm sorry, Eve. I'm sorry I'm so useless."

"Don't be silly, come with me," she directed, taking my hand and leading me away from the show ground. As we walked further away I wiped my eyes with my sleeve.

"It's awful nice of you to try cheer me up but I'd rather not go anywhere," I told Eve, following her through the undergrowth. We passed the spot where Ethel had ended her life, which brought back more memories of how Jimmy had been after she passed. My eyes welled, but I tried hard to keep it suppressed. I didn't want anyone to think I was being such a pathetic mess over Jimmy Darling. I didn't want to be another of the freaks that he's fucked and now loves him.

"It's Elsa who said you ought to come here," Eve explained. It was probably her plan to distract me from my wallowing, or punish me for what I did to Ima. I expected hard labour ahead of me.  We reached a small barn with the doors locked. Eve produced a key, unlocking the chains. "Now listen. Elsa says its your job to look after him," she instructed pulling the door open to let me see inside. It took me a minute to realise there was a bed, a bed and a familiar face. 

"Jimmy!" I gasped, rushing to his side. I burst into tears again, this time from pure relief. "Oh baby your hands!" 

By his side lay two bloodied stumps wrapped in bandage. His eyes filled with tears when he looked at me. 

"Princess I haven't ever seen you cry before," he told me lightheartedly, but his voice cracked and he wept. I placed my hand on his face and he leaned into my touch as I wiped his tear with my thumb. I turned back to give Eve a thank you but she had left. I turned to Jimmy. 

"I thought you were gonna be gone forever," I told him, sniffling. 

"Me too baby." I bent down and pressed my lips down against his. We shared a salty kiss. I felt him flinch hard and cut off the kiss when he lifted his arm hold me. He immediately broke down in tears again. "I'm never going to be able to hold you again," he whimpered, and I sensed that there was certainly more to it than that. It stung to see him in such a sorry state.

"Oh Jimmy don't upset yourself," I tried to comfort him. "I have to change your bandages. Okay?" He shook his head. "I let you do it for me," I reminded him.

"Well you have no fucking idea how much it hurts," he snapped. I understood his frustration, but I couldn't help but pull away, hurt. His eyes softened. "I'm sorry (y/n), I just... I just don't know what I'm gonna do."

"Hold, still." I ran my hand down his arm slowly until I reached the bandage trying to cause minimum pain. I unwrapped it slowly, Jimmy putting on a brave face. As I pulled the bloodied part away from his wound he flinched and gritted his teeth. "This is really gonna sting," I warned as I poured alcohol onto cotton to clean his injury. He bit down on his pillow and nodded for me to go ahead. I wiped it as gently as I could and tried to ignore his muffled howl. "I'm sorry." He let the pillow from his teeth.

"You have nothing to be sorry about, doll," he assured, breathless from pain. I took his stump in my hands, wrapping it in bandage.

"I tried to tell the police it wasn't you, but they wouldn't listen."

"It might have been me, I was there, I was blind drunk."

"It wasn't, Jimmy. You were in my caravan. You said you loved me."

"I do." He looked at me sincerely. I avoided his eye, focusing my attention back to binding up his arm.

"You don't Jimmy, you love Maggie, you only wanted me because you were scared she might leave you and you thought I wouldn't." I sighed. 

"That's not true, I kept coming back because I love you." Tears pricked my eyes again. He probably thought Maggie had left and was settling for me. I tied off the bandage and he raised his arm up to my face, sucking in his breath sharply as his stump brushed my cheek. "And you love me too."

"No, I don't," I lied. He watched me, his stare breaking me apart like it always had.

"Paul came by before you. I haven't seen you cry once before, (y/n), but he said you have been tearful all morning. He also told me about Ima," he teased, smugly. I didn't know it was possible to sound both so weak and so smug at the same time. 

"I was worried, it doesn't mean-" 

"Please just tell me it does. Just tell me you love me, it's all I ever wanted to hear." I let out a breath I never realised I was holding.

"I love you, Jimmy Darling." He smiled at me. I reached into my jacket pocket, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it before taking a few draws. I put it between his lips for him so he could take a puff. 

"Look at me," he complained. "Can't even hold my own cigarette."

"Hush now Jimmy. Things will take time," I reassured him, to little effect. We shared the rest of the cigarette and I moved round to change the bandage on the other side. Jimmy didn't speak until I'd finished and stood up to leave.

"Thank you, (y/n)," he said sincerely. I went back to his bedside, leaned down a pressed a chaste kiss to his lips.

"I'll be here to change your bandages again tomorrow,"  I told him softly.

Although Elsa had not left, she had still sold the show to Chester, who although had a definite screw loose, seemed harmless enough. He was bright, chirpy and certainly not bossy. His odd qualities only came from the wooden ventriloquist doll he was so attached to. The twins seemed quite smitten with him, and, if I didn't know any better, I'd say they were screwing him. 

I was civil with Maggie after her trickery, especially knowing how difficult the world could be, but Jimmy had far from forgiven her. This was a hard situation to negotiate. She had asked about him, and I knew she cared, but Jimmy was set in his hatred of her. It was hard to sympathise with a woman who had been part in a scheme resulting in the death of Ma Petite and the loss of Jimmy's hands. For the most part I told the truth. Jimmy was not going to soften any time soon.

I apologised to Ima too, hard as it was. She didn't really take my apology, but it hardly bothered me. It was mainly for the sake of the others, and to keep the peace. 

That night, Dell was shot. He, it turned out, had been the one to kill Ma Petite. I felt bad for his death. As shitty as his actions were, I always felt he was trying his hardest for a better life. Still, killing another freak was unforgivable, and Ma Petite was innocence itself. It was my job to deliver the news to Jimmy, which was horrible.

"He was my father!" 

"I know Jimmy! I'm sorry!"

"Don't you dare start apologising for those murderers, (y/n)!"

"Jimmy he killed Ma Petite!" I ended up snapping. "He killed an innocent and he paid the price." Jimmy broke down into tears again, and I ended up wrapping my arms around him.

"I'm losing everything."

"Come on, baby. It hurts to see you cry so much," I mumbled into his neck. He sobbed into my shoulder.

"Don't ever leave me (y/n). Don't ever break my heart.”

The day Jimmy's hands were ready was the happiest I had seen him in months. I came into the barn again to see him, when I spotted him sat on the bed. The moment he saw me he stood up and rushed toward me. I opened my arms to him and he caught me in his grasp, lifting me off my toes. He kissed me, properly. His dark eyes seemed full of hope. I took his arms from around me and held one of his new hands in mine. Mr. Dolcefino had created perfect wooden hands, still with Jimmy's finger shapes. They were works of art.

"They're beautiful, baby," I told him, smiling.

"They ain't half as functional as they were, but my hands have never looked so good."

"Your hands always looked good." I kissed him again, harder this time. He pulled me flush against him.

"It kills me I can't touch you the same baby," he told me, running his wrists down my side in place of his hands.

"I don't care, Jimmy. I love you," I said, and it was the first time I'd said it since he asked me to. He pulled me in again for another kiss, slipping his tongue into my mouth and pushing the backs of my knees against the bed. "Easy tiger," I teased.

"I haven't held you in so long (y/n)," he replied, pushing himself even closer to me, my body flush with his own. I felt him, hard against my thigh. I kissed him again, hard, and let him push me onto the bed, his own weight on top of mine. He began to nip at my neck, and I sighed contentedly. He went to cup my breast with his hand, but came short when he realised his hands could not move the same, could not feel. "Baby, I'm sorry," he apologised, sitting up on his knees and pulling away. I sat up with him and put my hands around his neck, fiddling with the hair at its nape.

"You aren't giving up that easy are you?" I jibed. "After all, you have a mouth in perfect working order." He grinned at me, pulling me into another hungry kiss. He nibbled down my neck again.

"I'm afraid you're going to have to undress yourself, doll." I did as instructed, pulling my jumper over my head while Jimmy watched. He returned to kissing my collarbone as I undid my bra. His kisses travelled over my breasts, wooden hand against my side. He kissed along my chest, eventually moving to take one of my nipples in his mouth, swirling his tongue over it as I sighed. He bit down on it and I yelped, scolding him lightly by giving him a little slap on the arm. He grinned again at my reaction, before kissing his way down my sternum. He stopped for a second, giving me an opportunity to pull my trousers off for him. I went to pull my underwear down but he stopped me, instead using his teeth to pull them down and bringing them the rest of the way with his prosthetic. I laughed at his actions, until he buried his face into my heat, licking over my clit again and again. I felt myself get quickly wetter as he flicked his tongue up my slit. His attention went back to my clit, circling it as I dug my fingers into his hair, pulling at it and moaning as I did. I felt my cheeks flush when he came back up the bed to kiss me again, my taste still on his lips. "I'm feeling a little uncomfortable in these pants, do you think you can help doll?" he asked. I happily obliged.

"Of course baby." I pulled his shirt of his shoulders slowly, the removed his vest, taking my time to run my hands all across his chest and take it all in again. I ran my hand over his stomach and reached to palm him through his trousers. He groaned and closed his eyes. Then I took off the trousers, getting him to sit up in order to help me. I could see the shame in his eyes so as soon as they were off I kissed him hard and put my hands into his pants, stroking his cock. He let out the most delicious moan into the kiss. After a minute of this we were both desperate for it so I bit his earlobe and pulled his cock out of his pants, guiding it to the right place. He pushed into me slowly.

"Fuck," he swore, before capturing my mouth with his and thrusting again. I let out another moan into his mouth as he bit down hard on my lip. He pressed wet kisses into my neck, speeding up his thrusts with considerable lack of control. It had been a while since we had sex, so the desperation in his movements was very apparent. He let out the most beautiful gasps and moans, and I wrapped my arms around his neck, tangling my fingers into his hair as he continued to nip and suck at my collarbone. I tugged at his brown curls and he groaned breathily. He recaptured my lips in his own and I let out a moan as he pushed deeper into me.

"Jimmy," I panted into his ear, before pulling on his earlobe with my teeth. He let out what was almost a growl and fucked me even harder. I felt myself drawing closer to finishing and let out a desperate string of swears.

“Come on, baby doll, fuckin finish for me,” Jimmy murmured deeply, kissing along my jaw and neck before biting down on my collarbone. I let out a gasp as I felt a wave of pleasure over me, clenching around him and digging my nails into his back. He kept going, his thrusts sloppy, coaxing me through my orgasm until a faltering moan fell from his lips and he pulled out, spilling his load onto my stomach. He lay on top of me, spent, and I pulled my fingers through his hair, running my nails against his scalp.

“You really love me?” I asked, as his hot breath brushed my neck. Before he answered he pressed soft kisses against my shoulder.

“Of course I do, doll face.”

[depression-in-the-fire-nation]

Hobo Woodman Ozai

Does this AU have a title? I don’t know. Do you know, @sky-kiss​ ?

Either way, I am ashamed of how poorly edited it is, but. Just. Read around the bad parts :D

Continued from here

***

The subject came up one day over breakfast, which the girl shovelled enthusiastically into her mouth while babbling on and on about a school somewhere.

“Her manners are appalling,” Ozai said.

Two pairs of amber-coloured eyes looked at him coldly. He sipped his tea in dignified silence.

“Calm down, dear,” Ursa said gently.

It was truly amazing how quickly her mood swayed from one extreme to another when Ozai and their daughter were in the same room. With care and patience, she instructed the girl on how to sit and eat properly, as befitted their station – the reality of their current circumstances, after all, did not change it in the slightest. When Ozai was concerned, however, the warm voice and gentle smile were nowhere to be found.

He weathered Ursa’s glare with a smile of his own. There was more to be said, but it had to wait until later, when he cornered her in their tiny kitchen.

She was washing the dishes. Her skin, once flawless, now bore the subtle signs of physical labour. A part of him longed to feel it beneath his fingers, each callous and imperfection that marred its beauty. He resisted the pull, knowing his touch would not be welcome.

“Which school are you sending her to?” Ozai asked.

Ursa set down a wet plate and picked up another, dipping it in soapy water.

“I’m going to buy a house in Ba Sing Se,” she said. “We will have to move for the winter either way.”

Ba Sing Se. The impenetrable walls which held Iroh off for hundreds of days, and which Azula so cleverly bypassed. Safe from the turmoil of the war, prosperous, crowded – but stagnant, set in its old-fashioned ways. Like everything else in Earth Kingdom, the city did not seek change or improvement. The people had no desire, no will to better their lives. This was no place for a Fire Nation princess.

“She would be better off if you educated her yourself,” Ozai said.

“I am. But she needs the company of children her own age,” Ursa said.

“Peasant children,” Ozai imbued the word with all the contempt it deserved. “Our daughter should be schooled in the Capital—”

The plate in Ursa’s hands came down with a loud clang.

“My daughter, dear husband. Do not forget that you banished us both from the Fire Nation.”

He was no longer fooled by her steady voice. She turned to look at him, breath-taking in her rage.

“I saved you from execution,” Ozai said.

“How merciful you were,” she said, cold. “Truly. I shall forever praise your generosity.”

Even from a distance, he could sense the disturbed flow of her chi. The fire she longed to hurl at him sparked at her fingertips, while his own remained numb and lifeless. Yet for her the gift was no more than a practicality. Ozai supposed it served her well in her exile, as means of protection for herself and the child. Also as a danger that could expose her identity to any onlookers. Nevertheless, Ursa was never taught to hold it in the highest regard, as a blessing bestowed only upon the select few. Of which Ozai was no longer a part of. Under her tutelage, the girl would grow up the same.

The thought was intolerable.

“Zuko would welcome you back with open arms,” Ozai said. “Only your own stubbornness is keeping you away.”

He had dug his nails into an open, festering wound on Ursa’s conscience. She paled, her pained expression betraying more of her feelings than she wished to.

“Stubbornness has nothing to do with it,” she said.

“Call it fear, then. Whatever it is, it doesn’t change the fact that you’d rather keep the girl away from her true heritage.”

“Maybe that’s a good thing,” Ursa laughed bitterly. “Look around you. Look what became of you, and of me. This is her heritage now, Ozai.”

“You give up so easily,” Ozai said.

All of a sudden, she looked tired. No more than a peasant woman, washing her own dishes, repairing old clothes, working odd jobs to keep her daughter fed. And he did this to her; he alone. A long time ago, he took the daughter of a disgraced rural magistrate and made her a princess. Just as swiftly, he knocked her down.

She would hate to hear the truth put that way, so he kept his mouth shut. Something showed in his face, however, because he was treated to an angry look, and then an indifferent shrug.

“You lost, Ozai,” Ursa said, turning away from him. “Learn to live with it. I did.”

***

He wasn’t going to.

Day and night, he trained and worked and then trained again. It helped keep his mind at ease, all the rage and frustration which made it impossible to think channelled through physical strain. The girl could not hope to keep up, but she did her best.

He was perhaps unduly harsh with his instructions. Ursa was too soft-hearted to instil proper discipline in the girl. Ozai was met with refusal, defiance, and tears. And yet, every day at sunrise, their daughter was there, glaring but ready to learn.

“Mamma says I won’t be able to practice firebending in Ba Sing Se,” she explained.

“And yet you want to go,” Ozai said.

She nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah! Mamma says I could go to school. She says there will be lots of other kids to play with. Last summer we went to Omashu, and they had a big marketplace and we played games and—” she chattered on. “Mamma also says I can pick a name for myself!”

That made Ozai pause.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, see,” the girl said. “She says it’s safer to use different names in different places. In case we were being followed.” She frowned. “She never said who followed us. Or why.”

“Your mother’s paranoid,” Ozai said. Although it did explain why his spies lost track of Ursa’s movements so quickly.

“What’s ‘paranoid’?”

She looked up at him with earnest golden eyes. Ozai frowned.

“You have scrolls, don’t you? Look it up.”

“But—”

“Resume your form. Now.”

Grumbling, she complied. Over time her movements became more fluid – a far cry from the choppy mockery they used to be. She still lacked the ease and grace Azula displayed from an early age, but she showed promise.

***

Winter was approaching them. With it, Ursa’s departure to Ba Sing Se.

He wasn’t planning to follow, of course. There were people loyal to him back in the Capital. With time, he would gather enough supporters to challenge Zuko’s unlawful seizing of the throne. The opportune moment would come soon enough, when the people recognized a teenager’s inability to lead a nation and began to blame him for all the misfortunes that befell them. But when the time came, he would have to be ready.

Ozai found himself moving closer to the burning fireplace, the sight of the dancing flames resonating with the deep, hollow ache in his chest. He would move as soon as he recuperated his strength.

Ursa pretended not to notice his melancholy, focused on her task. She had earned some coin through copying scrolls, her calligraphy neat and elegant. Next to her, the girl was playing with ink, most often drawing dragons and sticky figures. Today, however, she was putting down blocky, uneven characters, more Earth Kingdom than Fire Nation in their design.

“Hmm. Fang. I wanna be called Fang,” she declared suddenly.

“Why?” Ursa asked, amused.

“Because it was the last Fire Nation Avatar!”

Ozai raised an eyebrow.

“The previous Avatar was called Roku. Fang was his dragon,” he said coolly.

The girl looked at him with a quizzical expression.

“That makes no sense,” she said. “Why would they choose a human Avatar if they could have a dragon Avatar?”

Ozai stared at her.

“This… isn’t how this works. At all.”

But his words fell on empty ears. The girl bounced on her feet and grabbed his hand, her palms comically small next to his.

“Come on! Let’s practice more firebending. I’m gonna be a dragon!”

She would bother him endlessly unless he gave in. Ozai sighed and stood up.

Ursa was looking at him with an odd expression, eyebrows raised, her brush frozen an inch above the parchment.

“She falls asleep quicker when she’s tired,” Ozai said, then pressed his mouth shut. He did not need to explain himself to Ursa.

“If you say so,” Ursa said, fighting a disbelieving smile.

***

A few days later, when he was overseeing her training, Fang slipped.

Her balance was off as she went through a more complicated move she had been trying to master. Ozai told her so, frowning with disapproval. Instead of getting up and starting over, however, the girl looked up at him with tears shining in her eyes and clutched her ankle.

“It hurts,” she protested.

“The pain is in your mind,” Ozai said. “You must learn to control it.”

“No, it’s not, it’s in my leg,” she said, sniffling. “And it hurts. I wanna go home.”

“We are not done for today.”

Tears were streaming down her cheeks, her pathetic wails carrying through the forest. Her ankle was perhaps a bit swollen, from what Ozai could see.

He rubbed the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger.

“Very well. You may go,” he said.

She tried to scramble up, but as soon as more weight was put on her injured leg, she dropped down again onto the ground, crying harder.

“I can’t,” she said. “Mom!”

“Quiet,” Ozai hissed.

If Ursa heard her, he’d be dead.

With no other option, he walked over and gathered the child in his arms. Her crying subsided slightly, giving way to sniffled, and she rubbed the tears from her eyes.

“Huh,” she said. “Your beard is weird.”

“Quiet, I said,” Ozai said.

“Okay,” Fang replied.

She didn’t weigh much, and thankfully remained still when he carried her home. When they entered, she even managed a feeble smile, reaching for Ursa who stared at them both with a stricken expression.

“She lost her balance,” Ozai explained, positioning her on her bedroll. Then he took one look at Ursa’s face, and added: “I’m going hunting.”

Just in case, he didn’t come back until late evening.

***

Soon enough, Fang was running around as always, although she wasn’t permitted to practice any bending. Ursa hasn’t said a word to him since the accident.

Alone, Ozai went back to practicing with the swords. Even despite the silence and the solitude, he found it difficult to concentrate. It seemed that everywhere he looked, he could see Ursa’s accusatory glare.

There she was, this time in person. She stood beneath a tree, hands folded over her breast, eyes narrowed.

Ozai spun around, the swords cutting through the air with a loud whoosh, and then embedded them both in a nearby tree.

“Do not damage my property, please,” Ursa said coolly.

He retrieved them easily, their handles now an easy and comfortable fit in his grip.

“Fight me,” he said without looking at her.

“No.”

“We both need practice,” he said.

“You most certainly do,” she replied.

Ozai tossed one of the swords in her direction. Instincts took over, and Ursa’s hand snatched it up from the air. When he smirked at her, Ursa shifted into a fighting stance. She circled him around the clearing, sword held at the ready. Then she attacked.

He had the advantage of strength and bulk, but she played it cleverly, turning his blows against him with an unforeseen skill. Exile had necessitated that particular ability; Ozai was pleased to see his wife was able to defend herself.

The two swords were not separate weapons, but parts of a whole. Turned against one another, they were less effective. After days – weeks – Ozai was thrown off by the lack of blade in his free hand. Ursa recognized this, concentrating her attacks on his left side, vicious, all the rage bleeding through her blows.

She risked tiring herself if she fought like this. Her arms trembled with the effort, and Ozai broke through her defences with sheer strength, watching as she winced every time she had to block a direct blow. Ever pragmatic, however, she shifted into a more defensive stance again, letting him do most of the work, dancing around on nimble feet.

He would not let her escape. The two blades clashed together, grinding, throwing sparks onto both their faces. Ursa was gritting her teeth, painfully beautiful; he felt her strength waning.

All of a sudden, the pressure was gone. Too late he saw through her ruse, a vicious kick to his legs and a blow to his stomach tipping him off balance, the momentum of his own attack propelling him forward. Ozai came crashing down on the ground.

Clever. Too clever to let her guard down, even now.

Ozai flashed her a smile, all teeth, and then sprung back up, this time giving her no chance to resort to dishonourable tricks. With one forceful blow, he knocked the sword from her hand and then snatched it up, twisting her around and crisscrossing the blades around her pale neck.

“Do you yield, Ursa?” he asked, pleasantly.

She was trapped, wholly and completely, between the wall of his chest and her own swords. He could see irritation flashing in her amber eyes, face reddened from exertion, the air leaving her lungs in quickened breaths.

Long years have passed since he last held her like this. A sense of honour kept him loyal to this woman, despite her continuous impertinence, even outward treason. He could have taken another wife, a lover, to keep him company; he didn’t. With Ursa so close, he felt the stirring of an old hunger coursing through his veins.

“You enjoy this,” Ursa said.

“As do you,” Ozai said.

Ursa hummed. “I am about to enjoy this more.”

She came up fighting, this time with fire instead of crude weaponry. The heat scorched his skin, flames licking the blades. Ozai bared his teeth and pressed onward. On a shorter distance, she would not be able to execute her moves properly. Aware of this, Ursa leapt away from him, fire dancing in her outstretched hands.

He was risking much, unused to evading flames. Humiliation was the price he had to pay, however. Ursa would extract it, merciless, unafraid; he supposed he owed her that much.

[saffitaffi]

Wooooooah

Found my fav Slay the Princess route recently. Dragon my beloved. Your horrifying beak mouth was an impossible-to-refuse lip syncing challenge 💖

Shoutouts to @blacktabbygames for making such a cool game!