#who wants to be the shifting mound to my long quiet

[hello-universe-lovers]

Well, time for my stp au ranting (thanks @neverpathia for getting me off my ass)

For some context, have this:

SLAY THE PRINCESS: THE FIRST DRAFT AU:

(SPOILERS and OC TALK ahead)

Let's start with someone I've been referring to as the Player

(Do not mind that the sketch has a different title name. This was literally the first draft, ironically enough. And some beta voice designs weee~)

Her name is Ley, and her design is honestly what I call the "Pocket OC", a blank slate that I can insert into any universe or fandom with some modifications. For this application, she is the unfortunate Mortal that the Narrator decided would be GREAT at princess slaying!!/s

Contrary to Larry, who only had to do 5 loops to freed the Shifting Mound. Ley has to go through 11 FOR ALL THE VOICES. Since LQ isn't exactly capable of calling the voices back to him like She can. And with the "2 voice per loop" rule, she has to collect em one at a time. Fun times/s

I feel her personality is best described when I go into the routes with her, in contrast to Larry (note that they are in a specific order).

THE PRISONER:

Her first was the Prisoner. Her skepticism of the Narrator and the Princess (expressed by bringing the knife down to the basement) quickly melted away into sympathy for the Princess and resolved to save her. Unlike Larry, she didn't had to cut off her hand. Rather, she cut one of the links with the Pristine Blade, rendering it blunt. When the Narrator took over, the Princess had to bash her head against the wall, knocking her out/killing her (they have the same effect).

In the Prisoner Chapter, she woke up in chains, rather than free, and the Prisoner is her usual self. And to add to her headache, there was a new Voice with the Narrator: the Voice of the Hero (pre-egg crack). She informs her that she's been stuck here for a while, and the knife was out of their reach, presumably upstairs. Ley, not giving up, broke her thumb to get out (since the chain was for Larry's neck, not hers) and did the same for the Prisoner's wrist cuffs. With freedom and a knife again, the Prisoner asked how she was going to get her out of there. She did the same thing she did last time: cutting her free. When asked why she thought that worked and not trust her in her "alternative" plan: she did trust her, but she didn't want her to get hurt for the sake of freedom. Hero encourages her on with her choices, seeing how far a strong will can get you, as well as subtly demonstrating she can still influence this world, even for a human.

But, as the Shifting Mound claims the Prisoner and she finds herself in the Long Quiet. The Mirror is still there, but rather than showing her own reflection, she sees the Hero, in how she perceived the Voice, through her route. She says "Hi" to her (who finally cracked her egg) and comments on how Proud she was of Ley for keeping her good nature, even in such a difficult circumstances. However, their conversation couldn't last long as the darkness of the mirror starts taking Hero away. Hero screamed in fear, and Ley bangs on the mirror, but the Voice returns to the Long Quiet, to where she is meant to be. But she inherited Ley's Chivalry, and it will stick with her

(Don't worry, I won't rant too much with the rest, this is the first. The rest of them will be shorter)

Edit: so that was a lie!

THE RAZOR:

(Oh I forgot Stubborn went through a redesign godddd--)

Her next route is where her personality changes the Story. Let's be clear here: she isn't Larry. She has no God powers that makes her go numb to pain or make it go empty. But what she has is drive. Perseverance is a HELL of a drug, and it's what she did to Conquer the Razor.

After being stabbed by the Princess in the Chapter 1, Ley tried to give her the benefit of a doubt, but it's clear that this Princess's love language is "STAB! STAB! STAB!!", so it's time to arm up. It's difficult, she died a lot, but overtime, she realized that the arena they were in...was changing. Warps, cracks littered the walls of the cabin and basement. An idea was sown, and luckily she has the perfect voice to keep her going. Stubborn had to take a backseat, which he hated, but he got what he wanted. Clash after clash, the basement showed signs of breaking down. She even tore off one of Razor's arms to use as a sword. Once you have a goal that isn't just "winning", your motivation skyrockets. Chapter 4 wasn't named "Mutually Assured Destruction", but "the Bird and the Mountain". As the Princess showed her new form, Ley showed her plan's fruition. The basement finally gave out under the abuse, and collapsed on top of both of them. The Bladed Razor looked up at the sky from the hole that opened up, while pinned under tons of rubble and was memorized. Ley, meanwhile, made her way out of the rubble, in pain, but alive. This is where an unintended Side effect of her influence came in. Because she felt someone lifted her up and helped her approach the Razor. The Princess was surprised, but she had no regrets. In fact, she had fun!! Seeing her slowly growing to triumph over her was fun! And the stars were pretty to look at too! She was ok with dying now, promising to maybe try something else, now that the world is open to her...

But they won't have that next encounter, as Ley finds herself in the Long Quiet once more.

Stubborn was struggling against being unraveled, but he had to congratulate her. If it was him, he would have fought her over and over with no stop. But her plan not only stopped her, it also kept her going. With a brain like that, nothing could stand in her way. Ley gave her peace with him, reassuring that the Quiet won't hurt him, it's taking him somewhere he belongs. And to tell Hero she said "hi", when he sees her...

The NIGHTMARE:

With so many deaths in one loop, it left her feeling the fatigue in the next Loop. In her tired state, she decided she needed space from both the Narrator and Princess to think, so she left the basement. She didn't, however, closed the door to the basement. She left it open to show that she wasn't gonna leave her in limbo. While she thought of what to do, exhaustion finally kicked in and she fell asleep. However, when she woke up, the door to the basement was blocked by the table. She rudely asked the Narrator what happened, and that's when SKEPTIC made himself known. He came while she was asleep, and decided that it'd be safer to talk with the door blocked. Panicked, she quickly opened the door, asking the Princess if she's OK. But her haste to check on her let her tripped and broke her neck in the fall.

The next time, Skeptic is once again not being helpful. Apparently he and Narrator had a talk while she was "dead" and Skeptic doesn't believe in anything Narry is saying about their situation. Not even the ominous cabin and the drop to the basement. For once, his Skepticism kept her alive because when the Nightmare showed up, he just didn't believe she could do that. It's not Paranoid but it will do. For Ley herself, it may felt like absolute shit to have your organs barely work, but it gave her time to say sorry to the Princess and helped her out of the basement. When asked why she said sorry, when she didn't ask for it, she responded that she deserved one anyway.

In the Long Quiet, She confronted Skeptic for his mistakes...but she does thanked him for keeping her alive, even if it was accidental on his part. He apologized for his misjudgment and was grateful to meet someone like-minded. Maybe she can discover the truth of this place, where he could not. Then he was taken away, though he resisted a little.

(Bonus but between every few loops, she just crashes into Shifty to sleep. Not repeating what happened with the Nigthmare, now that deep sleep can apparently summon these guys. Not that she'd remembered)

The TOWER:

Her hesitation to kill the Princess gave the next one an Ego boost. And Smitten is here because of a misguided respect for the Tower, that could be interpreted as "love". With a voice that's all about devotion and a literal Goddess, she was THIS close to succumbing. BUT the Tower just HAD to take the face of a loved one, brcause Ley wasn't a "little bird", try and persuade her. Which just made her ANGRY. The Fury of the AUDACITY!!

Now, Smitten believed in love, and if Tower's love language was "devotion", he was gonna give it to her. And he didn't appreciate this Lady not seeing the LOVE like he did. However, in her fury, Smitten saw her memories, and of the Love that she had with this other woman. But it ended tragically and bitterly. Died by a fire. But it was REAL. A REAL love that was meaningful that was more than devotion.

Ley pushed the Tower out of the window, letting them fall into nothingness. The Tower realized that maybe using the face of a dead loved one was a bad call...but she still thinks highly of herself. Ley coldly responded "what is a God to a non-believer?"

She is taken away, leaving Ley to fall on forever. But she soon landed gently on the ground. Facing the mirror, Smitten was crying for the lost of the Tower, but also at the beauty of Ley's love. If that was what True Love looked like, maybe He could find it again. Ley told him that True Love doesn't exist. There isn't "the one" for you, just the "love" you made together with the one you choose. Smitten has a lot to think about, now...as he fades away.

The WITCH/THORN:

To go from a tragedy to a romance, Ley didn't want to betray the Princess. But the Narrator forced her hand, and in comes our "favorite" asshole. Rather than being summoned by Ley's feelings, it was the Narrator's feelings projected onto her, the rush of pulling one over on someone. Ley is NOT happy with either of these people in my head, and Opportunist was content to go back and forth between choosing a side. It got to a point where it caused her such a headache that she broke the Pristine Blade by jamming it against the root wall, and bent the handle so no one can get it out. It was an act of desperation against the Narrator and to show trust to the Witch. However, just as they were about to leave, Opportunist decided to try what the Narrator did last time. Ley struggled hard against him, which scared the Witch so much that she stabbed her with a sharp piece of root from the ground. She fell, but muttered an "I'm sorry" before fading away.

The next time she woke up, she had a pain in her chest. And the Voice was less of a voice and more of a person. This is where the Voice finally have a body of their own in the Construct, and Ley's first action was punch the ever loving shit out of the Opportunist. Blaming him for the Witch stabbing her when she was THIS CLOSE to saving her! She never wanted to betray her but the Narrator and now him were projecting those feelings onto her and now SHE has to bear the brunt of their treachery. She did stop wailing on him, but he was crying and begging her to stop by the end of it. All she did was glare in return, saying how pathetic he truly was...before walking to the cabin, skipping the Pristine Blade all together that was just sitting there. The Thorn was there, vulnerable and surrounded by painful thorns, obviously she is scared of Ley for even MORE reasons than the canon one. Because how could she still trust herself, after what she saw and almost did? Ley answered back that she resisted, every step of the way. She never stopped resisting, and she will continue to resist, until both of them made it out of here. With her bare hands, she tore into the vines, not caring if they bleed, Thorn's protest or the Narrator's attempts to make her stop via tedium. She ketp going.

Then, a tap on her shoulder. Whipping around, it's the Opportunist, one hand holding an eye that she punched earlier, and another...the Blade, extended to her, hilt facing her. He makes a non-committal reasoning for being here ("it's better to stick together" and all that) but I ranted enough about what he actually feels before...so with the knife, she cut the Thorn and the 3 of them Escaped the basement.

In the Long Quiet, the Opportunist stood before her. The root that stabbed her chest was now in his and blooming a rose, and the shiner she put in his eye was now a poppy, like the Thorn's. He...apologized, truthfully, for his actions. There is no one to witness them, so to him, this was his only chance to say sorry. He just wanted to live...and that blinded him to the opportunities that he could have gotten, if he was kinder. Ley said that she...won't accept it, not yet...but she can acknowledge that if he's truthful, than one day, she will. And that she wasn't the only person he'd hurt. Thorn was too...if he see her again, he has a lot to make up for. He begged to not be taken away, to not die or be asleep before he got to say sorry to her. But something tells Ley that he will see Thorn again...but she won't.

((I am stopping here because I am CRAMPING: tune in next time for Broken, Cheated, Hunted, Paranoid, Cold and Contrarian!

And thanks for making it this far. It was...very nerve wracking to do this. To show my work like this outside of friends so I hope this resonated with you and I hope you asked me questions about them.

[izelthewashbear]

this is a love story.

I finally played Slay the princess and it immediately became one of my favorite games ever. Came dangerously close to crying.

Thank you @blacktabbygames for creating this masterpiece ❤️

[knockknockitsnickels]

"Sacrifice the Yourself" (title pending), the hip new slay the princess swap AU, in which you and the girlies must decide if you're gonna let a giant bird stab you (and maybe.... find love?!)

[anethiawoods]

playing slay the princess as intended (watching your friend stream it and then roleplaying as improvised ocs for each of ur runs)

[slaytheprofessor]

"Well..." You exhale. "If he doesn't really know what he's doing, maybe I can talk with him. See if he'll see reason."

The Guide: ...

The Guide: You can certainly try.

Voice of the Rebel: Oooh. Just got chills.

Voice of the Researcher: *mutters* Oh my god.

The Guide: You head down the street in the right direction. You know instinctively where to turn, which signs to follow, which landmarks to look out for.

The Guide: Finally, you are standing in front of the library---a small, one-story space sandwiched between two taller buildings. The windows are boarded up, and a closed sign is hanging in the door.

Voice of the Rebel: Okay, so... do we, like, smash the window, reach in, and open it from the inside, then? Or do we just kick the door down?

Voice of the Researcher: Have you considered, oh, I dunno, just opening the door? It might not even be locked.

Voice of the Rebel: Uh, it's closed. That usually means that it's locked.

The Guide: Maybe attempt to open it before engaging in destruction of property?

Voice of the Rebel: Thought you said this place was abandoned, big guy! There's nobody to make a fuss if we do a little B&E action, right?

Voice of the Researcher: I've decided that I don't like you.

Voice of the Rebel: *singsong* Ask me if I care! Teacher's pet.

Voice of the Researcher: Hey, Guide, can I punch---

The Guide: No.

The Guide: And, by the way... the professor is, by nature, a clever man. He will lie, he will cheat, and he will do everything in his power to stop you from killing him.

The Guide: You can reason with him, if you want. But I would keep your guard up. And I wouldn't be quick to trust him.

Voice of the Researcher: We're still hearing him out.

The Guide: Yes, I know. You've made that clear.

You cross the street and open the door to the library, the creaking of the door and the ringing of a little bell sounding as you do. And when you step inside...

The voices in your head are quiet for a minute.

Voice of the Researcher: Okay, uh... what the hell am I looking at right now?

The Guide: *completely and utterly befuddled* The... the library is a patchwork of so many different libraries, blended together in an ill-fitting design that seems on the verge of falling apart. Is it an office space? Is it the interior of a cave? Is it a waiting room? Is it a lab? Is it a workshop?

The Guide: The library is all of them, and they are all the library. The only thing that's clear---the only thing that makes sense---is a pristine blade, perched on a desk that resembles an impossible object drawing more than a real, tangible thing.

The Guide: The blade is your implement. I wouldn't recommend going down there without it.

Voice of the Rebel: No coffee shop? Booooo.

Voice of the Researcher: We're standing in the middle of a fever dream, and you're worried about coffee?!

Voice of the Rebel: I mean, I obviously don't need to worry about edibles, seeing how trippy this place is. *laugh-snorts* Fuck me, I feel high already! Forget the coffee bar, this place rocks!

You allow yourself to ignore the fact that there is, apparently, a part of you that enjoys taking psychedelics. Because as confusing as this place is, the Guide has neglected to mention one thing.

Hovering above the wall next to the door---and it must be hovering, since nothing fits right in this place---is a mirror. Made of black glass.

[tteokdoroki]

aali my beloved would you be willing to share some more thots regarding domineering consent-king-kiri,,,no pressure at all I am just delighted by the concept!! If nothing else I am holding your hand making microwave noises because this tickles my brain muah

☆༉ — EIJIROU KIRISHIMA. consent and condescension.

about. your wish is my command beautiful anon. this is definitely yuzuya adjacent LDKAKS !!

warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact. smut, praise kink, consent heavy, condescension, scratching, afab!reader, soft dom/pro hero!kirishima.

“i only want to do this if it’s something you want.” kirishima says, his voice so quiet that it’s barely above a whisper. there’s a huskiness to it, as though he’s been holding back for so long that his tether and tie to sanity threatens to snap. the very simple fact makes a shiver run down your spine and shoot right between your legs. 

kirishima let’s put a condescending coo as he shifts to sit with you on the bed, prying apart your shaky thighs to catch a whiff of your hot cunt, a view of how juices run between your folds like golden syrup that makes you shine. you’re eijirou kirishima’s favourite sweet treat. 

“poor baby, if i hadn’t come any sooner, who knows what would have happened to you.” his voice drips to lower tones that turn on the sex signals in your brain — and as you whine out for more, the corner of the red head’s lips quirk up into a sly smile.

“all alone and unable to cum. well, don’t you worry. i’ve got you now.” you see, he knows you better than you know yourself. that you can’t get off without his thick fingers or his fat cock, and how frustrated you get when you can’t touch yourself in the same way that he does.

that’s why you called him at work, with a wobble in your saccharine voice and squelch from your cunt echoing down the line. you need eijirou.

you hardly notice how fast he strips, too dizzy and needy to speak your mind or even think. your level of desire to be fucked dumb by your man overpowers any logical reasoning you may have. taking hold of the globes of your ass, the mountainous man drags you towards him, pressing right up against your throbbing mound — looking down at you as if you’re the most beautiful, pathetic thing he’s ever seen.

you’ve not a clue as to how much you affect eijirou, with your big wet eyes and shaky hips as you rut into him for any kind of friction. he wants to ruin you and cherish you all at once, fighting with the two halves of him that join together and make him the person that he is. the hero that protects people, the man who loves you, the other that has such depraved thoughts about you. his sweet little thing.

“i’ve been dying to take you since the moment you called, fuck you against your cute little sheets, have your adorable ankles and frilly socks hangin’ over my shoulders….” eijirou’s next move is to tease your wet little slit, tapping his milky cockhead against your swollen clit repeatedly until you’re jolting and twitching from the slight streams of pleasure. “is it okay for me to touch you like this? i really want to but… your needs always come first to me.” 

the question is masked with a patronising kindness in an attempt to hide the red head’s deepest and darkest dreams. if he truly wanted to, kirishima could have plugged your hole full of his monster-like girth and fucked you until that tight, unused hole of yours was coated in his cum. yet, he treats you (the object of his affections and desires), as though you’re a porcelain doll threatening to shatter under the weight of his touch.

the cracks begin to show and the dam begins to break. your pretty face crumples with ecstasy while eijirou pushes his length through your slick pussy, laughing breathily at your arousal that clings to every spiralling blue vein that decorated his shaft. it jumps against the pleasure bud tucked away between your folds. 

you sniffle and his heart breaks for you. it does nothing to calm the flames of desire burning at eijirou’s healthy lungs — blackening them.  

“e-eiji—!”

“���m gonna put it in now, i know, i know, sweetheart. i gotta hurry it up,” he starts, tutting down at you and your clenching cunt as he hits his hips forward — pushing his bulbous tip past the tight ring of muscle at your entrance. “you’ve been so good, sweetheart. waiting for me to get home, so you could get fucked — i just don’t wanna hurt you.” 

he brushes the pads of his thumbs over your body trembling beneath him. over your pebbling nipples, so hard they could cut diamonds because of the cold air. over your curves, your tummy and navel — every perfectly imperfect part of you. and when he reaches your thighs, they’re folded into your chest so he can give you exactly what you want. 

“oh, little one. you’re so tight, and warm around me. fuck.” eijirou is the one who hiccups this time, gripping the sheets above your head while your warm, ribbed walls grip his cock the further he pushes into you.  “so soft too, i can’t get enough of you. got me thinkin’ about you all the time.” 

he starts thrusting then, forceful but fluid like a rushing river of ecstasy. eijirou pins you to the bed below, giving you no room to wiggle away and the only option being to take everything that he gives to you. his balls clapping against the curve of your ass, his harsh moans in your ear and tip bullying your g-spot before you can even register the sensation blooming in your lower tummy. there’s no room to breathe or think while he fucks you. like he hates you, all while loving you.

“i love your pretty face. how it looks when you take me. the way your brows furrow and your soft lips part when you moan for me. can you take it? just a little more for me.” the surge of praise you receive from eijirou is like a storm that angrily hits the shore. you feel like you’re drowning, clawing at his back to drag yourself to shore while he pounds you to the high heavens. your body jolts up the bed at every one of eijrou’s thrusts — contrasting with the gentle, wet kisses he peppers across your face. 

each sweet word dipped in white sugar has you pliant and mailable under kirishima like freshly made candy. he praises you and your hips rise from the arousal soaked sheets to match his rhythm, sex spasming around him. “holy fucking shit. oh little one…so sweet and wet, hm? so pliant.” eijirou leans over you, shielding you from the world, and  liick at your neck, humming in satisfaction at your whistle tone moans. “you were just aching for me to get you like this, right little one? your knees pressed to your chest and my cock…nice and snug against your insides. you don’t wanna let me go, do you?” 

you promptly shake your head, your pretty bambi eyes fluttering shut while your body thrashes and shakes from the pleasure he feeds you — piece by piece.. “e-eiji…p-please, i need it. i c-can’t—!” 

the red head squishes your cheeks together, grunting impatiently and pressing on until his cock is pressing comfortably against your womb. “oh you poor baby, i need to give it to you just as bad as you want it… but,” the rough pads of his fingers sink into your supple cheeks as he turns your face to look at him. “i need you to look at me first. look me in the eye, sweetheart. show me how badly you want it. you’re so pretty when you do it like that, you know.” 

a wet whimper bubbles up on your lips, cherry bitten from where they’ve been caught between your teeth. they echo between your sweet slicked bodies and mingle with the saccharine syllables of kirishima’s words, as condescending as they might be. that with his domineering presence and constant stimulation of all your pleasure spots has you a ruined mess beneath him.

“i’m gonna make you cum. i have to make you cum, if it’s the last thing i do, little one.” eijirou promised lazily, circling his hips in a slow grind just he can drag out your pleasure for a little bit longer — torture you underneath him so he can keep on seeing your pretty face. he seals the promise with a sloppy kiss, sucking on your saliva soaked tongue until you’re begging him for air. “you want that too, right?”

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2023. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[hb-writes]

Drunk Shakespeare

Summary: It’s Summer 1925 in the Little Lady Blinderverse. Isiah and Clara decide to end their work day early to escape the heat of the betting shop, but find the heat in the air between them is harder to escape than they thought.

Characters: Clara Shelby x Isiah Jesus, Finn Shelby pops in for a moment.

Prompt: Almost caught

Content Warnings: Just vibes and a little kissing.

Tell me what y'all think! Reviews and comments are always appreciated. 😌❤️

Peaky Blinders (Little Lady Blinder) Masterlist

Peaky Blinders (Non-Shelby!Sister) Masterlist

Clara watched the long hand of her brother's old pocket watch as it moved around the clock face, the quiet ticks and tocks seeming to mock her as they seemed to slow and delay in her mind.

After what had seemed like an eternity squashed into a mere morning and early afternoon, she was basically caught up on the books. Or at least, if she wasn't precisely caught up, Clara wasn't feeling particularly motivated to keep working on them. Not that she'd been doing anything that could really be considered ‘work’ for the last hour and a half.

Shoving the pocketwatch away, she glanced at Isiah. He was across the room in Finn’s office, twirling a pencil in his fingers. Clara wasn't sure what he was meant to be ‘working’ on in her brother's office, but she assumed pencil twirling wasn't it. 

It had been a slow afternoon. No one had been keen on laying bets or working, so the shop had emptied early. Everyone had finished up their day's work and gone home.

In this heat, Clara didn't blame them. Despite the mound of work she had to complete for her brother, she didn't want to be here either.

Clara had already shed her sweater. She couldn't respectably lose any more layers or she'd be left in just her slip, but she longed for it. She longed for a breeze or dip in one of the ponds on the grounds of Arrow House. She longed for a chunk of ice from the ice box in the kitchen. She longed for the end of this Friday afternoon, the end to this stale, sticky existence.

Clara pushed herself back from the desk—Tommy's desk, though he never used it anymore. The chair was more hers than his these days. Tommy had once said it could be Clara’s one day—the boss's chair—but even though it was her who sat in it more than him, Clara wasn't the boss. Today, she felt no better than any other working person staring at the clock and waiting for the end of their shift. It seemed that was all she’d done all day.

She'd have to come back and finish what she hadn’t accomplished before the end of the month—over the weekend or early before she was due at the Jamaica Row office on Monday morning. It wasn't smart putting it off, but Clara didn't care. The heat had zapped any sense of caring from her system, leeching all of the diligent conscientiousness she was known for straight out of her. 

"What are the odds we get caught out if we lock up early?” 

Isiah's foot fell off the desk and slammed against the floor, Clara's sudden presence in the room startling him more than it should have considering a wall of windows lined the office and he’d faced that way, his glossy gaze set out toward the empty shop she crossed over on her way to get to him.

"Christ, Clara—Trying to stop my fucking heart, eh?"

Clara sighed, rolling her eyes at Isiah’s dramatics out of nothing more than habit. The whole bit was familiar. He usually would have wrapped her head in an arm, ruffling her hair as retribution, but today he barely moved, barely even allowed the muscles of his mouth to pull into a smirk. 

Clara was glad for it because if Isiah laid a hand on her, Clara thought she might scream. The idea of him coming anywhere near her in this heat, of his warm hand in her already frizzy hair…she felt warmer just thinking about it.

"The only thing I'm trying to do is stop working."

"You're finished?”

Clara shrugged. She didn't have it in her to lie, but she didn’t quite want to admit she’d been doing close to nothing all day either. "Are you?'

"I've been done for hours." 

"What are you sitting in here for, then?"

She could see that she wasn't the only warm one. Isiah had rolled his shirt sleeves. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he looked at her with a raised eyebrow. She couldn't imagine why he'd choose to sit here when he could be anywhere else.

Isiah raised an eyebrow. "What do you think?" 

"Fucking hell. You’re babysitting. Tommy's such a—" 

“Finn," Isiah interrupted.

"What?"

"It was Finn’s idea. Said 'I've got a meeting across town. Keep an eye on her.’ Not Tom."

Clara hummed, filing that annoying development away to complain about later. For today it was an order from Finn’s mouth, but before Finn, it had been John, and before that, she knew the order had originated with Tommy and Arthur. Tommy, who Isiah no routinely called 'Tom' and defended, as if they were friends. On the same side of things. Clara let the thought go, too hot for the annoyance that came with thinking too hard on her brothers.

"Where'd Finn go, anyway?'

"Meeting across town," Isiah answered, repeating the words with a smirk. 

Clara breathed deeply, stifling the urge to hit him. She could imagine herself doing it, the satisfaction of her open palm—all clammy and swollen with the heavy moisture of the air—smacking against Isiah’s stupid, sweaty forehead. 

“I just said.” Isiah added, stupid grin still on his face. “The heat getting to you, there, Miss Shelby?” 

It was hotter in Finn's office than it was in Tommy's. There were no windows to the outside here, no airflow. Clara pulled at her dress, the fabric sticking to her collarbone as she tried to catch some relief.

“I meant who’s he with?” 

Isiah shrugged. “Afraid that's above my pay grade. Can’t be asking after the boss’s whereabouts now, can I, love?” 

Clara rolled her eyes. Finn wasn’t any sort of boss, not really, even if he was acting like it lately. And the amount of things that fell above Isiah's pay grade had dwindled over the last few years. She was nearly certain Isiah knew exactly who Finn was meeting with and what it was about, but she let it go, figuring that if it was important or relevant to her, he'd have just told her. The fact that he was playing with her told her it wasn't either of those things.

“Fine. Tell me, love, does the 'boss' have anything good in that drawer there?” Clara nodded toward the desk and Isiah shook his head, chuckling. 

“What are you shaking your head for? What’s he going to do?” she asked. “Fire us for borrowing his whiskey and skiving off?” 

“Tom—”

“I don’t care what Tommy or Arthur or John or Finn has said. It’s hot and there’s no reason for us to be cooped up here. I’ll take my chances with the lot of them.” Clara reached down, pulling out the bottle of whiskey. She opened it and took a slug before she handed the bottle to Isiah. After he drank, Clara held a hand out to him. 

He raised an eyebrow, glancing at the hand they both knew was clammy and damp with sweat. Clara ran her hand down the side of her dress before presenting it again. 

Isiah rolled his eyes as he slipped his hand into hers and Clara groaned, dropping his slicked hand in an instant. Isiah smirked as he ran his hand down the side of her skirts same as Clara had just done. No other man would’ve dared to slide his hand down Clara Shelby’s side like that, but this was Isiah and they were alone in the shop—no prying eyes to watch over them for a change.

“You’re insufferable.”

Isiah chuckled. “You’ve said so plenty enough.”

“Because it’s true.”

“Well, between you and me, it’s mutual.”

Clara yanked his hand then, pulling him out of the chair and to his feet. Isiah stumbled for her benefit. 

“You’re testy today.”

“I’m hot,” Clara answered, walking towards the staircase. She tugged Isiah along up the first few steps, her arm straining as Isiah stopped on the third step from the bottom.

“And we’re going to the second floor to cool off?” 

Clara took a deep breath before stopping and turning back to Isiah. 

“We’re all locked up?”

Isiah nodded. He'd gone around to check all of the doors after Finn headed out. “Have been for hours.” 

“Good, now shut up and do what you're told.” 

Isiah snorted. “Yes, ma’am.”

Clara smirked at that. At least someone respected her. Even if it was just Isiah, and even if he was only playing, the telltale smile tugging at his lips, a bit of glee right there dancing in his eyes. Because even with those things present, Clara knew some part of it was genuine. Isiah respected her more than most people in her life. Believed in her more than most, too. And he had always offered up a bit of his power in the context of their relationship, allowing her to win on most things. 

Not every single thing, but most. 

Enough of the time that Clara knew when he was doing it. 

As they moved up the stairs, the heat wrapped around them like a blanket. Someone had shut all of the windows, the air up there even more stale than it had been down in the shop. 

Clara had a moment of doubt while the stifling heat grew, smothering them both and challenging Clara's breathing. Sweat collected on her back and chest under her clothes. She cursed in her head that maybe Isiah was right. Maybe there was no relief to be found on this Friday afternoon, not unless she wanted to give in and head out to her brother's house. 

But Clara didn’t want to. If she did, Tommy would have questions about the books and whether or not she’d caught up yet. She didn’t have it in her to try to lie to him. If she was being honest, she didn’t have it in her for much of anything except simply being. 

Walking the stairs of her childhood home with Isiah’s hand growing sweaty in hers, Clara was reminded of simpler days. Of times when she’d been just allowed to be. Even then, she’d been an anxious child. Overwhelmed and feeling like she was pulled in a million different ways, but looking back on it now, Clara was nostalgic for a certain freedom inherent to childhood. A certain freedom that came with not fully understanding the actions and motivations of the adults surrounding her. 

She had always sought to understand, had always wanted to be a part of things, and now that she was—now that she and Isiah both were thoroughly integrated parts of the things they’d once begged to be included in—Clara would give anything for the two of them to go back to before. 

To be reading together from a book, or pretending to be Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson. To be just two kids in their own little bubble, just the two of them against the world. It was a lovely thought, accompanied by a lovely feeling of nostalgia and as they stepped onto the second floor—just the two of them there within the walls of number 6 Watery Lane—Clara thought maybe it could still be the case.

The times were less frequent these days, but there were still moments when Clara would catch Isiah's gaze across the room, the two of them immediately caught up in some secret conversation that no one else even knew was taking place. 

And sometimes, the two of them would dance, and as Isiah spun Clara around, she could’ve sworn there was no one else in the world. On those occasions, it was as if the music played of its own accord, no one needed to pull the strings or croon the melodies, the two of them feeling anonymous and alone even though they were surrounded by other couples. 

“Come on, Siah,” Clara said as she tugged Isiah’s hand, some part of her certain that she could reach out and grasp that feeling, as if it was something she could trap and hold onto, keeping it close to her heart. 

Isiah smiled at Clara’s impatience, his body so near to hers that he could feel the heat radiating off her back, a warmth separate from that of the air around them, almost pulsing between them. 

Clara dropped his hand as she stepped into her bedroom, still neat and tidy and kept as if the 12-year-old girl she once was still lived there. As she moved toward the window, Clara pressed the whiskey bottle into Isiah’s hand, not bothering to look back to confirm it was within his grasp before she let go. 

Isiah leaned against her dresser, watching as she struggled with the window, the wooden frame stiff and swollen and thoroughly stuck from the heat and years of disuse. 

As he watched, Isiah wondered...when was the last time Clara Shelby had climbed out through her bedroom window? When was the last time Isiah Jesus had climbed out with her? 

Neither of them could remember, and it seemed like the room had forgotten as well, the window remaining belligerently shut even as Clara dug in her heels and leveraged all of her strength in trying to raise the pane, a new layer of sweat gleaming at her hairline as she struggled. 

“Alright,” Isiah started as he eased off the dresser, the whiskey bottle set aside. “Let me—”

“No!” Clara answered, her voice booming with the strength of her struggle as she kicked a leg out in Isiah’s general direction to keep him back. “I’ll get it. You choose a book.”

Clara sent her foot out again, this time directing it toward the other side of the room, and Isiah turned to follow the direction of her kick, straight to the chair beside her bed where a stack of books sat piled dangerously high. 

The pile was a mix of old and new, a selection of books from her childhood and few of her more recent favorites interspersed with a few of the books Isiah remembered as coming from Tommy’s shelf. Those books had once been forbidden to Clara, but Isiah supposed they were far beyond forbidden books at this stage. And Tommy Shelby had far bigger concerns than what types of books his sister was reading. 

Isiah fished a book out of the pile before returning his attention to Clara. He was about to sit down on her bed to watch the show of her struggle when the window flew open, the sudden movement accompanied by a rush of air and a celebratory shout from Clara. 

“I told you I would get it,” she said, wiping the sweat from her brow as she turned to him.

Isiah rolled his eyes fondly and crossed the room to grab the whiskey, a swallowed comment on the tip of his tongue because even though Isiah and Clara usually passed quips back and forth, he was more interested in getting out on the roof, more interested in the reprieve of fresh air. Isiah pressed the book and bottle into Clara's hands before swinging himself out through the window. 

Isiah was through in a small span of seconds, but it was certainly a more difficult maneuver than he remembered now that his body was all long limbs and the window seemed infinitely smaller than it once was. 

Reaching back through the frame, he took the book and the bottle Clara handed off. Isiah set them both aside before holding his hand out back through the open window.

“I can—”

“Just let me help, won’t you?” Isiah interrupted. He wiped his hand down the front of his pants before holding it out again. “Gotta fight me about everything.” 

“I’m not—” Clara grasped his hand, allowing Isiah to tug her through, and letting go once she was steady on her feet. “—fighting. I just—”

“Can do it yourself,” Isiah answered. “I know. Doesn’t mean you should always have to.” 

Clara huffed even though a part of her appreciated the sentiment. She tried to be independent. She tried to do everything for herself. She tried to prove how smart and strong and capable she was to just about everyone, but she didn’t have to prove any of that to Isiah. 

Clara unbuttoned the top of her dress, gently fanning herself with the loose fabric as she looked over the courtyard. She took a deep breath, grateful for the grey and cloudy Birmingham skies that shielded them from the heady rays of sun she usually craved.

The roof outside of her bedroom wasn’t exactly the reprieve she had imagined, but it was marginally better than the dense staleness of the shop and her bedroom. 

“Romeo and Juliet?” Clara asked as she lowered herself to the roof and reached for the book. “Really, Isiah?” 

While Clara enjoyed her Shakespeare, the play hadn’t exactly been her favorite, and her memories of the piece were tainted by the fact that she’d first read it at school, with Juliet’s role going to a girl she wasn’t particularly fond of. Clara would’ve preferred to revisit Sherlock Holmes or one of Tommy’s old books. 

Isiah shrugged and sat down beside her, reaching for the bottle. “Reminded me of when you tried stepping out with that Italian kid.” 

He said it as if he didn’t remember the name of the ‘Italian kid.' As if it had been nothing but a blip. As if her social connections hadn’t gotten her into nothing but trouble that year and been the source of arguments between her and her family, and her and Isiah.

Clara shoved Isiah’s shoulder.

“I wasn’t stepping out with anyone.”

It had been a friendship. Maybe with a hint of a crush, but there had been no stepping out. Nothing close. Her brothers' reputation had seen to that.

“And anyway, it’s more like when you were stepping out with that Cheapie girl.” 

Isiah raised an eyebrow. “What are you on about?” 

“Ruth,” Clara answered. “Practically Wally Bartow in a dress.” 

He snorted. “It was one dance, Clara. Didn’t even know her name. Had no clue she was a Bartow.”

Clara shrugged. “You looked awfully cozy if I remember properly.” 

“Well, that’s just how I dance, love.” Isiah winked at her before taking a swig from the bottle. “You know that better than anyone.

“And I'm sorry to inform you, but if either of us is destined to have a love life like these two—” Isiah nodded towards the book. “—it’s you. No matter who you end up with, it’ll be like Montagues and Capulets. Shelbys against whatever poor sap you choose.” 

Isiah knocked her shoulder, the touch telling her it was only a joke. Clara stayed leaning against him as long as she could manage in the heat before prying the bottle from his fingers to take a sip.

“Ada says us Shelby girls are cursed that way.” 

Isiah reached for the book, thumbing through the pages rather than answering. He had an idea about that particular curse. He had been old enough to remember how Ada’s marriage had been handled, and even if he hadn’t been, Isiah knew how Clara was being managed. 

How they both had been managed for years now. 

Isiah reached out for the bottle, taking another swig before he started reading.

“Two households, both alike in dignity, In fair Verona, where we lay our scene…”

They passed a few hours reading and talking and sipping from the bottle, the pair moving on to gentle conversation interspersed with quotes from Shakespeare’s catalog once the pages became too difficult to read in the dimming light. Lost in the throes of conversation, easy laughter and the cooling night breeze, Isiah and Clara were suspended in what felt like a world that was just their own, their sense of time and place and awareness pushed aside.

Clara was giggling at some obscure quote Isiah had pulled seemingly out of nowhere when Isiah sensed suddenly that the world was no longer theirs alone, his attention gone to the far end of the shared courtyard, a familiar chorus of boisterous laughter reaching his ear from across the space. 

Isiah was faintly aware of Clara naming the play he’d quoted before she shared her next quote, a gentle laughter lacing her words as she spoke, but the awareness of his heart pounding against his chest was stronger, a sudden urge to quiet her—to shield their presence there on the roof—taking over.

Overcome with that urge, Isiah could’ve shushed her or set his hand over her mouth to stifle the words.

Or he could've taken a breath and calmed himself and simply let her finish. 

It wasn't as if they were doing anything wrong. There was no reason to hide.

Isiah could have let Clara tell him, ‘I do desire we may be better strangers,’ before dissolving into giggles. He could’ve then told her the quote was from ‘As You Like It,’ a quote which he was intimately familiar with because Clara had directed it at him and Finn a number of times before, sometimes in jest, sometimes because she wished to hurt them. 

No one would question Isiah and Clara being out on the roof with a book and a bottle of whiskey, least of all Finn. People were plenty used to their antics, but something felt different tonight so Isiah only let Clara get half a sentence out before he placed his hand at the back of her head, drawing her in close and pressing his lips to hers in the dark, catching her words and quieting her so efficiently that it was nearly silent on the roof as Finn and the junior Peaky Boys passed over the back threshold of no. 6. 

The kiss only lasted a few seconds, but Isiah felt Clara’s whole body relax within his touch. She leaned into the hand he cradled behind her head, allowing him to deepen the kiss he hadn’t intended on giving in the first place, her hands reaching out for him, her fingernails grazing his scalp in a way that sent shivers down his spine. 

Isiah pulled away, but even so, for a moment, he forgot where he was. He forgot why he’d kissed her, or at least he’d forgotten whatever justification he’d initially provided himself for pressing his lips to hers. He forgot about Finn and the boys. He forgot about Shakespeare and feuds and consequences. With his warm hand still on the back of Clara’s sweaty neck, barely able to see the details of her now flushed face, it was once again just the two of them there in the world. 

With their faces still so close that Clara could feel Isiah’s warm whiskey-tinged breath on her face, her eyes shifted to his lips. She couldn’t remember what they were talking about before. She didn’t know why he’d kissed her. She had heard the back door slam, some part of her aware of her twin's proximity, an awareness Aunt Polly had always tol her was part of her gifts, but as Clara pulled Isiah's lips back to hers, she found she didn’t care to remember there was more to the world than the two of them and this. 

She didn’t want to question it, and yet, Clara was first to pull away this time, her ears far more sensitive to the familiar sound of someone turning the handle of her childhood bedroom’s door than Isiah was. With a sudden swiftness, she removed herself from Isiah’s hold and pushed him back against the roof as she extended her hand up to the sky. 

“There you are,” Finn said, sticking his head out the open window to see what Clara was pointing at. "What are the two of you out here for?"

Clara tilted her head back to her brother. “Constellations and Shakespeare. Would you like to join us?” she asked, the words feeling odd to her as they passed through her swollen lips.

“No,” Finn snorted. “It's payday. We’re heading to the Garrison, and then maybe to a few other—” 

“No, thank you. I'm staying here,” Clara answered, even though it wasn’t exactly an invite Finn had extended, but more of a declaration. An order.

A flash of something passed over Finn’s face. Clara could barely see it in the dark, but she figured it was a bit of annoyance, maybe, or a touch of shock at being refused. It seemed like more and more, Finn was coming to expect the same sort of compliance from Clara that the others did, forgetting that it was mere minutes that separated their births rather than years.

“It’s too hot, Finn,” Clara added, her tone a bit softer. “I have no desire to be holed up in the snug, squashed between you lot.”

“Alright, then. Isiah?” Finn tried.

“She’s got a point, mate.” 

Clara heard someone shouting from the floor below, the details muffled by the shut door, but Finn seemed to recognize their meaning well enough. 

"Are you sure?" Clara sensed the question was for Isiah even though they could barely see each other's faces in the growing dark. "Drinks are on Shelby Company Ltd. tonight," Finn added, as if Isiah's drinks weren't usually on the house, anyway.

"It's alright. You go ahead with the boys," Isiah offered. "I'll keep an eye on Clara."

Clara's elbow twitched, the desire to ram it into Isiah's ribcage surging as she caught the hint of a smirk on Isiah's face, but Clara stopped herself knowing that it had been the right thing to say.

Finn nodded his understanding in the dark, his attention pulled to the stairs once again by a sudden noise.

"Don't fall asleep out there, Clara."

Clara heaved a breath to stop herself from telling him he had no business telling her where she could or couldn't fall asleep, but Isiah beat her to it, telling Finn he would handle it.

No matter that Finn would likely be the one who needed assistance finding his bed before the night was through...

"Have a good night," Finn said as he stepped away from the window, leaving Isiah and Clara alone. They leaned back against the roof, the two of them staring at the sky in silence as they listened to the sounds of Finn and the boys heading out through the back door, their shouting and laughter echoing as they traversed the shared courtyard. 

When the echoes died away, Clara stretched out her fingers, seeking the familiar roughness of Isiah’s palm. 

“That was bad,” Isiah said, his fingers closing around hers. “Close...we almost got caught.”  

Clara heaved a breath before turning to face him. “There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so.” 

Isiah snorted. He glanced briefly to his right to meet Clara's gaze in the dark before tipping his head back to the sky.

"Hamlet," Isiah answered softly, squeezing her hand gently before releasing her fingers.

They had been through this time and time again, the two of them dancing around the label of what they were. Friends. Best friends. Something more. They had settled on friends as far as most of the world was concerned, but that didn’t mean the lines weren’t still blurry at times, their belligerent feelings tangled and confused and persistent. For years now, they had maintained a mostly unspoken agreement that they’d keep anything beyond friendship hidden—from themselves, from one another, from everyone else. 

Most especially from everyone else. 

They'd learned early on that it wasn't worth the strife. It wasn't worth the fight. Any resistance had been squashed down time and again. Somehow, this felt easier. Less painful.

If it was up to the two of them, perhaps things would be different. Perhaps they’d have tried at love and failed, and moved on by now. Or perhaps they would have tried and it would have been easy. Smooth.

Perhaps there would be no confusion or jealousy or hiding. No dismissing their closeness as nothing more than echo of a childhood friendship, no stinging comments on who the other had stepped out with—the slights used both as a weapon and a protection to guard their tender hearts. 

But as it was, Clara and Isiah had never been given a proper chance at something more. A boundary had been set for them at the outset, a series of orders they’d both been too young to fight at the time. They’d been at the mercy of the powers that be, and even though they were older now, they were still at the mercy of that power.

Or maybe they still danced around the boundary because it felt easier, somehow safer for them both to keep that prescribed distance between them. 

“Perhaps I am destined for tragedy, Isiah.” Clara mused. “Or simply to be alone. Unloved for eternity.” 

“You’re not alone, love.” Isiah reached for the hand he’d dropped only moments before. “I’m right here.” 

“And you know I love you," he added as Clara curled toward him, resting her head against his chest. 

Clara sighed and nodded. 

“I love you, too,” she added, and Isiah’s chest fell with the breath he’d been holding. 

“Can we not just pretend that’s enough?” Clara asked. “Just for tonight?”

They were dangerous questions and Clara asked them without turning to observe Isiah’s face. She could feel the tenseness of his body beneath her, the fear her questions provoked.

“Like it’s just us in the world and no one else?” she tried, a question and a wish because the house was empty and the roof was dark and it was unlikely they’d be caught. 

Isiah feared that a little, but more than he feared getting caught—for they’d successfully explained away so much over the years and he had no doubt they could manage it again—Isiah feared the two of them getting caught up in things. He feared getting caught up in the true feelings between them, the ones they’d so carefully worked to keep a hold on all of these years, a carefully manicured relationship that allowed them to be close, but not so close that they fell over the edge. 

For even though Isiah dated other girls, and even though Clara insisted that Isiah Jesus was just a friend, they both knew there was something more between them. A magnetic pull, something in their hearts that they both knew to be true love. 

In the moments when the two of them could be honest with each other, when the rest of the world fell away...on nights like tonight, it wasn’t especially unusual for their lips to meet. It wasn’t unusual for Clara’s hopelessly romantic naïveté to make a showing. For some part of her to feel that it could be easy. That it could work.

And it wasn’t unusual for Isiah to agree. For every part of him to want the very thing they spent the bulk of their days denying and shutting down.

They were both craving it now though, both barely able to remember why they ever did hold back. It was just the two of them there on the roof beneath a blanket of smog-covered stars, both of them still hazy around the edges due to the whiskey and the heat and the memory of their kiss, the memory of his hands on the back of her neck. 

Those things made it easy to hope. They made it easy to forget.

Because if they were surrounded by friends at the Garrison or out at Arrow House or under the watchful eye of a Blinder, Clara and Isiah wouldn’t even entertain the thought that they could be more than friends. Under those circumstances, they’d be easily convinced that regardless of the feelings between them, it was much too complicated, much too difficult. 

“Maybe we should just run away. Find a place in the world where there are stars in the sky and no Shelbys.”

Isiah snorted. “Not even you?”

“Well, just me,” Clara amended. “Just me and you and no one else we've ever met. It could be easy.”  

“Maybe,” Isiah hummed, his hand tilting Clara’s face up to his as he spoke. “but the course of true love never did run smooth, Clara Shelby” 

“A Midsummer Night’s—” Clara started, only for the rest of the play’s title to be caught up by Isiah’s lips. 

They both knew it wasn’t a good idea, dabbling in love when neither was ready to commit to the war it would be. Neither was quite ready for the consequences of them moving beyond friendship, moving against her family’s wishes and decrees, but they let it happen anyway, some piece of their hearts holding on to the hope that someday they wouldn’t be hiding on a rooftop, stealing hungry kisses in the dark.

Peaky Blinders (Little Lady Blinder) Masterlist

Peaky Blinders (Non-Shelby!Sister) Masterlist

[ribbonprincess]

hi love, please ignore if you don’t like this request! After seeing drew and Liliana I was thinking about nanny/ babysitter x drew in Charleston. I would prefer smut but ignore if your not comfortable with it 💕

note: this has been sitting in my inbox for sooo long,I'm so sorry I just couldn't find inspo for it. Also got lost in it and made it super long. Reader has a tongue piercing

🪐࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

you're sitting with Drew on the patio outside the house,his sister Mackeyla went out with her husband for the day, so she left Liliana with you and Drew. You met through mutual friends that you both don't talk to anymore and since you like babies she asks to babysit Lili sometimes; so now you find yourself next to her brother who you may have a crush on.

"Keyla didn't tell me you were over today ya know, thought it was gonna be only me and Lili" "yeah...I thought the same actually" you chuckle,looking over at him as you eye each other with a knowing smile "she set us up!" It comes out at the same moment making you both laugh as the realization hits "I can't believe her" you shake your head at the thought,using your palm as a headrest. "well,guess we should make the most out of it then" Drew says, eyeing your sundress clad body,it was nothing crazy since you were looking after a 8 months old baby but it had incredibly hot in South Carolina so it was the best option if you didn't want to melt.

"Like what?" your eyebrows are furrowed as you smile softly at him "don't know...I would love getting to know you better,Keyla has said great things about you" "oh- did she? I hope so.." His body is slowly shifting closer to you,making the two-seater swing move slightly. "I like your perfume" he says,running a fingertip over the skin of your forearm "thank you" your answer comes out way breathier than you intend to but the feeling of his touch is way too affecting. His hand is slowly moving over your face,running over your shoulder and the curve of your neck where he stops for a second before he cups your cheek with a gentle smile.

"mind if I kiss you?" he whispers,already leaning in as you nod. His lips find yours as you lay a hand over his chest and the other on his shoulder "you taste like Cherries" he mumbles, grabbing your waist to manoeuvre you on his lap "I like it." Your hands are running all over his figure,over his buzzed head and then back down his biceps before they settle on holding on his neck. "I would love- to take you out on a date before this" he's pulling away from your mouth, making you almost whine before you're immediately shut by his lips finding their way over your neck "but I think I might go crazy if I don't feel you Immediately." His words are making you grin from ear to ear as they travel right down your core.

A pair of rough hands set the moves of your hips over the bulge in his jeans,making you moan as the material rubs just right against your cotton clad pussy. "gotta be quiet doll, we're outside and Lili is sleeping -she could wake up any moment" "shit,yeah yeah...I'll be quiet" you reply,knowing damn well it won't happen. One of Drew's hands moves southwards,running over your thigh before disappearing under your skirt immediately finding your mound. His index finger runs over the wet patch of your underwear before rubbing slow but firm circles over your clit "can I take these off, gorgeous?" His voice is soft,making you melt even more against his chest "hmhm.." "I need words,love" "yeah, please" He quickly presses a kiss to your temple muttering a "good girl" under his breath as he pushes your panties down your legs before pocketing them "gotta keep these for memory."

His words make you almost roll your eyes,but before you can even think about it one of his fingers is passing through your walls "there you go...'s fucking warm,hm" the way he's groaning against your collarbone makes you think he's the one getting pleasured. He quickly pushes another finger in finding a steady rhythm as they curl nicely against that sweet spongy spot. "god,you look gorgeous" He quickly undoes the bows holding the straps of your dress, revealing your chest to him "won't you look at these,fucking beautiful" he mumbles,wrapping his mouth around one of your nipples as his fingers continue to move in and out of you deliciously.

"fuck-" your voice is muffled,biting into his neck probably leaving an imprint behind as he adds another finger in making you clench around him as you feel yourself getting closer. "you're making such sweet noises,princess. You're getting there hm? You can let go,I'm right here" His lips move away from your breasts, trailing over your neck before they slot themselves back on yours "you're doing so good,just need you to cum for me sweet girl" His words are sending you down a spiral as you grind into his palm,his thumb rubbing circles over the tiny bundle of nerves as your moans start get more louder "cumming" your body shake over him for a long second before you fall completely still over him "good girl...feel much better huh,gonna clean me up?" he smirks, rubbing his sticky fingers over your bottom lip.

Your tongue rolls out to wrap around the digits,tasting yourself as you clean him off "fuck- what's that? you got a piercing I don't know about?" he raises an eyebrow once he pulls his fingers out of your mouth "well,shit...you gonna show me what you can do with it-" Your figure is already moving off the swing and between his legs before a loud cry from inside reminds you of the baby "well,guess that's gotta wait" you smile,standing up on shaky legs as you enter the house,feeling Drew's eyes bore into your skill.

[billcyphersballsack]

Actually no joke I need to see more slay the monster (or whatever the reverse au is called) content.

I need to see the princesses perspectives translated into voices I need to hear how they think how they process. So much of (some of) the perspectives power comes from their control over their situations and I wanna know what they’d do with that partially taken away

I need to see the voices translated into perspectives I need to see how their forms are twisted and shaped by the princesses interactions with them.

I NEED to see how the narrator would respond to the shift. The entire reason the voice of the hero initially puts doubt in the player and hints that the narrators word might not be law is by pointing out the obvious tonal dissonance of a hero SLAYING a princess rather than SAVING her. But that doesn’t exist with slay the monster. The narrator wouldn’t need to work as hard to convince the player that they’re doing “the right thing” cuz it’s a monster! It’s chained up and dangerous and going to hurt a lot of people if you don’t kill it! The voice of the princess (my decided title for the VOT Hero in this au cuz obviously the actual Princess would be called the shifting mound the same way we’re the long quiet) would then have to take an angle of “we’re supposed to protect our subjects and our people. Monster or not, isn’t that what this creature is?” Which is still an appeal to the common trope as well as your morality. The narrator would play into your role as a princess like crazy going on about your duty to protect the world you rule over and to save innocent people who’s lives are in your hands, basically what he does to the long quiet but more

Mostly though I just think an inverse of their situations in the cabin would be fun. The chapter one princess is such an interesting character because she’s not the perfect victim. Her honey sweet voice and her doe eyes and her innocent scared demeanour aren’t necessarily fabricated just overplayed. She is genuinely scared, that’s the part that’s true, everything else is a desperate appeal to your humanity that you’ll let her go. It becomes somewhat real in the damsel rout when you free her and warn her and fight tooth and nail to save her, but for the most part it’s for show. If you come down there with a knife or decide mid convo you’re actually gonna kill her for real she drops it. She’s harsh and cold and keeps you at arms length, she acts bored and above it all when she speaks to you picking at her nails and glaring at you. GRANTED THAT COULD ALL BE WRONG! Maybe the harsh and cold personality is the fictitious one, a front built up to protect herself from danger, and really the frightened and desperate personality is the real one. MAYBE THEY’RE BOTH REAL! OR MAYBE THEY’RE BOTH MADE UP. It’s probably that last one but for the sake of my bit we’re going with the first one.

The point is the princess tries to appear put together and composed in both these versions of her personality, but deep down she’s like a caged wild animal and isn’t afraid to act like a caged wild animal if she has to

Now imagine the inverse of that, for The Monster

Outwardly a beast who smarls and claws at every surface trying to break free from its prison. If you bring the blade it slinks into the far corner of the room and hisses and spits while you trying and communicate with it but if you go unarmed it will lunge at you held back by its chains just barely. It’s frightening it’s threatening there is no attempt to appeal to any morality or present a domineering front to strong arm you into doing what it wants, it’s just pure violence and fear, a creature who wears its emotions on its sleeve. Depending on what you do it’s iterations become more or less beastly (I’d imagine guys like Stubborn or Broken or Hunted or Cold would get even more violent or reactive but guys like Paranoid or Opportunist or Cheated or Contrarian would have a more pensive and thoughtful approach, you can decide for the rest) but as you play and as you try and speak with it you discover actually there’s a lot more complex thought behind its eyes, and once the fear subsides there’s a person with throught and feelings hiding under all those feathers and teeth. Also not the perfect victim, they also bite the hand that feeds, but like a little to the left you know

Can you tell? Can you tell it’s like a worm digging into my frontal lobe and eating away at my brain? Huh? Can you tell???

[starry-teacup]

sometimes I hear people talking about how shifty was cruel to her components, and the way the pieces of her were often terrified before being taken, and something about that doesn't sit right with me.

I always related to shifty because I have been many people in my life. And in a sense, every one of those people has died, been destroyed. But what does shifty say herself? I am speaking of something that cannot be done. To destroy is to remold and reshape. Those people aren't gone, per se, just moved out of the spotlight to make room for future evolution.

Sometimes it makes me sad how many of the old me's are gone now. I imagine speaking with them frequently, and yes, they are sad to have gone. Most wanted to keep going. But that's not how change works. If something is to begin, something else has to come to an end. We cannot enjoy the beauty of the prisoner and the beast and the thorn and the eye of the needle if we don't first say farewell to the stranger.

No one really wants to change. No one really wants to start again. But it's necessary. I cannot know what it is to be me without taking time to explore my facets left undiscovered. It doesn't mean that I no longer have room in my heart for the old ones, that I haven't loved the me's of the past, or contain none of them within me, just that I know that to live is to be changed. And each perspective of the Shifting Mound had been moved to the greatest extent to which it could change, and to continue on, a reset was necessary.

To view the Shifting Mound as being cruel to her selves is to ignore who she is as a whole in favor of the fragments that we like. The Shifting Mound was doing what was best for her to grow and to evolve as all beings do, and by extension, doing what was best for each individual princess. If someone were to get angry with me for becoming quite different than I was as a teenager, or a seven year old, then that would tell me that they didn't actually care for me, just the version of me that they liked.

It's time for the Shifting Mound to move on. Time for the Long Quiet to move on. It hurts, but it's what we need to truly get to explore and love ourselves, and we can't truly love the princess if we only love her for a piece of what she is, and try to limit her to the specific qualities we enjoy. It just isn't fair to any of them.

[phantombre]

Uh, oh.

Uh, oh.

UH, OH-

It's him. It's the most him of all time.

So, I know about Jester Contra, and I do enjoy Jester Contra. But my Contrarian decided he wanted a different career path: a magician! To show off his one and only magic trick: how to make the pristine blade disappear.

Apart from Narrator, who is his natural prey, I think his favorite victims friends he likes to torture mess with are Cheated and Stubborn. He knows not to take it too far, though. Stubborn could probably kill him with one blow, and Cheated will plot out his slow, dreadful demise.

I kinda wish I did more regarding Contra's relationship with Hero (I have so many ideas for Contrarian in general). Yes, I know about the ContraHero ship, and while I don't really ship anyone, I do understand where they come from. Especially this one.

Ayo? Austin Powers reference spotted? I personally think it would be hilarious if Narrator didn't know what Dutch people are, but Contrarian DOES.

In fact, a funny head cannon of mine is that Contra is the only character capable of breaking the fourth wall. Not the Narrator, not the Long Quiet, not even the Shifting Mound can do this. Only Contra.

Oh, yeah, I've nicknamed him Joyboy. Partially after [ERR: DATA EXPUNGED] from One Piece (if you know, you know. If you don't...uhh... Look, One Piece is a fantastic story, but it's really hard to recommend it. If you guys want, I can further rant about why in a separate post.)

You know, looking back on it, he looks eerily similar to Willy Wonka. I promise you, that's accidental.

Some other guys:

Narrator

Hero

Cheated "Jack"

Hunted "Frisky"

Broken "Fred"

Smitten "Rome"

Stubborn "Buster"

[mmikmmik]

I kind of don't feel like getting the endings of Slay the Princess that don't involve Shifty and the Long Quiet having their final argument, followed by LQ agreeing to leave with her and their departure in their fully godly forms. I definitely don't want to kill her or starve her. And I guess I can see the appeal in the ending with the Princess and the Hero, but it doesn't feel like the right ending for me.

I think a big part of why I think of the Shfiting Mound as the "real" "love interest" is because I judged the Damsel a bit unfairly - she falls apart if pressed, but I don't think that means she's not real, you know? All of the Princesses are only one aspect of the Shifting Mound, but they have their own complete hearts nevertheless. But I didn't really get that when I was first playing the game and got her as my first princess, so I definitely thought of the Shifting Mound as "more real". But I think my near-immediate "oh I see! this is my beautiful wife who I love very much" would have occurred anyway. I just really like her! She's beautiful and patient and contemplative, and really successful imo as a truly divine character - an embodiment of a powerful idea/force of nature, who can express a form of kindness but can't really be "good" or "bad" in a human sense.

I also, throughout my first playthrough, felt strongly that the interactions I was having, and the resulting princesses, were like gifts to Shifty. I really liked having a little chat with her and hearing her evaluation of their hearts, and I chose dialogue options for the Long Quiet as though he wanted to bring her vessels and would, if he remembered her at the start of each Chapter 1, have actively chosen to help her complete herself. So leaving together as the Shifting Mound and the Long Quiet, not as the Princess and the Hero, felt like what they were both working towards all along. And they only sort of argued about it because that back-and-forth, rough as it can get, is a natural part of how they relate to each other as gods who embody "opposite" concepts but love each other and want to be together (thesis, antithesis, synthesis...?). I wasn't even really arguing with Shifty, she just went into that spiel because I spent a really long time asking questions before we left. It was more of a passionate explanation than an attack. (And I let her keep going because it was awesome, not because I disagreed with it.)

Putting it like that, "bringing her vessels", it is rather cold, isn't it? I can see the case that the Princess and the Hero deserve more respect than that, that by leaving them behind Shifty and LQ are abandoning something worth having, something they could have explored together at that scale.

Anyway, what I want to say with this post is that like... Slay the Princess has, more than any other game I've ever played, given me the sense that the "true"/"best" ending is really up to the player. I feel like the story + central relationship changes really really dramatically if you don't perceive the Long Quiet as enchanted by the Shifting Mound and happy to be with her and learn more about her, and the dialogue options definitely give you a ton of room to play it either way. I feel that you can play the game so that the Shifty and LQ ending is the true ending, and you can play the game so that the Princess and Hero ending is the true ending.

It does make me more curious about the ending where... I haven't even looked into it enough to really know what happens, but you can kill the Shifting Mound, can't you? Or you can "starve" her by withholding vessels? My gut reaction to the Narrator is "lmao dumbass" - I don't think he understands what he's talking about, and I don't trust his evaluation that a world without the Shifting Mound would be worth living. Just the way his scenario immediately got fucked up makes it seem to me like he doesn't have a strong grasp on the metaphysics. You can't just pick out all the parts of a major universal concept like "change" that you like and throw out all the bits that you don't! But I also don't think this game, with its writing philosophy, would really have a "bad ending" in that kind of sense, you know? I seriously doubt there's an ending that would just be like "you fucked up". But I also feel like... the way the game is written, I kind of feel like I have the freedom as the person engaging with it to say... "this ending is bad, For The Game As I Played It". Does that make sense? I'm definitely touching on complicated questions of narrative theory that smarter people than me have definitely engaged with more substantively haha.

[tapestryundone]

yknow what why not. have this from last night

(just the text under the cut)

IM INTRIGUED BY WHATEVER HE HAS GOING ON bc he likes fun but seems also deeply unhappy with himself which FEELS like it contradicts his whole being Like That but it makes Sense. why is he so self consious

it FEELS related to him as a voice being like. a desperate desire for agency at all costs. to be able to have fun in an extremely stressful situation. im struggling to put my finger on it but its liek

all of the voices are tied to complex emotions and hes like. the epitome of trying to get someone to leave you alone by doing anything you can to piss them off. like hes decided he Likes to do that, actually, and its NOT a desperate attempt to gain control in a situation where he has none, bc hes genuinely compassionate but it gets hidden behind the fact that he wants to upset hte narrator. hes the opposite of the opportunist in that he doesnt want to appeal to people who have power over him, he doesnt want to fight them or run away from them, all he wants is to aggravate them because he doesnt think he CAN do anything else. its pestering someone bc its the most power you can exert against people and situations you dont wanna be in, and then convincing yourself that its what you wanted in the first place

as a guy who likes fun DOES make him clash w the tones of a LOT of the game but i think its like. easy to look at the other voices and pinpoint what survival mechanism they are and then contrarian shows up and its less obvious

but hes a persons NEED to have fun, similar to cold. where cold has rejected the notion of emotions but still seeks novelty, contrarian NEEDS to experience joy and is trying to force it to happen, even if it involves goading the others or making bad long-term decisions. hes a very emotion-heavy voice and i think thats probably WHY hes quick to feel guilt and shame, bc it stems from teh same need to feel satisfied with actions and your environment, because in a situation like this, you CANT get entertainment from yourself. but he cant entertain anyone but himself. but he cant actually do that because its weak, poorly executed attempts at levity that falls apart under pressure

idk if this makes ANY sense im just intrigued by him. bc the stranger route started as a joke but it seems to serve as the BIGGEST outlier of a chapter in the whole game to teh pt where it can give you an entirely new ending that even goes so far as to include a second voice in the ending which makes me feel like he has to be important SOMEHOW

maybe its just the underlying emotions of it all. above all else, people want to enjoy life. it doesnt matter if life is stagnant, or if life is a unending cascade of changes, because its only bad if the people it affects do or dont enjoy it. because what the world does and doesnt need revolves around if it makes you feel good. hell i feel like theres a case for the fact that the contrarian ALWAYS gives you new, novel options. he ADDS change wherever he goes. hes the among the most connected to the shifting mound of the voices in that what he wants changes by the moment because what he wants above all else IS change and novelty. and hes a persons need for joy in life, something that is so distinctly mortal, to not just exist but to ENJOY existing, something that the narrator gave the long quiet and the shifting mound. he just extremely represents choices that are Out There. and the fact that the contrarian ascribes "the courage to do things that others may not do" as being him is ALSO interesting to me. maybe hes not just a persons ability to seek joy but also a persons ability to push back against outside pressure. a complement to the heros desire and conviction for agency, being the ability to push back when that agency is denied, to be able to live and feel fulfilled through ones OWN choices, not someone elses

and in an environment that so often denies that agency, his Whole Deal is trying to wrench back that agency even if he knows it wont work. the Trying IS the point. but in spending so much time trying to wrestle agency back you dont really pay attention to situations where you dont need to do that. because as far as hes concerned, you dont have agency, cant have agency, and wont have agency, so the best he can do is be a dick about it. as far as hes concerned, choices dont really matter. if everything is changing, if you can make EVERY choice, then do those choices matter? which always shocks him when they DO. because as an entity that exists to try to piss off those denying you agency, you dont realize where the line between 'choices that dont matter' and 'choices that have effects' are. but by his nature he ALWAYS forces his actions to matter without realizing it. maybe THATS why the knife never comes back after he throws it away. because it is in his nature to allocate agency where there previously was none. to the detriment of Literally Everyone

guy who makes agency exist but doesnt realize hes causing that and keeps acting like his choices dont have consequences

and that in itself is like. his comment abt EVERYTHING being as bad as nothing. feels like it rly strongly is tying him to what tlq and tsm once were. because they used to be the combination of everything and nothing. but now they are everything and nothing, apart. and maybe thats part of where contrarians weird self consciousness comes from, because his very existence is to force EVERYTHING to be possible, to do EVERYTHING, to cause as much change as possible, but its still not what he wants, he wants a balance that doesnt exist anymore

idk if this is making ANY sense i feel like ive accidentally talked into circles like 50 times but out of all of the voices the context of his purpose intrigues me the most actually bc i think everyone else has pretty straightforward purposes and then theres. This Guy who JUST causes problems. but its weirdly sincere about it. and i think its intentional bc blacktabbygames does not shy away from making Guys Who Are Just Obnoxious and unwavering in their goals, and for how much each of the voices so adamantly resist yet desire change, contrarian and hero are both the most malleable and changing

[wintergrofyuri]

ok hi im back again. can we talk about the hero harem. i wanna talk about the hero harem.

so. what do i mean by this. well, think of a dating sim. now stop thinking about a dating sim bc its not anything like the hero harem. the hero harem is an all you can eat buffet. a basket of bread at a restaurant. chips and dip.

the hero harem is a game of hungry hungry hippos.

see, we can all agree that hero is like. the de facto leader. he's kind and empathetic. a nice guy. easy to get along with. but most importantly: he's the voice you start with. the one you always have. the closest to the long quiet. the closest to the shifting mound as well. this means something probably. but most importantly, it means something to the other voices. they're disjointed and argumentative and the only thing keeping them together is sharing a body.

now, what happens when you give them their own bodies? chaos. absolute fucking chaos. probably some attempted murder as well. but hero wldnt let that happen. he's the glue holding them together. their rock.

what im getting at is, they're all codependant as fuck. clinginess varies but its present in all of them. always an arm around his shoulders or hand on his arm or. just hands everywhere. they're all very touchy in my mind. physical sensation is very novel to them and they want to get everything out of it they can. preferably with their hero.

you may be wondering. do they fight? do they tug at him like a barbie doll? growl and tug like dogs with a rope? maybe a little. in subtle ways. but its more like a class pet type situationship. he is theirs collectively. they pass him around like a bottle of bud lite is what im saying. like "its been one of those days. pass the hero" ykno. they all have their grubby little claws on him. and if we're adding the vessels? oh my god its like a fucking joint at a party. they are all in that shit. like cheeto dust on ur fingers. but like. its feather dust.

anyways, hero is a little silly guy who loves affection he's soaking this shit up dont worry about him. they feed him, they walk him. he gets plenty of sunlight ykno. its fine. hes fine.

[golvio]

Tried the Damsel route today.

This shot and the sequence leading up to it is probably one of the most disturbing things in the whole game. It's to existential horror what the Prisoner sawing her own head off was to physical horror. If anything, the Prisoner's autodecapatation is now less horrifying, in retrospect, because at least she got to keep her personality and free will throughout the process.

But, also...even in the routes where we don't mean to hurt her, where we do everything in our power to avoid physically hurting her...we still hurt her.

Even if we came in here with the very best of intentions and tried to "do the right thing," we still hurt her by our thoughts and desires hollowing her out until she was reduced to...this.

Going through the "happy" version of the ending didn't feel so triumphant, after that. Not just because the ending wasn't quite as satisfying from a narrative standpoint without any sort of conflict to struggle against, but because the whole time it felt like she was following a script. Apart from the vague impulse to leave that all Princesses possessed, she'd been hollowed out of everything that had made her...well, her, before Chapter II. She didn't panic when the door shut, she didn't stop smiling when we suggested she might end the world or have to cut off her arm a second time. The only thing we noticed about her in Chapter I was her lack of response to pain and her sweet smiles, and our fantasies hollowed her out until she became nothing but that.

Can we say she was "happy" if she lacked the capacity to be anything but "happy" with our choices for her? Can you call that love? Or is it something that's even lonelier than outright being alone?

Honestly, it was a relief when the Shifting Mound took her. Seeing her made so shallow felt incredibly cruel, given who she was before she was flattened, and what she would've been capable of if we had done literally anything else. At that point, "You molded her to love you" and "She has served her purpose" felt like both an observation and an accusation.

But, given that my time with the Damsel was paired with Shifty's third vessel dialogue...it got me thinking about what She wants.

She says She doesn't want anything, that She's governed by the whims of whatever force is shaping Her at the moment, but...is She really happy, having who She is be subject to the whims of who's perceiving Her? Is She okay with not being able to hold a shape She's discovered she likes as soon as someone else perceives Her to be something different? Would She ever want to take a break from...all that? After all, She's drawn to us. The Long Quiet. The god of eternity and order. On a certain level, She craves stability.

Is her "gift" to us what She's secretly wanted all along? The power to choose Her own fate, Her own identity, and the power to change it if She doesn't like the path She's on? And what does that say about our gifts? Do we yearn for the completion we offer her through the vessels, given that we keep shattering to pieces every time we go back into the breach and start the loop again? Is this some kind of wacky flipped-upside-down Gift of the Magi situation where each of us gives the other what they yearn for but lack due to our being permanently separated into two beings against our will?

[strixcattus]

Every Ending is a Bad Ending: A Slay the Princess Analysis

I've had this in my drafts since... February. Since the Pristine Cut is in less than a week, and will add an entirely new ending to the lineup, I figured it would be best to get this finished, polished (or at least casually looked over), and posted beforehand.

Slay the Princess is a game that makes zero judgement about which ending you choose to pursue. Sure, some characters may make their own standpoints clear, but aside from the "Good Ending" (and we all know what that ending really means and is) there's never an official indicator if you've reached the "proper" ending, because there is no proper ending. There are six different endings (Stranger variants and And Everyone Hates You notwithstanding—they can be folded into the others), each of which has its own nuanced set of implications and each of which is given an equal amount of care from the developers.

And each of which, when you take the time to think about it from every angle, kind of sucks. A lot.

None of this is a judgement on the game itself. I like it, actually! Every ending forces you to make some form of sacrifice in the name of another priority, which keeps any one of them from being cast in a light as "the best ending." (While there are definitely endings that could be cast as "the worst ending," they're still narratively interesting and there's no shame put on achieving them.)

I. The Good Ending

This is the ending the Narrator wants you to pursue, though it's hardly an ending compared to the others. You've really only got one chance to pursue it—once you've met the Shifting Mound, it's too late to go back, so the Good Ending inevitably means a truncated run.

It also means a couple other things, which are worse. First and most obviously, it means the same thing as A New and Unending Dawn—you've killed the concept of death and transformation, and with that ended both of those things, forever, at the Narrator's behest. His world will persist in stasis ad infinitum, and whatever fragment of the Shifting Mound is within you, whatever change and meaning it preserves, the world will be changed drastically, and it's entirely possible that not all the people within it will think that's for the better. But this is a topic for A New and Unending Dawn.

Besides, the player—which is to say, the Long Quiet, not that he knows he is the Long Quiet, the one on the opposite side of the screen from you, the one experiencing all of this—doesn't know any of that. He doesn't know anything. He's just following orders, and now he's received his reward.

His reward is, as the Narrator tells him, eternal, boring bliss. And so it is—if he perceives what the Narrator says as true, then it will be. He'll be happy, and nothing else, for all eternity.

Doesn't bode particularly well for what's happening in places that aren't the cabin, but I said that was going to wait.

The player's awareness, in effect, ends. Sure, he's going to remain alive for eternity, but nothing is going to happen with that life. He's given up his agency, the possibility for experience, and everything else that might make up the definition of life on a more philosophical level.

Which brings us to a point that's going to crop up in different ways throughout this post. Slay the Princess is a game with more than three characters.

The player is not alone in the cabin, but given enough time, someone else might be.

The Voice of the Hero, your only companion who seems to be unilaterally on your side, is stuck in this cabin with you, and he isn't as happy about it as the Narrator tells you you are. He doesn't believe the Narrator's words, even if you choose to, and so he isn't affected by them as you are. He isn't happy, eternally. He doesn't lose his self-awareness to the now-meaningless flow of time, even though you do. If you choose to set down onto the Good Ending, you can hear him pleading for you to get up and take back your choice, but you can't actually act on his words past the first decision point. You've given up your agency, your self, your possibility to change entirely.

Hero is still there. He's still aware, and he will be for eternity. He'll get to experience time in a meaningful way, his only company an Echo (who may or may not fade, and even if he doesn't he likely won't be very good companionship in the face of a dull eternity) and someone who has completely given up their personhood.

This ending may or may not be apocalyptic for the world, and it may or may not be horrifying for the Long Quiet, but there's no arguing that it isn't torture for the Hero.

II. There Are No Endings

This was the first ending I got, and I will say I felt forced into it. Not by the game itself, necessarily—just knowing what the Princess was, and what killing her would mean, I felt as though the only proper option was to allow her to continue on. Death is an essential part of the workings of things, and transformation as a whole is even more crucial—though, even if all the Shifting Mound represented was death, my actions wouldn't have been any different. The game made no judgement—the only things forcing my hand were my own beliefs.

The exact implications of killing the Shifting Mound and ridding the world of death, I'll save for the ending where that actually happens. The general idea is, it's not desirable. The Narrator's world is going to end, and the healthiest way for the cosmos to go on is to allow the Princess to be what she is and create a new world in the shadow of the old.

For the Narrator's world, this is obviously not ideal. It ends. But there's going to be a new world created when it does, and that world will flourish as it was meant to, and when it dies a new world will be born, on into eternity. The progression of the cosmos is the same as it was before—which is probably the best way for it to be, compared with your other options.

For the Long Quiet, though... this isn't the worst experience he could be having. He could be effectively nonexistent. He could be actually nonexistent. Compared to that, a thousand dawns and a thousand sunsets, each containing a thousand more, with your other half by your side isn't all that bad.

But you're alone. Yes, you have the Shifting Mound by your side, but she's the only companionship you'll ever get for the rest of eternity. I'd like to call some attention to a few of her lines throughout the game at this point, just to highlight why I consider this ending to be just as bad as the next one on the list (though, to be sure, they're not necessarily bad in the same ways or for the same people).

"It doesn't matter if there are. People are too small for us. You and I are the only things that interest me."

"There is a warmth and sadness in me at the thought of people. Fresh tears on a winter's day. They are not like us. They do not last."

These are a couple lines from the fourth time you enter the Long Quiet. Depending on how well you've treated the Princesses you encounter, the Shifting Mound's dialogue changes, but there's always an underlying implication that you and her are more important than people.

If you deny the Princesses their freedom more often than you grant it, you get the first variation (of which there are two versions—the other has her calling people "frail and impermanent"), where you have the chance to ask her if she thinks there will be people in the worlds beyond the Long Quiet. She immediately dismisses your question, saying that people do not interest her.

If you grant the Princesses their freedom more often than you deny it, you get the second variation. Here, the Shifting Mound is the one to ask you what you think you will find, and one of your options is to say that you think there's supposed to be people. Her line above is her response to that. She's more sympathetic towards people, but still describes them as unlike you and her. Even at her kindest, she still believes the two of you to be greater than people—and to be fair, you are—but she never seems to care about people in quite the same way the player does.

"A person. A set of eyes witnessing from one perspective. I think that you are more like me than you are like a person."

She says this the first time you meet, but until you're awoken to your true nature, from your perspective you are more like a person than you are like her. You fear death and experience each iteration of the Construct from your own perspective and no other. And even when you reach the mirror, and remember that you are more than a person, you still remember being one. It's not clear she does the same.

Remember, at this point you're certain that you've witnessed, four times now, the only people you've ever been able to fully trust die. You don't have the option to avoid it. At my first encounter with this line (for context and clarity, it was one of the "It doesn't matter if there are" lines), I was thinking of the Voices when I mentioned people—because that's what they are, by her definition. Singular perspectives capable of death. And she shuts them down, insisting that they do not matter.

To be clear, it's not my intention to and I would never bash the Shifting Mound. Maybe at one time I would, and maybe some of my initial feelings are still preserved in my writing here—I wouldn't be able to tell. But I've grown past resentment on this point—I'm simply outlining the way in which the Shifting Mound seems to view people other than her and the Long Quiet.

What, exactly, does this all mean from an objective perspective? I've only been talking about subjective views on the Shifting Mound so far. Maybe your perspective is different from mine. What's really going on?

Let's start with the world side—moreso recap, but it's been a bit of digression and I think we could use one. As I said earlier, this is probably the best outcome for the world. Yes, it ends. It had to end. There is no good outcome for the Narrator's world—it's either end and be reborn, or persist in a manner I'll save for the next ending.

This might be the best-case scenario. Existence persists in a healthy manner. The cycle of death and rebirth continues. Everything is okay, generally. Life retains meaning. Countless worlds are born and live full lives.

But you? You are alone with someone who does not grasp the value that you place in the people within those worlds. She values that which spans the cosmos—you, and her, and the worlds you create. She does not pay attention to what goes on within them, but you do, because you've lived it.

Or maybe you're willing to embrace godhood and leave behind people. I'm not, but I'm only one person and my opinions are not paramount. The Long Quiet does seem to care about people enough that he always has the option to bring them up, and he's experienced living as one, but that's not enough to base a full argument on. Maybe the god of stasis can change his mind. So let's talk about something that definitely does happen.

Those Voices? Your friends? The collective of people who have been by your side this whole time? Yeah, they're gone. They died at the mirror. You know this.

She is a creature of perception, and you are perception itself. She becomes that which people perceive her to be—which is why you cannot alter her once you awaken. You're not a person anymore.

But you are still perception. The world is that which you perceive it to be. Her vessels are within her, empty—even during your final confrontation, their words (notably, her referring to the Apotheosis in third person) show that they are not speaking, but she is speaking through them. Whether or not they were always a part of her, she sees them as nothing more.

Were your Voices nothing more than parts of you? It doesn't matter anymore. You perceive them as gone, dead at the mirror, and so they are. You are alone, forever, with her.

Maybe you're happy like that. Maybe you looked at the choice between her and the Voices, and decided you'd rather have her. But the Voices are dead either way. They don't even get to persist in a space away from you.

And if you aren't happy, well. You'll have an eternity to try to change that.

III. A New and Unending Dawn

Here's the big one—the full 180 from There Are No Endings. The Narrator's second chance, and this one is, let's face it, probably better for the Long Quiet from an objective standpoint. He's not wasting away alone in a room, and none of the Voices are left stranded as they watch the only other thing they know fade into nothing.

In fact, this is one of only two endings where you don't have to leave behind the voices—either in them persisting while you fade, or in them dying while you persist into eternity, or in you leaving them behind forever. This time, you get to keep them by your side as you rule your eternal kingdom. Hopefully they're not too mad at you.

This is probably one of the better outcomes for the Voices and the Long Quiet, though it's definitely not ideal. You've still been forced to kill your other half, and even though you may have deemed it necessary, it's not a great experience.

And you have no idea what that means for the world.

Sure, you know what you just killed. The concept of death. The Capacity to Change. Transformation, or most of it. Without her, the world will persist for an eternity, and so too will the people within it. There will never be an end of the world. There will never be a new dawn beyond your own.

Or will there be an end of the world? There certainly will be a change in how it functions. Will the small piece of Transformation within you be enough to preserve change and meaning in what is left behind? Most of the Voices seem to have positive reactions to the new iteration of the world, though none of you have actually seen it yet. You don't actually know how things are going to work, only that you have the power to perceive them this time. A step up from the "Good Ending."

Let's go back to the Good Ending for a second. I did say we were going to.

Remember how it goes? You're trapped for eternity, happy, forever. And, to be sure, this partly stems from your own perception. If you believe the Narrator when he says you're happy, you'll be happy. The Voice of the Hero doesn't, and so he isn't, and he has to watch you fade away.

But the fact that this can happen, that it is in fact the Narrator's ideal ending, does not bode well. Is this a fate that awaits some of the people in your new world? Will some of them end up fading away, unable to die or to find meaning in a world that cannot change aside from "happiness forever?" You can't say this for sure, but you also can't deny it for sure.

Eternity is not friendly, or at least it has the potential to hurt quite a bit, even if that isn't guaranteed. The one solace is that, at least, the people you've doomed to it will not be alone. They may miss those who died too soon, and they'll have eternity to continue doing so, but they will not be alone.

Whatever you've done, everyone will get to suffer it together. Forever.

IV. Just as You Once Were Nothing

Let's take a break from the standard endings and consider the implications of what happens when you abandon the Shifting Mound entirely. You refuse to perceive her, and since she is shaped by perception, in your refusal you deny her an existence. Eventually, you run out of time to make any sort of amends, and the two of you persist by sheer force of (your) will until you give up and you both fade to oblivion.

This is probably by far the most uncertain of the endings—every ending carries with it the question of what will happen to the world, but this one adds the question of what will happen to you. What exactly happens after you fade? Do you return to your prior existence as an unconscious cycle? Is this effectively the same as slaying the Princess? Whichever it is, the one certainty is that you won't be around to see it.

Most likely, you and the Shifting Mound's annihilation is a bleaker future for the outside world than any other ending. With her gone, the capacity for death is eliminated, but the player also perishes, taking with him the fragment of the Shifting Mound that was meant to ensure that life would persist in some meaningful form. The entirety of Transformation is wiped out, as is the entirety of the Long Quiet.

What, exactly, is the Long Quiet? It's never stated. He is the other half of the cycle of life and death, the counterpart to the Shifting Mound. She is a creature of perception, and he is the one who perceives. She is that which enables death, and he is that which has the capacity to end it. She is the Shifting Mound, the Ebb and Flow, the Capacity to Change, and he is the Long Quiet, the... capacity to not change? She is Transformation, or most of it, and he holds the rest within whatever he is that isn't transformation.

The two of them, combined, form the whole of existence. And without either, it seems likely that a true end of the world will arise, one beyond which there is not and will never be a new dawn. The exact object of the Narrator's fears made manifest.

Suffice to say, this is not good for anyone. At least the player doesn't have to sit with what he's done, unlike in the previous ending.

Or maybe you aren't annihilated. Maybe you just lose consciousness and become a mindless cycle again. There's no way to know anything except that the Long Quiet, as he is, is now dead.

V. And? What Happens Next?

That is the question. I gather that this is considered in the court of collective opinion to be one of the better endings, and it's easy to see why—I myself, when I first reached it, commented that "as far as I'm concerned, this is the good ending." But there's still a lot left uncertain, and there's still a sacrifice you have to make.

When you leave the final cabin, the Shifting Mound is gone around you, replaced by a starry sky similar to the one in the Construct. You never get to see what lies beyond the door or to get any clues as to what happened to the outside world.

I don't think there's any strong evidence to the idea that you've somehow harmed the world itself by abandoning your godhood. The Princess states that she is separate on some level from the Shifting Mound, and killing Her is a choice you have to intentionally make. But is it unchanged? And will you and the Princess ever get to see the world you chose not to sacrifice?

These questions don't have answers. Maybe the concept of Transformation gets on just fine without a mind behind it—whatever cycle the two of you once were certainly seemed to. Maybe it's altered, somehow. Maybe the Shifting Mound's personhood manages to persist without her heart, even. There's no way to know and not even the barest evidence to support any theory, so I won't consider it any further.

But when you step outside the door, where will you end up? The world outside the Construct is typically represented with color—the green new growth in the Networked Wild's peek behind the curtain and "There Are No Endings," or the orange star in "A New and Unending Dawn." All you get in this ending is a colorless night sky, identical to what you'd see if you were still in the Construct. Are you still there, trapped with no way out now that you and the Princess have both given up your godhood? It's possible. It's also possible that you do have a way out, a way back to the world you've never been able to see clearly.

You don't know, though. You've given up your right to knowing what will happen next. And that's not the only thing you've given up—your Voices, or at least the one or ones you know are still there, remain in the cabin, while you leave them for whatever happens next.

You're just as alone here as you are in There Are No Endings. The only difference is that in that ending, you know exactly what happens to the world and to you.

VI. You're on a Path in the Woods...

...and at the end of that path is a cabin. And in the basement of that cabin is a Princess.

You're here to slay her. If you don't, it will be the end of the world.

This one is a bit different from the rest. It's... not really an ending at all, but the refusal of one. You're pushing your resolution further down the line in the hopes that another you will know what decision to make... or that they'll keep choosing to perpetuate the Construct forever.

There's just as much uncertainty here as in And? What Happens Next?, though it's loaded in different places. You know exactly what happens to you, and the Princess, and even your Voices—this is one of only two endings, alongside A New And Unending Dawn, where you get to keep them with you.

What you don't know is how things will resolve in the end, or even if they ever will. For all you know, you could be somewhere in the middle of a never-ending cycle. And, you know, maybe you're okay with that. But what if a future you makes a choice you aren't okay with?

And what happens to the world in the meantime? The Narrator's world is still dying, and Transformation is still alive. Her being in the Construct isn't going to solve anything—if it would, you wouldn't need to slay her. Maybe the world will die if you keep doing this over again forever. Maybe it already has, and that's a new, worse wrinkle for the endings where you follow through with the Narrator's plan.

Maybe the world will die, and a new one will be born. Maybe the world will die, and a new one won't be born. Maybe you're somehow keeping the world in stasis until you make a choice. Maybe it doesn't matter to you, because you'll never see the world if you keep on like this.

But the things you can see? You, and the Princess, and your Voices, and even the Narrator? You're all still alive and well, and no one has to be left behind, and you will continue to be for as long as you keep choosing to reset the Construct.

You just have to keep forgetting, and to keep refusing to choose a true ending.

Conclusion

In conclusion, every ending in Slay the Princess forces you to make a tough choice and to choose something to sacrifice in favor of whatever you've decided to prioritise.

The Good Ending is one of the most straightforward, and in fact you gain very little aside from the accomplishment of the Narrator's goal—you sacrifice your chance at knowing what's really happening and leave the Voice of the Hero to an eternity alone.

There Are No Endings forces you to sacrifice your Voices and your connections to people, in order to keep the cycle of life and death intact and live an eternity of guarantee with your counterpart.

A New And Unending Dawn sacrifices the Princess and the cycle of life and death, in order to give an unknown vision of eternity to the current world and to retain all your Voices alongside all your memories.

Just As You Once Were Nothing is another ending with heavy sacrifices and minimal or no gains. You give up your Voices, your chance at knowledge, the Princess, and even your own life, and there's no way to know what happens once you fade.

And? What Happens Next? sacrifices your Voices, though in this one you at least know they're alive, and your knowledge of what awaits you post-ending. But it allows you to refuse both the Narrator's desire for eternity and the Shifting Mound's dismissal of people, and to retain the Princess and, presumably, the cycle of life and death.

You're On A Path In The Woods... is the one ending where everything you can and will see, you keep. What you sacrifice here is nothing material, but rather the ending itself, always refusing to move forward.

Every ending forces you to give something up, though some sacrifices may seem more worthy or less devastating than others, and perspective colors them all. But there is no "happy ending" to be found here, no way to have an objectively good outcome, and that is by design. Every ending is a bad ending, and that's one of the things that makes this game so great.