#Hollow Kingdoms Update

[hollowedkingdoms]

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!

Good morning and Merry Christmas to all those who celebrate it! I hope that not just today, but all of your holiday season is jolly and bright. I also have a present for all of you today!

I have been working with a lovely artist named Timepool to help create these Hollow Knight Themed 5e Character sheets for you to enjoy using at your own games! There is a purely printable version and a fillable PDF version for whatever playstyle you enjoy the most.

You can find these character sheets on our Hollowed Kingdoms Discord Server:

#hollowed kingdoms #hollow knight #dnd 5e #Character Sheets #dnd 5e homebrew #I am not sure how to put the pdfs here but if anyone does know please message me so I can update this post

[peridots-pixiwolf]

the bugs are goin to pride :D

#can't believe I actually managed to finish this in less than a day #i like to imagine there are kingdoms beyond hallownest that get sunlight and real skies #anyway! yeah molini and hawkbeard are trans and none of them are straight #bugs #hollow knight #caramel hk #hawksbeard hk #molini hk #peridots-art #peridots-ocs #hk ocs #jan 3 2023: been changed a lil (cara's aro not ace / molini's demisexual / hawks is ace) but haven't updated #jun 6 2023: well ya might want to look at my most recent post for that bestie :3

[elegantsplendour]

Fire and Storm

Summary: As the Seven Kingdoms hesitated between the Blacks and the Greens, Aemond stood ready to flip the script.

Dance of the Empire inspired one shot.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Lannister! reader, mentioned Aegon II Targaryen x Lannister! reader

Note: Hi my dearies, I’m so sorry I haven’t been active in the last month. Transitioning from Montreal to Toronto has been a lot to handle. But the good news is that I got elected as student council vp in my new school🤪. Here is a one shot inspired by my first fic Dance of the Empire (a bit spoiler). I will be back writing all the three fics and will try to update weekly. Thank you all for sticking with me❤️❤️❤️

Warnings: major character death

Tagging my friends :) @qyburnsghost @lovelykhaleesiii @boundlessfantasy @vhagarswar @purple-writer8 @valeska-fics @lexi-anastasia @f4ll-for-you

Within the chilling walls of the seat of House Baratheon, the hearth held a flame that danced rebelliously, threatening to bite those misfortunate enough to find themselves in proximity. Torrential water poured mercilessly from the sky while the wind howled ruthlessly. Sealed by the solid bricks of the castle, the flames, fragile compared to the frightful storm yet unpredictable and dangerous in nature, continued to consume silently.

The silver haired prince sat calmly by the scorching heat, his long fingers brushing against each other. It had been two days since the Lord of Storm’s End pledged allegiance to the prince’s elder brother, called by some the Usurper, in return for a marriage pact between the prince and one of the lord’s daughters. Amidst the looming threat of a deadly civil war, every second counted, but his delay was calculated. Aemond had been waiting silently and patiently for his nephew's arrival, much like a flame waiting to devour its fuel.

A servant knocked by the door, bowed and announced the news. Without a word, he arose from the chair and paced through the solemn hall of the castle with stately ease. The effortless regality exuded from his presence was as if he was on his way of being coronated. A sharp curl appeared on the corner of his thin lips as he recalled his drunken and debauched brother , expecting the Conqueror’s Crown on his head like an infant. With each step Aemond took, he felt himself drawing nearer to his desires: power and her.

Aemond Targaryen wanted everything and was ready to steal, scheme and slaughter.

Unlike his half sister Rhaenyra, the named heir of the late King Viserys, or his brother Aegon, born with the title of the first born son, Aemond Targaryen's life was a battle, a relentless one against a seemingly inescapable destiny of becoming another insignificant Targaryen royal, riding an ordinary dragon, holding a hollow position in court, accompanied by a mediocre noble woman, doomed to be forgotten in history.

However, when his mother suggested betrothing him to the eldest daughter of Tyland Lannister, he was taken aback. Could he, the overlooked second son, really be promised the "Beauty of Casterly Rock" and an alliance with the house guarding mountains of gold? Promises were a strange to the One-Eyed Prince, as he had always been a taker, much like he had claimed the largest dragon in the world. The fleeting memories of the golden lady of emerald eyes all appeared to him a cruel jest. The tender moments of her smiles were overshadowed by her anguished cries upon learning that she had been bartered off to Aemond’s elder brother Aegon, who would rather bury himself between the legs of harlots of the Flea Bottom.

Contained fury blazed in his chest as Aemond watched the young Lucerys Velaryon, his bastard nephew, who had taken his eye eight years ago.

Lucerys conveyed with a trembling voice Rhaenyra’s message to the Lord of Storm’s End. Aemond paid no attention to the words coming out of his mouth. His one violet eye burnt a hole in the quivering messenger. His throat throbbed with thirst for retribution as the flashes of scarlet and black that had blinded his eye when Lucerys’ blade had cut through his flesh.

This rage was tainted with despair, for what he truly desired was taken by his own kin and given to his brother. He soon realized he had nothing left to lose.

With that, as the Lord of Storm’s End dismissed the Velaryon impatiently, the prince’s shadowy figure also disappeared in the hall as he watched Lucerys mounting his pathetic and minuscule dragon Arrax while the storm still raged on.

Soon, the monstrous Vhagar hovered over the young dragon. The lightning tearing through the black sky and roaring of thunder were music to Aemond Targaryen’s ears, as if the gods were in awe of this spectacle of terror. In the face of raw power commanded by the largest dragon of the world, neither Lucerys, Rhaenyra, Aegon, nor even the games of thrones stood a chance. Aemond was the second son who inherits nothing he doesn’t seize for himself. Addicted to the intoxicating scent of the lioness of Casterly Rock and the adrenaline rushing in his veins from being on top of the world, Aemond whispered to the green beast, “Ipradagon.”

Eat

Scarlet blurs flashed before him, followed by a haunting dragon squeal echoed before him with no one but him to bear witness to the gruesome bloodshed. While others might see flesh and dragon bones plummeting from the sky, Aemond saw a vision of the Conqueror’s Crown landing on his head. While his mother, the Dowager Queen, sought to suppress the war, Aemond stroked the anger bubbling in Rhaenyra. And what better way than slaying her favourite son?

War were precisely what he craved; for war breeds to fear, fear spawns to chaos, and chaos is a ladder.

As the Seven Kingdoms hesitated between the Blacks and the Greens, Aemond stood ready to flip the script.

All his life, he had been but a sword wielded at another’s will. At that moment, Aemond Targaryen became the master of his own terror, and the realm would watch a second son rise to rule the continent.

#aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #hotd #aemond the kinslayer #hotd aemond #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen x oc #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen imagines #aemond x reader #aegon targaryen #aegon targaryen x reader #rhaenyra targaryen #lucerys velaryon #asoiaf

[wenutted]

Platonic!Ghost/The Knight x Higher Being!Reader

Requested by: @infectious-flytrap

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Warnings: Not much, just spoilers for Hollow Knight, and the Dream No More ending.

Notes: you didn't quite specify if you had a scenario in mind or not, which is fine- at the time of writing this, I haven't updated my rules to ask that. Regardless, due to the vagueness, I just made some general headcannons

Additionally, I tried to keep the reader's lore and appearance ambiguous as possible, but with such a lore-filled game, it was kinda hard to not add a butt ton of background.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

-> You were here before the Radiance, and before the Wyrm. You were the original higher being in Hallownest, so to speak.

However, unlike them, you wished not for dominion. You didn't want a kingdom, nor subjects. You merely desired to sleep your days away, in the deepest pit of the kingdom; The Abyss.

And so, you did. Neither of the beefing monarchs paid you any mind, too caught up in their own battle for dominance. You slept for many, many years- peacefully.

Until, eventually, you're awoken by a pitter-patter feeling against your shell, accompanied by loud cracks.

You've been aware of the fast spreading plague for some time now, as well as the Pale King's plan to create a hollow vessel, born of void. There was no problem with it. What you didn't expect, however, was for him to also use your territory as a dumping ground.

The sounds of tiny vessels climbing and crawling against your shell made sleeping near impossible. Yet still, you didn't move.

——————

-> Time passed, and you eventually became accustomed to the thousands upon thousands of baby shades that inhabited the Abyss. Although, you swear, the next time another uninvited guest falls into your den, and onto your back, you swear to whatever god is possibly above you, you're going to-

Plop!

Oh my fucking god.

"Who goes there?!" You yell, finally moving for the first time in decades, and rising to your full height. Low and behold, the one disturbing your slumber is none other than a tiny vessel, stumbling back as they tightly clutch at their nail. You almost laugh at the idea of fighting them.

"Stand down, little spirit. One has no intent on attacking you," You see the knight visibly relax, sheathing their nail and beginning to shuffle through the graveyard of shells, looking for something. You're about to ask what they're searching for, but then you notice the charm on their cloak... Kingsoul.

You recognize that charm. You're aware what they plan to do.

"If the truth of your origin is what you seek, then follow the path down, through the bodies of your fallen kin," you hint, glancing towards the ground. The little ghost is quick to understand, and casts Descending Dark; crashing straight through the floor, and deeper into the abyss.

You lie back down and continue your slumber, silently rooting for their success. You've grown fond of these vessels, born of Wyrm and void, and can only hope they all get their revenge against the Radiance.

#hollow knight x reader #hollow knight #headcanons #Fluff #x reader #short ficlet #Platonic #the knight #little ghost #dream no more #Higher being! Reader #god!reader #abyss #Idk what to tag #tags are hard

[riitah]

[to be a sorcerer] - geto suguru x gn!reader

WARNINGS: hidden inventory arc spoilers, mentions of death, blood, guns, fighting, and implied starvation, a little cursing SYNOPSIS: ever since the day suguru and satoru came back from their mission to retrieve the girl who was to merge with tengen, suguru has been kind of…off. so tonight, you decide to go visit him in the middle of the night in hopes of getting some answers, or, at least, bringing him some comfort. WORD COUNT: 1.1k HONORABLE MENTION: tysm beta reader “henry rumpelstiltskin III of the nuclear sock kingdom”!! AUTHOR’S NOTE: guys i’m so sorry i haven’t updated in so long writer’s block has been ERYGIUHOJWQEHRUR i hope you guys enjoy this AND OH YEAH THE NEW S2 TRAILER CAME OUT I’M LIKE SO HYPED FOR IT i literally had a whole pre-written s2 first trailer (a/n) i wanted to post but that was way too long ago but anyways here’s a geto x reader story i have sm more BUT IDK HOW TO WRITE THEM including crying scenes FUCK yk i feel like geto’s the type of guy who’d comfort people when they’re crying but never let anyone see him cry but when he cries it’s just really messy and emotionfull you get what i’m saying?? like he holds in his feelings for so long it just comes out all at once and ok i’ll stop now sorry if this feels a little too ooc

You stood in front of Suguru’s door in your pajamas, wondering if this was a good idea.

Is he already asleep…?

You turned to go back to your own room, but upon remembering the few bites he had taken of his lunch the past week, you decided against it. Hesitantly, you knocked, the sound of your knuckles against the wood echoing through the hallways. “Suguru? Can I come in?”

A beat of silence. “One second.” The sound of a bed creaking followed his voice, and just a few moments later, the door opened with a small creak.

Unfortunately, the sight of your boyfriend didn’t make you feel any more relieved. His hair framed his face messily, but they didn’t cover up the dark circles or hide the hollowness of his cheeks. The corners of his lips curved upwards when he saw you, but the smile never reached his eyes.

“(Y/N).” He stepped aside to let you in. “Staying up so late isn’t good for you, you know?”

“I could say the same about you.” You stepped into his dorm and he closed the door behind him. “It’s 2AM, and you have to go on a mission in a few hours.”

“I didn’t feel too sleepy.” He offered you his hand, and you took it, your eyebrows knitting together when you realized just how bony it felt. “And the rain wasn’t helping much. But now that you’re here, it’s a different story.” He led you to his bed and lied down, pulling you onto his chest in the process.

“Suguru! Warn me before you do that next time.”

“There won’t be a next time, because I‘m not letting go of you.” He rolled over so that the two of you were lying on your sides, wrapping his arms around you. “Ever.”

“I think you’re hanging around Satoru too much. You’re speaking and acting like him.” You laughed when he made a face at that statement.

“Don’t compare me to that guy.”

“Just ‘that guy’? He’d be so hurt if he heard you say that.”

“You know what I mean.” He pinched your cheek and gently rested his forehead against yours. “So, did you need something?”

“What, I can’t come visit my own boyfriend without a reason anymore?”

“Not when it’s two in the morning. But I might reconsider if you’re planning to stay the night.”

“Will that make you feel better?”

“Definitely. Though I feel just fine.”

“You don’t look fine…”

“I’m fine,” he repeated, pulling you closer to him and planting a brief kiss on your nose. “Really.”

“You don’t have to lie to me. You haven’t been getting much sleep, have you?”

He stared at you for a few moments, and the pitter-patter of the rain filled in the silence that had fallen over the conversation.

“...”

“Suguru…”

He then let out a tired sigh, his arms tightening around your waist just slightly. “You’re right. I haven’t.”

You brushed a few strands of hair out of his face, patiently waiting for him to continue.

“I just…can’t. Whenever I close my eyes, I see her.”

You took note of his heartbeat, which was rapidly speeding up. "Riko?"

He nodded and paused, trying to regain his composure before opening his mouth to speak again. “It's all still so vivid in my head. I can still hear the gun going off and–"

"You don't have to talk about it if it's painful, Suguru," you whispered softly.

He shook his head, giving you a weak smile. "No, I think it's better this way. I feel like I'm being suffocated." There was a slight tremble to his voice as he spoke, his sentences laced with nothing but regret. "When I do fall asleep, I always dream about the same thing. She dies, he tells me that he killed Satoru too, these people laughing at all of this as if it’s some sick sit-com–” He clutched at the hem of your top, his voice cracking. "Sometimes I can't help but think, what if I had just killed all of them off like Satoru said? Would I still be feeling this remorseful?"

You bit your lip at these words, not knowing what to say. Is there even a correct answer here?

Seeing the expression on your face, the muscles in his jaw tensed. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you–"

"No, no, you didn't," you quickly reassured him. The rain had stopped, and the sound of raindrops hitting the glass was replaced with the sound of trees swaying in the wind. "And honestly, I don't blame you for thinking that way. People can be so cruel sometimes."

He swallowed. "Fuck, I'm sorry, I–" His voice cracked a little.

"It's okay to cry, Suguru." You cupped his face in your hands, placing a kiss on both of his cheeks. "I hate it when you hold it in."

He leaned into your touch, burying his face into the crook of your neck.

“She had friends, family, she wanted to live–" he said quietly. "And they were clapping, cheering–" He broke into a sob. "(Y/N), I–I was supposed to protect her but I couldn’t–I couldn’t even do that right–"

It was the first time you had seen him break down like this, and your chest ached. You wiped away his tears with your thumb and ran your left hand through his long hair, desperately trying to come up with something to say to calm him down as he tried to talk.

“I feel so damn useless, even now I’m just–do you see this?” He looked up at you and placed a hand on top of your right hand, his thin fingers wrapping around it as if he was scared to lose you, too. “All I'm doing – all I can do – is replaying the events over and over.” He shook his head, his wet cheeks glistening in the soft moonlight. "I'm a jujutsu sorcerer, yet – yet I couldn't save her. I watched her die."

“It wasn’t your fault, Suguru. None of it was, I promise." You could barely hear yourself speak, but you hoped that your words could help somewhat. "I'm sure that she appreciated all that you've done for her."

You didn’t know how much time had passed when his choked sobs finally slowed down to hiccups, or how long you had been tracing circles on his hand with your thumb, but by the time the sun peeked from the trees in the distance, Suguru’s eyes were closed, his long lashes brushing against his damp cheek whenever his eyelids slightly fluttered.

"I'm sorry..."

You sighed at his sleeptalking, making a mental note to talk to him later about his tendencies to feel guilty about showing his feelings. "It's okay, Suguru. You shouldn't have to apologize for anything." You kissed his forehead and murmured a soft “I love you,” giggling a little when you saw a smile form on his delicate features.

Must be a nice dream, huh.

You closed your eyes, letting the familiar warmth lull you into a deep sleep.

#geto suguru x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen geto #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x you #jjk imagines #geto suguru x yn #oneshot #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #gn reader #jjk angst #x reader #hidden inventory arc #i'm sorry guys i'm working on crying scenes

[linnoya-writes]

Zutara “unexpected father-in-law” canon-compliant AU

It’s interesting how, in the ATLA finale, there’s no real indication that Katara actually got to see Ozai before he gets imprisoned for war crimes.  

In the finale, everyone, including Toph, gets to throw their own personal jab at Ozai.  Not Katara. And part of me likes to believe that she chooses not to see him intentionally.  Because it’s her rough spot.  Not just because this was a man who waged war and destruction for years... but also because she has a hard time processing that the young Fire Lord she finds herself falling in love with is the son of this horrible, cruel man.  

She doesn’t want that to be true. 

She doesn’t want to accept that Ozai and Zuko are the same blood. And it takes years…. decades… for Katara to finally come to terms with that hard truth, and she pays a visit to her now elderly father-in-law in his prison cell.  

His face is gaunt and hollow at first sight, but when he looks up to her, the flaming, brilliant golden eyes are very much Zuko... and she holds her breath.

Ozai is also speechless, and only manages a grin to mask that curiosity.

Over the years, he’d only been lucky to catch glimpses of his aging brother before his passing and been visited occasionally by Azula.  Zuko, however ironically, had been the one to visit the former FireLord the most frequently… promptly at the first of every month.  It became Ozai’s personal passage of time.  At first his son had come with tea, and as the months went by… he came with news: about reconstruction of their FireNation governments, the peaceful republic of Earth Kingdom colonies encouraged by Avatar Aang, the new alliances and trade agreements made with the Southern WaterTribe.  Zuko mentioned all of this to him not as an insecure boy seeking advice, but as a learned man -- one who’d risen from countless mistakes and had eventually found his own diplomatic resolve.    

It was a kind of confidence Ozai had no idea existed within his son, and it was in this way that Zuko announced in that cell that this young Fire Lord would finally be married. 

“Who is she?” 

“Her name is Katara, of the Southern Water Tribe.” 

“A Water Tribe peasant,” Ozai muttered, amused.  Appalled.  

“Oh, if you knew even half the things that woman has done for this world, you wouldn’t think the FireNation even deserved her.” Zuko glances down, a shy smile forming. “She is unbelievable.  You’d be lucky enough to meet her.  I hope she’ll come around.”  

And Zuko leaves before Ozai can say anything regarding a tainted mark or brittle branch that will result of this marriage within Fire Nation royal history.  

Over the years, Ozai hears about this marriage, the political alliance that formed from it, the mixed daughters birthed between a peasant and a prince.  When Ozai asks the guards if his granddaughters were borne firebenders, the prisoner doesn’t receive an answer.  Instead, he receives a visit from the children themselves in their royal garb, along with their father.  Ozai sees the familiar golden flame in the girls’ eyes, despite the tanned complexion of their WaterTribe mother.  

The girls take a fire-bending stance, and the old man gets hopeful.  

But it’s when ribbons of blue begin to dance around the girls alongside the fire-bending movements that Ozai’s smile disappears.  

The blue he sees is not Azula’s Fire.  It’s actually not fire at all.  

And when the girls end their routine and smile at their grandfather, Ozai turns his back away from them.  Confused and sad, the girls turn to Zuko and ask if they did anything wrong, and their father kneels down to their level, hugging them tightly… and assures them they did not.  

Zuko’s visits become less frequent after that, only coming in to disclose important decrees and updated policies to the former sovereign.  Ozai hears about his granddaughters through Zuko, year after year, learning about their favorite foods and colors… their interests beyond bending, their worldly education fueled by their parents’ influence as well as the youthful, progressive Avatar.  

When the girls become teenagers, they finally visit their grandfather again-- this time, on their own… and ask Ozai about the war… if their family was indeed responsible for it. 

They ask about it not in an accusatory way, but more an assertive way… wanting to understand for their own sake, their future, and how the world might see them as either a blessing or a threat. How delicate their position truly is.

Over time, Ozai grows accustomed to the water he sees and the stories about the WaterTribe he hears with each of his granddaughters’ later visits.  They become women before his eyes, esteemed princesses of two cultures… and when they leave the palace independently, Ozai hears through news of the guards how these girls- much like their parents before them- are making a difference, changing the world, falling in love outside of their borders.  

It brings the old man to tears.  

The days become quieter, shorter over time.  Nobody visits him anymore, and even Fire Lord Zuko has dedicated his time more to other important matters.  Time runs glacially, erratically.  Ozai combs his now silvery mane of hair with lanky fingers to pass the days, and the last thing he expects is a new visitor approaching his cell.  

Sandwiched between two palace guards is this petite, middle-aged woman he’d never seen before, wearing royal red and blue garb.  He recognizes her face instantly, from the ones of his granddaughters.  

An old grin passes his face.  “I’m impressed the heat of our country never compelled you to flee, highness.” 

Katara grins firmly, finding her breath.  Her eyes are glistening. 

“I can handle the sun, thank you.” 

Despite having spent most of her life adapting to royal Fire Nation courts, Ozai can still hear this woman’s humble origins.  

He looks away in his cell, straightening up in only the way a former Royal can. 

Katara nods to the guards, reassuring that she’s okay and they turn on their heels to give her some time alone with the prisoner.  

Slowly, she pours the old man some Ginger tea in the same delicate way Uncle Iroh had taught her.  She doesn’t hand him the cup, but rather places it down past the rails, which he takes, and watching her then pour a cup for herself. She’s just beginning to graze her fifties, he thinks, noticing the sternness to her brow, the overworked draping to her lids… and yet, it’s the blue of her eyes that makes this woman seem timeless.  

It’s a patient, firm, kind and tranquil blue that Ozai doesn’t understand, but the old man can already sense he will spend his last decade feeling both eased and haunted by it.  

It’s quiet for a long time, sipping their tea.  

Ozai shifts uncomfortably in his sitting. “To what do I owe this honor? Are you here for some kind of absolution?” 

“No. It’s pointless to do that now.” 

Ozai stares at her. “Hmm. Then I suppose you found the urge to gloat over the irony of all this, how the tables turned so beautifully for your people.  I can imagine the spirits of your ancestors are celebrating some kind of victory, is that right?”  

Katara looks at him. “I can see how you’d think that, but no.” 

Ozai stares again.  “Are you waiting for me to beg for forgiveness?” 

Katara shakes her head even before he finishes asking. 

Ozai can only look at her, then.  Katara waits a long moment and gives him a look that could’ve made any instinct of his prepare for battle forty years earlier.  

It’s in that moment where Ozai remembers the advanced, lethal Waterbending technique he’d heard talked about in the palace halls— how it had returned after so many years of outlaw and imprisonment of waterbenders, thanks to women like her sitting in front of him.  Ozai heard that this same woman had managed to master the technique for healing purposes… but looking at her face now, Ozai wondered if she wasn’t against making an exception.  

“Are you here to kill me?” 

He asks this not afraid, exactly, but rather…. tired, alone.

Defeated.  

Her look only lasts a moment, and he sees the woman take a long, deep breath from her center.  She sets down her tea and says “no” looking at him square in the eye, and in her softest voice. 

It leaves Ozai uncomfortably impatient.  “Then, why are you here?”  

Katara looks away, then shrugs, feeling the old skin of a naive, stubborn teenager stir beneath her as she looks back to him.

“Because I love your son.  And… that makes you my family.” 

Ozai hums incredulously, looking out past Katara’s presence for a long quiet moment, and laughs on the way an old man only can.  

She chuckles as well, because it’s funny.  It’s messed up.  But it’s funny.

The room becomes quiet again as they sip their tea.  Katara pours her father-in-law another cup, gently handing it to him through the cell bars.  Ozai receives it.

And that’s how their long-overdue conversations begin.

#zutara #katara #katara of the southern water tribe #prince zuko #fire lord zuko #avatar the last airbender #zutara fic #zutara ficlet #Zutara week 2023 #Zuko #Fire lady Katara

[canonmisogynyvictimstournament]

TOURNAMENT PARTICIPANTS

Greetings, everyone, our contestants have been finalized, and I want to provide a certain opportunity before the preliminaries begin. Namely, to provide additional propaganda for competitors in need of it. So, I have created a form to collect this new propaganda, and a list of both preliminary and non-preliminary participants under the cut. An asterisk next to a name indicates they have fewer than three pieces of propaganda, which is the amount that will be included in each poll. This form will be open for the duration of the tournament. You can make as many submissions you want for any character.

NOTE: The order of participants does not reflect the bracket matchups. Preliminary matchups will be announced next week, and the complete bracket will be announced after the preliminary round is finished.

UPDATE: Additional characters have been added in bold because I failed to fill out the bracket by counting incorrectly. One has been added to the preliminary round, and the others are regular competitors.

PRELIMINARY PARTICIPANTS

BUFFY THE VAMPIRE SLAYER/ANGEL

Cordelia Chase

Illyria*

Kendra Young*

Winifred "Fred" Burkle

DC COMICS

Alex DeWitt - AUTOMATIC ENTRY

Barbara Gordon

Cassandra Cain

Katma Tui*

Koriand’r aka Starfire*

Pantha*

Stephanie Brown

Talia al Ghul

Tara Markov*

JOJO'S BIZARRE ADVENTURE

Dragona Joestar (JoJo's Bizarre Adventure: The JOJOLands)*

Holy Kujo (JoJo's Bizarre Adventure: Stardust Crusaders)*

Lisa Lisa (JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure: Battle Tendency )

Lucy Steel (JoJo's Bizarre Adventure: Steel Ball Run)

KAMEN RIDER

Is (Kamen Rider 01)*

Kanon Fukami (Kamen Rider Ghost)*

Poppy Pipopapo (Kamen Rider Ex-Aid)*

Saki Momose (Kamen Rider Ex-Aid)*

MARVEL COMICS

Elektra Natchios (Marvel Comics)*

Elektra Natchios (NMCU)*

MY HERO ACADEMIA

Ochako Uraraka - AUTOMATIC ENTRY

Magne (My Hero Academia)*

Momo Yaoyorozu

Nemuri Kayama*

Toru Hagakure*

STAR TREK

Deanna Troi (Star Trek: The Next Generation)

Jadzia Dax (Star Trek: Deep Space Nine)*

Kes (Star Trek: Voyager)*

Seven of Nine (Star Trek: Voyager)

Tasha Yar (Star Trek: The Next Generation)

T'Pol (Star Trek: Enterprise)*

SUPERNATURAL

Bela Talbot

Charlie Bradbury

Eileen Leahy*

Mary Winchester*

THE LEGEND OF ZELDA

Tetra (The Legend of Zelda: Windwaker)*

Zelda (The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild and The Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom)*

WARRIOR CATS

Bumble*

Leafpool

Spottedleaf

Squirrelflight

YU-GI-OH!

Aki Izayoi/Akiza Izinski (Yu-Gi-Oh! 5D's)*

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Mai Valentine (Yu-Gi-Oh!)

NON-PRELIMINARY PARTICIPANTS

Abbie Mills (Sleepy Hollow)*

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Elya Musayeva (Топи/The Swamps (2021))*

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Hélène Kuragina (War and Peace)

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Jennifer Lopez (John Dies At The End)*

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Kamala Khan (Marvel Comics)*

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Laurel Lance (Arrow (CW)*

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Lucy Heartfilia (Fairy Tail)

Madison Paige (Heavy Rain)*

Malty S Melromarc (Rising of the Shield Hero)*

Margaret Houlihan (MASH (Movie 1970) )*

Marinette Dupain-Cheng (Miraculous Ladybug)

Marwa (What We Do In The Shadows (TV series))*

Megaera (Hades)*

Mikaela Banes (Transformers)*

Mikan Tsumiki (Danganronpa 2: Goodbye Despair)

Mikoko Sakazaki (Kaiji)*

Mikuru Asahina (The Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya)*

Mildred "Millie" Knolastname (Helluva Boss)

Milla Maxwell (Tales of Xillia)*

Misa Amane (Death Note)

Misaki Unasaka (Buddy Daddies)*

Nami (One Piece)*

Naomi Misora (Death Note)

Natasha Romanoff (Marvel Cinematic Universe)

Natasha Rostova (War and Peace)

Nemu Kurotsuchi (Bleach)*

Nezuko Kamado (Demon Slayer)*

Nya Smith (Lego Ninjago)

Ochette (Octopath Traveler 2)*

Ophelia (Hamlet)*

Ophiuchus Shaina (Saint Seiya)*

Orihime Inoue (Bleach)

Padmé Amidala (Star Wars)

Pussy Galore (Goldeneye)*

Pyrrha Nikos (RWBY)

Quiet (Metal Gear Solid: The Phantom Pain)*

Ran Mouri (Detective Conan)*

Rey (Star Wars)

River Tam (Firefly)*

Sakura Haruno (Naruto)

Sansa Stark (Game of Thrones)*

Skye (Lost in Blue)*

Sonia Hedgehog (Sonic Underground)*

South Dakota (Red vs Blue)*

Stephanie “Steph” Nocanonlastname (EverymanHYBRID)

Susan Pevensie (Chronicles of Narnia)*

Sweet-P (The Caligula Effect)*

Sylvanas Windrunner (Warcraft)*

Sylvia (Two Gentlemen of Verona)*

Teresa (Maze Runner series)*

Throné Anguis (Octopath Traveler 2)*

Yan Hui (Back From the Brink)*

#not polls #announcements #participants

[fandomtrumpshate]

Unlisted Fandom Challenge

Two days ago, at our last Unlisted Fandom Challenge update, we had a 3-way tie for first. Today? One of those fandoms has taken the lead AND a new fandom that hadn't had even a single signup before has jumped all the way into a 4-way tie for second. Your fandom could do the same, in the hours still left before signups close!

At present, our leaderboard looks like this:

7 Danny Phantom

5 Carmen Sandiego (2019) 5 For All Mankind 5 Tortall 5 Yu Yu Hakusho

4 Ace Attorney 4 Alan Wake/Remedyverse 4 Formula 1 RPF 4 Ted Lasso 4 The Goblin Emperor Series - Katherine Addison 4 The Stanley Parable

3 Greek Mythology/Religion 3 Buffyverse 3 Bungo Stray Dogs 3 Call of Duty 3 Detective Conan 3 Dragon Ball 3 HBO War 3 Kingdom Hearts 3 Persona Series: 3-5 3 Professional Wrestling 3 Realm of the Elderlings - Robin Hobb 3 Shades of Magic - V. E. Schwab 3 The Mummy films 1999-2008 3 Undertale

Given the way Carmen Sandiego came from *nowhere* to tie for 2nd place, a single signup really can shake things up! And for the next few hours, signups are STILL OPEN! Do the thing!

The rest of our unlisted write-in fandoms under the cut for length -

2 Ghosts (TV) 2 Black Sails 2 Cosmere 2 CSI 2 Cyberpunk 2077 2 Dead Friend Forever 2 Death Stranding 2 Dice Punks (podcast) 2 Dimension 20 2 Donten ni Warau / Laughing Under the Clouds 2 Dracula 2 Dune 2 Firefly 2 Glee 2 Guardian/Zhen Hun 2 Hermitcraft/The Life Series SMP 2 Imperial Radch Series 2 Inception 2 JoJo's Bizarre Adventure 2 Mob Psycho 100 2 Mobile Suit Gundam: The Witch From Mercury 2 Omniscient Reader’s Viewpoint 2 Ordem Paranormal Quarentena 2 QSMP / Quackity SMP 2 Riverdale 2 Saw 2 Slow Horses (TV Show) 2 South Park 2 Stormlight Archive 2 The Bear (TV) 2 The Empyrean - Rebecca Yarros 2 The Folk of the Air (Holly Black) 2 The Radiant Emperor Series 2 Venture Bros 2 Voltron 2 Wolf Pack 1 1670 1 A Court of Fey & Flowers 1 a league of their own (TV series) 1 A Plague Tale (Videogame Series) 1 American Gods 1 Among Us 1 Bandom RPF (Bad Omens) 1 Bandom RPF (Lorna Shore) 1 Bandom RPF (Motionless In White) 1 Beastars 1 Bendy (and The Ink Machine/Dark Revival) 1 Horror 1 Bioshock 1&2 1 Blue Beetle 1 Blue Eye Samurai 1 Books of the Raksura 1 Boondock Saints 1 Breakfast With Scot 1 Bunny - Mona Awad 1 Buzzfeed Unsolved/Watcher Entertainment RPF 1 Cabin Pressure 1 Cats the musical 1 Charlie's Angels (2019) 1 Cherry Magic 1 Chronicles of Narnia 1 Cobra Kai 1 Coffee Talk (Video Game) 1 Criminal Minds 1 Death Note 1 Devil May Cry 1 Dexter 1 Digimon 1 Discworld - Terry Pratchett 1 Disney Theatrical Animated Universe 1 Divergent 1 DMBJ (Grave Robber's Chronicles) - Xu Lei 1 Dream SMP 1 Dungeons and Daddies (podcast) 1 Endeavour/Morseverse/Inspector Morse (ITV/Dexter) 1 Ensemble Stars!! 1 Fallout Video Game (Bethesda) 1 Falsettos 1 Fargo FX 1 Farscape 1 Fire Emblem (4-10, 13, 14, 16) 1 Five Nights at Freddy's 1 Friends at the Table 1 Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid 1 Grantchester 1 Green Creek 1 Grey's Anatomy 1 Grimm 1 Gundam (see below for details) 1 Hatchetfield 1 Hawaii 5.0 1 Hello From The Hallowoods 1 High School Musical 1 Higurashi no Naku Koro ni 1 Hollow Knight 1 Honkai Star Rail 1 Horizon Zero Dawn 1 Infinity Train 1 IT (Movies - Muschietti) 1 Jeff Satur - music videos 1 Julie and the Phantoms 1 Kushiel's Legacy 1 Law and Order 1 Legend of the Galactic Heroes 1 Live Free or Die Hard (Die Hard 4) 1 London Spy 1 Lovecraft Mythos 1 Magi: The Labyrinth of Magic 1 Magnificent Seven 1 Mary Grant Bruce's Billabong series 1 Mrs. Davis 1 My Little Pony 1 Nancy Drew (CW Series) 1 Narcos (TV) 1 Nine Worlds Series - Victoria Goddard 1 NU: Carnival 1 Omori 1 One Direction 1 Orphan Black 1 Outlast 1 Paranatural 1 Phantomarine 1 Re-Animator 1 Resident Evil/Biohazard 1 Sex Education (TV) 1 She-Ra and the Princesses of Power 1 Simon Snow Series 1 Skins (UK) 1 Slam Dunk 1 Starry Musical 1 Succession 1 Sunless Sea 1 Super Sentai 1 Sweeney Todd 1 Team Starkid 1 Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles 1 The Adventure Zone: Balance 1 The Adventures of Buckaroo Banzai Across The 8th Dimension 1 The Adventures of Tintin 1 The Artful Dodger 1 The Good Place 1 The Greenhollow Series - Emily Tesh 1 The Hollows - Kim Harrison 1 The Last Kingdom 1 The Left-Handed Booksellers of London - Garth Nix 1 The Lunar Chronicles 1 The Mechanisms 1 The Pairing (Casey McQuiston) 1 The Saint of Steel 1 The Shadow Campaigns - Django Wexler 1 The Terror (TV 2018) 1 Three of Hearts 1 Tin Can Bros 1 Tower of God 1 True Detective 1 Twilight 1 Vorkosigan Saga - Lois McMaster Bujold 1 Wayfarers (Becky Chambers) 1 Weak Hero Class 1 1 Westworld (TV) 1 Yellowjackets 1 Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters

#fth 2024 #fandom trumps hate #fanworks charity auction #unlisted fandom challenge #signups are STILL OPEN! #do the thing!

[valleyof-goldenlilies]

Se Zaldrizoti’ Prumia - Chapter 8: The Woes of Womanhood (Daemon Targaryen x Tyrell!Reader)

Chapter 8: The Woes of Womanhood

With the return of Prince Daemon, and Princess Rhaenyra, the Red Keep braces itself for the inevitable implosion of scandal once more.

Se Zaldrīzoti' Prūmia Masterlist | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 |

HOTD Masterlist | Main Masterlist | 

Warnings: Nothing of note, except longgg chapter ahead. Alicent, Daemon and Rhaenyra interactions ahead!

Word Count: 7.1k

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire and Blood characters, save for Y/N Tyrell, although I did expand on their characterisation, which might deviate from canon. All credit for the characters goes to George RR Martin and the showrunners of HOTD. The GIF above is also not mine, original credit to the creator is stated above. Go check them out! 

A/N: hello all! i'm sorry for this very late and much needed update to se zaldrizoti' prumia, which is why this chapter is longer than usual haha. my exams are finally over and i'm on break now, so i will be devoting myself to writing more all the way till school starts again.

also: i added in an extra rhaenyra and reader interaction at the end of chapter 7. it's not crucial to the understanding of the plot, but it does explain why rhaenyra is significantly more civil with the reader in this chapter, so do check it out :) if you're lazy to go back and read it, here's a separate post i made of it! happy reading!

p.s. check the a/n at the end for some future plans I have for this fic :)

lovely dividers credited to @firefly-graphics !

109 years after Aegon’s Conquest, 5 months later 

The persistent cries of a babe echoed throughout the Queen’s chambers, and the wet nurses and nannies watched with pity as Alicent attempted to soothe a wailing Helaena, to no success. “Shh, it’s alright, Helaena. Don’t fuss, please,” Alicent implored softly, looking a little close to tears herself. 

The doors to the nursery opened quietly, and you stepped in, concern etched on your face upon hearing all the crying. The skirts of your dark red gown swished as you walked, alerting the people in the room to your presence. Stark relief was painted on their faces as you walked over to Alicent and she handed Helaena wordlessly over to you. You adjusted Helaena in your arms, cooing at her softly, “There, there, little princess. Ry iksos sȳrī, dōna dārilaros.” Gradually, Helaena started to calm down, staring up at you with wide purple eyes as you sang a soft lullaby in Valyrian to her. When her eyelids finally fluttered shut, you gently placed her back in the cradle, rocking her a few more times for good measure. 

Alicent was sitting in her bedchambers adjoining the nursery, head bent, looking weary. Nonetheless, she shot you a smile as you entered the room quietly, moving to pour her a cup of tea. “I fear sometimes I would be bereft without you” Alicent’s voice was soft, as you walked over to her, handing her the cup of tea. “I would feel like a hollow shell without you.” 

“Don’t say things like that,” you comforted her, “You know you’re doing the best you can.” “And yet, I can barely soothe mine own daughter who is only five moons old,” Alicent bit her lip, cradling her cup of tea. You could tell from the nervous bobbing of her throat that she wanted to pick at her nails again, which was why you brewed her the cup of tea. She was unable to pick at her nails if she was holding something hot. And so it had become habit for you to hand her a cup of hot tea whenever she was distressed like this. 

“Not everyone is born to be a natural at parenting, Alicent,” you consoled her. “And babes are difficult to understand, much less comfort.” “I am the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, if I cannot even be an adequate mother to my own children, how do I even bear the title of ‘Mother of the Realm’?” Alicent sighed, looking downcast. “My children are more taken with you than they are with me. It is a little disheartening to see.” You inched closer to her, and she placed one of her hands in yours, another holding onto her teacup. You squeezed her hand gently - another strange habit that the two of you had unconsciously developed. It reminded you so much of Rhaenyra, and your thoughts wandered to her, and how she was faring on her marriage tour. 

In truth, apart from Helaena, Alicent was still mulling about the conversation with her father nearly six moons ago. Though Otto had not brought up the subject in earnest again, Alicent had noticed Otto’s visits to her apartments increase over the past few moons. His visits, which were already quite frequent, had built up to a daily occurrence, with Alicent uncomfortably glancing at her father as his green eyes rested on you whilst you bustled around, serving the both of them or soothing Alicent's children. Alicent was compelled to do something, anything, to warn you of her father’s deepening interest in you, but with Helaena’s birth and her still acclimating to the duties of a Queen, as well as her uncertainty over her father’s intentions, she had kept mum. 

“You know,” Alicent’s voice startled you out of your train of thoughts. “You would make a great mother someday. Should you wish to marry, of course.” “Are you chasing me away from your service, my Queen?” you teased her playfully. Alicent’s eyes widened with panic, “Oh no, I was just mentioning- since you are wonderful with Helaena and Aegon and-” You squeezed her hand lightly, “I was just jesting, Alicent. I know you meant it as a compliment.” Alicent’s shoulders loosened slightly, as she laughed. “Oh. Forgive me, Y/N. My mind was occupied. But I really do mean it, you know,” she said earnestly. You smiled at her, though it did not reach your eyes. Your thoughts were still consumed by the conversation you had with your father at the Kingswood. The past six moons have been devoid of any correspondence from your father, something you would have greatly relished all those moons ago. Yet now, it only served to make you feel like you were on the edge of a cliff, unsure when you would plummet. You shook it off, not wanting to feel the unpleasant crawling feeling under your skin whenever you thought about your father. 

“In truth,” you began quietly, “I already am a mother.” Alicent looked puzzled. “I do not know whether I will be fated to be a mother of my own children in this lifetime, but in my view, you are like a daughter to me, Alicent. So in a way, I already am a mother.” Alicent’s eyes grew misty, as she said quietly, “I feel you are akin to a mother to me as well, Y/N. Words cannot express my gratitude towards you for your guidance over the past few years.” You smiled, moving to brush one of Alicent’s loose strands of hair out of the way. 

The both of you were interrupted by the sound of a soft knock at the door as another lady-in-waiting of Alicent’s, Lady Eliza Butterwell, a shy maid of fourteen entered the room and curtsied. 

“I apologise for the disturbance, Your Grace. But the King has called for the court to gather in the throne room.” Alicent’s brows furrowed. “Whatever for?” Her next words shot an odd thrill through you, one that you haven’t felt in several years. “Prince Daemon has returned to King’s Landing on Caraxes, Your Grace. With a crown.” 

The way to the throne room was swarmed with courtiers, but you were fortunate enough to find yourself as one of the spectators at the front. You caught a few faint whispers as you walked into the throne room, "Daemon..." "The Triarchy, all dead..." "The Myrish have never been more humiliated!" "At last, my ships can travel through the shipping lanes without fear of being attacked again..."

You played with the rings on your fingers nervously as you watched Viserys sit himself on the throne, his expression brooding. He afforded you a small nod when he glimpsed you in the crowd, to which you replied with a small bow of your head. Your eyes were so busy watching the entrance however, that you failed to notice the watchful gaze of Otto Hightower on you. His gaze soon turned away when Viserys caught him looking at you, his lips pressed together. 

It all came to an end however, as the crowd quieted, and the distant clink of armour could be heard. Your eyes were narrowed and your eyebrows furrowed as Daemon swaggered into the hall. Your eyes were drawn to his now shortened hair, and a crude makeshift of a crown seated upon his head. You could sense a change in him, and not just in appearance. 

Your lips turned downwards as Daemon sauntered too close to the throne, and was met with the sword of a Kingsguard to his abdomen. The fool. Your eyes narrowed even further when Daemon lifted a beaten hammer at Viserys, seemingly in challenge. 

“Add it to the chair.” A loud clatter reverberated through the room as Daemon dropped the hammer on the floor with a flourish. You had to bite back a smile. The years have not tempered his flair for the dramatics. 

The tension was palpable between the two brothers as Viserys stared at his brother, trying to decipher his true motives. “You wear a crown. Do you also call yourself King?” “Once we smashed the Triarchy, they named me: King of the Narrow Sea.” So they really did prevail in the end. You smiled slightly to yourself. Of course Daemon would miraculously manage to reverse the odds. But you felt bolts of alarm going off in your head as you registered Daemon’s words. The fool, is he meaning to challenge the King? Has war clobbered him such that he has lost all his wits? 

“But I know that there is only one true king, Your Grace.” You loosened a subtle sigh of relief as Daemon genuflected in front of Viserys, taking his crown off. “My crown and the Stepstones are yours, Your Grace.” 

The court watched with bated breath, as Viserys rose from the throne, climbing down the steps and standing before Daemon. 

Daemon registered a movement at the corner of his eye, and turned to meet the distrusting glare of Otto Hightower, which Daemon returned with equal venom. So, the leech still lives. How unfortunate. His gaze then trailed over to a familiar figure clad in dark red. 

You.

Violet eyes met yours, and he let his eyes trail lazily over your figure. He noted the coil of tension in your muscles as you observed the proceedings. His lips quirked up into a smirk, and you narrowed your eyes at him, resisting the urge to roll your eyes. Daemon noticed, concealing a chuckle, which seemed wholly inappropriate at this moment. He directed his gaze back to Viserys, staring back at him unflinchingly as he scrutinised Daemon for any ill intent. Brother, really? Daemon wanted to scoff when he saw Viserys glance at that cunt of a Hand. Do you distrust me so? 

“Rise.” Daemon got to his feet, looking at Viserys as he clapped a tentative hand on Daemon’s shoulder. He has grown more haggard through the years, Daemon noted with concern, his eyes trailing discreetly to the leather gloves Viserys now wore. Has marriage not been treating you well, brother? What have those cunts done to you while I was gone?  

You applauded with the rest of the court as Viserys swept Daemon into a stiff, but genuine brotherly embrace. A smile tugged at your lips as you watched Viserys escort Daemon out of the throne room, and Daemon shot you an arrogant smirk as he passed you. Subconsciously, you felt the lightest you had been in these three years.

It was a refreshingly cool day and the air was abound with a celebratory mood as the court gathered in the gardens for the “small” feast heralding Daemon’s return. Dressed in a cream gown with a ruffled off the shoulder overlay, your gauzy dusky orange skirt overlay billowed slightly in the cool breeze. Your cream skirt was embroidered with gold swirls faintly reminiscent of roses, which matched the golden belt inlaid with seven large rubies Viserys had gifted to you recently. A golden rose dangling off a chain hooked on the belt glittered in the sunlight. 

Viserys was holding court in your small party of four, consisting of you, Alicent, Daemon and him. Otto stood away at a respectful distance, likely out of disdain for Daemon than by choice. 

“No, no, no, no, I will not revisit this debate. You were always Mother’s favourite,” Viserys declared heartily. His gloved hands were resting on both Daemon and your shoulders, as he chattered to Alicent happily. “Our mother, she had no regard for customs, traditions or rules. And I sadly, was no great warrior.” Viserys sighed as you and Daemon shared an amused glance. “Lady Primrose was always partial to you though, brother,” Daemon pointed out. Viserys chuckled, “That’s because you nearly drove the poor woman up the wall with your antics. Or should I say, the both of you did,” he wagged a finger at the both of you, expression accusatory yet his eyes were smiling and full of warmth. 

You and Daemon exchanged identical smirks. “Well, if you weren’t always such an-” you were cut off as Viserys clapped a hand over your mouth, and Daemon sniggered at your indignant expression. “Ah, I thought the passing years would have cooled your temper, Y/N,” Viserys chided. Daemon lifted his eyebrows in mischief, “Indeed, byka zaldrizes. It has been three years, and you are still as hot-headed as ever.” You narrowed your eyes playfully at him, “Only because you deserve it, Your Grace.” 

“Now you know why the two of them nearly drove Y/N’s mother to madness when she was raising all three of us,” Viserys laughed to Alicent, whose expression was courteous, yet taut with awkwardness. She felt supremely out of place in the midst of your reminiscing, and you shot her a sympathetic smile. Daemon’s eyes followed your every move, even as he made a jape at his brother, “Come now, brother. Do not absolve yourself of any responsibility. The three of us all had our fair share of rebellion.” “I never said I was absolving myself of any responsibility,” Viserys joked goodnaturedly, clapping Daemon’s shoulder. “Though the fact remains that the two of you made up the bulk of trouble caused in the Red Keep.” 

Your eyes widened slightly when you saw someone enter your conversation. Rhaenyra tried to look subtle as she sidled into the gap between you and Alicent. Viserys didn’t notice, still chattering happily to Daemon, but you saw that Alicent had a similar expression of surprise. 

“Congratulations on your victory,” Rhaenyra smiled warmly at Daemon, seemingly ignorant of the reprimanding glare Viserys was now levelling at the unexpected appearance of his daughter. Viserys released Daemon’s shoulder, moving to take a heavy swig from his goblet. Daemon shot you a look that clearly said: whatever happened here? You discreetly tilted your head in a ‘I’ll explain later’ motion, and Daemon redirected his attention back to Rhaenyra. “Thank you, Princess.” 

The ensuing silence had never felt more painful. “Perhaps Prince Daemon would care for a tour of the gallery? He hasn’t yet seen the new tapestries gifted to you by Norvos and Qohor.” You bit your bottom lip at Alicent’s very obvious attempt to thaw the stifling atmosphere between the five of you, and at Viserys’ mocking expression of disbelief and concentration. “Would you like to see the tapestries?” Viserys could barely contain his mirth, and Daemon had tilted his head downward to muffle his laughter, while you looked disapprovingly at the two of them. “He has no interest in such things!” Viserys guffawed, clapping Daemon’s shoulder, oblivious to Alicent’s crestfallen expression. 

Daemon felt a glare upon him, and he looked up to see your frown as both brothers were in stitches. He smirked at you, clearly amused by your protective mothering of the young Queen. 

Ah, my little rose, caring too much for others, as always. Daemon mused to himself. 

“I’d like to see them.” Viserys’ expression immediately turned into one of barely veiled irritation. “Well then, you should not deprive yourself.” You winced at his snappish tone, as Rhaenyra shot him a cold smile. “I shall enjoy them alone.” 

You were about to excuse yourself to go after her, when Viserys clapped a hand on your shoulder once more, ordering a servant to refill your wine goblet. Alicent gave you a nod which conveyed her understanding, and she excused herself from the group, heading towards the bench where Rhaenyra was brooding after being chastised. Viserys was all too happy to see her go, directing you and Daemon into another conversation about your late mother and Prince Baelon, as well as your shared childhood. 

After a rather taxing conversation with Viserys and Daemon, you managed to excuse yourself as Viserys was occupied with some courtiers eager to curry favour with the King. Heading to the Godswood for some reprieve, you exhaled in relief when you found the clearing to be void of any presence. At long last, some peace. You closed your eyes and felt the summer breeze caress your face gently, smiling happily. 

You heard an infernal clearing of a throat behind you, and you reluctantly turned around to meet Daemon’s twinkling violet eyes, his lips turned up in his signature smirk. 

“Seven Hells, must a lady kill to have some peace for a minute?” you grumbled. Daemon chuckled, moving closer to you. “Having killed as much as I did in the Stepstones, I would say you do not need to resort to such drastic measures, byka zaldrizes.” 

You rolled your eyes in mild frustration, “I suppose it would be far too impolite of me to ask for you to leave me in peace, then?” Daemon smirked as he loomed over you, his eyes scanning you shamelessly again, like he did three years ago in the throne room when you first saw each other after so many years, “Court etiquette would deem it so, byka zaldrizes. But if I recall correctly, you were never one to ask when it came to me.” 

Vexed, you made a beeline for the tables set in the open corridor that was shaded by a trellis creeping with wisteria flowers. Daemon followed, watching you like a hawk as you loaded a plate high with lemon cakes, strawberry tarts, currant compote, gingerbread and figs. Daemon leaned over your shoulder and snatched a strawberry tart from your plate, grinning as you whirled your head around to glare viciously at him.  

You ventured to sit beneath the Godswood tree, setting your plate of treats on the ground, and crossing your legs in an unladylike manner. Daemon smirked as he watched you: this was a familiar sight from your shared childhood. He unhooked his scabbard which Dark Sister was sheathed in from his belt so that he could sit down next to you and lean back against the trunk of the Godswood. He secretly tried to make off with a lemon cake, but you smacked his hand away, causing him to lift his hand to his chest with a wounded expression on his face. You dipped a gingerbread into the currant compote, munching on it. 

“You’ve changed, you know,” Daemon remarked, finally successfully thwarting your attempts to stop him from pillaging from your platter of sweets and lifting a lemon cake to his mouth. You offered him an exasperated look, yet he could detect the faint hint of fondness in your glare. The both of you had been like this since you were children, always sneaking off with lemon cakes and strawberry tarts from the royal kitchens and huddling under the Godswood, giggling and munching on your stolen goods until you were discovered by the servants.

“I could say the same for you,” you eyed his new haircut. “You always used to have a preference for longer hairstyles.” “Well, that was before someone decided to cut off my hair during my sleep once,” Daemon snarked, running his hand through his hair. You snorted, “You can’t still be hung up on that, can you, my Prince?” “How can I forget the only girl who was foolish enough to use Dark Sister in such a manner?” “I believe the word you were looking for was audacious, my Prince,” you smiled winningly at him. Daemon only rolled his eyes, reaching over to snatch the strawberry tart you were holding in your hands, causing you to let out a sound of protest. 

The two of you sat in silence in the Godswood for a while, as you nibbled on your sweet treats. “In all honesty,” Daemon’s head snapped up in interest. “I think I’ve changed little over the years, but so much simultaneously.” You eyed the fig in your hand with despondence, “Do I sound foolish?” 

“Yes,” Daemon answered, causing you to chuck a grape at him, which he caught with annoying ease. “Seven hells, let me finish before you resort to violence, byka zaldrizes. I think you sound foolish, yes, but I happen to think you have changed a great deal. And for the better.” 

You mockingly gaped at his last remark, “A compliment from the Rogue Prince himself? Have the Seven Hells froze over?” Daemon narrowed his eyes, moving to smear currant compote on your gown, but you squealed and darted further from him. “Curb your disbelief, will you?” he scoffed, taking a bite out of his gingerbread dipped in currant compote. “It’s not just the hairstyle I fashion that has changed, you know, byka zaldrizes.” 

“Well,” you mused, “I suppose you do seem changed by your exploits in the Stepstones. More mature, perhaps, to a minute extent.” Daemon raised an eyebrow, “Coming from you, that is high praise, byka zaldrizes.” 

“I thought you might still be irate, or disgruntled after Viserys unnamed you as heir.” Daemon snickered slightly under his breath, remembering how wroth he was when the messenger from his brother came. “Well, they say time heals all wounds, byka zaldrizes.” You smile weakly at the mention of the word ‘time’, recalling your father’s ultimatum. “Let’s hope you can refrain from causing any more trouble this time then.” Daemon’s face twisted unpleasantly, “You mean, if that cunt of a Hand doesn’t decide to slander my name once more.” 

“Speaking of, you seem quite…close to the new queen, hmm?” You heard the displeased edge in Daemon’s voice as he refused to address Alicent by name. How childishly Daemon-like. “I’m her chief lady-in-waiting, Daemon. Is it not natural for me to be close to her?” 

“This is different,” Daemon leaned forward, eyes alight. “You care for the girl, don’t you? Far beyond the limitations of devotion that a lady-in-waiting has for her queen.” You looked at him, unimpressed. “I do not see how that is any of your business, but yes, I do. Alicent is akin to a daughter to me.” 

Daemon gave a snort of gravelly laughter, “You ought be careful, you know. Your maternal instincts might incite some trouble for you some day.” You bristled, “She’s a young girl, Daemon. As someone who is older than her and used to court machinations, I would consider it an obligation to acclimatise her to her new role. Being Queen is no easy feat, you know. Unlike being a Prince.” Daemon smirked, “And yet, you would not be in this position had I not opened your eyes to your fragile political standing a few years ago, did I not?” You rolled your eyes, taking another lemon cake. “If you are expecting some gratitude, I would regret to inform you that your hopes are gravely misplaced.” 

“I never expect anything from you, byka zaldrizes,” his smirk widened as he observed you while you nibbled on the lemon cake. “Truth be told however,” Daemon’s voice carried some genuineness, though he attempted to disguise it, “I am…pleased you took my advice to heart. Not a great many deal of people do.” You were mildly taken aback by how sincere he sounded: perhaps the Rogue Prince had a soft spot after all. “Well, it was sound advice,” you admitted, trying to sound pained. “Which was unexpected, coming from you.” 

“Perhaps you should admit that I’m a better influence than you think I am,” Daemon teased. You rolled your eyes, “Now, now, let’s not get a moment’s victory swell up your ego.” “Oh, I’ve won plenty of victories, byka zaldrizes,” Daemon snarked back, smug, “I dare say I have enough cause to be as proud as I am.” “Says the one who lost in a contest of arms,” you muttered under your breath. Daemon raised an eyebrow, flicking your forehead. “Ow!” you scowled, “What was that for?” 

“A reminder that insolence will not be tolerated in front of your Prince,” he grinned evilly at you. You narrowed your eyes, dipping a finger in the currant compote and moving to smear it on his forehead. Irritatingly, Daemon’s reflexes were much quicker than yours, and he caught your wrist with ease, tugging your hand towards his mouth to lick the compote off your finger while you shrieked. “That’s disgusting!” you sputtered out. Strangely, you felt a warm, rolling sensation at watching Daemon sucking the compote off your finger…however, you soon gagged at the thought. 

Daemon looked pleased with himself as he released your wrist, “I prefer not to let food go to waste.” You huffed, “I was wrong. War has not matured you in the least.” 

“Well, most of the court is terribly lacking in maturity anyway.” Daemon shrugged, leaning back against the trunk again. “Speaking of, how have you been faring in this court of vipers? Has your father finally found someone who is sufficiently tolerant of your impudence to marry you off to yet?” 

Your face visibly fell at his last question, causing Daemon to frown slightly. “Have I misspoke?” Daemon cursed himself after that last question. ��Why do I care?’ He thought to himself. He studied your dispirited expression. ‘I don’t know why…I can’t stand seeing her like this.’ His memory trailed back to the day of that blasted tourney, where he swore he watched your heart crack into two. 

He never wanted to see that expression grace your face again. 

“The question of…marriage,” you spat out that word with such distaste. “Is a complicated one. My father has given me an ultimatum: I must marry before the year ends, or face being disinherited and disowned by House Tyrell.” Daemon was never a man to be shocked, but now he looked positively dumbfounded. “Surely you’re jesting?” Daemon thought back to his vague impression of Lord Matthos: the man had seemed kindly enough, albeit he always looked much older and weary for his age, which could be attributed to your infamous temper and tendency to reject any prospective marriage matches he tried to make for you. But still, Lord Matthos cherished you, his only surviving child. Or so Daemon thought. 

You shook your head despondently, “How I wish I was.” You sighed, your head drooped. “I thought…after so many years of resistance, my father would have finally given up on me. But it seems I was gravely mistaken,” your voice was resigned. “Laughable, is it not? You tried to warn me three years ago to save me from this fate, and I thought I had avoided it.” 

Daemon let out a jagged laugh. “Responsibilities are hard to evade, byka zaldrizes. Even as a Prince, I was forced to wed for the sake of duty.” You turned to face him, and he was taken aback to see the tears glistening in your eyes. “But you can evade them,” you pointed out quietly. “You could mount Caraxes at any time, fly to Dragonstone, King’s Landing, Essos, or wherever else to avoid your wife. But me?” You choked out a laugh, “I’m just a woman, Daemon. I have no dragon, or even a cock.” Your voice sounded bitter. “I always envied you for that. You men of the realm have more liberties than you give credit for. You can go wherever you please, fuck anyone you please, and to no consequence. I wish I could do the same.” 

Your words suddenly brought Daemon back to a memory of his childhood that he had long buried. He was nearing his 14th nameday, and he had finally convinced Viserys to sneak out with him for a night of revelry and debauchery in Flea Bottom. When he and his brother had returned to the Red Keep just before the hour of the bat, he had found you in his chambers, arms crossed and anger creasing your features, demanding an explanation of his whereabouts. When you had learnt that they were mucking about Flea Bottom, your face had turned indignant. 

“Why had you not asked me along?” your words surprised Daemon, and he guffawed. “Y/N, I’m not sure if you realise, but Flea Bottom is not a place for girls like you,” Daemon said bluntly, moving to fling himself on his bed. “And why not?” you raised your voice. Daemon had levelled an unimpressed look at you. “You’re a lady, Y/N. Ladies shouldn’t be seen in places like Flea Bottom. Now go away, you’re giving me a headache.” Daemon flopped his head into the pillows, groaning at the creeping hangover as a result of the amount of strongwine he had drank this evening. He thought you would just huff and go back to your rooms, but he was surprised to hear your next words tinged with hurt. 

“But…” you chewed on your lip. “You never even told me you were going. You tell me everything, even if I don’t want to listen.” Daemon had let out a groan of frustration, “And? Did you really want to hear that I was going to fuck some whores on the Street of Silk?” He heard your gasp, and it only solidified his belief that you were trying to nag at him like some prim, proper lady your mother was always training you to be. “I thought not. Now fuck off, I need to sleep.” He buried his face in his pillows, so he didn’t even notice when you left. 

It was only until you left that he realised he had brought back some cakes for you that he never had a chance to give to you, since you avoided him like the plague for the next few days. 

So that’s why you were mad at him. Realisation dawned on Daemon. It wasn’t because you were chagrined by his frequenting of brothels, it was because you felt hurt at being excluded. The three of you had used to do nearly everything together, and Daemon had considered you like a little sister after his mother’s death, though from the way the two of you bickered and roughhoused with one another, you were more like another brother to him instead. But something had changed after the first time he had paid a visit to the Street of Silk, and without him knowing it, he started treating you like a woman instead of his closest companion.

 He looked back at you. You were hugging yourself now, face despondent as you thought about your bleak future ahead. He suddenly felt the urge to embrace you, to wipe the gloom from your features. Yet while his heart willed it, his mind did not. So he could only take a deep breath and say in an unusually gentle voice, “I understand what you’re going through. I…” he struggled to get the words out. “...I’m sorry.” You turned your head in his direction, slightly disconcerted by his apology. “What for?” 

‘For you being a woman, for you being helpless to your fate.’ He tried to formulate a response. ‘For not being able to do more to help you. For everything.’ 

“For your situation,” he managed to choke out in the end, though they were not the words his heart wanted so desperately to say. You gave him a small smile, your eyes distant with sadness, “I never thought I’d hear you apologise…but thank you.” Although it is useless in preventing my fate. 

Daemon was internally frustrated with himself at his failed attempt at getting his emotions across, and at wiping the gloom from your face. Unsure of what to do, he picked up another strawberry tart and offered it to you. Dumbfounded, you opened your mouth and he gingerly fed you the tart. Despondent, yet utterly mystified, you studied him carefully, but his face gave nothing away. In the end, you dismissed this as just Daemon behaving unusually again. It was only normal after the bloodshed he had seen in the Stepstones…right?  

Despite your own predicament, it seemed relations in the Red Keep were taking a turn for the better. Over the past few months, Rhaenyra had gradually patched up her estrangement with Alicent, much to your delight. Rhaenyra had even warmed a bit to Alicent’s children, though she still regarded Aegon with a bit of disdain - you weren’t quite sure if it were due to his position as Viserys’ only son or because of Aegon’s tantrums. Helaena seemed to be comfortable around Rhaenyra however, always silent and content whenever Rhaenyra picked her up. While Viserys was still notably displeased by Rhaenyra’s abandonment of her marriage tour, he appeared fairly resigned by his daughter’s wilfulness. 

It was due to Rhaenyra’s warmer relations that you found yourself in the company of Rhaenyra more and more these days, like now. You were engaged in a game of cyvasse with her, although you were losing quite badly due to Rhaenyra’s aggressive play style. 

“I win!” Rhaenyra exclaimed with delight as she captured your last remaining key piece. You groaned, but smiled good-naturedly at her. “Well played, Rhaenyra.” Rhaenyra laughed, “Tis only your first time playing. You held up rather admirably in my opinion, but your defence needs more work.” 

“I’ll be sure to keep that in mind,” you smiled, reaching over to pour yourself another cup of tea. Elinda Massey, one of Rhaenyra’s ladies-in-waiting, entered the room to deliver a parchment to her, and Rhaenyra frowned as she opened it. 

“What is it?” I questioned. “A summons from Father,” Rhaenyra sighed, running her fingers through her hair. “It appears a few lords, notably Jason Lannister,” Rhaenyra rolled her eyes, “Have been inquiring about my prospective matches yet again. Father wishes to reopen talks of marriage when we break fast tomorrow.” 

You eyed her sympathetically, “I’m sorry, Rhaenyra.” Rhaenyra snorted, “Whatever for? Jason Lannister is the one who needs to apologise for being such a brash, brazen fuckhead.” 

“Rhaenyra!” You doubled over with laughter at her description. Rhaenyra crossed her arms. “Tis true, is it not? If only the Lannisters had as much wits to spare as they have gold.” You tried to contain your laughter, “I can see your uncle is rubbing off you.” Rhaenyra smirked, “Well, I should hope not. Did you hear about his latest exploits?” You smiled ruefully, “How could I not?” Daemon was never one to stray far from trouble for long, and war had not tempered his lusts in the slightest. He had taken up with his old companions of the City Watch, drinking in taverns, bedding whores, and the like. You were not wrong to say Daemon had not matured, but you didn’t know the full story. 

Rhaenyra stood up and walked to the window of her room, sighing as she clasped her hands behind her back. “Sometimes, I do wish I could be more like my uncle.” “An absolute scoundrel?” You answered, walking up to her and offering a goblet of Arbor gold. She smiled and took it. 

“A man. With an abundance of freedom to spare despite the fact he is married.” You raised your eyebrows, this sounded eerily similar to your conversation with Daemon under the Godswood a while ago. 

“It’s not just his freedom I desire,” Rhaenyra looked pensive. “Were I born a man, this bother of a marriage tour would never have occurred in the first place. There would be no call into question about my legitimacy and suitability for the throne due to my gender. And-” Rhaenyra struggled to contain her frustration. 

You gave her a sad look. Of course you understood what she meant, you had wished that yourself.  

“I hate to confess this but…” Rhaenyra bit her lip, “...I’m afraid of what the path of marriage has in store for me. I do not want to end up like my mother - I’ve seen enough of how she suffered in her tenure as Queen, trying to give Father the heir he so craved. I do not wish to just be some broodmare for my husband.” 

“Sadly, we are women, Rhaenyra,” you reminded her solemnly. Rhaenyra huffed in exasperation, draining her goblet with one huge gulp, putting it down on a nearby table before pacing around her room. You watched her in commiseration. “I almost forgot to ask - how is…your situation faring?” Rhaenyra asked delicately. You sighed, “About as well as you’d imagine. I must either live as a nameless commoner or as a married woman in two moon turns.” Rhaenyra circled back to you to take your hands in hers and squeezing it tightly. “Have you told my father yet? Perhaps he can arrange a betrothal for you, or convince your father to change his mind.” You gave her a close-lipped smile. “I wouldn’t want to trouble Viserys in this way. He is busy enough as it is.” And you still couldn’t resign yourself to the fate of marriage just yet. Nightmares had been plaguing you more incessantly nowadays, all either of being married off to some lord who was old and balding or someone whom you despised, of Aemma’s various miscarriages and her eventual death in childbirth. More oft than not, you would wake up in the middle of the night with cold sweat. 

Rhaenyra flashed you a sympathetic look, squeezing your hands so tightly in hers that they were growing numb. “In any case, I will be here for you, whatever you may choose.” You bowed your head in gratitude, “Thank you, Rhaenyra. But I couldn’t possibly, I wouldn’t know how to repay you.” 

Rhaenyra waved her hand dismissively, “Father always says you are family. And you are like a mother to me, especially after Mother died. Dragons look out for their own kind.” Your eyes grew misty at her words, as you murmured your gratitude under your breath. 

You noticed Rhaenyra looking out her window wistfully. “Is there something else on your mind?” You inquired. Rhaenyra turned to you, her eyes alight with curiosity. “Y/N, you’ve been to the city before, have you?” You looked puzzled at her question. “Yes, my mother had chaperoned me once, but it’s been a few years since that. Why do you ask?” 

Rhaenyra looked deep in thought. “In my governance classes with my tutors recently, they had been stressing on the importance of knowing the people of the land you're about to rule. Granted, they were talking about nobility, mostly, but I’ve always been curious as to the inner workings of the lives of the peasants.” You couldn’t hide your surprise. “The peasants?” Rhaenyra looked sheepish as she dropped your hands. “I’ve never really been to much parts of King’s Landing apart from the Dragonpit and the Red Keep. It gets a little boring after being cooped up in here for so long, you know?” An uncomfortable expression creased your features: Rhaenyra sounded like an exact mirror of your young self, eager to explore, to have fun. But now, you were grown, and much more cautious. 

“You could ask Ser Harrold to bring you around the city,” you suggested, but Rhaenyra looked opposed to the idea. “Then when people see me coming, they’ll think of me as the Princess and scrape away like subservient, mindless goats. I want to catch a glimpse of their lives, of their true thoughts about me as heir.” “So you mean to go alone then?” you looked unsure, but Rhaenyra nodded eagerly. “That would be the plan, yes.” Her face suddenly became a bit more serious and thoughtful. “It might be my last chance to sneak out for adventure. Once I am married…I do not think my future husband will be very approving of this notion.” 

You were quiet for a while, before you spoke up again, a sudden enlightening occurred to you, “Rhaenyra, you know…marriage need not be an end to indulging your desires.” Rhaenyra gave you a perplexed look. “What does that mean?” “You’re not just some highborn woman, Rhaenyra,” you took her hand, eyes twinkling. “You are the Princess. The heir to the realm. Even your husband will have to submit to you in the future as your king consort, will he not?” Rhaenyra was beginning to see the light in your logic, and her face lit up, though it dimmed again as she spoke, “But my father…I cannot guarantee that he will not rebuke me if I step out of the line..” You considered her words carefully, “That may be true…but so long as you don’t bring shame to the kingdom, and keep your exploits discreet, you will still be able to retain some level of freedom to pursue your desires.” 

Understanding was beginning to dawn on Rhaenyra, as the gears in her head began spinning. “You might be right.” She lifted her head in pride, “I am a Targaryen Princess, and heir to the throne after all. What should I have to fear about the opinions of others?” You squeezed her hand gently. “So you see, marriage might not be the end to your freedom as you thought. You are a smart woman, Rhaenyra. Do not let marriage confine you.” You were excited yourself. You didn’t have the same power Rhaenyra would have over her future consort, but still, you hoped that with Rhaenyra as an example, mayhaps there can be greater liberty afforded in marriages for highborn women, including yourself. 

Feeling confident of your own words, you looked into Rhaenyra’s violet eyes and smiled, “Always remember that you are the blood of the dragon, Rhaenyra. As heir to the throne, you have more advantages and liberties than most ladies of the land could ever hope for. Leverage them wisely, and be smart about your privileges to carve out the life you want to live.” You went silent, before adding, “Aemma would’ve wanted you to.” 

Rhaenyra’s face was suffused with a rosy glow, both at the prospect of regaining some semblance of control in her life, and at your mention of her mother. Aemma was always a soft spot for her, evident by the ruby falcon necklace Rhaenyra had taken to wearing everyday without fail. “You’ve given me a great deal to think about, Y/N,” Rhaenyra smiled gratefully at you. “It is good to have someone of the same mind as I am here in this Keep.” She squeezed your hand in gratitude. “Out of everyone, I understand most of what you’re going through.” You smiled motherly at her. “I would do anything to help you fulfil your desires. Always remember that I’m here for you.” 

Meanwhile, concealed amidst the secret passageways in Rhaenyra’s apartments, a cloaked figure listened intently, a smirk tugging on his face as he listened to the discussion between you and his young niece. 

It appears my niece has a desire to see the city, hmm? 

I think I can make that happen. 

In the morrow, you were trying to calm Aegon in Alicent’s solar as he threw a tantrum, protesting today's choice of breakfast: which was porridge. When you heard faint footsteps and the sound of the door to the solar opening, you looked up, pulling a smile on your face while trying to prevent Aegon from grabbing his plate and smashing it. That smile faded however, as you took in Alicent’s grim appearance. You soon learnt about the reasoning behind her upset expression, and you gritted your teeth, feeling like smashing up a plate yourself. 

Daemon. 

That fucking cunt. 

Translations: Ry iksos sȳrī, dōna dārilaros. - All is well, sweet princess.       

Taglist: @drwho-ess @graniairish @urmomsgirlfriend1 @thelittleswanao3 @animelover18 @llovinjoonie @gracielikegrapes @salembridger @itszzmoon @kmmg98 @travelingmypassion @zae5 @norestfortheshelbywicked @soleilgrec @anehkael @midnightprincess18 @lilith--666​ @saay-karani @dumbhxeredrose @syviiss​ @nyenye​​ 

Daemon General Taglist: @aiyaiy @kmmg98 @norestfortheshelbywicked @hb8301​ @hc-geralt-23

those who are bolded are those who couldn’t be tagged! let me know if you wish to be added to the taglist in the comments or through this form! 

A/N: And that's chapter 8! Chapter 9 should be released sometime next week, and Act 1 will conclude at Chapter 10.

Also, I've been thinking about setting up a writing Instagram account, where I will post regularly on my daily progress on my fics as well as behind the scenes of my fic writing (e.g. my mental breakdowns over writers' block, sketches of character's outfits and advanced previews of upcoming fics). Let me know if you guys will be interested in that in the comments!

Additionally, I've also been thinking of publishing one shots of Daemon and the reader's childhood as well as alternate realities of how the fic could've gone if some characters had made different choices. This will be after the completion of Act 1 of course, and I already have some ideas hehe so stay tuned!

As always, thank you for reading this far! Let me know what you thought about this chapter 💕

#aureliawrites #aurelia's fics #se zaldrizoti prumia #sezaldrizotiprumia masterlist #house of the dragon #hotd #hotd fanfiction #hotd fanfic #daemon fanfic #daemon fanfiction #daemon shenanigans #daemon prince #daemon targaryen #daemon x tyrell!reader #daemon x y/n #prince daemon x reader #daemon x reader #daemon x you #daemon x oc #daemon targeryan #daemon targeryen x reader #daemon targaryen x y/n #daemon targaryen x tyrell!reader #daemon targaryen x oc #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen x female reader #hotd daemon #hotd x oc #hotd x reader #hotd x you

[cuckoo-on-a-string]

Promises Six: The Patron

Dark!Morpheus x (female)reader, fantasy/medieval AU, 18+

Master List

Chapter warnings: language, violence, (temporary) character death A/N: You're all fucking fabulous. 💖Aiming for another update next week. Wish me luck.

Only two thrones waited in the main tent. The king’s servants rushed to move a third chair to a place of honor beside them, layering it in swaths of silk and velvet designed to hang over the canvas walls, like they could veil the differences in quality and size with a few curtains.

They needn’t have bothered.

Lord Morpheus refused to sit as his sibling lounged on their impromptu throne with the grace of a cat and a shark’s smile. Familial enmity crackled around the two like a storm, and Desire basked in the attention. The King of Meiren hovered, clearly aching to take his seat, but anxious should he disrespect the guest who would not.

Quite a tableau. If only the bard could paint.

She saw her patrons settled before she went to study the drama unfolding around the two Endless and the king who would dare consider himself an equal. Even the most delusional suitors kept their distance now. Alluring as Desire may be, they did not hem in the waves of power as their siblings did. The bard recognized the overwhelming presence of an Endless even when they tried to shutter the worst of the tidal crush when walking among mortals. She’d felt it with Death. She felt it with Dream. But Desire didn’t even pretend to care for the humans’ comfort.

Every scent was sweeter in their presence, every whisper of taste carried on the smoke of the outdoor cooking fires a draw to addiction. The company looked finer. Everyone murmured about the heat and struggled to meet each others’ gaze as they shifted in their tight clothes, fanning away glittering drops of sweat that drew the eye down, and down, and down to the curious places hidden from view by cloth and lace.

Plenty of mistakes would be made that evening. More than the usual wild carousing inspired by fantasies of bloodlust in the woods. She’d already advised her friends and supporters to avoid as much of the spectacle as possible. To keep a hair pin in their pocket to prick themselves and their loved ones back to good sense if needed. She pointed out the horse troughs and water buckets, and reasoned the king couldn’t complain if a few members of his court felt poorly and left before dark after such a long day.

She couldn’t follow them back, of course. Her curiosity forbid it, and she wanted to be near if a spark caught that might ignite the entire kingdom.

Desire made no effort to hide their conversation from the fragmented assembly. Most were too busy wrestling with their influence to take notice, but the bard knew Desire’s family, and – what was far more important – she knew herself and her desires too well to be so easily swayed.

“I heard you’d been offered a bride, and I simply couldn’t help myself.” Desire treated the seat more as a kind of low couch, spreading over the arms in a pose to draw the eye to their long limbs and fiery eyes. Their red lips looked bloodstained as they grinned. “And a mortal at that. What could have possessed you?”

The king stuttered to join in the conversation, his eyes so dilated even the bard could see the dark hollows swallowing his mind. “I-I offered, your… grace? A bargain for the King of Dream’s aid some years ago. He has not chosen, but there are still many days…”

“Hmmm.” Desire dismissed him effortlessly, not even bestowing a wave. Their eyes never turned to his face, and the king finally slumped into his seat, unseen and unheard by his betters. The bard had never seen him so cowed, and gods knew she’d put in the work.

“An offer only.” The Dream King’s hands flexed into fists. Although the bard had thought he couldn’t grow any paler, his knuckles looked deathly white against his pallid skin. “I have accepted no one, and no one in this host has so inspired my attention or affection.”

Somehow, Desire’s smile grew wider, and as they let their head fall back over the arm of their throne, they chuckled through their teeth. “I wonder, big brother. Really, I do. Ah, well.” They straightened, spinning with unnatural fluidity to properly face their kin. “At least I didn’t miss the hunt.”

The close air within the tent fostered the unnatural heat. It stuck to the roof of the bard’s mouth, and she licked her teeth to scrape it off her tongue. The warmth ached where it dripped into her chest, clenched and hungry for every good and wicked thing she could not or should not possess. Her dead mother’s hand to hold. A good cup of tea in a quiet place beside a trusted friend. Wind in her hair, songs in her throat, and someone –

She left the tent.

Out of sight, the waves of Desire’s power didn’t strike with such force, and the bard walked with her hands on her hips, taking deep breaths of fresh air to clear the scent of longing.

A breeze cut through the clearing where the king’s court set camp, and she imagined it cleaned the stench of foiled passions as it combed through her hair, that it brushed aside the bitter shards of unshaped dreams from her mind.

Sometimes she forgot how much harder intrigue and politics were to wash off than dust from the road. It worked into crevices and scars, surprising her with old filth every time she thought herself free of it.

Her time with the Endless would stain her, surely.

Her mother’s acquaintance with Death left more than a mere mark. If she wasn’t so proud of her own legacy and legend, she’d say it defined her. If she had any sense, she would’ve stayed with the dragon and sung him pretty songs until the Endless had fucked off back to the realm he governed. When Desire appeared, she should’ve turned her mare around, packed up her things at the castle, and left a note of apology. But she hadn’t. Couldn’t, honestly. She wanted to know. She wanted to see. She wanted to witness history – or add a few lines of her own.

Really, what was the worst that could happen? She had manners and a frustrating inability to die, so the chances of lasting consequences for her recklessness were slim.

Gradually, her hands slipped off her hips, and she felt she could breathe easily again. The world wore familiar shades, and no one’s power but her own threaded through her blood. Half finished stories and snarls of old songs half forgotten filled her head. The air tasted of dirt and smelled of sweat. All good and human things.

Strolling through the camp, she found an old fortune reader laying out her tools on a red blanket. The woman chose her spot well, a patch of shade that would only grow as the sun set, just beside the smaller tents where the noble families rested.

The bard nodded in passing, but a wizened hand seized her wrist, bringing her up short. Stumbling to a halt, she blinked down, bemused, but only a little surprised. The woman didn’t have many other customers passing at this hour, when most were resting or preparing for the hunt, and plenty of folk stopped the bard in the street.

All her cards, bones, and runes sat in tidy piles and dishes, untouched, but the reader glowered at the bard with a fortune on her lips.

“You have already caught your doom’s eye.”

Smiling, twisting her wrist in a vain attempt to thwart the old woman’s grasp, the bard said, “You must be mistaken, mother. I have no doom.”

Ridged nails sank into the bard’s palm as the fortune teller squeezed.

“Just because you are deathless does not make you fateless, girl.”

A presence too much like the ones she’d left in the king’s tent coursed like deep roots through the old woman’s words. They tapped unseen waters and sprouted a gravity beyond the woman’s ken. Her glare cut across realms, and the bard’s hair stood on end.

“You are become an ache that preys on the heart. A yearning made flesh. And your doom will tear you from the world if you continue this way in the Garden of Forking Paths. Heed my warning.”

A shadow cut across the sun, and the bard looked up, expecting a thunderhead. That sort of fortune ought to be followed by forked lightning and rolling thunder. But as the light returned and the shape passed through the sun’s glare, it roared, and the bard cursed, ripping away from the fortune teller even as the old woman released her grip.

“Fucking hells!”

She tore through the camp, running before she thought to move, knocking guards and bemused nobles out of her way as they stared up at the great, winged beast above. A dragon. A dragon had come to the king’s hunt.

And the bard knew just which idiot dragon it was, too.

She recognized his scaled bulk. His petulant, flaming rumble.

The absolute twat.

What did he think he was doing?

Time rushed against her, precious seconds slipping beneath the soles of her boots as she found her horse, fumbled on the bridle, and swung onto her back. By that time, knights and hunters had stirred themselves. The bard cantered between men-at-arms rushing to their mounts and young archers half-armed and eager.

She flew by the entrance to the king’s tent where the two Endless stood observing the chaos like it was so very far below them. Fair enough. But at the moment, the bard couldn’t care less. Kingdoms and fates be damned. Her patron was going to get himself killed. She barely felt their gazes wash over her, burning like molten gold, sharper than diamond stars. After a life of dragon’s fire and executioners’ blades, they did not make her tremble like a sensible mortal.

Out of the camp, into the woods, galloping along the path in the direction the dragon wheeled. A goodly field stood some distance away, and it was the nearest place her patron might land without risking his wings on the treetops. So she rode, aware the crash of arms and hooves behind her was growing.

She hadn’t stopped for a saddle. Her thighs clenched tight around her mare’s heaving ribs, every bit of energy and intent straining forward, trying to yank the distant break in the trees closer with sheer force of will. The woods pressed too dark and thick, and she couldn’t tell if the crush of noise in her head came from her heart or the dragon ahead.

The ride lasted half an age, but she cleared the tunnel of trees at last, and blinded by sun, she heard rather than saw the huntsfolk who’d gathered from where they kept the caged beasts and dogs. A dragon was much better quarry. As the glare faded, she wheeled her mare between the humans and the fiery beast. They stumbled, clutching weapons and glaring as she swung down, facing the thing they’d planned to capture.

Hands raised, seeking to draw his eye, she marched towards the dark gouges in the earth where her patron landed.

“Glistiven!”

He turned from the lancer he’d been snapping at, flaring his nostrils wide to smell as well as see her. The wind carried her scent across the field, and he lowered his head, creeping low to be on her level.

She hissed at the hunters as she passed, “He’ll burn you all if you scratch him. Your lives aren’t worth the coin the king will forget to pay you.”

A few, convinced, moved back into the trees. The rest at least backed away, cautious, ready to see if the beast would incinerate the bard before they pushed their luck.

Glistiven stood taller than an oak, and his wings could shade a whole village. He looked a fine prize with his glittering scales – and the gold trapped between them – but he’d not grown to such a size for his tame love of humanity.

He’d burned the bard to ash three times before his curiosity won over his bad temper.

A month of stories, songs, and negotiations convinced him that it may be easier to let the local villages sell him their sheep. It was easier than dealing with unwanted visits from every bounty hunter and monster slayer in the kingdom. Every year, she carried his order down from the mountain, and the farmers let the chosen sheep run wild into the dragon’s territory.

He ought to be in the mountain now.

“Why are you here?” she demanded, marching through the tall grass and struggling to look dignified. As if she didn’t have enough to worry over. Two Endless, a fool of a king, and families looking to her for protection she was wholly unqualified to promise. Just because she was old didn’t mean she was powerful. “You great, flaming… Why are you here?”

Though still many yards away, his great sigh sent ripples through her clothes. “You have not finished your story.”

Hells above and heavens below. The petulance in his voice. She noted the remaining huntsfolk shift even further away from the corner of her eye, disturbed by the voice like a landslide in a wildfire. Crackling, and rumbling, and doubtless inhuman. A voice they all felt rattle in their bones. It reminded them that though they be hunters, they might yet be hunted. Many of their kind fell to dragons’ appetites. This one may yet have them.

The bard dropped her hands, forcing her way through the swaying weeds. She’d give her patron a piece of her mind and sort out this mess. He ought to fly home, but if he didn’t, she could tell him where to hide, where to sleep away from the hunter’s hooks and the castle’s ballistas.

A sharp twang cut the words she went to speak from the air.

Pain struck. It pierced through and out, scattering thought and breaking breath. A strange weight sat in her flesh, and as her mouth fell open, desperate for air that would not come, her hands rose to find the wound, the hurt, and the thing that made it. An arrow tip sliced her fingers. A bolt from some great weapon meant to take down boar and the scaled wyverns that sometimes came this far north.

It had taken her heart out of her body. She could feel it with her bleeding fingertips, fluttering around the wooden shaft, half-pinned by broken ribs.

She fell. To her knees. To the grass. To the waiting arms of Death. Her blood pooled ruby over her hands, her body shuddering and jolting with the determination of a broken clock still trying to tick.

The ground shook with Glistiven’s rage, and the heat of his fire curled over her like a blanket as the last heat of waning life bubbled onto the grass.

Here you are again.

A gentle touch settled over the crown of her head. Cold, but soft. A familiar companion she hated to bother. The bard relaxed into the entity’s hold as she lost all sense and feeling, swaddled in the dark.

What have you gone and done to yourself this time?

#morpheus x reader #dream of the endless x female reader #dream of the endless x reader #dark!dream of the endless #fic: promises #fantasy!au #morpheus x oc

[hollowedkingdoms]

Attention Everyone

We have decided, after much thought, to speak on the issue of the leaked OGL 1.1. For those unfamiliar, briefly and simply, it is a crack down on the Open Game License that allows 3rd party material, such as us, to freely operate within the DnD 5E system. The new agreement brings forward several issues that many find objectionable, but for our purposes, it is the clause demanding registration of all material, the removal or seizure of 3rd party material without consent, the ability to publish said material without crediting the original author and the bad faith arguments pertaining to it's "necessity", all in the face of just how much DnD, WotC and Hasbro have benefitted from material not originally its own, which it has used to build it's entire foundation. As content creators,  we are terrified. We've put our hearts, souls and years of our life to this project we love. This love and care is shared by hundreds of thousands of creators the world over for their own projects. While we want to keep our project alive and well, and understand speaking up risks that, we cannot remain silent, for the sake of content creators and fans the world over. This change is motivated by greed from executives in a C-suite, and is an affront to the spirit of the game. It's original version was, quite literally, a few nerds in a basement trying to put something fun together for the enjoyment of others - a sentiment we identify with. WotC and Hasbro are taking these deliberate and hostile actions in the face of that spirit, and are alienating a massive portion of players in the process, for the sake of their bottom line. We believe, strongly, that DnD is an iconic institution, originally made by players, for players. With that in mind, here is our response:

We stand with content creators the world over, in solidarity against the active hostility we feel is being directed at us all by a corporation only seeking profit.

We object to the notion that WotC has the exclusive rights to 3rd party creation, an argument we feel is made in bad faith. Much of the WotC material was not made by them, and is the backbone of the very material they claim.

We have no intention of changing our material to the new version of 6e (referred to as One DnD) and commit to remaining within the original confines of the OGL 1.0a.

We call on WotC to reverse their course and cancel the OGL 1.1, in it's stead returning to and reinforcing the OGL 1.0a, abiding by it's intention and spirit, and to remember it's the enjoyment of the very fans they are alienating that fuel their success in the first place

We wish to reiterate our commitment to bring enjoyment, free of charge, to those who wish to use our material. This is a passion project, fueled by love for DnD and Hollow Knight. We would also like to repeat that we have no affiliation with Team Cherry, and that these opinions are in no way, shape or form connected to Team Cherry or it's employees. We also wish to thank them for creating games and worlds that inspire us so incredibly and deeply, and if you haven't yet, please support them however you are able

For our community specifically: we understand not everyone here shares this opinion. We believe in free speech and invite all voices to be heard as they see fit, where they see fit. We only ask in our particular server/forum, respect and courtesy be used in the discussion. We do not advocate or support hate speech, threats (to any party), false or misleading statements, or any other form of antagonism spoken without care and/or in bad faith

Finally, please understand we will take every step we can to protect and maintain Hollowed Kingdoms as it currently exists; however, we are small and do not have the ability to fight policies we disagree with. Should things end poorly for us, please know we have always operated only with love for 2 iconic games and to bring enjoyment to those who share that love. Our community is endlessly precious to us, and we want to thank each and every one of you for your continued support. We hope this can one day be a resolved issue we barely look back at. Until then, we feel the need to stand up for what we believe in, and encourage anyone who feels the same to do so too. Thank you all.

~Hollow Kingdoms Team Again, thank you to everyone who has supported and will continue to support us. We appreciate you all, and wish you all the best. We intend to continue the project as best we can, and will continue to do our best to bring the world of Hollow Knight to the table top.

#Hollowed Kingdoms Update

[tragicsibsshowdown]

The Siblings have been Selected!

are you ready to see your favorite sets of tragic siblings go head to head? Well here are you contestants entering!

Polls will be random for the first round and continue on from there bracket style!

And if you would like to make some propaganda… well just make sure to use the tag #tragicsiblingshowdown2023 bc I do wanna see it!

Azula and Zuko from Avatar The Last Airbender

Diluc and Kaeya from Genshin Impact

Donald and Della from Ducktales 2017

Nahyuta and Apollo from Ace Attorney

Vi and Jinx from Arcane

Caleb and Phillip Wittebane from The Owl House

Mari and Sunny from OMORI

Chara and Asriel from Undertale

Luffy and Ace and Sabo from One Piece

Lucas and Claus from Mother 3

Ingo and Emmet from Pokemon

Sam & Dean Winchester from Supernatural

Ed and Al Elric from FullMetal Alchemist

Eda & Lilith Clawthorne from The Owl House

Wei Wuxian, Jiang Cheng, and Jiang Yanli from Mo Dao Zu Shi

Miles Edgeworth and Franziska Von Karma from Ace Attorney

Dick Grayson and Jason Todd from DC

Dess and Noelle from Deltarune

Rillaine and Allen from Evilious Chronicles

Elsa and Anna from Frozen

Thor and Loki from Marvel

Garmadon and Wu from Ninjago

Klavier Gavin and Kristoph Gavin from Ace Attorney

Andrés, Guillermo, Kara and Tamara from Enderbomb

Natsu & Zeref Dragneel from Fairy Tail

Floofty And Snorpy Fizzlebean from Bugsnax

Adaine and Aelwyn Abernant from Fantasy High

Maki and Mai from Jujustu Kaisen

Strelitzia and Lauriam/Marluxia from Kingdom Hearts 

Sasuke and Itachi Uchiha from Naruto

NiGHTS and Reala from NiGHTS into Dreams

Thalia and Jason Grace from Percy Jackson

Bianca  and Nico Di Angelo  from Percy Jackson

Rameses and Moses from The Prince of Egypt

Mephone 4 and 4s from Inanimate Insanity

Taako and Lup from The Adventure Zone

Ianthe and Coronabeth Tridentarius from The Locked Tomb 

Dante and Gene from Minecraft Diaries

Violet, Klaus and Sunny Baudelaire from A Series of Unfortunate Events

Kamado Tanjirou and Kamado Nezuko from Demon Slayer

Hornet and The Hollow Knight from Hollow Knight

Killua and Alluka Zoldyck from Hunter x Hunter

Celestia and Luna from My Little Pony

Vash and Knives from Trigun

Mipha and Sidon from The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild

Lumine and Aether from Genshin Impact

Alice and Reko Yabusame from Your Turn to Die

Brambleclaw and Hawkfrost from Warrior Cats

Ponyboy and Darry from The Outsiders

Aaron and Alex Stowe from The Unwanteds

Shigeo Kageyama (Mob) and Ritsu Kageyama from Mob Psycho 100

Hiro and Tadashi Hamada from Big Hero 6

Shadow and Maria from Sonic 

Annie and Hallie from The Parent Trap

Ophelia and Laertes from Hamlet

Ajax and Teucer from The Odyssey

Yin and Jin (The Gold and Silver Demons) from Lego Monkey Kid

Starfire and Blackfire from Teen Titans

The Afton Siblings from Five Nights at Freddys

Kanna Kizuchi and Shin Tsukimi from Your Turn To Die

Hershel Layton and Jean Descole from Professor Layton

Stan and Ford Pines from Gravity Falls

Saeran and Saeyoung from Mystic Messenger

Luke Skywalker and Leia Organa from Star Wars

ROUND 1 MASTERPOST

Post-Round One Update

ROUND 2 MASTERPOST

ROUND 3 MASTERPOST

ROUND 4 MASTERPOST

ROUND 5 MASTERPOST

REVIVAL ROUND 1 MASTERPOST

REVIVAL ROUND 2 MASTERPOST

REVIVAL ROUND 3 MASTERPOST

REVIVAL ROUND 4 MASTERPOST

FINAL ROUND MASTER POST

#tragicsiblingsshowdown2023 #polls #masterpost #fandom polls #tumblr polls

[bahbahhh]

begin again

a lot of change happens in between Breath of the Wild and Tears of the Kingdom. let’s fill in the gaps. zelda pov | zelink | totk spoilers | rated T zelinkweek2023 | @zelinkcommunity [first] [previous]

also on ao3

chapter 6

for the prompt "in another life"

Without the Sheikah Slate, it will take them almost a month to travel all the way to Hateno Village. Zelda promises to write when Riju asks before they depart, and it inspires Zelda to request the same of Tauro when they reconnect with his team passing through Kara Kara Bazaar. He responds enthusiastically and offers to send her copies of all his findings. 

“Where do you port?” Tauro unclicks his notepad from his belt.

“I’m sorry, what?” 

“Oh, my apologies. It’s an expression from home. I do that when I’m excited. The thought of sharing my research justfills my sails! Ha! See, there it is again.” He chuckles, and then takes a slow, calculated breath, rolling his shoulders back into place like he’s resetting something internally. “I mean to ask, where should I send it all? Where is your home?”

She hasn’t been back to Hyrule Castle since they defeated Calamity Ganon. Akkala Citadel stands hollow like a skeleton on a hill. Gerudo Town is familiar and welcoming, but her roots remain detached. She sees flashes of the various cots she’s slept on over the past two years and the familiar lost and lonely feeling begins to pour back into the space newly created with the haircut. 

Zelda tries to fight it, reminding herself she’s lighter and that she deserves to be, and that explorers don’t need homes, even though Tauro’s just told her even he has one, but her voice gets trapped. She just stands there, silently choking, like there is a stone lodged in her throat. 

“Hateno.” Link rescues her from herself. Saves her, again.

Zelda leaves the Gerudo Desert picturing her feet dangling over the end of a too-short cot for eternity. 

—

A Rito messenger finds them just before the Dueling Peaks and delivers an update from Teba. The skies of Rito Village are finally clear. Vah Medoh rests at the bottom of Lake Totori. 

“Interesting,” Zelda says after the messenger takes off back in the direction of Tabantha. Link looks at her and tilts his head. “That they decided to use the lake, you know?” When his expression doesn’t change, she continues. “It’s just, I remember reading that the Rito were once thought to be water dwelling.”

Link raises his eyebrows. 

“Yeah, like the Zora.” Zelda nods. “Maybe the Rito and the Zora are connected? Who knows. The Royal Library contained records mostly to do with the Royal Family. Rito lifetimes are shorter than Hylian’s and their history is almost entirely passed down through oral tradition. I supposed I could ask Kaneli or Kass…” 

“What about us? Hylians? Anything curious about our ancient ancestors?” He signs. 

She feels a tug. He’s asking her for information. Wisdom. Hylia’s outstretched hands. The Zonai owl’s wide eyes. Notebooks carried like a weapon. “Not much survived from the time before the first Calamity. There was a great purging of information by the King who banished the Sheikah Technology, largely because it was all recorded bySheikah Technology. There are some clues, though, beyond what the Royal Family at the time decided to record or destroy.”

“Clues?”

“Sure. In the ancient ruins, what was passed down in secret like the Calamity Ganon tapestry. In other places, too. Like…well, here, show me the sign for ‘Hylian’, again.” Zelda nods eagerly. Link complies, framing either side of his face with his hands. He moves his hands away from his face, pointer finger and thumb gradually coming together to pinch the air several inches beyond his ears. 

“Notice anything?”

Link shakes his head. Zelda repeats the sign for him and then gestures to the space between her ear and the point where her fingers meet. His face is blank. She laughs and drops her arms. So much for being a good teacher. 

“Our ears. They used to be longer.”

—

“As you can see, my experiment was a complete success!” Purah squeals, spinning around twice before she loses her balance and topples over onto her desk. Link lunges forward to help her, but Symin is already there with both hands and a slightly exacerbated look.

“Perhaps you should wait until you’ve adjusted a bit more to wear the high heels, Ms. Director,” Symin pleads. 

“Nonsense!” Purah bats his hands away and sets her glasses back into place on her face. “The fastest way to learn is to do. And besides, you’re just saying that to keep me short and away from your honey candies! I will find them. Mark my words.”

With the heels, Purah is taller than Zelda and almost a full head taller than Link. Any trace of adolescence is gone from her face. Snow white hair curls attractively along her jawline in a way Zelda’s shorter cut has yet to discover. 

Zelda is immediately curious why Purah picked this age specifically, looking a bit older than she remembers her, but she resists the urge to fire off a dozen questions. They all pertain to technology she won’t have access to much longer. Why waste her energy stoking a dying fire? 

“It’s incredible, Purah. Congratulations.” Zelda settles on praise.

“Just in the nick of time, too. SNAP! Oh, hm, I suppose I should ditch the kiddy catchphrase. Speaking of ditching, here’s the Sheikah Slate back, Linky.” Purah tosses the Slate at him. His hands hesitate until the last second before opening to catch it.

If Purah’s chucking the Slate, she must truly be ready to move on from the Sheikah Technology. Zelda glances over her shoulder, blinking furiously to ease the sting in her eyes. In the corner of the room, the Guidance Stone is dark. 

Zelda clears her throat and forces herself to turn back. “Have you thought at all about what you’ll tell everyone?” 

“Growth spurt?” Link grunts.

“Jealous?” Purah sticks her tongue out at Link, He laughs. She hobbles around the side of the desk, wincing every few steps, and then plops into her chair. “I told Impa and Robbie of my intentions to use the Sheikah Slate before I left Kakariko.”

“Really?” Zelda blinks. “So, no asking for forgiveness?”

“I wanted to offer them the opportunity to reverse their aging as well.”

Zelda becomes aware of her heart beating. She pictures Impa, all of twenty-five again, traveling alongside her across Hyrule. “What did they say?”

“Robbie was tempted, but he has a family he loves and he does not wish to outlive them. Impa,” Purah looks at Zelda over the top of her glasses. “said she’s lived long enough and is looking forward to, and I quote, ‘the obscurity of retirement’.” She rolls her eyes and starts sorting through the papers in front of her. Zelda deflates but her disappointment diminishes quickly. She understands the appeal, having wished for the same thing upon her return from stasis. Only she wasn’t afforded the option to resign. 

And how can she forsake a duty literally in her blood?

“Think they’ll change their minds once they see you?” Link asks.

“No. Impa told me to give you the Slate once you returned so you could continue clearing the shrines. You only have Akkala and part of Central Hyrule left, right? I suppose you could stop by Robbie’s while you are up there, Linky, but they both seemed pretty confident in their answers.” Purah stands abruptly, the chair toppling over behind her. She ignores it and starts marching toward the kitchen. “Symin! Write this down: ‘Subject’s appetite remains voracious one week post re-aging.’ I suspect this will dissipate with time, but the nutritional needs following a rapid physical growth are important to document! Come Symin! Teach me how to scramble an egg. No, two eggs! I require protein!” She disappears beyond the wall and Symin follows after, shaking his head. 

Zelda glances at Link. He’s looking down at the Sheikah Slate still in his hands. The map is displayed on the screen. Only a few constellations of blue remain. She half expects him to disappear in shards of light right then, but he looks up at her with those luminous stones, and just waits. 

“Are you going to leave today?" Her mouth is dry. 

He nods and then with his free hand, ‘I’m ready.’

He’ll make quick work of what is left. His body is strong again. She’s seen to this on the journey back, advocating for rest and hot meals, trying to model what he will need to do when she’s gone, all the while recording notes about the terrain she’ll soon cross on her own. Obscurity feels like too much of a stretch in this lifetime, but who knows, with this haircut and some travelers clothes, maybe she could aim for inconspicuousness.   

“I would like to go with you…at least to Hyrule Castle, if that’s alright? To review the surviving historical archives? Please?”

He holds out his hand. The only person who is reaching for her is the one she needs to let go. She flexes her hand at her side. It’s almost time to, like sand through her fingers. And yet–

One last time, she tells herself and then she takes it. 

—

The lone shrine within Hyrule Castle is conveniently located beneath the library. Link clears the shrine and starts in the direction of the passage up to the castle main. Although she wasn’t permitted to walk them herself, she knows the castle is filled with many secret pathways, including an underground one that leads all the way out to Castle Town. They were all built as a means of evacuating members of the Royal Family during a siege, but none considered the possibility the greatest threat to Hyrule could emerge from within the castle itself. 

The air is damp and heavy. It smells – she thinks about Link and the cave shrine – funnier than it should. Musty and mineral and sickly sweet, like something is rotting behind the bedrock. She opens her mouth, a joke about not drinking cave water on her tongue, but parts of the cavern suddenly look too dark for her liking. She’s aware that there are things hidden under Hyrule Castle, her father told her as much a century ago when he was still entertaining her questions. And like most of the castle above, she was forbidden from going anywhere near the tunnels. The only difference was the rule wasn’t unique to her. The entrance to whatever lies beneath the castle was completely sealed off to everyone. Even the King. 

Zelda turns and hurries away from the smell and the dark up into the safety of the library. 

They spend most of the day there. She wants to lose herself in information, have something of value to offer back to Tauro but as she suspected, the vast majority of the texts are beyond saving. Deprived of proper preservation efforts and exposed to the elements for a century, many disintegrate in her hands. She finds a few history books in her father’s hidden study, which remained sealed and undisturbed until Link discovered it toward the end of his journey. She recognizes her father’s handwriting and surmises he was copying older texts. Perhaps a quiet duty of the King or a hobby he never shared with her? She sits in his study for a long time, reading through recorded history of the Royal Family. Ancient wars and evil Kings and legends of gods descending from massive islands in the sky. Eventually, her brain stops absorbing information and she just traces the slant of her father’s impeccable penmanship. 

Link leaves her be, disappearing into the castle to hunt down and take care of any monsters that wandered back within the walls.

He isn’t back when she finally emerges. Beams of dying sunlight stretch toward her through the gaps in the ceiling. Shadows begin to fill the sanctuary of her library, so she starts chasing the light throughout the castle. She wanders the battered hallways and lets her memory fill in the broken pieces. Her family’s colors are barely distinguishable behind the grime clinging to the rugs and torn banners along the walls. 

She realizes where her grief has been taking her right before she enters the Sanctum.  The main entrance to her chamber collapsed during the initial siege, but there is an additional entryway here, built so the Goddess-blood princess would always have access to the Sanctum for prayer. She follows the staircase up into her room and uses furniture to scale the wall up onto the upper level so she can access the bridge. 

The ceiling to her study has been blown open. Miraculously, her desk is still standing, along with a few glass vials containing remnants of century-old elixirs and dehydrated plant specimens. She drags her finger along the dust on her microscope and pushes around pages of notes. The contents have been claimed by mildew and weather and time. 

Her old diary lies open. There is a phantom pit in her stomach. The bitter aftertaste of mortification. She had been helpless to stop him when he found it in her room and brought it here to flip through it.

It was the only time she heard the Calamity laugh.

She pushes it aside and starts pulling open the drawers. Quills, dried up wells of ink, and charcoal for sketching. She retrieves the handful of ancient screws and gears she hid in the back from her father. Beneath them, her secret journal. Not her private feelings and unfiltered thoughts, but her notes on the Sheikah Technology. Pages upon pages of research, theories, and data. 

Of course, it’s completely intact. 

“Hey,” Link speaks up from behind her. She doesn’t jump. She knew he would appear eventually. “We should make a fire. It’s getting dark. We can leave in the morning, unless you want to–”

“No, I’m good,” Zelda grabs the notebook and a few other loose documents and pushes it all into his hands. “Here. For the fire.”

He frowns at her. She pulls open her adventure pouch, fishes out her Restoration Summit proposal, folds it, and adds that to the pile, too. 

“Just burn it.” She hears her father in the harshness of her tone. There is ink on her fingers. 

—

Her mood continues to sour as they clear the rest of the shrines in Central Hyrule. The guardian team has been busy consolidating all the guardian parts the Gorons don’t want, so when Link returns from clearing the shrines in the Lost Woods and Hyrule Ridge, all he has to do is point and click. She’s quiet and reserved, but no one seems to notice. There is an excitement building, a collective sense of accomplishment as they near the end of the clean up. A group cheers them on when they depart from the main camp. Link leads the horses in the general direction of the road. It will either take them back to Akkala or the Great Plateau. 

They board the horses at the Riverside Stable. The golden horse pushes his nose into Zelda’s shoulder and she smiles, scratching the spot behind his ears he likes. She has yet to name him, but it’s getting hard to imagine herself traveling without him. It would make obscurity impossible, inconspicuousness a challenge, but he’s a strong horse and loyal, following her command over Link’s now.

Link looks southwest. In the distance, she can see the rise of the Great Plateau on the horizon. He reaches for her hand. They are going to fast travel right into the Shrine. Into the maw of the magic that healed his broken body. Trapped his soul.

You don’t have to do this alone.

She can’t go back on her word. Not now.

“Last time,” she promises herself and reaches for his hand.

He must think she’s offering comfort, because he smiles.  

—

They make camp outside the cave when it's all said and done. Tomorrow, they will fast travel to Akkala and part ways. He’ll head north to clear the rest of the shrines and meet up with the guardian team there, and she’ll reconnect with Hudson in Tarrey Town to talk through his formal proposal for the next phase of the reconstruction.  

Link’s cooking one of her favorite dishes: a simple meat and rice bowl. She glares at the cooking pot and watches the water start to boil. He pulls out the ingredients, carefully drops them in, and starts absentmindedly humming a cheerful, light melody as he stirs. She’s noticed he does this whenever he cooks. They are all wordless songs she knows she’s never heard before, and yet somehow, she instantly recognizes them. Could hum along if she would only let herself. 

“What’s the song?” She asks.

He looks up at her through the curtain of his bangs. In the stillness, shadows dance across his skin in the firelight and he briefly wears different versions of the same face. 

Just like the songs she’s never heard, somehow, she recognizes each one.

“The song you are humming,” She fails to keep the edge out of her tone. “What is it called?”

He shrugs, sets down the spoon, and signs, ‘I hear them in my head. Sometimes when I come upon a new place, or in my dreams. I’ve asked Kass and he says he never heard any of them from his teacher.’

Zelda softens a little. She pulls her knees up into her chest and wraps her arms around them. “Kondo. The court poet’s name was Kondo. He was a Sheikah.”

Zelda waits for Link to continue, but he’s fallen silent and still. Likely to allow her a moment with the memory of her former friend. It only makes her anger swell. She hugs her legs tighter, trying to steel herself against his kindness. It will only make it harder to let him go when it’s time to. “Does Kass have any theories? About where these songs come from?”

‘He thinks I was a musician in another life. Who knows, maybe I’ll take up an instrument when this is all done.’ He takes up the spoon and resumes his stirring.

She narrows her eyes and looks up at the clouds forming overhead. Storm clouds. In the distance, a ribbon of gray scales and lightning weaves across the sky toward them. Farosh. Perhaps summoned like the clouds by Link’s innocent humming, or, more likely, completely unaware of them or Hyrule’s restoration, or the passing of time itself. 

Zelda thinks about Link’s final letter. About how seeing a dragon, this dragon, is what gave him the strength to meet his destiny; restored his faith in this land and the people living in it. She wishes the sight of Farosh could do the same for her. Or perhaps the memory of Naydra swirling free over her head on Mount Lanayru, or Dinraal’s fire blazing over the Spring of Power visible from the window of her room in Tarrey Town. 

But the dragons don’t bring her comfort. They don’t inspire her. All she sees are symbols. Misery like lightning. Icy blue loneliness. Fiery rage. 

“You should go,” she blurts. 

Link looks up at her. 

“I can make my way back on my own.” 

He laughs. 

“I’m…I’m serious.” Zelda lowers her legs and curls her fingers into fists at her sides.

He’s not even looking at her. His attention is back on the food. He signs with one hand in her direction. ‘I’m not leaving you.’

“Why not?” Every word stings pouring from her lips, but the pain is liberating. It fuels her determination to keep going. She raises her voice, practically shouting. “You should!”  

Link drops the spoon into the pot and glares at her. Finally. 

“What? What’s the difference? Tomorrow, in a week, in a month? You-your–” Zelda waves her hands, trying to catch the perfect word in the air in front of her, like a firefly in the dark. She growls impatiently and continues, “you are freefrom your appointment.”

‘Appointment?’

She throws her hands up. “I have no intentions of taking the throne once Hyrule is restored, therefore, I am no longer in need of a knight.” 

“I’m not a knight,” he says.

“No. You’re not.” Pain rips at her stomach, threatening to tear her wide open. 

He stares at her. 

“Stop looking at me! Go.”

He doesn’t move.

“Fine. Fine! I’ll go.” She rises to her feet and dusts herself off. He stands with her. Unbearable heat builds in the back of her throat. She lifts her hand to push him away and immediately notices the scar. 

It’s glowing. 

Zelda erupts like molten rock from Death Mountain. Like the Calamity did into the sky that day all those years ago and ten thousand years before that. Something unchecked and vengeful and ugly rises up the darkest parts of her. 

If a dragon is required for him to realize what’s needed of him, then, so be it, she’ll become one.

“The Master Sword is gone. You have not worn the Champion’s tunic since Calamity Ganon’s defeat. You recommended the destruction of the only source of value I had to offer Hyrule.” She aims her finger at him and jabs. “You did that to me.” She heaves the last word at him and takes a few steps back, circling, and then gets right back in his beautiful face. “I will help rebuild Hyrule in penance for my failures, I’ll play Princess again, since it’s a title I am unable to retire from. That I can’t just put back, like a sword.  I-I will commit myself to research and uncover the secrets of the past and record them better so future generations can actually know what is important, instead of wasting time…wasting time…”

Tears stream down her face and collect under her chin. “You’re free, Link. You can let me go, too.” She mimics the gesture he showed her over a year ago. Invisible sand passing through her trembling fingers. “You have to do it. I’m not powerful or courageous. I am cursed with knowing and I know this about myself. It’s the last thing I’ll ever–” Her voice hitches.”I’ll ever ask-ask of you. Please, because if you keep looking at me like this I might—I can’t do it myself. Just let me go.”

Link stands there in the aftermath of her diatribe, like one of the tattered flags in Hyrule Field that somehow survived Calamity Ganon’s attack and the lonely century that followed. He’s wearing a rare expression of shock, probably processing the completeness of his freedom now that she’s violently discharged him. 

He opens his mouth and then closes it. Lifts his hands and drops them. He does this a few more times. She wants to grab him, but she has no right to reach for him now. She starts wiping her face, trying to make herself look less pathetic, less in need of rescue, so he’ll turn and go. 

“I won’t do that,” Link says it out loud, but he’s signing at the same time. His hands shake with urgency as he does. He signs the same words over and over again until she stops wiping her face and counters.  

“W-why not?” 

Link drops his hands. His voice sinks into a whisper. She has to lean forward to catch it. “I want to be with you.”

Without the rain, she can’t tell if she’s manipulating time again. She feels like she’s suspended in the air. Like she’s trapped in stasis again. “You what?” 

“I put the Master Sword back to heal it so I could protect you. I don’t wear the Champion’s Tunic because it is precious to me and I’m afraid I’ll ruin it more than I already have. I recommended we destroy the Sheikah Technology to freeyou from the past. I will not let you go. If I wanted to do that, I would have left after we first got to Kakariko. I chose to stay.” He takes a step toward her. His entire body is trembling. He palms his throat when his voice won’t come any more no matter how hard he tries to summon it. He looks her directly in the eyes, tears swimming in his own, and moves his hands slowly, clearly. ‘I choose you. Do you choose me?’

“Y…you choose me?”

He nods. 

“Why-why did you say anything? Do anything? All this time, I thought–” She shakes her head in disbelief. He reaches out and grabs her hands. His current explodes across her skin until every inch of her is buzzing. He’s Farosh climbing out of the spring, a candle in the dark, the taste of magic on her tongue. 

“Important things take time.” He gave her the answer months ago. “I was waiting until you were ready. Everyone is. Hyrule sees all you’ve sacrificed, all you’ve done. We all see you and we are willing to wait for you.”

Her ears are ringing. Farosh glides across the sky above their heads. She’s never known the beauty of time granted, only the agony of it passing too quickly or the suffocation when it stops completely. All she’s ever known is pressure, so governed by it, she’s created it all herself in the vacuum that was left inside her when it was taken away. 

Hyrule hasn’t been trying to bury her with the Sheikah Technology. It’s been making room for her. All of her.

“Are you ready?” Link asks. 

Zelda looks at him. He waits. The electricity she feels between their hands is visible for a moment across his skin, and his eyes, those luminous stones, they don’t shine. They burn.  

“I am,” she says. 

Link lets out a single, cathartic sob. It’s heavy with breath, like he’s been holding it in for a hundred years. Like he was actually worried she might need even more time.

He releases her hands and starts to sign something, but then stops himself.  He pauses, scanning her face, and then steps into her–impossibly, extraordinarily close. He grabs her face with both hands, fingers sliding insistently into her hair under her braids, and kisses her.

#botw #zelink #link #loz #legend of zelda #breath of the wild #zelda #tears of the kingdom #loz botw #botw fanfiction #totk #totk spoilers #loz totk #loz fanfiction #zelink fancficiton #zelink community #zelink week 2023 #bahbahhhart #bahbahhhwrites #begin again

[bizaar]

Cruel Summer Part 13

First - Previous - Next

pairings: Eddie Munson x fem!reader

summary: After breaking up, you and Eddie do your best to soldier on with your lives, but you slowly begin to discover that there is a stronger line of connection keeping you together than just history…

word count: 11.5k

warnings: swearing, descriptions of violence/the Demogorgon ate Barb, angst, fluff

A.N.: Happy Birthday to me and a very merry unbirthday to all of you! Thank you to everyone who sent such nice comments and asks after the last chapter, I really hope you all enjoy the update!!! if you see typos, no you don't :D

Dustin can’t decide who hates this plan more, Eddie or himself. 

They’ll split into three teams, one at the Creel House to draw Vecna’s attention on this side, and two in the Upsidedown, one to lure the bats away from the house and hold them, and one to send the bastard to kingdom come while his guard is down. 

Simple and more or less straightforward… until a very frustrating though decidedly no less valid question is raised: how do you know the plan is even going to work?

Which is to say, how are you going to make sure the bats will do what they’re supposed to and leave the house unguarded when Team Distraction turns the volume up?

Because if Dustin and Eddie can’t guarantee that their distraction will lure the bats — all of the bats — then Steve, Nancy, and Robin won’t be able to get into the house, and if they can’t get in the house, then they’re dead in the water before they’ve even begun.

As so often happens when the dark storm cloud of sobering truth rolls in on the horizon, they all come to the same simultaneous conclusion.

It strikes like a bolt of lightning in the distance — a brief purpling flash that is so sudden you can’t be sure it was even there until its presence is validated by the staggered clap of thunder following dutifully behind.

That’s what the realization feels like. Loud, pervasive, numbing. It leaves Dustin’s ears ringing in the hollowness it leaves behind. 

One of you is going to have to get out there and do something to lure the bats away — one of you is going to have to be bait.

Naturally, nobody is exactly eager to throw their name into the running for that prestigious task, least of all Dustin, who is under no delusions about being an athlete of any capacity. 

He’s a Hawkins Middle AV club alumnus for Christ’s sake, not exactly the picture of physical prowess. 

The notion itself is enough to set something cold and heavy settling in the pit of his stomach, like something out of a stress-induced nightmare — he knows no one is going to ask him to be the bait, but there is still that nagging pressure of worry.

He can’t imagine what he’ll do if the task falls to him, he can’t imagine what any of you will do. More to the point, he can’t imagine any of you being stupid enough to willingly go and put your life on the line like that.

Only that is not expressly true. Steve would do something that stupid, and he doesn’t even have to imagine it as the older boy steps bravely forward into their Socratic huddle. 

“I’ll do it,” He says, nodding solemnly like he’s just presented himself to steward the one ring to Mordor … though probably not, because Steve wouldn’t get that reference in the first place. 

He’s not Frodo Baggins, he’s just a big brave dog too stupid to know when to stay quiet and save his own life. 

Thankfully, the suggestion goes over more or less like a lead balloon.

“That’s not gonna work, Steve,” Nancy says, a messy halo of curls dancing about her features as she shakes her head, pursing her lips. 

The sting of her rejection is immediately evident across Steve’s face, and Dustin has to wonder just how much of that bravery is actually just plain, old fashioned peacocking to try and impress her.

Even if it isn't, there is not much of an argument to be made against the refusal of his offer, considering the general consensus of the room is more or less in agreement with her. 

It leaves him visibly deflated.

Dustin doesn’t fault him for suggesting he be the one to do it. It is nothing less than entirely on brand for Steve — big damn hero that he is — but in this specific case, it’s more of bonehead thinking rather than the noble gesture he imagines he thinks it is. 

“Why not?” Steve presses, speaking to Nancy more than anyone else in the room, “I’ll lead them away and double back — it’ll take ten minutes tops.” 

He makes a show of dusting his hands of imaginary grime before presenting her with his empty palms, impressing absolutely no one, Nancy especially. 

“Yeaaaah…” Eddie says through his teeth, stretching the word like he knows he’s got something to say that Steve won’t thank him for, “Only that didn’t work so good for you last time, did it, Bud?”

His head lolls left to press his ear to his shoulder as he levels him with a knowing look, squinting at him and scrunching his features in a way that could almost be misconstrued as apologetic. 

And he’s right, Steve does not thank Eddie for so graciously pointing out the shortcomings of his last expedition to the Upsidedown. 

“Last time I wasn’t running away, Bud.” Steve deadpans, hurling the pet name back at him with perhaps a tad too much vitriol. “They caught me off guard, I’ll be ready for them this time.” 

It does nothing to breathe any confidence into their group as a dissenting murmur passes through the cabin of the RV.

Dustin thinks deep down they all know they probably should let Steve do it, despite their misgivings.

He’s really the only one among them with the prerequisite skills for the job – all those sports he played – but there is still a glaringly obvious issue with that plan because Steve has already assigned himself a pivotal role, one Robin is all too happy to remind him of. 

“Listen, Stevie.” She starts, “We all know you’re super impressive or whatever, but this is one thing we don’t need you Galahading yourself over — you’re supposed to be running point up at the house so Nancy can light Vecna’s ass up, remember?”  

“Well, I don’t see anyone else volunteering.” He snaps, crossing his arms over his chest and making a point to scan the room in an expectant glare, suddenly towering over them like some kind of angry lighthouse sweeping the shoreline for signs of life. 

Dustin does his best to shrink out of his line of sight when it passes over him. 

He’s got no business volunteering for something like this, and even if he did, he’s already got his own job with Eddie, acting as his roadie of sorts — at least he thinks so, that’s how Eddie had described it and for his lack of expertise on the matter all he can do is agree. 

If he had to pick someone, Lucas is probably the best substitute for Steve, but he’s got to stay with Max on this side just in case Vecna’s hold grows a little too tight and a musical intervention is needed.

It’s a moot point, anyway, because they’ve already left that group at the Creel House, and Dustin can’t feasibly see doubling back for them just because the plan has changed. 

As far as he can tell, Steve is right, and there’s no one else left to be the bait.

“I can do it.” You offer then, speaking in a small, tentative voice from where you’ve tucked yourself in at the other side of the camper.

There is a shift in the group as everyone moves at once to find the source of the voice, staring in an almost stunned silence like they’d forgotten you were there. 

Dustin feels his heart seize in his chest in a violent spasm that has his intestines responding accordingly. 

Oh, God!

His eyes go wide as he whips around to regard you with something that can only stem from the gut-wrenching, pants-shitting terror he is suddenly gripped in. 

Not you, anyone but you!

Beside you, Eddie mirrors the motion, head snapping up so quickly Dustin is half surprised it doesn’t roll right off his shoulders and across the length of the RV. 

Under such tense scrutiny, you wilt ever so slightly, glancing nervously around the room, looking for any kind of a reaction.

And nobody outright rejects the suggestion like they had with Steve, much to Dustin’s abject horror. 

“I’ll do it.” You say again, this time with a little more confidence, giving a subtle nod as if to punctuate the affirmation. 

Dustin, of course, is ardently against it, but has found that he has been rendered suddenly and woefully mute by the complete and total shock of your suggestion.

Eddie is thankfully not caught in those doldrums, and he is all too happy to tell you exactly how he feels. 

“Like hell you will,” He gawps.

For the lack of any higher functioning brain power, all Dustin can manage is a stupid, emphatic nodding, and when the initial shock begins to fade and more of his brain starts to switch on again, he searches the room for the naysayers of the earlier moment.

He waits for the dissenting murmur, the interjections from prevailing cooler heads going on to explain exactly why you cannot, in fact, be the bait, but they never come. 

It’s just Eddie, telling you you’re crazy if you think he’s gonna let you get out there, and Dustin frantically nodding along like a goddamn bobblehead. 

“Why not?” You demand, sounding almost offended that he would disagree.

“Because it’s a suicide mission.” Eddie presses, putting harsh emphasis on the last two words.

You narrow your eyes. 

“Oh, please,” you start, but he doesn’t let you finish. 

“Babe,” the pet name causes Dustin’s skin to prickle uncomfortably, Eddie doesn’t seem to notice, “You weren’t there, okay? You don’t know what’s down there–”

“Giant vampire bats?” You deadpan, quirking a brow. 

He wires his jaw shut and glares at you.

“And a whole network of vines and tentacles and creepy crawlies that report directly back to the fucker himself,” He presses, only he doesn’t know the half of it.  

“Not to mention the Demogorgon,” Dustin says. 

The room reacts appropriately at the mention of the foe of their past.

You remain unimpressed where you stand, but Eddie twists slowly to regard Dustin with a highly suspicious look. 

“...I’m sorry…” He begins slowly, “The what?”

Steve answers for him, dismissing the question with a vague gesture.

“It’s like I told you, Munson,” he says, “We’ve been through all this before,” 

“Only this time, we don’t have the benefit of having a girl with—” Robin starts, but Eddie cuts her off. 

“Superpowers, yeah, you mentioned — can we just circle back to that Demogorgon thing?” 

“…that’s what happened to Barb.” Nancy says then, getting this strange, haunted look in her eyes as she speaks – the color drains from her face, “… what really happened…” 

The room goes eerily silent, leaving Eddie fumbling to understand what such a cryptic comment could possibly mean.

He looks from face to face, confusion etching itself deeper and deeper into his features as he waits for someone to elaborate. 

“What do you mean what really happened?” He finally demands.

They don’t have to say it, their silence speaks volumes — Barbara Holland’s disappearance had been big news for almost a year — almost bigger than Will’s disappearance, death, and subsequent resurrection.

An honor student ups and skips town out of the blue? Not a chance in hell, not Barb, at least.

As far as Dustin can tell from the hushed conversations he’d overheard his mother having, most people didn’t outright believe it, even if only quietly so.

They preferred to keep their heads in the sand and keep the horrific alternative to themselves: that something terrible had happened to Barb right there in their sleepy little town, and she was never coming back.

It's no wonder the good people of Hawkins had grown progressively more wary of things that didn’t expressly fit their happy little narrative over the last couple of years.  

If only they knew just how right they were to be afraid. 

Eddie blanches as it dawns on him – the bats aren’t the only thing down there that can and will eat you alive if you’re caught. 

“Oh, shit.” He mumbles. 

Then, like you hadn’t heard a thing they’d just said about the bestiary of horrors waiting for them on the other side, you shake your head. 

“I don’t care what’s down there –” You scoff, dismissing the truth of Barb’s horrific and untimely demise with a flippant gesture. 

Eddie whips back around to level you with an incredulous look – eyes out on stalks and as big as dinner plates.

“You gotta be kidding,” He stresses, “Didn’t you hear what they said? Something down there ate Barb.”

“Nobody said that.” You snap.

“Henderson—!” Eddie practically shouts, whipping around to glare at Dustin, though he hardly thinks the look is meant for him, especially with the way Eddie thrusts an accusatory finger back at you, “Tell her!”

“The Demogorgon ate Barb.” Dustin drawls. 

Somewhere to his left, Nancy flinches and he can’t help but feel a pang of regret for putting it in such crass terms, but it is very important to him that you understand the ramifications of what you were about to do. The danger you are putting yourself in. 

You roll your eyes in that same maddening way you always do that lets Dustin know exactly what you’re thinking – that this is all nothing more than D&D bullshit and that they’re blowing it out of proportion to try and scare you out of volunteering. He wishes it were as simple as all that.

He wishes that he wasn’t stuck thinking about the faceless horror that has haunted his dreams since that night in 1983 back at Hawkins Middle. 

And then he feels eyes on him, boring holes into the side of his face. Dustin turns to find Eddie staring at him, brows pulled tight over his eyes, still wide and fearful as the question he doesn’t want to ask forms on the tip of his tongue. 

It hadn’t occurred to Dustin that Eddie didn’t actually expect him to back him up like that, that he didn’t really believe that’s what happened. He was just being dramatic, like always, how was he supposed to know he was right on the money?

It’s visibly sobering, and Eddie clenches his jaw as the urge to ask about it escapes him, and he levels Dustin with a knowing look, nodding curtly.

Yes, the Demogorgon had, in fact, eaten Barbara Holland, as plain and simple and horrific a fact as that. Nothing more need be said about it.

And honestly, a lot more could be said, because that’s not even the worst thing that has happened since the Upsidedown came crashing up into their world, but somehow Dustin knows that nothing he says is going to be enough to deter you. 

“Look, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m the only one who doesn’t have a part to play in this.” You huff.

You bet your ass you don’t. 

You had, in fact, been excluded by design, because that’s the way Eddie wanted it, and Dustin was only happy to agree with him, much to your patent dismay.

Every single one of your arguments had come with just as many explanations as to why you couldn’t go — the least of which were that, despite the new bandages Karen Wheeler had wrapped your hand in, you’re still injured, just as you had stressed on the shore of Lover’s Lake the night before.

“So what?” Dustin huffs.

“So, it’s not fair.” You grouse, halfway to whining about it before Eddie shuts you down. 

“Life’s not fair, Sweetheart,” He says. “The sooner you realize that the better.”  

Harsh but true, Dustin thinks. 

Anyway, what you said is not expressly true – you do have a job. An important job that keeps you very far removed from danger of any kind — you’re supposed to guard the gate in Eddie’s living room from this side in the unlikely event someone comes snooping, and you’re extremely unhappy about it. 

Normally, that would fill Dustin with some sort of gut-wrenching guilt, but as far as he can tell he doesn’t give a shit about how you feel right now.

He only cares about keeping you safe.

You’d already sat arguing about it back in the field when the details of the plan were laid out, nearly spoiling what was just about the closest thing Dustin has experienced to a perfect moment with you in months — running around and playing in the grass in a fit of euphoric, childlike whimsy. It was almost enough to make him forget that there was anything wrong in the world.

That all came crashing down the moment Steve called you back to the camper.

“We really should have someone standing by in case the cops come poking around,” Dustin had tried to explain to your angry, pacing form after they’d broken the news that you were not invited to cross the gate with them. “A-and since you’re so good at thinking on your feet—”

It did nothing to soften the blow of rejection. You’d silenced him with an angry look and spent the next half hour quietly fuming in the furthest corner of the RV you could squeeze yourself into.  

And now you’re volunteering to smear yourself in blood and go willingly into the lion’s den, and no one is disagreeing that it should be you. If that isn’t some form of cosmic justice… 

That’s perhaps what distresses Dustin the most, that you’ve volunteered to go and die, and everyone is just going to let you do it. 

In a shocking turn of events, suddenly he and Eddie are the only sane ones among you.

“This is ridiculous , you guys–”  

“No, you’re not doing it.” Eddie says, slicing the air in a clipped gesture, “End of story. Harrington? Tell her.”

You scoff and open your mouth to protest the supposed finality of the statement, and by extension what Dustin can only imagine is a healthy dose of outrage over any kind of decision involving you being left up to Steve of all people, but he is quick to jump in before you can say anything. 

“Steve!” He stresses, “Tell her!” 

It catches him woefully off guard and Dustin watches as something a little closer to panic than he is comfortable with flashes across Steve’s features. Like being unexpectedly called on in class when you haven’t been paying attention.

Thick brows shoot up toward that immaculate hairline before bouncing back to furrow over Steve’s eyes.

He flexes his jaw and breathes in deeply through his nose, and after a moment’s hesitation, he finally opens his mouth to say… nothing. Dustin can’t believe it. 

He could scream. 

In all the time he’s known him, Steve has never been caught without some kind of a smooth one-liner, a witty comeback. Of all the time Dustin has known him, he has never once been rendered speechless. 

There’s a first time for everything, sure, but why on God’s green Earth did it have to be now? It’s just bad timing. 

Steve stands there, working his jaw like a gaping fish for another agonizing moment of deafening silence, even turning to Robin and Nancy for some kind of support – they have nothing to offer but incredulous stares – but it’s no use, he well and truly has no idea what to say.

You’ve started in again before he can get much more out than a bitten-off “Uuuuhhh….” 

“I’m not just gonna wait around babysitting a hole in the ceiling while you all put your lives on the line,” You bite, and somehow Dustin can’t help but get the sense that even though you’re addressing the room, you’re speaking directly to him – to Eddie, who has spent the duration of your spiel violently shaking his head in outright rejection.

He hardly lets you finish before he makes a harsh sound of incredulous disbelief.

“No.” 

“Eddie–”

“No!”

“Will you shut up and let me do this?” You shout, “I’ll lead the bats away from the house and make them chase me back here–” 

Eddie barks out a bitter laugh that has you clamping your jaw shut with enough force that Dustin hears your teeth click together.

“Right, just like you led Jason and those fuckers away from Rick’s place?” He snaps, his words dripping with disdain, “How’s the hand, by the way? Still hurts?”

Despite their united front, Dustin can’t help the stirring sense of injustice Eddie’s tone kicks up in his chest, rattling around like embers in his ribcage.

He’s not the enemy here, regardless of what his guts are trying to tell him, but the urge to defend you has long since been stronger than any of Dustin’s natural instincts.

Of course, you don’t need him to come running to your rescue – you never have, and he’s starting to suspect that you never will. Some small part of him aches with the grief of that realization. He doesn’t know why, but it feels like a loss. 

Suddenly it’s like you don’t even know he’s there anymore, with the way you’re looking at Eddie. Glaring at him like you’re the only two people in the room. It’s strangely charged, almost intimate, and it makes Dustin’s insides go squirmy like he’s witnessing something torrid.

Somehow it feels like the scene playing out before them is not for their eyes, and Dustin wonders briefly if they ought to leave the room, leave the two of you to this moment.

He watches you bristle, sees your gaze turn to white hot steel, and feels his insides clench for it.

His concern swings hard away from you to land on Eddie’s shoulders, then. Under the molten heat of your anger, he is surely about to whither and melt down to the bone.

Dustin thinks he ought to do something to try and protect him from that, but he doesn’t dare put himself in your line of site. Eddie is made of much stronger stuff than he is, he doesn’t need his help.

“Don’t be an asshole,” You warn him through your teeth.

Eddie throws up his hands and offers you a sarcastic smile, tilting his head ever so slightly like this is all just good, harmless fun. 

“Babygirl, I’ll be whatever I need to be to stop you from doing this.” He says, “Because this is a stupid fucking plan, you’re gonna get yourself killed and when you do, I’m gonna say I told you so.” 

Each point is punctuated by a sharp poke to your shoulder with his index and middle finger, firm enough to jostle you each time he hits home – you slap his hand away before he can poke you again. 

“And here I thought chivalry was dead.” You hum, a harsh, clipped thing oozing with disdain. 

Thankfully, before either of you can really start to fight about it, Robin interjects.

“Children – enough!” She shouts, breaking the spell - you both shrink away from the moment, settling back with arms crossed tightly over your chests, doing your utmost to avoid looking at one another.

Robin continues. 

“We don’t have time to sit around and watch you two go another ten rounds, okay? We’re on a ticking clock here so both of you need to grow up or go in the back and bang out whatever the hell is going on here. Get it out of your system.”

A momentary if not bone-crushing silence falls over the cabin as Robin’s words hang heavy in the air.

It does nothing to help the awkwardness of the moment when Eddie perks up, brows jumping toward his hairline as he gestures toward the pullout haphazardly folded up at the back of the RV.

You roll your eyes, and Dustin pulls a disgusted face.

He looks to Steve for some kind of commiseration only to find him and Nancy fidgeting awkwardly and trying to avoid looking at each other.

Robin looks decidedly pleased with herself as she continues, evidently more than happy to have made the moment exceedingly more awkward than need be.

“Now,” She says, “Everyone is making valid points on both sides. Is this gonna be dangerous? Yes. Is she more than likely going to get seriously injured if not violently dismembered attempting this? Absolutely, but that doesn’t make it an excessively bad plan—” 

“It doesn’t?” Eddie scoffs, which only serves to draw Robin’s attention as she sticks him to the spot with a very pointed look.

“Eddie...” she drawls. 

He squares his shoulders and levels her with an expectant if not uninterested look, hugging himself that much tighter like he’s bracing for whatever it is she’s bound to hurl his way. 

Robin continues, gesturing to you as she speaks. 

“She’s a grown woman – fully consenting – if she wants to get out there and get her ass eaten, that’s her decision to make, not yours.”

Dustin doesn't realize there’s any sort of innuendo behind the words, intended or otherwise, until Eddie makes a harsh, choked sound in the back of his throat. 

Almost immediately, his hand drifts up like he means to clap it over his mouth but switches gears at the last moment to rub at the faint hint of stubble shadowing his jawline, trying his damnedest to hide a less-than-subtle smile.

“Jesus – that’s one way of putting it.” He says, pulling his lower lip in past his teeth.

“Eddie.” You say then, voice lilting in a gently critical tone as your brows come down over your eyes. 

The tension of the previous moment evaporated in an instant, and Dustin doesn’t understand why everyone is suddenly fidgeting and rolling their eyes.

Nancy makes a soft sound of disapproval in the back of her throat, and suddenly he feels like something has flown right over his head.

He hates being the only one not in on the joke. Max might have been able to explain it to him if not entirely unwilling, maybe even Lucas, but on his own he is hopelessly lost among this group of older kids. 

“What?” He can’t help himself from asking, looking from face to face as everyone quickly avoids his gaze, “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing.” You say immediately, “I’ll tell you when you’re older.” 

Dustin still doesn’t get it, but there’s no air in the conversation to ask what exactly he’s missing before Robin addresses you in turn.

There is the faintest pink tinge to her cheeks as she says your name in a commanding if not entirely sheepish way. 

You lean over to smack Eddie’s quivering shoulder as he continues to fight the losing battle against the fit of giggles still threatening to overtake him. 

Before Robin can speak, Steve swoops in, taking her by the arm and literally tugging her back from the center of the huddle.

She wrenches her arm out of his grasp and levels him in a harsh glare. 

“Come on, Rob, give it a rest–” He starts, but Nancy quickly cuts him off. 

“No, she’s right,” She says, then turns to you, “You ought to know what you’re volunteering for”

You, in turn, tilt your head to the right to press your ear to your shoulder.

“Running like hell and hoping they’ll try to make a meal out of me, right?” You deadpan, quirking a brow. 

Like cracking a window at forty thousand feet, all the air is immediately sucked out of the room, taking any sense of levity with it as your words hang heavy in the air. 

Dustin can’t stand it. 

“Oh, come on… come on! There’s gotta be another way.” He presses, “Somebody has got to have a better idea than this.”  

A heavy silence falls over the room, one that leaves a hollow ringing in Dustin’s ears as he waits for someone – anyone to speak.

Somebody has got to have something in the back pocket, some kind of last-ditch hair-brained scheme that doesn’t require anyone to make prey out of themselves.

It’s so quiet he’s half surprised he doesn’t hear the telltale chirping of crickets. 

“Seriously?” He demands, “Nobody?”

When Dustin looks to Eddie for help, even he has suddenly become far too interested in his sneakers, hanging his head until his features are obscured by a frizzy curtain of hair.

It’s madness. It’s got to be some kind of spontaneous contagious insanity that only he is immune to, Dustin can’t think of what else could have such a hold on your tiny group that they’re actually genuinely considering letting you do this.  

Steve rolls his neck in a halfhearted shrug, like this time he’s the one with something to say that is going to be hard to swallow.

“It’s the closest thing to a guarantee we have,” He mumbles, rubbing sheepishly at the back of his neck. “And she’s the only one here freed up to do it…”

“No way!” Dustin says, whirling around to level you with a horrified look, “You know this is crazy, right? You’re gonna get yourself killed!”  

“We’re all gonna get ourselves killed.” You argue. “But if I can buy us a little time before that happens and make sure we take Vecna with us…?”

He shakes his head violently back and forth, hard enough that it just about dislodges the cap from his head.

“Let Steve do it.” He begs, “Steve, tell her you’ll do it–”

He knows he’s whining, he sounds like a petulant child who has just been told something they don’t want to hear – totally uncool – but he doesn’t really care.

He wants to grab you by the shoulders and shake you until it knocks this parasitic idea loose from your brain and you see reason again. 

“Steve’s gotta make sure Nancy gets to Vecna.” You snap.

It drives him to the desperate edge, and before he even realizes what he’s doing, Dustin hurls himself out after you into the abyss. 

“Then I’ll do it.”

There, finally, comes that dissenting murmur again, snatching him back from the precipice and placing him gently back on the ledge. It’s a rescue that comes too little too late and for the wrong person because you’re still freefalling.  

The room fills with a dull discordant roar as all of a sudden everyone seems to have something to say, admonishing him for even suggesting the notion.

On one side he’s got Steve already halfway through a lecture about what will happen to him if he lets Dustin go and do something that stupid, meanwhile, Eddie is reminding him that just because he can do something in D&D it doesn’t qualify him to do the same thing in real life.

Everyone talking at once is at best, mildly overwhelming, and at worst, giving Dustin a headache, but at least everyone is focusing on him rather than agreeing to let you offer yourself up in the Upsidedown.

It feels almost like a chance, like maybe somehow he can grab you and whisk you away from all of this while everyone is distracted.

Maybe he’ll be the one to save you this time – if no one else will do it, he has to save you.

He should know better not to hope for things like that.

“Enough,” You snap, silencing everyone with the sharp utterance of the word – you level Dustin with a look that has him wilting under its heat, “This is happening. It’s gonna be me whether you like it or not. It has to be me.”   

There’s no arguing with you because there’s never any point in it when you get like this. You are a mountain and he is the wind, and no matter how he gusts and howls and rants and raves, you will not be moved … a big stupid, stubborn mountain, and that’s that.

As quickly as it began, the debate fizzles out, and the decision is made. Everyone quietly moves to take their places in the RV again. 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The sun is setting when you arrive, fiery claw marks cut the horizon to ribbons and set it ablaze with oranges and pinks and the faintest smear of purple. It sends a strange chill running down your spine, despite how relatively safe you still are on this side. The danger isn’t here, it’s lurking just below your feet.

For obvious reasons, you leave the RV parked among the trees and cross the threshold back into the Forest Hills trailer park on foot. You move silently, single file like good little ducklings weaving in and out of the trailers, broken down lawn furniture, and laundry lines.

It’s strangely abandoned, eerily so.

The only sound other than the gentle hum of the odd generator or the quiet murmuring of a television is the crunch of yellowing grass underfoot. Every step is like breaking glass and you have to work to remind yourself to breathe.   

You’re leading the way, which is not something you would have typically volunteered for, but among the lot of you, you’ve got the most experience sneaking around the trailer park (besides Eddie of course, but he’s not exactly the ideal candidate to go playing Percy Faucet) so it’s you, just like you’d told Dustin back in the RV. 

It has to be you.   

He’s actively ignoring you now, which is not something you’re sure you’ve ever experienced.

Sure, he’s been mad at you for one reason or another over the years, it would be hard to spend so much time as an authority figure in his life and not have some kind of disagreement crop up between you eventually.

But this time he’s pissed at you for good reason and you can’t rightly blame him for feeling so.

There’s nothing to be done about it. The plan needs bait and you need to feel included, one way or another – you know he’s got to understand that, even if he refuses to admit it.

Even Eddie is resigned to the fact that you’re the only person for this job, as much as you know it’s eating him up inside.         

You arrive at the Munson trailer in no time at all and hold the door as you usher your companions inside – Eddie first.

His mattress remains where you left it, along with the cascading fall of bedsheets knotted together, standing in suspended animation. You do your best not to look at it, or anything else you don’t expressly have to as you follow the last of your party through the door and shut it tightly behind you.

You tell yourself that you’re not going to look at the hole in the ceiling again until you have absolutely no other choice, which is to say until you’re crossing through it. 

A shudder passes through your body at the thought, grinding through you like the crunch of tectonic plates – you’re still not entirely convinced the thing isn’t going to sprout teeth and snap shut on you before you can slip through to the other side.

You’re also not entirely sure you even want to go to the other side, the place where bats had nearly liberated Steve’s head from his body and where Barbara Holland had evidently been dragged screaming into an untimely, violent death – but what choice do you have?

You have to go, especially after the fuss you’d kicked up in the RV. 

Before you can get very far down the line of trying to decide whether or not you’ve made a terrible mistake, Eddie is there, pressed to your side and snaking his hand down to link fingers with you.

You’re close enough that when you turn to look at him, your noses are nearly touching, and all your senses are flooded with him.

The rough pads of his scarred fingers brushing against your skin, the smell of his sweat intermingling with tobacco and something earthier. Some small part of you is worried it’s too intimate for the company you keep, but the way his presence soothes the fearful fluttering of your heart won’t let you protest the proximity.

He pacifies your worries with just a touch and suddenly you don’t care about the hole in the ceiling or the lapse in gravity or the monsters on the other side or anything else threatening to break your brain, all you think is Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.   

“Come with me.” He says quietly and pulls you back through the kitchenette. 

You follow, and for half a moment, you think he may be leading you back toward the bedroom.

Your numbers make for tight quarters in the trailer, especially with everyone trying to maneuver the mattress laid out in the middle of the floor, you imagine if Eddie needed a private moment with you, there isn’t a better place to find one than the bedroom. 

Before you can make it too far down the hall, however, he pivots left and twists the handle of the side door leading to the porch.

An interesting development – you are suddenly gripped in the vice of curiosity and feel the gentle pattering of your heart as a hundred different possibilities race through you.    

“Where are you going?” Dustin calls from where he’d been sulking somewhere behind you, and when Eddie ignores him, he raises his voice, “Eddie! Where are you going?” 

He’s already halfway out the door when he pauses, hardly turning to acknowledge Dustin as he speaks. 

“We’ll be right back,” Eddie says.

You’re almost relieved when Dustin’s eyes flit over to you, silently gesturing at you in the expectation that you’ll give him some sort of answer you don’t have.

All you can do is shrug as Eddie pulls you through the door with a gentle tug.

Your unexpected departure kicks up about as much fuss as you expect it would.

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me!” Steve grouses, nearly stumbling over the coffee table in his hurried attempt to follow you to the door. “What now?”

“We shouldn’t split up, you guys,” Nancy calls, following Steve, “Not when things are so close.” 

Eddie pays them no mind as he heads for the rickety staircase, half rotten from disuse as much as years under the elements.

You’ve never known him to use it, opting always to leap down from the elevated porch instead, garnering many a twisted ankle in his day. You wonder if it’s only his insistence on playing follow the leader that has him taking the safer route for once. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Eddie assures them.

“I am worried about it!” Steve snaps, “Eddie – you’re the most wanted person in Roane County and you guys are just gonna… what, you‘re gonna run off and find a quiet spot to … hash things out real quick?”  

“What’s the problem, Steve?” You sigh, stopping short on the top step and holding Eddie firm to the spot below you. 

You don’t have time for an argument, particularly out in the open air where any one of his neighbors could take a peek out the window and spy him standing there.

Steve is right, but you don’t have to let him know that. As always, he’s all too happy to spell his point out for you. 

“The problem is they’re out there looking for him.” Steve drawls, aggressively stretching the words like he thinks you’re stupid or something. “What part of this seems like a good idea?”

Eddie levels him with a poisonous look.

“Hey Man, this is your stupid plan–” He bites, “You’re the one who said we need the goddamn bait, so we’re going out there and we’re gonna walk the route as many times as it takes for her to memorize it.”

If that’s true, it’s news to you and you can’t say you’re expressly pleased to hear it. 

You’d always done your utmost to avoid the Creel House, considering its reputation for being haunted. That doesn’t mean you don’t know exactly where it is from anywhere you’ve spent a decent amount of time in the duration of your life in Hawkins, if only to make damn sure you steer as clear as you possibly can. 

You don’t need Eddie to walk the route with you, but you’re also not going to contradict him when he’s in a mood like this. 

Steve, unfortunately, is not clued in enough to pick up on the venom coursing through Eddie’s veins.  

“It’s a straight shot through the woods from here to there, what’s to memorize?” His tone is oozing with sarcasm, but you refuse to let him ruffle your feathers.

Whatever this is is important enough to Eddie to risk exposure, so you’ll humor him, and in the meantime, you’ll play nice with Steve so that he’ll let you go without a fight.  

You shake your head and offer him a lopsided shrug.

“It’s like you said,” You say innocently, “It’s a straight shot, so that means we’ll be back in no time.”

Robin appears in the doorway beside him then and pokes her head out, looking curiously between the standoff. 

Your eyes meet.

“How long did he say it would take him?” You ask, “Ten minutes tops?”

Ten minutes running, maybe, much closer to twenty-five at a walk, hurried as it is sure to be. Still, she snorts out a burst of undainty laughter.  

“You did say that, Steve-o.” She hums, elbowing Steve in the side when he doesn’t respond.

A thought flashes briefly across your mind, and you make quick work of undoing your tattered watchband.

“Here,” you say, tossing it to him, “You can even time us if you want.” 

Steve catches the watch with the ease of a lifelong athlete and turns the thing over in his hands, staring down at it and evidently weighing the pros and cons of letting the two of you slip off to God knows where – you could not have told him if your life depended on it.

For all you know, you’re on your way out of town, getting out of Dodge before the shit can well and truly hit the fan.

Yesterday, you might have jumped at the chance, but there are bigger things on the horizon now than the promise you’d made to Wayne out on the road between the trailer park and Benny’s.

Whether you like it or not, you’ve both suddenly got a big part to play in all this. The window of opportunity to just slip away has long since slammed shut.

 After a moment of chewing the inside of his lip, Steve finally relents, heaving a long-suffering sigh and running a hand through those perfectly stunning bouncy tresses.  

“Fine.” He says, “Whatever, but you two better come right back. We’re short on time as it is, we don’t need any unexpected variables —” which is to say they don’t need to stage a rescue mission in the event that someone catches you out in the open.

He snaps his fingers into a point and aims the unbelievably smooth gesture at Eddie, “One time out and back, no detours.”

His shoulders drop as a little bit of the tension brimming there visibly goes out of him, and he gives a curt nod.

When Steve turns his pointing on you, you give him an enthusiastic if not ever so slightly sarcastic thumbs up.

“10-4, Good Buddy.” You say.

Eddie wastes no time after that leading you down the steps and across the park into the nearest copse of woodland, stealing away from the prying eyes of the neighborhood like a couple of horny teenagers sneaking off to fool around.

Somehow you don’t think you’ll get that lucky.

The sun is nearly gone by now, and despite the way it still holds the park in the warm luminescence of golden hour, the woods are steeped in deep blue shadow. 

Eddie doesn’t say a word as you walk, he just holds tight to your hand and pulls you along. You do your best to keep up, but his legs are longer than yours and he’s like a man on a mission, cutting through the trees at such a pace. 

Had you been paying any kind of attention to where you were walking, you would have very quickly noticed that your route is not angled toward the Creel House as he’d suggested, but you’re not focused on anything but the silent walking wall that is Eddie.  

Staring at the broad stretch of his back, you can’t help but feel shut out. You wonder if he’s mad at you, but you swallow the urge to ask him about it. You know you’d only sound pathetic and whiny if you did.

Still, he’s giving you extremely conflicting signals, speaking so softly to you the way he had back at the trailer, holding your hand with such a gentle reverence, but pulling you along behind him to wherever you’re going with no sense of tenderness, all the while actively ignoring you. 

Of course he’s mad, you tell yourself.

He’d been under the impression that this saga would come to an end without you taking part in it, far removed from danger, but he should know better that you won’t be content to just sit on the couch and wait this out while everyone puts their lives on the line.

A misplaced twinge of annoyance bites at your insides at the thought that Eddie could actually be angry at you over this, that he would be pig-headed enough to think you wouldn’t put up a fight over being so summarily benched.

You know he knows you better than that, which means he’s sticking his head in the sand and being stubborn for stubbornness' sake.

You might have laid into him about gender roles in situations of peril, the same you would have had it been you and Dustin out here in the woods, but you’re tired of fighting,  so you bite your tongue and trudge along in silence, doing your best to match his gait. 

The further you go, the darker it gets as the sun disappears from the world and night sets in. You have no idea how long you’ve been walking before the trees part – much longer than ten minutes, you’re sure.

When you finally reach a break in the woods, you realize with a start that you are not standing in front of the Creel House. 

It’s the highway.

A lonely stretch of road somewhere nearer to the fairgrounds than the spooky Victorian, if you had to guess.

It is abandoned, pitch black save for the cosmos wheeling overhead. Hawkins has always suffered from an inexplicable excess of backwood roads completely lacking in streetlights of any kind, making for a rare lack of light pollution in this modern world.

Good for stargazing, but bad for walking anywhere after dark.

Where normally you curse the powers that be for its shoddy infrastructure, you’re thankful for the oversight now as you step out onto the shoulder, confident that in the shadows, you will remain blissfully hidden from sight.

Eddie hangs back as you pad carefully to the road and take a good long look in both directions. No impending cars, so far so good. 

Once you’re satisfied that you’re alone, you twist back around to look curiously at him.

“What is this?” you ask.

He’s fidgeting with his rings, twisting the burnished pig’s head back and forth over his middle finger, and you get the sense that he’s not as mad as you’d thought he was. Much more anxious than anything else.

Suddenly you feel rather foolish for being angry at him for nothing at all. 

“Remember back in ‘83?” He begins quietly, sounding almost shy, “When you were driving me around ‘cause the van died and I couldn’t afford to get it fixed?”

You nod, because of course, you do. You cherish those days. 

Those first few tentative weeks you spent driving around with Eddie Munson in your passenger seat, flipping through your cassettes, messing with your rearview mirror, trading a hundred and one inane questions in an attempt to get to know each other better — you remember the thrill of scandal, how anyone could have looked in and seen the two of you together, going along almost conspiratorially.

You know for certain that you would have been the talk of the town had anyone cared to notice, but the good thing about being more or less an invisible person was how you could get away with something like quietly falling into step with Eddie Munson without anyone batting an eye.

By the time someone thought to check in on you, the two of you were already attached at the hip, and there was nothing to be done about it.

You wouldn’t have it any other way.

Eddie gestures to the spot at the side of the road.

“Time’s stuck down there. It’s still November ‘83,”

You pull a face, wondering idly if he can even see you at this distance. 

“Yeah, I’m still having trouble with that one.” You tease, skipping back across the gravel to close the gap between you and Eddie. 

He remains unamused by the levity of your mood – contrary to what you’d almost fooled yourself into believing, this is, in fact, not a romantic jaunt in the moonlight, and Serious Eddie has come out to play.   

“Pay attention,” He presses, “This is important.”

You can’t help but roll your eyes – where had you heard that before?

“Important like that story about the raccoon?” Your attempt at humor falls flat and Eddie gives you a stony look – Serious Eddie is no fun, but you relent and raise your hands defensively, “Okay, you’re right, I’m sorry… so, time’s stuck. What does that mean exactly?”

It’s a subtle change, but you watch his shoulders drop as a little bit more of that lingering tension from back in the RV eases out of him. 

“It means,” He says, “That the van’s gonna be sitting right here,”

You follow the motion when he points you back to the shoulder of the road, and you stand trying to imagine the big-bodied vehicle sitting there like a crouching beast, the way you’ve seen hundreds of times before. 

“…and?” You prompt, stretching the word lyrically as you turn on your heel to face him again, gently urging him to get to the point. 

It’s nearly pitch black now, and the others will be expecting you back. The last thing you need is Steve getting his panties in a twist and sending out a search party.  

“And… if something happens – if things go wrong and you can’t make it back, I want you to go for the van.” Eddie says solemnly, reaching down and taking your hand, “Shut the doors and barricade yourself inside. You’ll be safe there until I can come and get you.” 

You feel your face pull into a frown. 

“That’s not part of the plan.” You tell him, gently admonishing him for trying to change things in secret. 

Eddie heaves another one of those world weary sighs and shakes his head, messy curls dancing silver in the moonlight across the broad stretch of his shoulders.

“Fuck the plan.” He bites. “It’s a stupid plan.” 

You open your mouth to protest such a dismissal — it’s the only plan you’ve got — but he’s quick to continue before you can get a word in edgewise. 

“Look, I’m not gonna sit here and try to convince you not to do this – you’re so goddamn stubborn, we’ll be here all night – but I am gonna do everything I can to make sure you’ll be safe when things go wrong.”

“None of us can afford that luxury…”

He shakes his head.

“I don’t want to fight about it. Steve’s right. We’ve gotta make sure we’ve got our bases covered, including but not limited to the worst-case scenario.”

Which is to say in the event that everything goes horribly wrong and the monsters eat you alive and Vecna destroys the world.

Or maybe just in case the inevitability that you realize you’re not a track star and this being an impossible thing you’re trying to accomplish catches up to you.

How fast can you run? More importantly, how long can you keep up a sprint like that?

The answer is not something you’re expressly sure you’re ready to consider, but of course Eddie has to consider those possibilities — he’s a cynic.

Bad news first, always. Lucky for the both of you, you’ve always been more of an optimist.

“It’s a little over a mile from the Creel place to home,” Eddie says, and you glance reflexively down at your watch, conveniently forgetting that you’d given it to Steve before you left.

You give a lopsided shrug to try and mask the motion.

“Steve said ten minutes… I can totally do that.” 

Eddie frowns. 

“You think so?” 

No, you really don’t, but you’re not about to let him know that because if you do you’ll never hear the end of it. So instead, you offer a vague gesture that you hope is at least half as casual as you mean for it to be. It doesn’t feel like a successful move. 

“Yeah,” You say, your voice squeaks out an octave higher than normal, and you press your lips into a tight line against how scared you suddenly sound, “Sure, why not?” 

Because you’re not a track star? Because you’d nearly killed yourself just jogging across town less than three days ago and now you’re out here pretending like you’re some kind of Olympic gold medalist preparing for the hundred-yard dash?

Eddie gives you a hard, indiscernible look that makes your insides squirm. Somehow you know he can see right through the bullshit coating to your gooey, terrified center.

You watch as he searches your face for the answer to an unknowable question, and you see a quick flash of the feeling you’d only just managed to suppress. It’s brief, but it’s clear as day, illuminating his features like a bolt of lightning in the distance. 

Doubt. 

You know he’d never say so, but he clearly doesn’t think you can do this. Usually that would have been enough to stir up some kind of violent indignation in you, but suddenly you’re not entirely sure you can do this either.

Sure, you’d done your fair share of sprints in gym class, but this isn’t jogging a twelve-minute mile just to scrape by with a passing grade, this isn’t even making a mad dash from the boat house to the woods to try and escape Jason and the others – which had failed miserably, as Eddie had so graciously pointed out to you. 

This is running as hard and fast as you can until your body is pumping battery acid and your legs threaten to buckle beneath you. It’s running for your goddamn life and the lives of everyone else involved. 

If you don’t make it, no one does, so no pressure, right? 

“How far did you say it was?” You squeak, swallowing hard to try and conceal the tremble in your voice. 

“A mile…”  Eddie says, “Maybe closer to two.” 

Well, shit.

Still, you scoff and dismiss the notion with a wave.

“Easy peasy–” You lie. 

He shakes his head and chides your flippancy with a gravelly utterance of your name, which you candidly ignore.

“–lemon squeezy.”

Eddie says your name again, harsher this time, and grabs you by the arm in an effort to try and bring you back down to earth from the cloud of your delusions, but a sudden flash of lights stops your arguing before it can begin again.

Headlights on the road warn you of the car coming around the bend and send your heart rocketing up into your throat. 

Eddie swears harshly under his breath and takes your hand as you scramble back toward the treeline. 

He pulls you down into the underbrush and you don’t even mind the way your hip lights up in pain as you land awkwardly, holding your breath as you watch the pickup come into view.

It rolls down the road at a glacial pace, adorned with four angry floodlights that illuminate your little copse of woods and briefly blind you.

Through the spots and colors dancing across your vision, you can only just make out the handful of bodies stuffed into the cab, two more kneeling in the truck bed with roving flashlights in one hand and guns in the other.

Christ, they’ve got guns…  

You sink a little lower and move instinctually closer to Eddie as if somehow you’ll be able to shield him from them if it comes to it. As if your fragile, fleshy visage would do anything to protect him if they came out guns blazing.

Smarter than trying to make a human shield out of yourself would be to run, but could either of you really outrun a truck if your lives depended on it?

Not likely.

It makes you wonder how you ever expect to outrun these supposed giant vampire bats… 

You suddenly feel trapped, like a rabbit, crouched and shaking in the underbrush under the threat of baying hounds, watching with wide unblinking eyes until the truck has passed on and the crunch and pop of tires on pavement fades into the night.

When it’s finally gone, you do your best to breathe deep against the stinging adrenaline coursing through your veins like a swarm of angry hornets, but suddenly your chest feels impossibly tight. 

Steve was right, this was not a very smart thing for you to do and it's well past time you ought to be getting back. 

Before you can think to say something, you feel Eddie’s touch as he guides you to look at him with a kind pressure on your jaw. You let him turn you and as you stare back into those big, sad eyes of his, you can’t help but feel a cold wave of doubt bleed into you.

How the hell are you going to do this? How could you be stupid enough to volunteer in the first place and why’d you put up such a fight about it?

What’s going to happen when you let everyone down?

You’re all going to get yourselves killed, that’s what.  

For a moment, it’s all you can do to keep yourself together as you surge forward without thinking, nestling into the crook of his neck and his welcoming embrace. You sigh under the press of his arms as he pulls you close.

You take a handful of deep, staccato breaths, breathing him in and filling your head with the heady musk of everything that is wholly Eddie — sweat and smoke and sandalwood.  

It takes you half a minute to stop shaking, and half a minute more before you feel whole enough to emerge. You offer him a weak smile when you do.

Eddie tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear and grips your shoulders firm enough that you’re half inclined to think you might bruise.

“Listen to me. Nobody needs you to be the hero here, okay?” he tells you, giving you a gentle shake for good measure. “You’ve already done enough, you don’t have to do this,”

You, in turn, reach up to bracket his face. He leans into it in a way you must think is instinctual at this point, and when your grip slides down to frame his neck, gracing the columns of his throat, you think for a moment you might kiss him, and if you don’t he’ll certainly kiss you. 

Oh, how you wish he would. 

Your eyes dart southward to regard the pillowy softness of his lips, cracked and chapped as they are, and you try to believe his words, despite how patently untrue they are — he still needs you.

“Everybody’s counting on me, Eds.” You hum, then tear your gaze up and away to meet his.

You watch as something flashes across his eyes, an indiscernible look that is tinged with an unmistakable sadness.  

“Then promise me you’ll go for the van if you don’t think you’re gonna make it, okay?… Sweetheart, please… just do this one thing for me.”

You don’t answer, because you’re not entirely sure you can make that promise. 

His expression softens and he breathes out a shaky, uneven breath, shoulders sagging as he tilts forward and presses his forehead to yours. 

“What you said back at Rick’s goes both ways, you know?” He murmurs, “…I can’t lose you either… Not again.” 

Your heart swells and thumps heavily against your ribs. 

“What are you getting at, Munson?” You tease, because it’s all you can do to keep your emotions from bubbling up. “Spit it out.”

Eddie shakes his head, looking positively miserable as he speaks. 

“I love you.” He says, “More than anything – more than everything, and I can’t … Jesus Christ, I’m so scared something’s going to happen and I won’t be there to save you…” 

The sound tumbles out over your lips before you’re even aware of it bubbling up inside of you.

You giggle, and Eddie jerks back from you like the sound had jumped out and snapped at him.

You can’t help it, but it doesn’t make you feel any less guilty to see the hurt look he gives you, like a freshly kicked puppy.

You’re not laughing at him, per se, but you can understand how it might seem like you are. Nobody likes to be reminded of their shortcomings, so you’re quick to correct yourself.

“Oh, Eddie…” you sigh, smiling sweetly at him in the hopes it will ease the sting of what you’re about to say, “I love you, but this isn't the kind of thing you can save me from.”  

It shouldn’t be startling, because it’s true. He'd said it himself, this is a suicide mission at its very best.

What is startling is the way Eddie reacts to hearing you say it, physically recoiling like you’d reached out with the sentiment and slapped him across the face.

“What did you just say?” Eddie gasps.

Suddenly he’s as serious as a heart attack and you’re worried you’ve misread the room. It leaves you reeling.

“...You can't save me?” You squeak out, half afraid of the hurt the statement is going to cause him if you ram it down his throat, despite how maddeningly true it is.

If things go as bad as he expects them to — which, to be quite honest, they very likely will — you don't expect Eddie is going to be able to pull you out of the frying pan, or the fire that follows, no matter how badly he wants to.

Still, his eyes grow bright and he shakes his head violently, sending his curls flying out in all directions.

His voice is tiny as he speaks. 

“No ... before that." He says. "... you said you love me."

You blink back at him in a way you imagine must look owlish and quite stupid, and you watch as he grows strangely shy.

It only serves to deepen your confusion.

"...Did you mean that?" Eddie asks tentatively.

You don't answer right away, though not because you don't, only because the question is startling and you don't expressly know what to say.

The silence that hangs between you is charged and infinite, and suddenly you’ve left the question unanswered too long.

You watch as something akin to disappointment shadows his features. He sighs and pushes up from your hiding spot in the underbrush, and stalks away out toward the road.

It occurs to you much too late that a stunned silence was perhaps not the best way to answer that question, but it had been jarring at worst and deeply confusing at best.

Of course you love him. You feel it so fully with every particle of your being that at times you feel like it’s going to tear you apart, even now after all this time when things ought to have evened out between you.

You’ve certainly told him as much often enough that you’ve worried in the past that the words are losing meaning … how could he think that you don’t?

When was the last time you told him? Surely, out in the field? …No? Well, you definitely told him back in the clearing in the woods after he told you that stupid story and set your hand? Then again maybe not… Back at Rick’s place? No, that was him…

Your heart drops into your stomach as the truth dawns on you.  

Oh shit... you haven’t told him.

How could you have not told him?

You scramble to your feet and nearly topple over in your mad attempt to get through the underbrush to follow him.

“Eddie, wait–” You start, taking clumsy steps toward him before he staves off your progress with a wave of his hand.

“Look, it’s fine, okay? I know you don’t feel the same way, but I don’t want you to say it if it’s not true.” He says, "I don't need you placating me just so I won't have hurt feelings or something—"

“Who says I don’t?” You demand.

It stops him in his tracks.

"What's that mean?" Eddie asks moodily.

"Who says I don't feel the same way?" You say a little slower, putting precise diction into each word, and spelling it out for him on the off chance that there has been a sudden and rapid decrease in IQs out here on the road.

The effect misses its mark. He just stares back at you, bewilderment etching a mask into his features so deep, you wonder idly if you’re ever going to see him make another expression again.

A sticky silence bleeds between you as you both wait for the other to speak.

Finally, you throw up your hands in frustration as you realize that between the two of you, you're the one who has suddenly become exceedingly goddamn stupid.

How could you have let Eddie go on thinking you didn't love him? What were you thinking? Nothing at all, apparently. You are a mean and foolish girl, and you cannot believe how incredibly careless you've been.

“I love you, Eddie," You start, "I’ve always loved you, from the moment I met you. That didn’t stop just because you got in your head and decided you weren’t good enough for me or whatever it was… I loved you even when I hated you … I mean — God — I always thought we were gonna get out of Hawkins and get a little place somewhere together... I thought we were gonna…" You roll your eyes and suppress the urge to hide your face then, gesturing vaguely to try and cover the color creeping up your neck, “...you know… get married and stuff…”

You try to imagine how your old friends would have reacted to hear you admit that. How stunned they would have been to find you when you still belonged to them, already daydreaming about wedding bells and little chapels, secretly scrawling your name sandwiched between Mrs. Munson all over your notebooks.

It’s embarrassing, but it doesn’t make it any less true.

It’s part of what had made the breakup so goddamn hard — you hadn’t seen it coming, you’d fully expected to spend the rest of your lives together.

Eddie makes a choked sound that is somewhere caught halfway between a scoff and something harsher. He blinks back the wetness suddenly brimming in his eyes as he reaches up to rub a calloused hand at the back of his neck. 

“Guess I really went and fucked that up for you, huh?” He sniffs. 

You shrug.

“Who says?” You ask, and when Eddie rolls his eyes, you double down, “Nothing’s changed, Eds—”

“Everything’s changed.” He stresses, stalking back across the clearing to close the gap between you, "How can you say that after all the shit I said ... everything I did? Everything is changed."

Suddenly you’re standing toe to toe, just like you had all those months back in front of the trailer, last summer. 

Somehow the roles feel reversed now as you meet his watery gaze and feel the looming threat of the same choice hanging above your head like a guillotine.

He's right. Everything has changed, but who says you have to accept that? You know he would take it back if he could — the terrible choice he’d made — so who says you have to make the same mistake here and now?

You know better.

You shake your head and watch something akin to terror flash briefly across Eddie’s face at the prospective rejection.

How pleased you are to be able to prove him wrong.

“Not for me,” You say matter-of-factly, “I still love you.” 

Like breaking the surface, he breathes out harshly through his nose and his shoulders sag under the effort of it.

“...You do?” Eddie asks, painfully hopeful, boyish even. 

You can’t help the way your face begins to split into a slow, delighted grin. Finally, you get to mend something that is broken rather than being the one who broke it in the first place.

You nod. 

“I do.”

“...Say it again.” He pleads, eyes flashing with strange and wild desperation, despite the way he’s begun to mirror your smile even before you say it.

You love him and he knows it, he has to know it. 

“I love you,” You repeat, reaching up to curl your fingers around his biceps and giving him a gentle shake for good measure, “Even though you’re a big stupid jerk.”  

He breathes out a wet, shaky laugh and suddenly he looks so fragile you can’t help but pull him a little closer.

Before you can admonish him for being so foolish as to think anything otherwise, his hands come up to frame your face, and he presses a searing kiss to your lips. It steals your breath and your eyes roll shut without your prompting.

You barely have time to process that you really ought not to be doing this so exposed, as chaste as the little kisses he’s begun peppering your face with are. He kisses you again and again, like he physically could not stop himself from kissing you if he tried.

You don’t think he’s trying very hard.

You’re in danger of being seen, standing so close to the road like this. Still, each gentle press of his lips is punctuated with a shaky utterance of his gratitude, blessing you for the reciprocation of the feeling, like he’s been holding his breath just waiting to hear you say it. 

He pulls back a moment to stare reverently at you, searching your features like he's trying to commit them to memory.

You don't let him go very far, clinging to him like you're afraid you'll lose him if you let him go.

"You love me?" he says breathlessly, less a question than a statement of fact.

He nods slowly to prompt you to do the same, and you obey, but he hardly lets you.

Any need to hear you say it again is evidently superseded by the need to keep kissing you, this time it is a hard, wet thing pressed so forcefully to your lips you can hardly move against it.

A peal of joyful laughter bubbles up out of you and you love, love, love.

You feel the curl of his mouth as Eddie kisses you again, muffling the sound with his lips and pulling you that much tighter against him, tight enough that you finally feel him slip back into place to fill the hole he’d left in you last summer, and for the first time in almost a year, everything is right. It fills you with joy.

Blinding, unadulterated, stupefying joy. 

It’s almost enough to make you forget the danger looming, and how once you turn around and head back to rejoin the others, you’ll very likely be going to your deaths… 

#cruel summer fic #eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #stranger things fic #eddie munson fanfic #joseph quinn eddie munson #joseph quinn fic

[starryguykai]

When I first started wanting to branch out with the games I played, I had no idea where to look. SO!

The following under the cut is a very long masterpost of indie games I recommend, sorted by category and alphabetical order, with short descriptions and links to their store pages.

Titles italicized are free, and I'll be updating this as I play more 👍

EXPLORATION

Babdi - Babdi is a beautiful and quiet brutalist city, with your only concrete goal in this game to get a train ticket to leave. This game takes about 1-2 hours to fully explore, and it has a lovely sense of place and scale.

Hollow Knight - A tiny bug knight explores a ruined kingdom, looking for answers. This game has had its praises sung a lot, but I cannot recommend it enough, with a melancholy atmosphere, very charming character design, and lovely art direction that balances skillfully between being cute and mournful.

Rain World - You are a slugcat, a creature in the middle of the foodchain, exploring a broken biomechanical ecosystem. You must learn about each microbiome in order to survive, and get enough food to hibernate before the deadly rain comes. This game has fantastic creature design and programming, my favorite background art direction of any game I've ever played, and insanely intricate lore. I highly recommend getting the Downpour DLC-- it not only fixes the personal gripes I have with the base game, but adds an immense amount to the story and world with five new campaigns.

Somnium - Your email got lost in transit, and you have to explore a early-2000s webscape to recover it! With art direction that captures the whimsy of the early internet, and very charming character design and writing, it takes about half an hour to play and I was smiling the whole time.

Outer Wilds - An open world game about space exploration, xenoarchaeology, and physics. This is my favorite game of all time, and in order for the game to work, you can't say much about it! It also has a horror dlc with its own story.

FPS

ULTRAKILL - Humanity is dead. Blood is fuel. Hell is full. Inspired by Dante's Inferno and Greek mythology, you play as a machine tearing its way through hell in PS1-like graphics. Its hard to oversell the strength of Ultrakill's concepts and how well they're executed-- this game is constantly saying "do you know what would be so cool" and is right every single time.

HORROR

Go to Bed - A very simple horror game about going to bed (it should take less than half an hour to play).

Signalis - A robot named Elster fights her way down through a sick facility to fulfill a mysterious promise. I can't say much about it without spoiling, but its prose, gritty combat, and art direction are phenomenal.

SOMA - Simon Jarrett goes to the doctor to get his brain scanned, and wakes up 100 years in the future, in an underwater facility full of robots with human consciousnesses. This game has a "safe mode" where the "monsters" don't kill you, which I recommend as its more accurate to the world, more convenient to play, and in the majority of cases, doesn't reduce the horror. Even playing in "safe mode" it was the most intense horror I've ever experienced by a landslide, and is very dear to me in its environments, writing, and concepts! I would highly recommend checking the content warnings, as well as playing when you're both emotionally and psychologically stable.

Subway Midnight - A young woman takes the subway, where many people have gone missing. What could go wrong? Really lovely combination of 2D and 3D that makes the most of its limitation of "walking through a subway car" to create a game that's charming, beautiful, and very unique.

PUZZLE

Freshly Frosted - A game about making donuts! You arrange donuts with a series of conveyer belts, the factory's work lining up with the music's beat. Its very relaxing, and the narration is very pleasant. A really great game to wind down with at the end of the day.

Manifold Garden - You solve puzzles by changing the gravity of an infinite world without fall damage. This game definitely has a learning curve while getting used to the physics rules, but the puzzles are clever and intuitive once it clicks! Its also very pretty.

Mini Motorways - You connect cars to their destinations through plotting roads, bridges, and motorways. Like Freshly Frosted, its a simple concept, but something nice to wind down with!

Smile for Me - A game where you communicate through nodding and shaking your head! You are the local florist's kid, staying in a "wellness resort", a bizarre cross between a hotel and psychiatric ward. Your mission? Make people happy! Really sweet with an unsettling undercurrent that gets addressed in an interesting way.

Vignettes - You rotate objects to make them transform, and explore different areas and themes as the forms fluctuate. Another simple, but beautiful game, with really fantastic art direction!

ROGUELIKES

Going Under - An unpaid intern battles her way through the dungeons of failed start-ups. A criminally underrated, super fun anti-capitalist satire with a huge variety of builds, that uses the "corporate art style" in a beautiful way!

TEXT-BASED

Citizen Sleeper - You are an escaped Sleeper, a cyborg with partial human memories, who fled to a massive space station. The company that made your body programmed for planned obsolescence: what will you make of the time you have? This is a constant game of juggling food, health, and money as you roleplay and explore, with beautiful character art and prose. It feels like a sad hug, housing a wide variety of very touching stories.

GUTLESS - A short story of an angry man traveling to the bottom of the ocean. Raw, harsh, and visceral. This story is NSFW.

In Other Waters - By the same devs of Citizen Sleeper, but an earlier game! You are the AI in a marine biologist's suit, and guide her as she navigates through the waters of an alien world. The only visuals you see are dots, walls, and elevation maps to mark your surroundings. If you're a fan of the deep sea or speculative biology, you'll love this game!

Please Tell Me You Love Me - Your old favorite online rpg game is shutting down, and you're having one last hurrah with your guild. Short, sweet, and will leave you with a smile.

The Ouroborous Incident - A notorious tech company releases a strange new product. An interesting short story with a fun conclusion, it dips in and out of sci-fi, comedy, and horror, while sharing information through different tabs of updating text threads, transcripts, and news reports.

UNSORTABLE

Inscryption - A grisly roguelike card game that takes place in an escape room, where you're trapped by a mysterious man that you can only see the eyes of. I recommend going in not knowing much, as this game has a lot of surprises. You play the story by default, but it also has an endless mode that is very fun!

What the Golf? - A very silly game about golf, made for people who hate golf. Takes the concept of "golf" and plays with it like silly putty, and has a ridiculous variety of mechanics.

#mine #idk if anyone is interested in this but i spent too long typing it up NOT to share #game masterpost #< for me so i can find this later

[sleepingdeath-light]

last updated on : 27 / 03 / 2024

listed below are all of the fandoms that i am a part of and will write requests for. fandoms are listed alphabetically as they appear — and all are open for requests.

* = sfw requests only

animated (full or partial) series

anime

-> aggretsuko

-> attack on titan

-> beastars

-> black butler

-> brand new animal

-> deadman wonderland

-> death note

-> hetalia

-> kakegurui

-> my hero academia

western

-> amphibia

-> arcane

-> avatar: the last airbender

-> bluey *

-> don’t hug me i’m scared *

-> epithet erased

-> ever after high

-> fionna and cake

-> gravity falls

-> hazbin hotel

-> helluva boss

-> monster high

-> star wars: the clone wars

-> steven universe

-> the amazing digital circus

-> the legend of korra

-> the owl house

-> winx club

animated films

content

-> disney masterlist (general)

-> disney masterlist (encanto)

-> dreamworks masterlist

-> ghibli masterlist

disney

-> alice in wonderland (incl. remakes)

-> aladdin

-> beauty and the beast

-> brave

-> cinderella

-> elemental

-> encanto

-> frozen

-> mulan

-> peter pan

-> pocahontas

-> princess and the frog

-> raya and the last dragon

-> sleeping beauty

-> snow white

-> tangled

-> the little mermaid

dreamworks

-> how to train your dragon

-> rise of the guardians

studio ghibli

-> howl’s moving castle

-> kiki’s delivery service

-> princess mononoke

-> spirited away

-> when marnie was there

games

mobile

-> cookie run: kingdom / ovenbreak / witch’s castle

-> mystic messenger

other

-> baldur’s gate 3

-> bioshock

-> crowscare *

-> dachabo! digi-pet sim!

-> dark deception

-> dead by daylight

-> deltarune

-> disco elysium

-> doki doki literature club *

-> five nights at freddy’s

-> hollow knight

-> overwatch

-> pokémon

-> resident evil 8

-> silent hill (all)

-> something’s wrong with sunny day jack

-> the groom of gallagher mansion

-> undertale

horror films

content

-> writing masterlist

general horror

-> the conjuring

-> wrong turn: the foundation (2021)

slashers

-> a nightmare on elm street

-> black christmas (1974)

-> bride of chucky

-> carrie

-> firefly trilogy

-> friday the 13th

-> halloween

-> house of wax

-> it

-> jennifer’s body

-> laid to rest

-> malignant

-> predator (& prey)

-> scream

-> silence of the lambs

-> the black phone

-> the boy

-> the collector

-> the texas chainsaw massacre

live action general media

films

-> bill (2015)

-> fantastic beasts

-> harry potter

-> indiana jones (all)

-> star wars (all)

-> the addams family

-> the chronicles of narnia

-> the pirates of the caribbean (all)

series

-> andor

-> bbc ghosts

-> bbc quacks

-> buffy the vampire slayer

-> kenobi

-> marble hornets

-> spy (2011)

-> the book of boba fett

-> the mandalorian

-> the wrong mans

-> yonderland

-> you me and the apocalypse

marvel properties

content

-> mcu masterlist

-> non-mcu masterlist

films

-> avengers

-> black panther + wakanda forever

-> black widow

-> captain america

-> captain marvel

-> doctor strange

-> eternals

-> guardians of the galaxy

-> iron man

-> shang-chi and the legend of ten rings

-> thor

non-mcu media

-> deadpool

-> morbius

-> the amazing spiderman

-> venom

series

-> hawkeye

-> loki

-> moon knight

-> she hulk

-> the falcon and the winter soldier

-> wandavision

online media

websites

-> welcome home /// playfellow vers

written

-> creepypastas

-> the scp foundation

the dc extended universe

films

-> birds of prey

-> black adam

-> suicide squad

#sleepingdeath #account stuff #i only do reader insert requests btw #my fandoms #readmore used because there are a lot of fandoms listed lol #writing masterlist