tell me only truths by achievingelysium

Relationships: Loid Forger | Twilight/Yor Briar Forger | Thorn Princess, Anya Forger & Yor Briar Forger | Thorn Princess

Characters: Loid Forger | Twilight, Yor Briar Forger | Thorn Princess, Anya Forger

Additional Tags: Post-Identity Reveal Loid Forger | Twilight/Yor Briar Forger | Thorn Princess, Domestic Fluff, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Hurt/Comfort, Future Fic

She studies him. The disguise is almost flawless. Contacts, a thin layer of fake skin, makeup. To an untrained eye—no, even to a trained one—he is a completely different person. He has erased almost all of himself, but there’s some trace of him Yor recognizes. The sound of his footsteps. His smile for her. The quiet hum of her heart, knowing it is safe with him.

In an echo of her routine with Anya, Yor takes Loid’s hand. “Let’s clean up.”

After a mission, Yor helps Loid take off his masks, and they talk.

A sort-of prequel to ask me no questions (and i'll tell you no lies), but can be read as a standalone.

Also a companion to the moment between holding on and letting go.

One of the things that no Carrie adaptation that I know of has yet done is capture or use the novel's epistolary framing device, which records the world at large's reaction to the events of the novel and the scientific studies that go into trying to explain what happened, and how likely it is to happen again. (For anyone who's wondering: inevitable.)

This fic embraces that conceit with open arms. This is about all the urban legends, the slumber party games, the cruel pranks, the ill-advised products. All the attempts to capitalise on or codify the mythology of Carrie White, all the attempts to reduce or expand her bloody legacy into something that the world at large can understand or control - and the effect that has on the one person who knew her, who saw her, and whose entire life was changed by their brief connection.

"Carrie White, Carrie White, won’t you come to prom tonight?"

It’s that typical story all over again: you are a princess. You get kidnapped, some random guy saves you, and then your father gets you married to him. No. Not this Time. You have watched a million versions of the same random guy beat a demon and become your husband even though you don’t love him, so this time, you kill the demon. You kill your father, the king. It doesn’t matter to you… After all, he’s only a program in the video game that is your life. 

You will stop at nothing to break this game.

Funnily enough, it’s not the kidnapping that breaks Phaedra. Oh, it’s terrifying every time–the sound of breaking glass in the dark of her bedroom, the feeling of vulnerability as blades tear into the curtain around her bed, the terror as she’s struck and thrown and tumbled over her assailant’s shoulder–but it’s not what keeps her shivering long past the story has ended. 

The attack always goes quickly. The demon screams past her guards and takes her in claws and wings and flees out the window. Her captivity sometimes goes quickly, sometimes takes a while longer, sometimes lasts forever. Sometimes the demon makes her cook and clean for him. Sometimes he tries to make her fall in love with him (as if this were that type of story). Sometimes he hurts her, badly, over and over and over again.

She’s no longer afraid of pain. She’s no longer afraid of mind tricks. She’s no longer afraid of him.

She hates being saved. She hates going home. And she’s always so afraid of the moment her father announces her hand belongs to her savior.

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birthday sweater

Spooky Skeletal Dragon

Hey, man, c'mere. Listen. Get in real close, this is important.

You're gonna make stuff again. You're gonna make stuff you're proud of. You're gonna make stuff you're excited to share. You're going to feel that overwhelming drive to create, not just the frantic I want to want to you're stuck in now. You're going to have awesome ideas, and you're going to make them into reality. You're going to create again. You're still an artist. You're still a writer. You're still home to the same passion you had before. You'll find it again. It's not gone. It's just resting. Let it rest. You're going to make stuff again. I promise.

why is this framed all cutesy??

ohhhhhhhhh

I love you Thai trans women dodging the draft

you did well shimura tenko, you can rest now.

the family jewel / harriet ; toreador

oboro is simply a lovey clingy guy and shouta is learning to deal

I just think that Tenko deserves a hug

"You and me don't need no one else, to make it through the crazy" 🎶

As the princess and heir apparent of the kingdom you are the most sought after woman in the whole kingdom, with suitors lining up every day to ask for your hand in marriage. Today you finally accept the proposal of a suitor, causing a massive scandal.

"Ma'am, this is the line for the suitors."

"shitshitshitshitshit-" she can only hear one word bouncing around in her head as she's expected to speak before the princess. Honestly, she's more humiliated from being associated with the suitors at all than waiting in the wrong line for an hour and not noticing. The whole kingdom knew Princess Eros wasn't interested by the thought of romance or marriage, and only the most pompous assholes got in line to try changing her mind.

She remembered how awkward it had been for her, back when people would still come up and ask her to return feelings she didn't have. Before she started living with Grandma, who told her stories of others like her and gave her the rings she was now nervously twisting around her middle fingers.

She should probably be talking now and at least try to clear things up, or everyone would misinterpret how her face was red with embarrassment and how she was fidgeting uncomfortably from all these people staring at her - or on second thought, that might just make it look like she did like the princess and she was just another greasy suitor trying to make herself look better than all of them, but it would be creepy to stand here and stare.

Before she can overthink too much, the princess herself speaks up:

"Your rings are beautiful. I wish I had a pair of my own."

Her eyes widen. Was that deliberate? Does the princess know what they symbolize, or was it just a genuine compliment? She knows the whole point of wearing them is to let others know subtly, but she still second guesses whether they're aware of what that means to her every time someone comments on them.

"Thanks," the commoner manages to stutter out.

Then she notices something that brings a smile to her face.

Flowers are woven into Princess Eros's braid, orange, gold, white, and two tones of blue, like a sunset scene in the paintings she admires.

"I- ah, I like your- I like the flowers."

At those words, the princess' face lights up brighter than any sunset.

"Thank you." And the commoner sees herself in that face. She remembers how happy she was when Grandma told her there was a word, how safe she felt that day at the parade when she could wave her flag without fear, how seen she felt when people noticed her rings and refrained from asking if there was anyone she liked.

She realized a few things then.

Princess Eros sits in that chair for hours each day, listening to suitor after suitor claiming he is hers but meaning it the other way around. She knows what the rings mean, but doesn't have a pair herself. She can't wear her colors beyond a few hidden flowers. It wouldn't take a genius to tell it's the first time she has received a compliment like this.

Her thoughts must have shown on her face, because the princess explains, "My parents are very excited for me to fall in love. They say it's the most wonderful thing in this world, the thing that makes us human, and it would be... disappointing for me to miss out on it."

The commoner bites back a scowl. She recognizes those words. Love is what makes everyone human, but neither of their parents loved them enough to accept that 'love' didn't always mean romance.

She knows what to do.

She gets down on one knee and slides a ring off each middle finger, one white, one black.

The rings that, even with all the riches in the world, the King and Queen couldn't find it in themselves to buy for their daughter.

She holds them both out to Princess Eros.

She doesn't know how to propose at all, much less to a royal, so she says,

"Would you, Princess Eros of The Spade Kingdom, accept my hand in marriage?"

What she's really asking is, "Would you like to finally be free of this prison?"

Both princess and peasant understand.

No one else does.

The hall erupts in laughter, but it goes silent as she responds,

"Yes."

A few months pass, and everything is amazing. The two love each other, just not in the way the rest of the world thinks. In truth, they are closer to best friends than to lovers, but neither would have it any other way. They simply feel how they feel and try not to care what anyone else thinks.

There are a few protests, of course, mainly from noble families whose sons had been sent after Princess Eros. It seemed that a certain type of men could not comprehend a living soul who didn't want them, even though they were surrounded by such people.

By some miracle, the King and Queen are happy enough that their daughter found love that they don't care about whose hand she is taking in marriage. However, she can tell they also don't care for anything she has to say regarding how she views love and romance, or how much of each she feels, so she doesn't waste her time trying to explain her emotions to them. It is hard to tolerate them as they stand by and congratulate the couple on finding romance and 'fixing' the princess. Most days, the commoner just wants to scream at them, "What do you think is so wrong with her?!" But she knows her cries will fall on deaf ears. So they avoid them.

Maybe when the drama has died down and the kingdom can accept its new queens-to-be, then perhaps the old King and Queen can disappear under mysterious circumstances. Sometimes the princess has fun imagining all the outlandish fairlytale ways they could make it happen. Until then, most of the couple's time is spent with an old woman who tells stories about love, the kind that she has shown her granddaughter and her granddaughter has shown the princess. The kind that means you are seen. The kind that means you are heard. The kind that means you are respected. The kind that means you belong. You are worth the world. You are not alone. You are cherished. You are understood. You are human.