Remember when Lil Nas X beautifully explored his sexuality, seduced and killed the devil to the banger of all time, and instead of cheering on this openly gay and proud Black artist for his artistry and fighting back against respectability politics, suddenly said respectability politics was all the Queerest Place on the Internet cared about? Hm. Wonder what happened there.
Anyway I miss him and hope he's doing better with his mental health 🙏🏾
pairing: warrior of light/urianger augurelt
rating: teen
tags: pre-relationship, femroe warrior of light, autistic warrior of light, autistic urianger, sharing a bed, set in the stormblood patches
word count: 1.9k
summary:
Urianger can tell Solkgeim hasn't been sleeping, so he's not offended when she falls asleep when their conversation stretches on into the night. Instead, he offers her his bed- but her paranoia won't let her sleep alone.
written for wolianger week 2026, day one: good morning
Was driving with my grandmother and in broken English she says “no eyes… no nose… no face. Don’t trust.” To which I looked around wildly in search of this omen of ill portend.
SFW. You awaken to a familiar presence in your room.
Awakening
Your home is shrouded in absolute darkness when a familiar presence flushes you from the sanctuary of sleep. You jolt awake, heart racing, searching the shadows that surround your bed.
Terror, familiar and dreadful, an instinct coded into your DNA, the reason why the hairs on the back of your neck bristle when you are alone, the sudden burst of terror you feel sometimes when you climb a dark staircase. It's the reflexive fear of being pursued by a predator.
“Pennywise?” you ask the darkness.
And it answers, “Oh… ohoho yes. Yes, here I am…”
It's a warm summer night, but your blood cools at the sound of the thing giggling somewhere close by. Beneath your bed, on the ceiling above, the closet, the doorway– you can't pinpoint it. The sound seems to come from every direction all at once. You half wonder if you're still dreaming.
You swallow around the barrier in your throat, try to force yourself to breathe…
“Come out then,” you say, hoping the wavering in your voice isn't quite so obvious as it sounds to your ears. “Let me see you.”
A whisper of breath at the nape of your neck straightens your spine.
There shouldn't be enough space between your bed's headboard and your back, but you feel it there, close.
And little by little, all that instinctive fear dissolves. You know that monster. It's yours.
“You were sleeping so soundly, all tucked up nice and safe in your bed,” Pennywise says, the sing-songy lilt of its voice accompanying the tickle of gloved fingers trailing down your back. “Mmh… I scared you…”
“A little.”
It mutters something so softly to itself, something that sounds like “tasty.”
“Poor thing,” it sighs aloud, “but you know there's no need to be afraid of your silly ol’ Pennywise.”
“No?”
“Never. Why, I could never hurt you. Oh no no no.”
You want to believe it, but try as you might, instinct begs you to reconsider. Your beating, pleading heart pounds against your ribs: fight, or flee, but for God's sake, don't you dare fall for it. Run. Run! RUN!
But on that night, just like all the others, you turn toward the monster at your back and you welcome it as yours.
it's not that he's TRYING to get clean I just like the idea of him coming out of his 27 year hibernation and swimming out the sewers the first time and unintentionally washing the filth from the last cycle to bring in some new cycle filth :> also doggie paddling because it's funny
janainaart
yousharknotpass
theartofmadeline
dededos
