For Hearth and Homo

sex position: you, sitting on your throne. me, standing behind you, resting my arm on the back of your throne and sniling so sneetly at your ministers like i have any right to be there

big fan of when a character is dead and the narrative frames them in a very angelic, soft, gentle manner but then it turns out not only are they still alive (plot twist) but theyre alive in the most gruesome and horrific way. your loving kind mentor who motivates you to fight in their memory came back wrong and theres blood and dirt under their fingernails from clawing they way out of the grave.

kind of love it when someone is given a position of power they don't want and instead of being all reluctantly noble and stepping up to bravely bear the burden they're an immature cunt about it

i don't mean competently evil. i don't mean they get tragically and sexily corrupted into becoming a suave, sensual dominator. i mean they recognise the illusion of choice and privelege that they've been collared with and regress to crying and throwing fits and sulking and indulging in petty cruelty like an overgrown child in the hope that someone "better" will decide they're unfit to rule and take it all away from them.

not now kitten. daddy's realizing that the scene he invested 1000 words into could be significantly improved but only if he started over from scratch