#AND YET every/very so often i remember how USEFUL it is and wanna get back in the weeds of source code

[brightsuzaku]

Continuing my finagling with tumblr themes

In case you didn't know, I updated my tumblr theme, again!

The one at https://brightsuzaku.tumblr.com/ , you know? This one isn't perfect, by any means.... I don't have my avatar/pfp on it, nor my goofy header, but you know what?

The code itself was far easier for me to read, and I have fiddled enough that I am mostly happy with the colors! At this rate, however, I am very close to seeing if I can start work on actually writing my own code, for once.

I dread it, but I really want a two-column look with an unmoving sidebar on the left, and all my text and posts in the center, and can work well regardless of monitor size.

Now that I have a high-resolution main monitor, do you know how microscopic some of y'all's tumblrs actually can look?! I NEED A MAGNIFYING GLASS. (I know most of my friends are fine. Mostly.)

Also, since custom pages are largely a desktop feature, I'm not gonna worry about writing for mobile. If I start work writing my own theme, it's gonna be with huge monitors in mind, and then adjust appropriately.

Mind you, I have barely touched HTML and webdev with any seriousness since maybe 2010-2012, so I am also a dinosaur. Which is fine! Custom blogs are apparently equally prehistoric!

(yeesh, but has anyone heard of span.....?)

[verstappen-cult]

LOVERBOY, M. VERSTAPPEN.

Just a typical evening / night with Max (and his frat brothers) in the early stages of your relationship.

Content. Major fluff & domestic Max.

A very long and hot shower and your skincare routine after the exhausting day of classes you just had, sounds like the perfect idea. But as you look down at the message displayed on the screen of your phone, you change route. 

[17:45] Max: Wanna spend the night with me?

You’re going to have to leave early in the morning to have time to go to your apartment and change clothes before your first class of the day, but spending the night with Max is totally worth it. 

The walk to the frat house is not long and in no time you’re standing in front of the door, slightly nervous. It doesn’t matter that you’ve been in the house and met most of his frat brothers a few times before; you always get nervous, hands shaking and butterflies erupting in your stomach just because you know you’ll be seeing him. 

The door opens revealing one of the boys and Max’s best friend. 

“How many times do we have to tell you,” He says as a greeting, grabbing your arm to get you into the house. “that you don’t need to knock? You’re basically one of us.” 

“Hello to you too, Lando.” The boy winks and places a kiss on your forehead before going back to what he was doing before your arrival. “Max is not here yet.” 

With just one look around you know that these boys haven’t cleaned the house in days, if not weeks. You remember Max told you about a party they had a few days ago, so you’re pretty sure they have not done anything besides lie around and go to classes. 

You pick up a couple of empty pizza boxes near the entrance and follow Lando into the living room. “Have you eaten?” 

“Yes,” He tries to smile with a slice of pizza in his mouth, hands busy playing FIFA.

“Something other than cold pizza?” Lando shakes his head, too concentrated on the game to pay attention to you trying to clean around. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Well, hello!” Alex enters the house, followed by George and Oscar. 

“Sorry for the mess.” George gives you a shy smile and a pat on the shoulder, while Oscar waves at you as he plops down next to Lando. 

“All right, I’ll make dinner.” 

They all cheer as you walk into Max’s room at the end of the hallway. 

You make quick work of getting rid of your clothes, changing them for Max’s shirt and sweatpants. You take a moment to breathe in, his scent filling your lungs and providing you a sense of calm. 

You take a few minutes to just lie in bed and text Max to let him know that you’re in the house. If you’re right, he still has half an hour until his last class ends, so you’ll have plenty of time to clean around the house and make some dinner. 

When you join the others, George and Alex are already tidying up and arguing with the two boys who keep playing, ignoring the “please help us” of their friends. You decide to let them be and escape to the kitchen. 

You wash the dishes and get rid of a lot of bad food and empty alcohol bottles before looking in every cabinet for something to cook. There is a lot of alcohol and bags of chips, as expected, but you are lucky enough to find some pasta and frozen vegetables. 

You didn’t notice when Charles and Dani got home, but now one is helping you cook while the other makes some drinks. Oscar grew tired of playing with Lando and is now sitting on the counter telling you all about something that happened during one of his lectures. 

“You should come more often.” Dani says, pouring tequila on a glass. “I’m tired of eating pizza or chips.” 

“You should learn how to cook, then.” 

You immediately turn around, heart hammering in your chest.

And there they are; your favorite pair of blue eyes. 

You want to run and jump into his arms, but feel shy with the boys around. However, Max doesn’t care about anything and simply wraps his arms around your waist from behind, placing a tender kiss on your cheek. 

“Did they force you into this?” He asks, resting his chin on your shoulder. 

“Of course not!” Oscar complaints, getting off the counter to remove the pasta from the heat, just to have something to do, really. 

“I missed you.” Max whispers just for you to hear. It makes you blush furiously, a shiver running down your spine. 

“Let’s eat, yes?” 

You eat in the kitchen, next to Max who rests a hand on your thigh while he eats with the other. Some of the boys sit next to you two, others decide to eat standing, resting against the cabinets. It's a pleasant atmosphere, everyone chatting and joking, drinking the weird mix of liquor Dani was pouring a few moments ago. 

Even though it is loud, you and Max are in your own little bubble, turning to face each other between bites of food and sharing shy smiles. 

When the boys decide that it's time to play a drinking game, you and Max retire to his room. 

Brushing your teeth takes longer than usual thanks to Max who doesn’t let you do anything, arms wrapped tightly around you as he kisses your face. He leaves you in the bathroom when you find a little bottle of face cleanser you left not so long ago. 

When you enter his room, he’s sitting on the bed with a book in hand. 

“I cleared a drawer.” Max says suddenly, not taking his eyes off the book. 

You slowly turn around, frowning. “That’s… good?”

“For you.” He clarifies, finally putting his book aside and letting you see his tinted cheeks. 

“A drawer for me?” 

You can’t help the grin that makes its way onto your face. 

Max shrugs, dismissing the importance of his action with a wave of his hand, and goes back to reading. “You can leave some of your clothes here. And I can make space for you in the bathroom, so you can leave some of your skincare things, too.” 

Your eyes light up as you turn around walking to his chest of drawers, pulling open the first one to see it completely clear. You want to scream and kiss him and pinch your arm to make sure you’re not dreaming. But all you do is slide the drawer back into place and walk back to the bed. 

Max follows your every move with a flushed face. 

You pull back the covers and slip underneath, Max immediately lifting his arm for you to curl up against him. 

“Thank you. This is the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for me.” You say, resting your head on his chest. You feel his sharp intake of breath and fight back a smirk. “You’re a big softie.”

You’re not looking at him, but know that he rolls his eyes. “Shut up or I’m going to place all my shirts back in the drawer.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” He doesn’t say anything, but kisses the top of your head. 

Max loves to read in bed. He said once, not so long ago, that he does it because it reminds him of the summers he used to spend with his mother as a kid. She loved to read to him, and it was Max’s favorite time of the day. 

Watching him read calms you. Watching the way his lips move, repeating the words in silence, or when he’s too invested and makes comments about what is happening, but then remembers that you’re there and apologizes.

“Read to me?” You ask, feeling the exhaustion of the day take over you.

“Of course.” He whispers.

Max rests his hand on your upper arm, caressing your skin, as he begins reading. You don’t really pay attention to what he’s reading, you never do but you love hearing him. His voice is always gentle and calm, and lulls you into a restful slumber. You always wake up rested and energized; sleeping in Max’s arms has that effect. 

[nephilimbrute]

ok since you guys don't know anything about my agent 8's personality, i'm doing a huge infodump on them. enjoy

Agent 8; they/them, nonbinary — 24 as of current time, in a relationship with Agent 4 and Captain 3

they're pretty, but also one of the worst people you'll meet. everyone who met them has had something terrible happen to them, basically a bad omen...yet they still think they're a saint! 8 is very narcissistic, but also very self-critical. they think they can be the only one to do something, that they're the best at it...but they know this is wrong, so they hate themself for it

they think they're a very fragile and innocent being, like a deer. they want to live a calm and steady life, no excessively loud or overwhelming sounds and music, just them and their close ones. they enjoy writing poetry and creating art to the likes of vincent van gogh, but also impressionism in general. they have a very bad memory now, so they want to capture the present time as best as they can if it ever gets worse. often times, 8 thinks about any big events that are coming up in the near future (concerts, festivals, etc.). they don't like to think about the future outside of these things (was team present if that wasn't obvious)

they used to be full of emotion, expressing and voicing their thoughts well. but slowly over time, they've became numb to most things to prevent themself from being embarassed by...sadness. they think being upset is embarassing, and are easily annoyed by gloomy people. they have such little sympathy, but it still exists. they are capable of love! it's not hard to crack through their shell, nor do they even have one. 8 themself is aware of how they've changed over the years, and they want to go back to how they used to be; loving, sympathetic, mindful of others. they do feel very sorry for the change in their personality, but the partial sanitization that was done to them makes it difficult to revert to their old self

8 feels like they're putting up a front when they want to be nice, and, they can be compassionate and apologetic sometimes. they deeply wish for anyone who recognized them pre-octo expansion to forgive them, even if they did nothing wrong

because of the whole octo expansion situation, 8 has developed truman syndrome, paranoia, and heavily dislikes anything involving a smart AI or robotics. this is one of the reasons why marina pisses them off so badly. to 8, they think that they've caused no harm, and every mistake they've done was not entirely their fault. they make a lot of people uncomfortable in some way without touching anyone or saying anything. despite all that, they respect people's personal space a lot!..other than pearl and marina, who they used to watch sleep before being kicked out

now, onto their relationships. 8 is doing fine with agent 4, he's nice to them so they like him... but so is cap3, yet 8 might be one of the worst things that ever happened to her. cap3 really wants some alone time and hates being stared at, and 8 does the exact opposite of that. they don't touch her at her request, but they Will stare at her whenever she's doing anything, at any given time. they don't process in their mind that they want to make her uncomfortable, they just sort of...do?

^ i only limited this to a bit so i won't delve Too deep and go off topic. you can ask about that if you want

i guess you could say they have some kind of parental issues? i don't know, they can't remember who their biological parents are anyways. they have a strong attachment to marina though, can't decide if they wanna be her or want her to adopt them. kind of "eh" with pearl, still respects him nonetheless

congratulations! if you've read until the end, here's a human 8 doodle :3

[intromortal]

⸻IN PROGRESS

last updated 14.11.2024

a-n ! this is mostly for tracking and tag list purposes. these will all take a while because they're all on the longer side and are subject to change!! + i'm a slow writer and often very busy. but it's still fun to show you guys what i'm working on :) taglists for all of these are open!

CASHMERE COLOGNE.

falling for his client is definitely not part of jay's job requirements. quite the opposite actually. especially when said client is soon to be married off to super rich, super talented, super hot park sunghoon.

PAIRING bodyguard!jay x artist!reader

CONTENT ⚠︎ smut. mdni. angst, fluff, bodyguard!au, self-doubt, reader is an artist, she’s also shameless, (escaping an) arranged marriage!au, sunghoon really doesn't wanna marry you... but it's mutual so. honestly this is getting way more romcommy than i anticipated...

STATUS writing

WORD COUNT currently 9k, total est. around 30k (we hope)

warnings + more wips under the cut

WARNINGS: multiple smut scenes, voyeurism, exhibitionism, masturbation (f), spit, things happen in a car, reckless driving, public sex, use of ma’am, edging, orgasm denial, protected and unprotected sex, snowballing ...more to be added

TOO GOOD TO PUT A PRICE ON IT.

you would be crazy to turn down free rent in exchange of getting fucked daily by the guy you've been pining after for months, but your step brother happens to want something in return too.

PAIRING stepbro!sunghoon x reader x camboy!jungwon

CONTENT ⚠︎ smut. mdni. roomate!au

STATUS outlined

WORD COUNT estimated around 10k

WARNINGS stepcest, live-streamed sex, threesome, yes reader fucks sungwon for rent bitch i would too! ...more to be added

PUSSY JACKPOT !

you spend an extravagant night with jake and his friends at a casino to celebrate his latest promotion. it takes a wild turn when your sweet boyfriend decides to go all in and bet on your even sweeter pussy, knowing how all of his friends have been dying for a taste. no matter who wins though, you know it's gonna be you hitting the jackpot.

PAIRING bf's best friend!jay, heeseung and sunghoon x reader, bf!jake x reader, jay focused.

CONTENT ⚠︎ smut. mdni. gambling

STATUS outlining

WORD COUNT tbd

WARNINGS infidelity, semi-public sex, stepcest, rest of hyungline get to watch ...more to be added

BUCKLE BUNNY RODEO.

the yearly PBR world finals hit your hometown again, and as always you find yourself dealing with all the losers coming to your bar to drown their sorrows in alcohol. things take an interesting turn when the winner shows up and challenges you to beat the shabby mechanical bull at the center of the overcrowded bar, promising you an even wilder ride upstairs if you're willing to take his offer.

PAIRING pro bull rider!jay x bartender!reader

GENRE ⚠︎ smut. mdni.

STATUS outlining

WORD COUNT tbd

WARNINGS alcohol consumption, body shots, temperature play, facesitting, spit, cowboy jay has chest hair argue with the wall!! ...more to be added

↳ PART TWO.

it's been a year, and jay's fellow pro bull riders want a ride too, after hearing so much about you from their dearest friend. and who are you to refuse them, when they're talking so sweet and dirty?

WARNINGS heejake take turns, wet humping, like very wet, thigh fucking, tit fucking, oral (m. rec) ...more to be added

LAST TRAIN TO LONDON.

in some lives you're a painter, in others you're a musician, a writer. in some you get to grow old, maybe away from jay, maybe right beside him. in some you get to love him until your last breath, even when you're young and stupid. you're all over the world, all over time and all over jay's heart, for he lives and breathes to love you in every lifetime of yours, even if you don't remember. he always looks for you yet it's always fate bringing you back to him, this time it's by making sure you don't miss the last train to london.

PAIRING immortal!jay x mortal!reader

CONTENT angst w an hopeful ending, fluff, ⚠︎ smut, soulmate!au, reincarnation!au

STATUS outlining

WORD COUNT tbd

WARNINGS tbd

EACH TIME YOU FALL IN LOVE.

the sun shines bright even in the face of death, your most beloved husband cold in his casket despite the warmth of the weather, and sunghoon wishes circumstances were different.

or, you and sunghoon ponder on what could have been.

PAIRING sunghoon x reader ( + jay )

CONTENT angst, very minimal fluff, ⚠︎ smut, old people😞, multiple character deaths, time skips... more to be added

STATUS outlined

WORD COUNT tbd

WARNINGS tbd

⸻SERIES

MOTION PICTURE SOUNDTRACK.

jake has to be the most infuriating, cocky, stuck up actor you've had the displeasure to work with so far. and you wish you'd just rejected your role when your pr teams have the fantastic idea to push the limits on those... relationship rumors about you and your horrible coworker that have spread like wildfire everywhere.

PAIRING co-star!jake x movie star!reader

CONTENT angst, eventual fluff and ⚠︎ smut, fake dating, rivals to lovers.

STATUS outlining

WORD COUNT total est. 60k

WARNINGS tbd

A LITTLE DEATH.

your time at the academy is up and the choice of the companion for your graduation mission is ripped away from your hands without a notice, gifting (cursing) you instead with three less than ideal ones.

or, jungwon feels a little more human every time your touch lingers on his skin

PAIRING trained assassin!jungwon x trained assassin!reader

CONTENT ⚠︎ smut, mdni. angst, rivals to lovers!au, rival families!au, found family trope, everyone and their mama needs therapy, multiple character deaths, a lot of action, morally gray characterization

STATUS writing

WORD COUNT currently 11k, total est probably some shit like 150k i'm sick

WARNINGS multiple smut scenes ...more to be added

ENHYPEN AS SEASONS. hyungline + sunwon ↳ where i assign the members to a season and make fics out of it ! all of these contain smut but also tooth rotting levels of fluff jsjejdje i'm sorry this isn't me usually!! what happened!!!

• SUNGHOON AS WINTER / hockey player!sunghoon

↳ your younger brother brings you along on a snowy new year's eve trip to the mountains with his hockey teammates in hopes of finally getting you and sunghoon to get along.

• JAKE AS SPRING / florist!jake

↳ jake feels it's his duty to smooth out that frown on your face when you first meet him, as the self proclaimed town-happy-pill. he loves his job like nothing else, driving around in his flower delivery truck right along with layla, making everyone's days better. while you can't stand how bright he is all the time, what the hell is his deal anyway?

• HEESEUNG AS SUMMER / beachside barista!heeseung

↳ bleached hair, salt water, warm sun and sand between his toes. waves crashing, the buzz of alcohol and muffled thumping of music, heeseung loves summer every time all the same. this year you just happen to make it so much better, and even when he knows you're only there for this vacation, he hopes you can stay and warm him up for the colder seasons too.

• JAY AS FALL / ex!jay

↳ your friends convince you to try your local coffee shop's new blind date experience, months after your very first heartbreak. you don't expect your ex to be your match. or, mending a relationship turns out to be a lot more trouble than resolving murder mysteries.

! bonuses

• SUNOO AS SPRING BREAK / ex childhood bff!sunoo

↳ truthfully, leaving for a different college after promising you'd go to the same one in hopes of quenching his feelings from blossoming further wasn't sunoo's best move. or, sunoo is itching to finally be back home.

• JUNGWON AS CHRISTMAS / frenemy!jungwon

↳ it's no secret that you and jungwon butt heads constantly, and your friends have gotten quite annoyed by your antics. so what better way to resolve this if not assigning you two to be each other's secret santas? or, everyone is a little kinder once christmas comes around.

[darkdevasofdestruction]

𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓷𝓮𝓵 𝓝°5 ~ 𝓗𝓾𝓼𝓴𝓮𝓻 𝔁 𝓡𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻

Oh, to be young and in love, in the most romantic era of the notorious 1950s, with one very magical man who never fail to make you swoon with every suave look who offers.

It isn't very often that Husker reminisces his past life - He knows, if he does, he will remember all of the good times, when his heart was gold and trembling with pure emotion - After all, if he recalls the time he was alive, and very much in love, his frozen heart will just shatter to dust once again, with the same infinite anguish he felt once everything was ripped away from his grasp.

A pain so intolerable, that runs so deep - A pain that no amount of alcohol can mend.

He never truly knows whether he wants to remain asleep forever, so that he will never have to face reality again, or if that would be a nightmare, tormenting him for the remaining abyss of eternity...

Or, perhaps he should stay awake, so that memories will stop toppling him over, beginning with a most beautiful reverie, yet always ending with the same night terror he must face every time.

If this is his way of paying for his irredeemable sins, then he is well aware he deserves it, and even more - Yet every smell reminds him of that sweet Chanel N°5 that she used to wear. Every time he closes his eyes, he dreams of the gracious dances he would share with her. Every song he hears, he recalls that angelic voice of hers, and every time he lays abed and stares up at the ceiling, her seraphic visage flashes before him.

"You are drinking again." Angel slumped in one of the stools by the bar, noticing his best friend looking in a far worse state than usual. "Rough day?"

"Rough life." Husk rasped, chugging down a whole bottle of strong spirits.

"Wanna talk about it?" he tried, in vain, to appear sympathetic - The feline demon was far too gone into his own darkness to even think about slurring away his never-ending sorrows.

"I wanna die, that's what I want." he growled, slamming away the bottle into the nearest wall. "Just like this fucking bottle. That's what I fuckin' wanna do - I wanna die, damn it!"

Angel's eyes widened greatly - Yes, life in hell surely was crazy, and especially for demons like the two of them, who sold their souls away because of their own failures, both in life, and now, in hell - But what in the world could it have caused him to get so hopeless that he was unable to fight back the tears glistening in those tortured eyes?

Even someone like him couldn't dare to make light of the situation, or try and crack a joke, let alone taunt or flirt with him. He felt... Pity, for the poor bartender who always listens to others' woes, yet dares naught speak out his own problems.

"Listen... Husk, ergh... I'm not the best at comforting, okay? But... If I can help, you can tell me... And, if not, then... I'll still be here. And maybe try to keep the others away from you. How's that?" Husk didn't quite seem to compute what his friend said, though he robotically nodded his head, as if remote controlled.

Angel remained in that stool for a few hours, watching the winged demon drink bottle after bottle after bottle, yet his sorrows only washed over him tenfold with each shattered glass against a different wall. He wonders what is going through Husk's mind, what he's ruining himself over with each sigh o grip on his fur.

Who would have thought that, of all things possible, Husker's greatest lament was...

"I fucking hate red. Why the fuck are my wings red? Of all the fucking colours in hell, they just had to be red, yeah?" he stammered angrily, pulling at his feathers. "Y'know what? They can't change colour. Tried dyeing 'em, but nothin'. Got so much fuckin' red on me - I wonder if it's Hell's way of punishin' me forever for my fucking sins."

He hates red...? What an odd statement - He truly seems to have a personal vendetta against that colour - But why? It's just a colour, after all, it can do no wrong. "Why... Do you hate red so much...? Angeldust dared to ask.

At first, he was met with a low growl, hostile, yet inoffensive at its core. Then, he heard a most disturbing answer. "That was the colour of my wife's dress when I last went home." Angel's brain shut down completely. To think someone was trusting him with such a vulnerable piece of himself, the very core of their hopelessness, their weakness; In a way, he felt flattered that Husk trusted him so much, yet in another way... He couldn't help but feel borderless pity for his friend. He wishes such a fate to no one... Well, maybe to Valentino.

Angel forced himself to smile softly, placing his hand gingerly over his own, taking away the alcohol from his hand. "What was her name?" Husk looked up with shock, a little startled, right into his dual coloured eyes - He hasn't ever spoken her name out loud, it almost felt like a blasphemy against her purity. Yet... Maybe... "Y/N." he dared whisper.

"Y/N." Angel repeated after him. "A beautiful name for a beautiful lady." Husk nodded his head.

"She was a Princess." he muttered, his sight blurry with tears.

"A Princess? Really? Nobility and all that?" much to his surprise, Husker chuckled.

"Nah, not quite." he rasped. "At heart, she was. Her family was very rich, so she was pampered up. Huge manor, servants, a personal maid, luxury brands, jewellery and perfumes, indulging in any studies and hobbies she liked..."

"How'd you two meet? I don't suppose you were a Prince or something, were you?" Angel tried to joke friendly, encouraging his friend to open up.

"Ha. Far from it." in his hand, a few dices appeared, and he idly played around with them. "I was an ugly dead beat from a working class broken family. Hardly worthy of her attention." he gritted his teeth bitterly. "Got around to finding work at a young age - Gambling, magic, sax player - If I had money to live, anything worked."

"Did you meet at one of your gigs?" Husk nodded his head affirmatively.

"No clue what she saw in me, Angel. She could do so much better." for a split second, he had a dry smirk on his face, before it disappeared again. "I asked her once, what the hell did she see in me - And she said... I played her favourite song. Silly, innit?"

He didn't receive a mocking laugh, much to his surprise - Instead, Angel cooed. He never imagined the jaded demon before him could be so romantic! "What did you play?" Instead of answering, Husk turned around to his bar, and took out another bottle, yet this time, he hummed a familiar tune as he was doing his bartending for two glasses. "Oh, now I get it - You always hum that song when no one's around! I thought you were just bored out of your mind." he let out an amused exhale. "Fly me to the moon... Refined tastes, alright."

"The stars in the sky never sparkles as brightly as those in her eyes when she looked at me." no wonder he never accepted any flirting from anyone - How could anyone match the love he had for Y/N? "If I were a decent man, I'd have told her not to waste her precious time and love on me. Instead, I was a selfish fuck. I stole years of her life... And in the end, I even stole her life. All because I wasn't even half the fucking man I pretended to be."

The conversation soon turned significantly sour. "I was the man - I was supposed to provide for her. Afford all that fucking expensive Chanel N°5, and the Dior dresses, the Chantelle lingerie, and the damn Cartier and Tiffany's jewellery." even someone more modern like Angel knew all those luxury brands, and was even more impressed and shocked that they could so easily afford such high-end items. "I brought her flowers every day and I took her out on brunches every morning, on dates every afternoon, and to soirees every fucking evening. She loved dancing at parties... But I suppose she preferred the moonlight over the chandeliers."

"You must have overworked yourself a bunch to afford all these things. I'm sure she appreciated it." Angel tried to comfort him, earning a nod of agreement.

"She told me she didn't need any gift, except for my presence. Genuine woman, that one. But how could I, in good conscience, go to her parents and ask for her hand in marriage, when I couldn't even afford a half-decent house with a room for each of her hobbies, a drawer for each month outfit, another for her shoes and three more for her bags, jewels and perfumes; and a large flower garden and a fucking rose gazebo and a swan pond with ten different breeds of pedigree dogs." Angel cringed a little, realising the tremendous gap between their living conditions. "I lost myself on the way to greatness. She was making me so euphoric that I just wanted to see her excited every moment of her life. I didn't need to eat or drink, I just needed to see her smile, and I could work again a few more days without rest."

"But then... You collapsed from overworking?" Husker shook his head.

"Worse. I fooled her parents completely, and we planned our wedding." he replied bitterly.

"How is that a bad thing? Isn't the wedding day the happiest day in a couple's life?" Husk sighed, from the deepest part of his soul.

"It was." he said. "I got greedy. I went to loan sharks, took a shit ton of money to make that wedding the most grand event the country saw in a while. Then went on a month-old honey moon around the world." he cursed in a few different languages that Angel couldn't understand, but was sure were some highly offensive and crude words that he would never utter around Y/N. "I don't need to say more, do I?"

Yeah, he needn't continue speaking the descent into madness, alright. Angeldust didn't want to hear that his friend's love story ended up in his soulmate getting murderer by the loan sharks, only for him to end up killing them, and then himself, out of pure rage and sorrow. He didn't want to hear that an innocent woman like Y/N never knew that her husband was broke and took loans, just to try and mimic the lavish lifestyle she grew up with and deserved. He didn't want to hear the broken shriek of anguish, or the streaming river of tears that befell as Husker saw her dead, on the floor, her pearly pink dress dyed a deep crimson from her own blood, and getting even more stained with each strong embrace he held around her shattered body, just like a precious porcelain doll fallen off the shelf.

They only just recently became something akin to 'best friends' from both sides... Yet Angel couldn't bare to hear the tragic end of the story, and he couldn't even begin to imagine the pain he felt, having to live his afterlife as a Sinner, for as long as he has, without the woman he loves by his side.

"It's better this way, I guess. At least she finally got rid of me. Wherever she is, she must be living far better, than with a lying fuck like me who couldn't keep it together." the spider demon frowned, watching his friend slump on the bar counter.

"I don't think that's the case." he spoke vehemently. "I don't believe there is any person, of any kind, treasuring her as much as you did." Husk's ears perked up immediately, twitching lightly. "At least on an emotional way, I'd say, you and Y/N were lucky. There's so many people who never experience the love you had, let alone get to meet and marry their soulmate."

"What the fuck would you know?!" he growled, throwing a bottle at his head, only for the demon to dodge.

"... I wish I had fallen in love too, you know?" Husk gritted his teeth, realising the sensitive wound that he unwillingly stabbed open - But it wasn't his foult - He is hurt! He is in pain! "As a human, as a demon... I was like you, sort of. I was so shit at managing my life, that I ended up falling prey to my vices... I needed more and more, and I couldn't resist. I had no ration or logic. I gave in to my so-called 'friend group' and got addicted to drugs... Couldn't get rid of that addiction even after death... And I clinged on the only demon who could give me what I wanted... And now, I can't escape Val, even if I wanted to turn my life around and live the life that I never could." Angel had a wry smile on his face. "Do you really think a drug addict or the most famous porn star of hell would be able to meet his soulmate, without destroying their life in the process also?"

The two remained silent, only hanging their head and sighing. No matter how happy life can be for some... It will never have a chance of turning around for them. It just couldn't be. They are in hell, after all. Even Charlie won't be able to save them and bring them on the path of redemption, no matter how insanely enthusiastic and cheerful she can be... They were still sure to drown.

Somehow, this few hours of vulnerability brought Husk and Angel closer, and although they won't be speaking about it again, it was clear to the residents of the Hazbin Hotel that the two were as close as two demons can get, without the inclusion of vice or extortion.

Things were going well enough for them, even with the new addition of Sir Pentious, the villain turned... Something? It was still not too bad around the hotel. Though unsure of whatever Charlie's plan was, to fight against the purge from the Angels, they were still there to sort-of support whatever dream the Princess of the Pride Circle has.

That is, until the Hotel opened its doors to a brand new resident, a gorgeous demoness dressed elegantly in a dress of pearly pink, adorned with high quality jewellery, and with her long hair done stylishly, and smelling like a fresh day of Spring. She walked in guided by the Radio Demon, of all people, and she was smiling so demurely, completely unafraid of the fiend next to her, yet still reserved and soft.

"No way, is that Chanel N°5?! How'd you get it in here?!" Angel squealed, fangirling over the flowery perfume - But then, it clicked for him. Didn't Husker mention his wife loving this scent the most?

"Oh, you noticed! I am so happy that there are more sensible people - Erh - Demons with refined tastes!" the girl unfolded her laced fan and giggled behind it demurely.

Although she looked even more regal than even the Princess of Hell herself, as they stood next to each other, there was one particular detail that made the new-comer stand out from any other netizen.

With her hands clasped together over her chest, a bright white gold ring, with a most brilliant zircon was shining brighter than even the moon herself.

Whilst the other demons gathered around the seraphic beauty, wanting to have her attention, and even going as far as to have Alastor speak out about this new lady, Husker's breath stopped completely; His brain was going into overdrive, and his heart, he wanted to rip out of his chest.

That ring... That ring, he knew all to well - After all, he bought it himself, when he proposed to Y/N. That voice, the fashion, the mannerism... Even with altered looks, she looked the same. Even in hell, she looked the same. Even with demonic eyes, she looked the same.

She was the most beautiful woman in the universe.

"Y/N, this is Husker, our bartender." Charlie's face was split open by her overly-cheerful grin. "Husk, won't you introduce yourself to Y/N?"

"I'm not a fucking child. I don't need to introduce myself." the man hissed aggressively. "This is fucking stupid, I'm out." without even realising, he shattered the glass in his grasp, before stomping away into his room.

How could that be? Was this a nightmare? Surely, this must be some impersonator demon or something - There's no way an innocent being like Y/N could possibly have ended up in Hell, with a bunch of Sinners, of all thing. Was this his fault also? Did he bring her down with him to hell? Was he never going to be forgiven for all of the shit he's done in his previous life? Did Alastor bring her to the Hotel, so that he could blackmail him even more? Was his empty soul worth so little, in the end?

He was so afraid - Will Y/N be angry once she realises who he is? He couldn't blame her, obviously, he's earned her scorn... Yet why is his heart hurting so bad? He wishes so badly to jump on her and wrap her in his arms and wrings, and never again let her go. Ah, but he looks like a stupid flying cat... He looks ridiculous. There's no way...

...

Perhaps... She should stay with Al...

He has the influence, the money, the fashion sense, the looks, the freedom and privilege, the elegance...

Alastor has everything, and embodies everything that he could never be.

In life, he was selfish, and he didn't let go of her. Perhaps, the only way to apologise and make up for his sins was to let her be cherished by a man capable of doing what he never could.

As he lay awake on the bed, curled up and cursing his whole existence, wanting to sob until his body was all dried up and shriek until his throat was bleeding raw; he wanted to claw his face to velvety ribbons and drown his lungs with all of his blood... As he was succumbing to his self-hatred and spiraling down into the depths of despair, Y/N decided to end the day with some delicious pastries and an aromatic cup of tea in the garden, with her friend, Alastor.

Y/N was idly playing with her ring, looking at the inscription inside of it. 'Y/N ♡ Husker'. How absolutely adorable, she thought, a beautiful smile gracing her features. "He looks... Different. Are you sure it is the same person, Alastor?" her voice showed nervousness.

"Y/N, Y/N, would I lie to you?" he grinned, as always, sipping from his tea. "You should hear him purr. He truly resembles a little kitten."

Y/N looked up into he friend's eyes, a look of intense surprise and borderline intrigue taking over. "Are you being truthful? He... Purrs?" she gasped, quickly slipping her ring back on her finger.

"Yes, my darling. Unconsciously, someone strokes his fur, he gets so very adorable~." Alastor hums, watching the lady before him being so romantically melancholic over a life long gone. "What did you think about today's meeting?"

Y/N sighed, looking up into the sky. "I feel guilty for enjoying the moment I ripped Velvette apart, yet I feel no remorse for killing her. Such an uncouth and vulgar person has no right to behave with such disrespect towards me." Alastor's grin widened significantly. "And... I cannot wait for the next purge. I want to burn Heaven to cinders. Those hypocrites have grown far too arrogant for their own good, and I believe they need to be taught a harsh lesson."

"I see we are on the same wavelength as always, my dear." the demon sipped from his tea. "I am quite glad those arrogant hypocrites turned you away, for such a silly thing like - Vanity - They say. Beautiful women should be allowed to feel that-a-way, not ostracised for being such jewels for one's eyes." ever the charmer with poison dripping from his tongue. "Before I turn in for the evening, I have a gift for you - For friendship's sake." Y/N rose a suspicious eyebrow, watching as he took out a carefully folded picture from his blazer's pocket, and handing it to her. "I am going for a new fitting with Rosie tomorrow, should you wish to join us for a lovely day of self-care." the girl smiled, nodding her head at him in appreciation. "Have a pleasant evening."

Y/N muttered her pleasantries, and waited for Alastor to leave her sight, before unfolding the picture and bursting to tears. She cradled the precious memory to her heart, and sobbed for as long as her heart needed.

What have they done so wrong to deserve this? They were so happy while alive, so what went wrong? Was her opulent life, the reason for their downfall? Did her beloved think she wouldn't love him, if he couldn't match her family's wealth? Were all soulmates made to be torn apart while at their most blissful?

Still, she was grateful that she wasn't accepted into Heaven, for she would have had a most awful afterlife, as opposed to the many Overlord friends she made since she's been sent to Hell after her gruesome death, and the many favours she received from the Lords and Royals who went to Earth to retrieve items of importance for her.

Drying her tears, Y/N walked back inside the hotel, ready to turn in for the night, only to stop in her tracks as soon as she heard a soft sob, followed by a few very familiar curses in a variety of languages that she knew all too well. Her heart clenched as she stepped cautiously towards the foreign room, eavesdropping for any other sound, only to be met with more muffled cries.

Biting her lip, the demoness knocked on the door, only to be cursed harshly and told to fuck off. Y/N gulped, feeling taken aback by being talked in such a way - Though she immediately composed herself, reminding herself that he, too, is hurting, most likely far more than she is.

She excused herself before opening the door and entering. "What fucking part of 'FUCK OFF' don't you FUCKING UNDERSTA---" Husk was livid, getting in a sitting position as he growled with incredible hostility at the one who dared barge in his bedroom so rudely, only to remain speechless as he realised it was the demoness herself, standing with a sympathetic smile on her face. She also seemed to have been crying prior to this. "Oh. It is you." he cleared his throat, getting back on the bed, unable to face her.

"I have missed you dearly." her voice was so soft, so beautiful, so endearing... "I... Cannot believe that I am seeing you again. It seems to me that, no matter how far apart, our souls will forever traverse oceans of time and space, just to embrace each other once more."

She could hear him sniffling, his nails digging deep into the blanket. "You have always been so romantic and poetic." he grumbled, hiding his face in the pillow. "You shouldn't be here."

"You will have to be more specific, my love." she hummed, moving to sit on the edge of his bed. "Here - In Hell? Or here - In your room? Either way, I would say, I am right where I need to be."

"I don't understand." as if burning with frustration, Husk shot up, looking with self-hatred at the girl. "You did nothing wrong your entire life. You were nothing but a living sunshine. A fucking flower in human form. What the fuck did those angels not agree with, that they cast you to this shit hole?"

"There was a time when you would beat up any man who would curse in my presence." Y/N's adorable giggle made the demon's face flush red. "I am sorry that you are suffering so much, at my expense. I could never repay you for everything you have done for me, while we were alive."

"What the hell are you apologising for anyway? I got you killed, not the other way around - And even if it were that way, it'd've been a blessing in disguise, getting rid of a dead beat worthless fuck like me." he huffed, looking away. "You always were too good for me." the demon had so much to say, so many regrets to yell, so much love to spill... Alas, he remained quiet. "You seemed happy with Al. I wish I could be that, while we were alive." his voice went to soft, it was barely audible. "You should... Stay with him."

"Yes, I am happy being friends with Alastor. He was the one who introduced me to Rosie and Carmilla and Zestial, and I cherish them all dearly, as my like-minded friends." Y/N spoke calmly, reaching her hand to cup her lover's soft cheek. "He also was the one to tell me of your misdemeanours. How you succumbed to your vices; to gambling and alcohol, to the the point that you lost your soul in a deal with him. How pitiful." he was so confused as to where she was trying to get with her words, yet in spite of the anticipation for blames and reproaches, he couldn't help but lean into her warm and gentle touch. "He is the one who helped me become an Overlord, and I took your place. And it is Alastor, and some other friends of mine, who helped retrieve some objects I thought long lost."

"... You still smell like Chanel N°5." his comment made the girl giggle again.

"One of my friends had his little imps go to the human world and rob an entire Chanel store, to bring me all Chanel N°5 perfume bottles." how incredulous, Husk thought, staring at the girl flabbergast, speaking of a clear crime, committed in her name. And then, he started laughing at the sheer ridiculousness of her statement.

"Angel would kill to have a whole room of Chanel N°5." he said, his eyes softening as he put his hand over hers. "Y/N... Knowing that you are doing fine... That you aren't suffering... Or anything that I put you through... It makes me... Content."

"My darling." Y/N called out. "Do you remember the day of our wedding?"

"Of course I do. What's that question?"

With a cheeky grin, she took out the picture from her purse, handing it to her beloved. "Alastor was able to find this. His connections truly are amazing." Husk's eyes were wet with falling tears, and his lips were trembling. "I forgot I had pink roses braided in my hair. I was so busy looking at my handsome husband, that everything around me vanished." Husk's sobbing got even louder. "I wanted to frame this picture first, but I couldn't resist showing it to you first."

"Get out, Y/N! Get out!" his voice was broken and raw, so pained that even her heart shattered. "I am not the man you fell in love with. Why do you think my name is 'Husk'? I am just that - A husk of the man I never was. I am not worth anything. I don't amount to anything. I just gamble money I don't have and drink booze until I pass out. I don't deserve a second chance, and I certainly don't deserve you. I never did. I got you killed, damn it!"

"You think too much, you fool." Y/N cupped his face, bringing him into a gentle kiss - A kiss so loving that it numbed his pain, and hightened his senses, that got his heart pumping again and his lungs screaming for air. "I fell in love with you for good reason, and I intend to remain by your side, loving you." she smiled, wiping his tears with her thumb. "You can try as much as you wish to drive me away, but it will not work. You may succeed in convincing yourself that you are a lesser man, but you cannot do that with me. I know the man before me, and I know I will never leave you."

"Y/N..." the man sniffled, burying his face in her bosom, holding so tightly onto her petite body that he almost feared breaking her.

"There was once a time when you would only call me 'Sweety'." her honeyed giggle sounded so teasing, yet it didn't embarrass him. It served only to make him chuckle.

"There was also a time when I would only call you 'Chanel', if you recall." it almost felt as though they were both alive, and during their honey moon, without a single care in the world, and living a most carefree life.

"That does bring back some very amusing memories." Husk hummed in agreement, feeling melancholic, despite the intense joy surging through his body. Perhaps it was due to the unfamiliarity of this positive feeling, that he felt exhausted, or maybe from his excessive crying and whining. Regardless, he wanted nothing more than to cuddle up in his wife's arms, and never leave this blasted room ever again.

"Can you promise me something?" the man asked. "I am selfish still - Even more so as a demon. I am nothing but filth. I didn't deserve you then, and I deserve you even less now. Still... Now that you're here... I can't let you go again. So..."

Though he found himself eating his words, Y/N only smiled, laying down on the bed and taking him down with her, nestling him comfortably into her loving embrace. "Alastor said you purr like a kitten. I would love to hear that, tonight." she hummed, hearing his annoyed snarl. "And every night going forward, for as long as we may live in this afterlife we have." Husk's body became stiff, frozen with shock. "That is what you wanted me to promise, isn't it? That I will never leave you." he didn't respond. "It is within our wedding vows, silly. There is no way I would walk away, after I have just found my soulmate."

"... Even though I look like... This? And I am irredeemably addicted to gambling and drinking, even more so than before... And I have lost my soul to the Radio Demon? I am stuck doing his bidding for eternity... And..." Y/N only hugged him closer.

"No matter what, in sickness and in death, you and I will still be soulbound." his small body was softly trembling with emotion. "I've got you, my darling. Worry not about anything. I have got you." she remained silent for a little while. "But, Husk..." her voice sounded so distant, so... Melancholic. "Do you... Still like me? The way you did before?"

Startled by her words, Husker jolted up, looking at the pitiful visage of his lover. "What... What do you mean...?"

"My skin is pure white, with no colour, except for my make up. My eyes are black where they should be white, and the worst carmine red, where they should be embodying the aspect of nature. Even my hair looks to be an abnormal colour, and no matter how much I try to dye it, it will not retain its original shade." she gulped, looking away from him. "Any shred of normalcy that I have... Is so tiresome, so much work to keep up, the princessy facade that I used to have, that I used to love... That you used to love..." she sighed softly. "Yet even that completely dissolves as soon as I transform in the monstrous form that I fight so hard to keep veiled from the world."

"Y/N." he caressed her soft face, only to notice small particles of powder latching onto his fur. "I'm a fucking furry mammal with wings. I look like a children's plush toy or somethin'. Meanwhile, you look as doll-like as always, and you're afraid I wouldn't like you anymore? How silly." he sighed, leaning to place a kiss on her forehead. For a few seconds, he stopped to ponder over a rather bold move, and in a split second, he retrieved a wooden box from under his bed. "This is my secret. Nobody has to know about this." he spoke, a rosy tint on his cheeks. "Open it."

Carefully, the girl did as instructed, revealing the content of the box. A bunch of letters were preserved there, all of them neatly placed and handwritten with black ink. "Husk..." Y/N felt the air in her lungs dissipating, as she realised all those letters were recreating the exchange of love words from their time alive. "H-How...?"

"I have all our letters memorised." he chuckled lightly. "I... Needed some way of keeping you close... Of remembering you. I am shit at drawing, but I have a good enough memory... So this was the only way of preserving what we had."

"It's been so long... And yet, you... You still remember... All of it? There must be tens, if not, hundreds of them... How...?" the girl was flabbergast, yet melting completely.

"I read them every night before sleep, when alive, and I read them every night now also." those precious teardrop diamonds caressing her cheeks falling down so gracefully.

𝐼 𝓃𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝓀𝓃𝑒𝓌 𝒶𝒷𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓅𝒾𝓃𝑒𝓈𝓈; 𝐼 𝒹𝒾𝒹𝓃’𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝓀 𝒹𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓂𝓈 𝒸𝒶𝓂𝑒 𝓉𝓇𝓊𝑒; 𝐼 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹𝓃’𝓉 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓁𝓁𝓎 𝒷𝑒𝓁𝒾𝑒𝓋𝑒 𝒾𝓃 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒, 𝒰𝓃𝓉𝒾𝓁 𝐼 𝒻𝒾𝓃𝒶𝓁𝓁𝓎 𝓂𝑒𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊.

His usual raspy voice sounded so romantic as he recited the love poem he wrote to her. A voice that he only reserved for her. A voice that only she would ever know.

𝐸𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓎 𝒹𝒶𝓎 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝑔𝒾𝓋𝑒𝓈 𝓂𝑒 𝒶 𝓉𝒽𝓇𝒾𝓁𝓁; 𝒜𝓁𝓁 𝓂𝓎 𝒹𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓂𝓈 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓇𝒾𝒸𝒽𝓁𝓎 𝒻𝓊𝓁𝒻𝒾𝓁𝓁. 𝐼'𝓂 𝒶 𝒻𝑜𝑜𝓁 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒸𝒽𝒶𝓇𝓂𝓈; 𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝒷𝑒𝓁𝑜𝓃𝑔 𝒾𝓃 𝓂𝓎 𝒶𝓇𝓂𝓈; 𝐿𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝓂𝑒; 𝓅𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓈𝑒 𝓈𝒶𝓎 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁.

A love so pure and true, bottomless and without boundaries; Husker himself forgot just how endless his emotions could run. He thought himself jaded and cold, having lost his own heart, the second he lost her... Yet now... Perhaps it wasn't as bad as he first thought. Perhaps... Even someone like himself deserves some kind of redemption.

𝐻𝑜𝓁𝒹𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒽𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓂𝓈 𝓂𝓎 𝒽𝑒𝒶𝓇𝓉 𝓉𝑜 𝒾𝓉𝓈 𝒸𝑜𝓇𝑒. 𝐼𝓉’𝓈 𝒽𝒶𝓇𝒹 𝓉𝑜 𝒾𝓂𝒶𝑔𝒾𝓃𝑒 𝐻𝑜𝓌 𝐼 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓂𝑜𝓇𝑒.

Without her, he wasn't whole. Without her, he is not himself. Without her, he is empty. Without her, his whole life falls apart. Without her, he is nothing but a worthless deadbeat.

𝒥𝓊𝓈𝓉 𝓁𝑜𝑜𝓀𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒶𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒢𝒾𝓋𝑒𝓈 𝓂𝑒 𝒶 𝓉𝒽𝓇𝒾𝓁𝓁. 𝐼 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓃𝑜𝓌, 𝒜𝓃𝒹 𝐼 𝒶𝓁𝓌𝒶𝓎𝓈 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁.

But now, he is not alone anymore - Well, perhaps he never was to begin with, considering he still had Angel and Charlie, to some extent, yet nothing can compare to sweet Y/N's existence by his side. Nothing can heal his aching soul, or revert the damage he did to himself throughout life and afterlife, the way her love for him did.

♡ ~𝓘 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾, 𝓶𝔂 𝓼𝔀𝓮𝓮𝓽 𝓟𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓬𝓮𝓼𝓼~♡

[matan4il]

911 ep 704 first watch reactions

IDK if anyone else will talk about this, but Josh and Maddie were a great comedic start to this ep! XD Also. Interesting choice to give Josh, the currently only openly gay male character on the show, more lines again. Is it a reminder he's there, so he can be a part of Buck's journey later on? *eyes emoji* We'll see.

All of these pretty women (I should also mention that as a non-American, all the gasped, "It's Joey!" "It's you!" "It's me!" are missing me by a kilometer. Whoever Joey is, he's not Madonna yet, if you want me to get excited about him, 911, you're gonna have to give me a bit more than a single name), hitting on Buck and Eddie, and the ease with which both men turn them down... Sure, this is a part of the set up regarding Buck, and Eddie technically has an excuse, but also. Most straight, taken men would at least be tempted. They'd at least bite their lips with frustration. Have some reaction. But not Eddie. And when you remember that he was distinctly not taken in ep 204, but still had the same reaction to pretty young women hitting on him and Buck... I know this ep is all about celebrating the 'oh' moment of another guy, but that's not gonna stop me from rooting for Eddie to have similar realizations eventually (and get together with that certain other guy *cough*).

LMAO So, Buck is meeting up with the guy who's gonna be his sexual awakening, a man who's good looking, gave him a thrill already, is an impressive fighter pilot, and the first thing he can think of to say, is blurt out Eddie's name? LMAO Oh, this boy really is down bad...

Man, that bit where Tommy tells Buck he can have it both ways, he can get certified and continue to serve with the 118. Thanks for the beautiful foreshadowing, 911. Buck saying he's keeping his options fluid... Holy shit, the show really wasn't holding any punches back.

OMG, why is Harry old enough to be making Bathena waffles (and then turn out to be involved in an altercation)? I swear, he was still on baby formula just a second ago. How did 7 seasons just fly by!?

Buck getting jealous over Eddie and Tommy sparring. Considering the fact that Buck was the one getting all hot and bothered over semi-naked Eddie in the gym in 201, and ready to jump into a boxing match with him, this is making me wanna punch a wall myself. The symbolism in this ep is NOT very veiled. Add to that Eddie mentioning how he and Tommy met and just... clicked. In the same conversation that reminds us of Buddie' in 201's first meeting, where they clicked? (even though they were both too dumb to realize in what way) 911, just let me catch my breath for a second challenge! Also, Eddie is dating Tommy more intensely than he is Marisol? Okay. Duly noted. These firefighters are both so freaking hetero, I'm sure that's exactly what every casual viewer was telling themselves at this point. And poor Buck, getting his hopes up that Eddie is asking him when he's free, so they can go on a date themselves, only to be let down. Poor baby boy. But this feels like it's spelling out the answer to whether Buck's jealous over Tommy or Eddie. So, yay for Tommy helping him with his bi awakening. But it's clear who's really occupying Buck's heart and mind, and whose time he wants. FOR SIX FREAKING SEASONS NOW.

Oh, it's continuing, the show really is trying to kill me, having Buck complain to Maddie about how often Eddie has been seeing Tommy. The annoyance with how cool Tommy is, that's exactly Buck's reaction to Eddie in 201. So, if Buck and Tommy will then kiss, what does that say about what Buck didn't even realize he wanted to happen with Eddie back then, hmmm? I also love that Buck wants to be the cooler "dad's friend" in Christopher's eyes. That's his son, you can't take that away from him. And of course, Maddie was his first confidante about his feels for Eddie, she was the first one to call out his boy crush (in 204) and to hear Buck automatically think about Eddie, when he hears, "He's cute!" (in 206). It's so freaking right that she is now the witness to Buck's bi jealousy meltdown. I love her calling him out on it. "Is it circled with a heart around it?" Honestly, this is better than front row seats at the Bachelor mansion. I'm just disappointed in Chimney and his imaginary popcorn that he doesn't get to witness all of this firsthand and get what it means. Letting down all Bachelor fans out there, Chim. -_-

And then Buck's back in the gym, staring at Eddie, feathers ruffled. Am I going to make it to the end of this ep? Who cares? This is fantastic! XD He tries to catch Eddie's attention with the little weightlifting without a spotter stunt, and it's specifically him. Chim turned out to also be impressed by how cool Tommy is, but Buck is circling Eddie, like a clueless Jane Austen heroine, about to become a hit teen romance movie. Ravi falling for Buck's weightlifting attention trap is just getting in the way. Chim asking about Buck's weird basketball hugging session is nothing but a way to get to the ball game with Eddie. Okay, I'm at the point where I need to be chewing on imaginary popcorn.

Athena is one of the strongest characters on television, ever. Precisely because she's not just tough when she has to be, she has a heart, too. The scene where she told the woman she accidentally killed her own son was hard to just watch. IDK how she actually did that. I'm not sure if viewers who aren't moms get it, 'coz I didn't until I went with my sister through her pregnancy. Motherhood changes you forever. You feel your kid moving inside you. You bond with them in the most intimate way possible before they're even born. You go on a wild journey with them after, where every second counts, let alone every hour and every day, when they're hungry, when they're cold, when they struggle to sleep, when they finally do, when they take their first step, when they fail and fall... The love and protectiveness are something different to anything else in life. IDK how Athena, who gets all of this, managed to break the news to this mother, that she had unknowingly killed her own kid. I think to me, this has to be the most devastating scene in the entire history of the show. IDK if I'll be able to watch it again.

When basketball game scene starts, and Chimney knows something's up, I was already chuckling. But then Eddie sees them, and the first thing isn't expressing joy that his best friend is there, it's asking how did Chim talk him into this. "He always says no to me." They BOTH always talk about each other in romantic coded language, it's not just Buck, and in the same ep where we get bi Buck confirmed, that makes me froth at the mouth...

"So I'm your basketball beard. I feel so bonded." Not Chimney calling Buck out, while using the term for closeted gay guys using someone as a cover. I AM SCREAMING. Thank you, 911 gods!

That montage with Eddie and Tommy high fiving each other right in front of Buck's salad face, while their muscles glisten in the sun, and Top Gun-like music plays in the background, like the biggest nod to the volleyball scene from that gayest movie ever made, which we already had Buddie paraphrasing in 201. I am fine, this is fine. I love this burning kitchen I'm sitting in.

Buck causing Eddie's injury because of his jealousy (which again, is not about Tommy. He made an impression on Chim as well, who was screaming, "Buck, I'm open! I'm OPEN!") and not even getting to offer some help, because Tommy's already on it... I hope ABC is happy with their viewership dropping next week, because they've killed every Buddie shipper in the fandom.

"Well, I'm not a 14 year old girl..." Both Buck and Maddie together: "So stop acting like one." Love this scene, love these siblings, love that the reference with the two blonde Sarahs sounds platonic, but it's also from a past season on the Bachelor. 911 really wants you to know this is romantic, and Buck's going through a late sexual awakening in his 30's, instead of in his teens, even before he's able to see it.

So, the conclusion to Buck and Maddie's convo is that he needs to talk to Eddie, to make it better, yet the person he ends up talking to is Tommy, and that leads to the bi awakening kiss... It's a classic rom com switch, we hear a knock at the door, we expect it to be THE love interest, showing up at the right time, and it's someone else, making the protagonist's romantic journey so close, but about to get longer. It's further emphasized by a shot over Tommy's shoulder, in a way that he can easily be confused for Eddie, and which is reminiscent of moment when we saw Buck standing at Eddie's door, or both of them there toegther.

It was a nice talk, I loved Tommy saying he can't replace Buck, I def noticed how he went to talk about it in the context of Chris instead of Eddie (hmmm... I wonder why), but my fave part was how Buck glowed when he heard his son doesn't shut up about him. ^u^ He even took a second to look away from Tommy, to take it in with a huge grin. Then Buck and Tommy start warming up to each other, moving towards flirtation, and what comes out of Buck's mouth? "You don't have to tell me how great Eddie is." That's not how you flirt with a guy, Buck. I liked Tommy kissing him, and Buck not recoiling. Like he's always known on some level, but could never do anything about it. "That's better than fake mouth static." LOL The stuff that great romance is made of.

I'm SO happy Buck is getting this storyline of realization he's bi, I've thought it would be important and that the show has laid some groundwork for it since 107, and I don't mind that Tommy is the "romantic other" who helps him with it. I do believe this is important bi representation in and of itself, away from Buddie, and if nothing else ever comes of it, this is still beyond wonderful. In 2024, we still barely have any characters who start out presumed straight, and are allowed the freedom to figure out that maybe their sexual orientation is different than what they thought, despite the fact that in reality, human sexuality is complex and confusing and a mess. So this really matters to me, as a human being, and as a queer person. That said, I can't ignore the past 5 seasons, and the way this storyline played out, with Tommy kissing Buck, but the whole thing being emotionally centered around Buck's feelings for Eddie, it means that whether they go canon or not (and at this point, I find it hard to believe they'd make Buck canonically bi, taking this HUGE risk of homophobic backlash, and not go there with him and Eddie, but just in case they don't, I wanna say this), it'll always be Buddie for me.

Thank you for reading! If you're looking for more, you can find my s7 reactions tag here, and more of my Buddie meta and content in my pinned post. xoxox

[creampuffqueen]

I wanna hear more avatar headcanons! From the novels or just the avatars themselves! I loved reading your kavik and yangchen hcs 🥹🫶🏻

ahhh thank you!! i'm glad you like my random thoughts lol 🫶

here are a few more random thoughts i've been having that i just haven't quite made into posts yet (mostly yangvik because i love them but some other avatars as well):

yangchen is actually a terrible cook 💀 she's basically always had people taking care of her so she never really needed to learn! she can make a good cup of tea and that's about it. she regularly burns rice. she's also just generally bad at remembering to feed herself. kavik, who is a decent cook, is largely the only reason she remembers to eat

as for the other known avatars: kyoshi is by FAR the best cook. she's genuinely good at it. aang is a very close second. roku, kuruk, and wan are all average at it. korra has been banned from every kitchen in republic city

yangchen and kavik both strike me as people who really enjoy physical touch. they both really enjoy cuddling with each other, even before their relationship turns more romantic. acts of service is also a major love language for them

i also feel very strongly that they never used typical labels for their relationship. they usually referred to each other as their 'partner', occasionally 'lover', but most often just continued to use 'companion'. these vague labels frustrate scholars to no end, and today in the atla universe nobody can agree on the nature of their relationship. which is exactly how they wanted it lol, they were extremely private about their relationship

yangchen does have the iconic crooked smile that all the avatars share, but it only comes out when she's well and truly happy about something

her laugh is the same way. she has a very convincing fake laugh, as her real laugh is kind of 'ugly'. it's some kind of snorting, wheezing sound that kind of sounds like she's dying but is also absolutely adorable. yangchen hates it. kavik adores it, and will make an absolute fool of himself trying to hear it

yangchen is a massive, merciless flirt and takes great pleasure in seeing just how red she can make kavik's face turn. but on the rare occasion kavik gets enough confidence to flirt back, she turns into a total mess

pik and pak's favorite place to sleep is right on top of kavik's face

because of how hard she works herself, yangchen often falls asleep in the strangest places. if she's actually tired, she can fall asleep literally anywhere. it's simultaneously a superpower and a massive annoyance

a somewhat sad/bittersweet headcanon i have is that yangchen dies first. i've seen a lot of people saying that she lives to 150 but i can't find a source for that anywhere so i'm choosing to ignore it. yangchen has already watched too many loved ones die, she doesn't need to see kavik die before her as well. they both live very long lives, but kavik outlives her by a few years. after yangchen's death, he returns home to the northern water tribe

at one point, only a few months before his death, he is out for a walk when a little toddler wanders up to him all alone. he chats with him for a few minutes until the boy's parents find them and thank him for watching over their son. 'kuruk, what have we told you about wandering off like that?' the mother asks. the toddler waves goodbye, and kavik walks home feeling oddly contented. he never meets the boy again, and he dies well before kuruk is revealed as the avatar, but he feels a sense of peace from the interaction, knowing deep down that yangchen has made it safely back into the material world

when kavik dies, he wills his bone necklace to kuruk's family. they don't understand why until kuruk's sixteenth birthday. (SERIOUSLY THEIR NECKLACES LOOK ALMOST IDENTICAL ITS WILD)

that's all the thoughts i can scrape up off the top of my head, but i'm just generally thinking about avatar characters All The Time lmao. thank you for asking!!!

[ilguna]

☼ trick question pt1 (Finnick Odair) ☼

summary; Finnick admitted you were his celebrity crush in his last interview, this year, he has something to reveal.

warnings; swearing

wc; 1.9k

part two

–

“Ladies and gentlemen, tonight we have the up and coming model from California joining us today!” Caesar Flickerman shouts with a wide grin on his face, hand extended out in the direction of Finnick, “Finnick Odair!”

Finnick takes the steps one at a time, being careful as to not let his dress shoes get caught on the carpet. He’s watched Caesar’s show plenty of times before, and he’s seen plenty of other people make the mistake of dragging their feet. All it takes is the top of the brand new shoe and you’ll trip.

Finnick smiles brightly, waving at the live audience. There’s only one stray whistle that comes from an audience member in the back. From what he remembers from the last time he was on the show, there shouldn’t be any loud noises in order to prevent the sensitive microphones from blowing. The fan should be let off easily.

“Welcome back!” Caesar says, Finnick extends his hand.

“It’s great to be back, Caesar.” They shake hands, and then Finnick settles on the couch, “I thought that the last time I was here would be the only time.”

“Why’s that?”

Finnick makes a face, “I didn’t think I’d be popular enough.”

“Well, congratulations on being popular.” He laughs, sitting in his chair, crossing a leg, “We have a lot to talk about.”

“Oh great.” Finnick muses, “We should get started then.”

“Yes, I wanna ask you about your latest experience with fashion. You’ve been doing a lot of shows recently, especially with the fashion designer Cinna.” Caesar becomes more serious, “What’s it like working with him?”

Finnick nods, “Cinna’s brilliant, really. I’m lucky to wear more of his tame ideas, rather than the bright and shiny ones.”

“Yes, because we all know how Cashmere and Gloss feel about them!” He laughs, “I do have a question, since you work very closely with other models. How is the young Katniss Everdeen? Is she adjusting well? I heard that the flammable piece was almost a break for her.”

“I can’t say, exactly. I wasn’t present for the conversation between her and Cinna. I did hear from their contract manager that she was looking into other stylists if they couldn’t accommodate her.” Finnick tilts his head, “Since she is—as you said—young, she’s very careful about how she approaches revealing her body.”

“That’s right, those contracts can be very demanding.” Caesar agrees, “I remember you telling me that it almost cost you your job to ask for different clothes.”

“I’m very lucky that I have wonderful friends that would take the fall for me like that, even if the outfits aren’t designed for their body types.” Finnick nods, “As unfortunate as it is for the stylists to have their clothes stretched, it’s not worth a model's discomfort. I did explicitly say that I wasn’t comfortable exposing my body.”

Caesar nods, “Would you have worn that second flame piece if Cinna had asked you?”

Finnick lets out a laugh, “Well, Peeta and I are two different sizes. It surely would’ve been uncomfortable to wear. However, if he had told me that he couldn’t do it, I would’ve tried to make it work.”

“Peeta and Katniss are very lucky to know you.”

“I’m lucky to know them.”

Caesar tilts his head, “While we’re on the topic, I heard that you and Johanna Mason are working on your own line.”

Finnick tries to hide his smile. He’s been asked about it in every interview under the sun lately. They don’t know what the line is, and neither him nor Johanna are planning to release it to the public just yet. They’re working on a beauty line that’ll cover most of the bases. Finnick wants to cover skincare, and Johanna wants natural dyes for hair so it’s less damaging, since she changes her hair color often.

“We’re working on something, yes.”

Caesar raises his eyebrows, “Are you open to discussing any detail about it?”

“It won’t surprise the public when it does come out. That’s all I’ll be saying as of right now. Johanna likes to keep her projects secret, and I’m not trying to get on her bad side.” Finnick laughs, Caesar joins in.

“That’s fair, okay.” There’s a mischievous smile that crosses Caesar’s face, “Do you remember the last time you were here and I asked you about your celebrity crush?”

Finnick lets out an audible sigh, he can feel the heat returning to his face. He doesn’t know how Caesar has such a way with words, but he managed to get Finnick to admit who he likes in front of a live audience. Which then proceeded to trend on Twitter, and then further get the attention of the girl that he’s liked for a while now.

“Don’t remind me.”

“I will be, actually.” Caesar laughs, “Remind me, who is it?”

“Do we have to do this, Caesar?” Finnick chuckles, but complys, “Her name is (Y/n) (L/n).”

“And what is she known for?”

It’s a good thing that Finnick knows where he’s going with this, “For those of you at home and in the audience that don’t know who (Y/n) is, she’s an actress. Show them what she looks like, Caesar.”

He laughs, and the screen behind him changes to be a picture of you from the red carpet a month ago for a premiere. There’s a pretty smile on your face and your body is halfway turned to give them the illusion that you were going to walk away, but it was just a pose that most do.

Caesar clears his throat, “Everyone, (Y/n) plays a number of characters across tv shows and movies alike. She has a liking for the darker themes, and she leans towards apocalyptic and dystopian movies the most, and shows that have repeating criminal activity that centers around the character.”

Finnick nods, rubbing his neck, “She normally plays the gruesome characters and she does it beautifully, alright?”

There’s a few laughs, Caesar raises his eyebrows, “What about her do you like, Finnick? Be more specific.”

Finnick rolls his eyes, “I said that she captivates me every time she’s on screen. She’s a wonderful actress and I find myself being pulled in with the story.”

“But only for her, right?” Caesar teases, “Not for someone as handsome as Beetee Latier?”

“I’m sure Beetee is also an amazing actor, but we’re talking about (Y/n).”

“That we are. I saw a number of tweets of hers from the last time you were here.” Caesar laughs, as the screen behind him changes to be the screenshots they took of the interaction.

Finnick shakes his head, “Don’t do this.”

“We’re doing this. Ladies and gentlemen, it seems to me that (Y/n) had a lot to say.” Caesar flicks through the screenshots. It’s mostly of you replying to other people talking about the interview that took place last year. The slideshow quickens, “A lot. But from what my crew gathered, she was very flattered.”

“Very. What can I say? I’m a flattering man.” Finnick smiles.

“So flattering that you somehow managed to get her phone number.” Caesar raises his eyebrows, “Can I tell them?”

Finnick motions, “Well you’ve basically told them already.”

Caesar turns suddenly, slapping his hands on his thighs, “Finnick and (Y/n) became official. I want everyone to give a big welcome to (Y/n)!”

You peek your head out from behind the curtain with a scrunched nose. You follow Finnick’s directions from earlier, warning you about tripping on the carpet, especially in these heels. You’re sure to lift your feet and walk carefully. Caesar and Finnick are now on their feet.

You hug Caesar slightly, give a wave to the audience, and then turn to Finnick. He knows that he can’t touch your face, he’s got in the bad habit of doing it lately, and it’s been hard to break him out of it. You wish it wasn’t that easy to ruin your makeup, but there’s not much you can do.

You press a kiss to Finnick’s lips, and pull away giggling when the audience cheers louder. Finnick sits, and watches you carefully as you tuck the dress under you, turning your legs to the side so that your knees almost touch Finnick’s legs. The worst part about wearing a dress is sitting down.

Finnick takes your hand, squeezing it tightly.

“(Y/n), I believe this is the first time we’re meeting.” Caesar says.

“With the exception of backstage, I’d say so too.” You laugh, they do too.

“Tell me, what was it like meeting Finnick for the first time in person?”

You tilt your head, “He’s a gentleman through and through. I could’ve asked for the world on that first date and it was clear to me that he would’ve found a way to do it.”

“And you didn’t ask for the world?”

“I decided to save that for the second date.”

“What was it like hearing that Finnick had a crush on you?”

You make a face, “Weird, if I’m honest. He’s a celebrity in the modeling world. I’m a celebrity in the acting world. It’s almost as if we shouldn’t collide, and yet we’re still here. You can see weird couples all across the Capitol, it’s really something else.”

“That’s very true.” Caesar agrees, “Someone told me that you were trying to get Finnick into acting.”

“Yes, I am.” You give a look to Finnick. He’s already shaking his head, “He thinks I’m lying when I say that he has potential. I think he could be phenomenal outside of modeling if he wanted to. If he decided that he didn’t like acting, modeling will still be there for him.”

“You think that Cinna would allow him to come back?” Caesar asks curiously.

“I’ve talked to Cinna on a couple of occasions. He’s a very understanding man, and he would do a lot for his models, including letting them come back from a break. For a lot of other companies, it’s a one-and-done sort of deal. Finnick’s fortunate that he has Cinna.”

“What do you think about acting, Finnick?”

“The idea’s growing on me, I’ll admit.” Finnick smiles, “I don’t think I’ll feel comfortable doing it if (Y/n) isn’t beside me to help, but it’s hard getting a job beside her because they’re looking for a certain level of expertise.”

“And that’s true, but a lot of actors and actresses get weird roles all the time. I’m a good example of that. I was told when I first joined the industry that I’d never get the gory roles, and now those are all I get.”

“Out of spite, I presume?”

“Partially.” You laugh, “But also because I set my mind to it. That’s why I believe Finnick can do it too.”

Finnick softly smiles at you, “I love your confidence in me, but I’m not feeling the same way.”

You shake your head at Finnick.

“Well, I think it’s about time we took a break.” Caesar says, you and Finnick nod. Caesar turns to face the camera, “When we come back, we’ll discuss (Y/n)’s brief experience with modeling and why she chose not to go on. I’ll see you in a few minutes.”

[harryspurpleloofah]

Harry Styles college oneshot

Summary: Harry always has his nose buried in a book. Somehow he ended up dating one of the most popular and defiant girls on college campus. Things with them are going well for now until they have a bit of an accident with the drinks.

TW: mentions of drugs, alcohol, swearing, slight mention of grinding

Harry was sitting on his bed reading Anna Kerenina, his absolute favorite novel. His girlfriend y/n was sitting across from him still trying to convince him. “It’ll be so much fun Harry please.” She said. Harry sighed as he put the book down and ran a hand through his brown curls. “What’s fun for you isn’t necessarily fun for me honey.” He replied. Y/n rolled her eyes. “Harry everybody on campus will be at this party.”

“Everybody not including me then.” He said

“Why not? Why don’t you wanna go, H?”

“You know I don’t like those parties. What’s so great about half naked people grinding on each other and doing coke?”

“What’s not good about that?”

Harry’s lips twitched up in a bit of a smile before his stern demeanor reappeared. “I’m not going baby. End of.”

“Harry please!”

“Nope.”

She takes the thick novel out of his hands and tosses it to the side before turning to him. She sighs, “please? It’ll be fun. All the people at the party are there with their partners. I’m always alone because you don’t come.”

“So? There’s nothing wrong with that honey. People enjoy different things. You enjoy loud parties and drinking while I prefer to stay inside and get my hands on a good novel it’s perfectly normal lovie.”

“Cant you do this for me? Please Harry? Just once?”

“Y/n…”

“How can you say you won’t like it if you’ve never been? Remember when you lectured me for saying I wouldn’t like Jane Austen before I read her work?”

Harry scoffs. She was using his words against him,. “Jane Austen and college parties are two very different things darling.”

“No they’re not. They’re both things we hadn’t experienced yet. I tried reading more for you so you can try one party for me. Please?”

“….if I don’t like it will you leave me alone about it?”

“Promise.”

He sighs. “You minx. How do you get everything you want?”. Y/n chuckles and hands his book back.

That night she went through every outfit in Harry’s closet and helped him pick out a nice thing to wear. They arrived at the party and Harry almost instantly wanted to leave. The loud music was pounding into his head and the smell of alcohol was so overpowering throughout the whole room. He was only here for y/n. She began walking towards a guy so Harry followed. “Hey, Mike!” She called. The Mike guy looked around and smirked.

“Hey y/n. Oh—y/n with a boyfriend?! That’s a sight you don’t see often.”

Y/n and Mike both chuckled. Harry just looked between the two and politely smiled because he wasn’t sure if they were laughing at him or with him but he was hoping it was the latter. Y/n explained, “Harry’s a literature major so he has a lot of work and can’t come to parties usually.”. Mike nods and smiles, “Can I get y’all something?”. Y/n turns to Harry.

“What would you like Haz?” She asks. Harry doesn’t know what to say. “Um..a beer would be fine?”. Mike and y/n exchange a look before they start laughing. Harry was so confused..what had he said wrong? A beer was a normal drink to have at a party…right? Mike chuckled, “we mean something stronger.”.

“Oh..” Harry replied “um..like tonic?”

Y/n and Mike laughed again. Y/n took Harry’s hand “baby he’s asking if you want anything stronger. Coke? Meth?”

Harry froze. “Meth? Are you crazy? Do you know how dangerous that shit is y/n?”

“Relax Harry. It’s not a regular thing. Why don’t you try some?”

“No. I’m drawing the line here y/n.”

“Okay, okay. Chill, you don’t have to if you don’t want. I won’t make you.” She smiles.

Harry felt a rush of relief knowing she wasn’t looking to pressure him into anything. Mike looked over, “boyfriend’s lame y/n. Lame.”

“Hey,” she said, “he’s never been to one of these parties before cut him some slack. Come on Harry let’s get beers.”

Harry thanked god in his head and followed her. They actually had a nice night. Harry downed a beer quickly. Y/n froze. “Harry…you just drank mine..”

Harry chuckled. “Aw. Sorry baby, you can have another one.”

“No..harry mine was spiked.”

“W-what?”

“Yeah! That’s why I told you not to drink it!”

“Well what now?! Will I be okay? I-I-”

“Woah. Stop. You’ll be fine, don’t worry. Let’s get you home.”

Thankfully nothing happens apart from the fact that he has a pounding headache the next day. Y/n profusely apologizes and the next few days are spent in his dorm reading Jane Austen and sipping on hot cocoa.

[imagine-darksiders]

Here's a request, how would Strife and Samael react to accidentally seeing s/o naked for the first time? Like they are getting ready to bathe or something and thought they were alone. They didn't know anyone would be there, and when Strife/Sam do see them, s/o is oblivious. Like they realize very quickly "aw shit, s/o is cute...", Inner monologue stuff about s/o and their new feelings. I have a thing for pining. Real romance fluff with a suggestive hint. Nothing happens, this doesn't have to be nsfw if you don't want it to be. I just want your take on their reactions cause I think they would both range very differently. I chose those two cause they are my favorite. If you don't wanna do this one, that's ok too. I just really like your writing and how you interpret things. Thank you again.

Samael:

It's a common assumption among those who don't know him personally, that the Demon Prince, Samael, is a debauched and lascivious snake who would only relish in the chance to catch a human unawares.

It's a common assumption. But so often common is confused with correct.

He's a prince. Be that of Hell or Heaven or any realm in-between, he knows how to behave like a gentleman when needs be.

To his own surprise, he's found himself falling more and more into that courtly conduct ever since he managed to get his claws on the Horsemen's little human, swiped by his own claws right from underneath their noses.

'Nothing personal,' he'd told you while you thrashed and beat at the vast, scaly fingers wrapped around your torso, 'This is all tactics, you understand.'

With the Horsemen focusing all of their efforts into tracking you down – they've yet to work out that he's behind your disappearance – Samael is free to move his players across an unguarded chess board. A classic – if risky – slight of hand.

Oh, he imagines they'll try to kill him once they discover you hidden here in his fortress at Shadow's Edge, but that's hardly of any concern to a Prince of Hell. If he thought the Horsemen were a genuine threat, he wouldn't have provoked them by taking their precious, little human.

They won't be able to deny, when they eventually find you, that he's been nothing if not a most gracious host. You aren't a political enemy, after all, you're an innocent bystander in his game of cat and mouse.

He's placed you in one of the Eastern towers - under guard and lock and key, of course – where every amenity has been made available to you. A spacious chamber, adorned by a luxurious bed with silken, ruby-red sheets. An adjacent nook that boasts a king-sized bathing pool for you to maintain your hygiene....

If anything, you're less of a prisoner, and more of an unusual guest, though such 'special treatment' has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that your affinity for story-telling far surpasses the talents of his own subjects.

All you have to do is recite Earthen fairy-tales to him, plots of films you can still remember, stories from the books you used to read at school, and every single one of them is eagerly eaten up by the demon Prince, specifically those that have happier endings.

Those very stories are the reason Samael finds himself striding down the corridor to your chambers now, with his hands clasped loosely behind his back, the impressive claws at the end of each of his toes clicking sharply against a black-stone floor.

Last night, you'd half-finished a tale of a caterpillar with an absolutely voracious appetite, but you'd fallen asleep just before the most crucial climax. He'd half a mind to shake you conscious again and demand you tell him how the gluttonous little insect earns his downfall through hubris and greed, but in the end, he permitted you your scant few hours of fitful sleep.

Perhaps the ending you have in store will have been worth the wait...

The phantom guards posted outside your room snap to attention as he passes them by, though their master doesn't spare either of them so much as a fleeting glance, stepping leisurely up to the tattered, scarlet curtain that separates your chambers from the corridor outside.

And that's when he hears it - a sound so seldom heard in Hell, it actually startles the Prince into slowing his gait as his scowl comes undone, softening the deep-set creases carved between his brows.

He pauses at the curtain and twists an ear towards the noise...

... Music?

Slowly, he eases his crooked knuckles beneath the curtain and lifts it aside, hesitating for another moment to discern that his ears really aren't deceiving him. That's music he's hearing. More specifically, it's singing.

You are singing.

He's spoken with you enough times by now to recognise your voice in spite of the melodious notes of a song that drift into his ears from somewhere beyond the bed chamber.

But then, he supposes he shouldn't be surprised. Of all the denizens residing in his fortress, who among them is the most likely to burst into song other than the human?

Eyes of liquid fire scan the room and find it devoid of his prisoner, until they land upon the arched entrance that leads into the adjacent bathing quarters.

He recalls how you'd been stunned almost speechless the first time he showed you the enormous pool cut out of an obsidian floor.

He'd taken the liberty to drain it of lava before filling it up again with clean, un-poisoned water – a rare commodity in Hell, given the rate of its evaporation.

“Why?” you'd asked, squinting up at him dubiously.

Samael's face had remained perfectly set like the stone underfoot as he hummed his reply, “I assumed humans preferred to bathe in water. Not molten lava.”

That wasn't what you'd meant, and he knew it, but you'd been sensible enough not to look a gift demon in the mouth, as it were.

Lifting his nose to take a whiff of the air, Samael pads like a graceful predator across the chamber, following the sound of your voice.

Until the day comes when he no longer sits on the throne, he'll staunchly deny that his footsteps fall just a little more softly against the stone in his endeavour to remain unnoticed by the room's occupant.

Deftly, he manoeuvres around a scattering of garments that have been strewn haphazardly about the chamber, quirking one solid, scaly brow at them as he passes. 'Odd,' is all he muses.

Under normal circumstances, you're never seen without your flimsy attire.

Finding his curiosity piqued, Samael ducks his crooked horns and steals into the dark doorway, casting an eye languidly across the baths, only to freeze in his tracks, his whole body going utterly still from the horns on his head to the tip of his long, sweeping tail.

As if the singing weren't enough of a shock, you suddenly come dancing into view, swinging your hips to and fro like a pendulum. You're facing away from the doorway, thank the Void, but that's hardly what the demon Prince is focused on.

Standing there on the first step of the bath, bobbing your hips to the tune of your own song, he sees you.

All of you.

There isn't a shred of clothing present to preserve your modesty, no undergarments, nor a single strip of cloth, not a thread to your name.

Samael's silvery pupils dilate, expanding out of slits until they sit soft and round in his yellow eyes.

Rather perplexingly, he doesn't wheel himself backwards out of the entryway as soon as he registers your state of undress, though he chalks this up to being struck with simple, scientific curiosity at having stumbled upon a human in their most natural state.

Why, any second now, he's sure he'll feel that familiar wave of disgust surge up like bile and turn his stomach, because what is the human body if not a small, featureless sack of squelching meat?

Any second now...

Surely...?

Despite the weak-willed voice in the back of his head trying to convince him to turn away, the demon's eyes remain firmly adhered to you, and his ears twitch and flick towards the sound of your voice, anxious to catch every note you sing.

What is the human body...?

It's very.... gentle, he observes through a sudden haze that knocks him ever so slightly off-kilter.

A golden stare roll up the length of your legs, tracing the path of your spine and lingering on the back of your fragile neck.

There isn't a single, sharp edge to your body. No jagged horns or spines jutting through your skin, no tough and unforgiving scales to protect you from the elements, no natural weapons in the form of fangs or claws.

A body like yours was never intended to cause hurt.

What a flawed design.

What a brave design.

Before he can keep it at bay, a memory of Lilith pushes to the forefront of his mind – of her cruel lips that twist into a smirk and her hateful glares that try to poison his heart as she lays underneath him on their shared bed, claws like knives cutting into his scaly forearms to draw as much pain from him as she can, all in the name of 'making love.'

But what if....?

As the demon Prince gazes down at you, transfixed, the image of your naked body slips seamlessly in to replace Lilith's in his mind's eye. Her feral snarl gives way to something kinder, something sweeter, welcoming.

And suddenly, there you are, spread out in his Queen's place on the red, silken sheets, surrounded by the treasures he's draped you in during a wild and scandalous courtship. For the first time in his life, he doesn't want to ravage the body under his, though maybe he'd remind you that he could, if you'd only ask him to.

No. Perhaps, instead, you'll prop yourself up against the mountain of pillows he'd given you to nest in, and you'll cradle his head in your lap, your clawless fingers stroking gently up and down the space between his impressive horns as you tell him stories well into the night, listening to the crackle of the wall sconces together.

'Is that what it must be like?' he wonders, 'to take a lover who has no interest in power or status?' That must be what the stories mean, when they talk of love for love's sake.

Ah... But that kind of love has no place in Hell. The selfless kind. Altruistic. Here, one either loves to gain power, respect, and to rise through the social ranks, or one simply doesn't love at all.

In all the years he's sat on the throne of Hell, never once did he think he'd find himself so captivated by the sight of a human with no clothes on.

The leathery membrane folded between his wings starts to creak as they gradually spread open, driven by an ancient and well-buried instinct to appear bigger, stronger, more suitable than any other demon in the fortress...

He doesn't even notice that his tail has begun to sweep silently from side to side in perfect tandem with the swing of your hips.

Regardless of his imposing presence lurking just behind you in the doorway, you still don't seem to have noticed that you have an audience, and you likely would have gone on with your oblivious dance had the demon Prince not sabotaged himself moments later.

He never meant to do it. He's certainly never been caught doing it before, not even when he was trying to court an impassive Lilith.

Somewhere deep inside his almighty chest, the demon's muscles begin to quiver, pulsing together as they work to push a strange sound up through his throat - something between a contented hum and an unmistakable, mortifying purr.

You notice the sound before he does, but his reactions are sharper than your own.

Your song trails into uncertain silence, there's a whoosh of air and an enormous shadow flits backwards through the doorway just as you turn around to investigate, curling your arms around yourself in anticipation of finding a peeping-tom.

… The entrance is empty.

The Phantom guards scramble to attention when their master suddenly comes storming out of your chambers, his tail lashing like a whip and his mighty chest heaving in and out as if he's trying to stoke a fire in his lungs.

Gleaming fangs crush themselves together as he thunders aimlessly down the corridor, his only concern in distancing himself from the room of his prisoner.

What was that?

What the Hell was that!?

Of all the ridiculous, humiliating, puerile things for a Prince to do.

A purr...

A purr!

At his age! And one directed at a human no less.

He's Samael! Accuser, Seducer. Prince of Demons and Lord of Darkness. He's well above the feeble allure of the flesh.

... But it wasn't just your flesh that tempted him, was it?

Samael's lips curl to bare his teeth as he viciously swipes the thought away with another lash of his tail.

It doesn't matter, he tells himself resolutely. You hadn't seen him, nobody witnessed the event, you'll carry on none-the-wiser while he strikes the whole mishap from his memory.

The Horsemen will come and take you away, as he intended.

Yes... Just as he intended.

EDIT: Holy shift I just realised I got so caught up in Samael's story, I never wrote Strife's!!!!!!! I'm so sorry!!!!

[death-in-a-handbasket]

I swear to myself I am done making idv ocs,,,,, but I have an obsession with character design & making ocs and here I am AGAIN with my next one so I can build a nice big story where all my ocs are definitely happy ٩( ᐛ )و

He is finally the 'staff are a part of the manor' concept you inspired me with,,, hes the key holder ,,has the key to every room in the manor and is just kinda there in the background of everything,,, he brings that 'fading away into the flowers' vibe to the function that the haters just can't understand yknoe

I swear I don't abandon my original ocs they are all very loved and I'm trying to stop this creation addiction now💯

His name is Lavinia (or Vinnie) but he doesn't really share his name aside from theoretically some of the other workers? Raghhh,, sorry it's late by me so this is probably senseless rambling. I think he'd get along somewhat well with your character staff (I think that's the. Only way you've reffered to them,,, idk I cannot remember rn I'm sorry I need to go sleep, the one with luca)

He's not really shipped w anyone because he's very averse to most relationships in any way but,, yea

I enjoy him greatly !! he's rather solemn and gorgeous, I fuck with this. ALSO KEYMASTER JOB IS SO BALLER >>> I approve 10/10 he is canon 2 me. I'm imagining anyone who has been accidentally locked out of their room damn near falling over in surprise as this guy manifests next to them like he spawned out of the floral wallpaper and asking very morosely if they need some help. he just pulls an absolutely massive ring of keys out of his pocket and as he's unlocking their door for them they ask very nervously how he manages to keep track of all of them but when they look back he's fucking gone

also don't worry about relentlessly making ocs, I do the same thing, I love making self inserts and I have a shitload of fandom independent ocs but I fear I don't attend to them often enough </3 I am an absent father for sure I fear

as for staff, don't worry, they don't have a name, staff IS their only name, that's the only one they give out to people and they stubbornly refuse to give themselves a name or have anyone else give them one. they have a complex of sorts surrounding not existing, where because of their status as a non-human and their deep seated feeling of mundanity they consider themself not applicable to the title of being real

him and luca have a whole dynamic surrounding names that I'll put below the cut if you wanna read :0 !

okay. okay. so.

their dynamic to start involves staff trying to keep luca at a distance and luca trying to learn more about them and their non-human design as is his curious nature, thus they have a stubborn vs stubborn type feud that isn't really addressed as a feud but is there nonetheless

staff calls luca by his last name to enforce a sort of social distance and hold that divide of human vs non human, they are nameless and he is not, it’s also meant to hold him at an emotional distance because to use his first name would imply closeness. staff enforces this distance this because all they know as their identity is being separate from the manor guests they serve--further yet, sometimes when they do it it’s out of rudeness and to deflect him from them and sometimes it’s more out of self destruction than anything, such is the refusal to acknowledge one’s own being as worthy of humanity

on the other end of the situation it is a double edged sword of sorts for luca, being called by his last name has become strange to him as it’s been a long time since any part of his name has been spoken with even the slightest air of politeness, after being in prison it feels good to be referred to by any name at all, especially without ardent malice and disgust. however he’s aware of the separation they are creating which stings a little because he really would pay to hear them call him by his first name, even once would be pleasant. plus being called by his last name solely makes him feel a bit like his father, which stings in its own right,,,,,,he has mixed feelings on his last name for this reason

circling back once more, staff prefers not being referred to at all because it enforces the idea that they are in fact nothing, and while being called staff is a vague compromise of sorts, they are still off put by being given any title at all, not just for the humanity implication, but for the strange feeling that not referred to at all feels more comfortable and in tune with who they are (non-existence complex aside) than any name they could possibly have, such is the indecision of someone struggling to decide whether to be real or not

luca struggles in both situations, both options feel degrading to him, especially in the eyes of someone who has felt degraded and sub-human while in prison, to place someone in the category of less than human makes him feel oddly guilty despite the fact that he’s not the one enforcing this standard

he still finds it degrading to see them as nothing, names are very very important between these two and their choices of which moments they decide to address each other has its own subtext to it

that's all !! have a good day :33

[yiga-hellhole]

TWILIGHT FOREST, TWILIGHT KING CHAPTER 11

IT'S HERE!! ANOTHER ZANT CHAPTER!! i'm SOOO excited about this one. i wanna give a quick shoutout to @bulgariansumo for pseudo-proofreading this chapter, and @aortic-inkwell for inspiring me to also make a fancy portrait of our beloved (?) twilight king. hope you don’t mind the ping, but i gotta give credit where credit is due!

this time, we deal with the aftermath of the hard-fought battle at the Eldin border. as the lieutenants recuperate, one very important task still lies at hand... yuga's portrait of the Twilight King. 7.4k words under the cut!

content warning: self harm

ao3 mirror: HERE!

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

"Good morning, [my Diamond]."

For the first time since that battle, where their souls became one, Ghirahim awakened. Zant lay next to him in his nightgowns, brushing the backs of his fingers across his jaw. The sword spirit’s mattress was much harder than his own. Likely, because it often went unused. Ghirahim groaned, squinting his eyes shut, and rubbed his fingers through his hair. In all of the time they spent together, Zant had not seen him sleep until now. He could only surmise he was rousing from a most unfamiliar feeling. 

“What happened,” he murmured. “I… I remember the battle, but… How did I get back to the Palace?” Hands stroked his face, pulling at puffy eyebags. 

Zant propped himself up on his elbow. “You have slept for five days,” he stated, very matter-of-factly.

“Five days!?”

Five days. That is how long he spent by his side. After driving himself to his very limit, Ghirahim fell to the ground at the Eldin Border, and simply would not rise. Zant remembered how quickly he dove for him, clutching him in his arms, searching for any sign of life. The pulse of his core was weak, then, but undeniably there. It hid there, the precious thing, sheltering deep within him in recuperation. Medics and generals gathered around the pair, fearing for the worst, but Zant pacified them soon enough. But he could not remain there. Using his magic to lift him, the large, metal man was soon brought hovering to his chest, a hand held in the small of his back to guide him through the air before him the same ease one would when playing with bubbles of soap. When he returned him to their keep in Eldin, he did not leave his side. When his comatose body was sent to the palace, he did not leave his side. And though duty called during the negotiations with their Master, he returned each night to his chambers without fail, and joined him in his bed. Zant knew nothing of sword spirits, of demons, yet every day he kept a watchful eye over that gentle flicker within his core. Whatever happened, that faint glow must not die. The cost of power would not be paid with the life of his companion. 

Every night that glow remained stable was one of simultaneous relief and guilt. Ghirahim was not dying. Yet, Zant could not help but think that his current state was his doing. So gleefully he had danced through the battlefield, his dagger, and so tranquil he laid there now. To be united in the way that they were, he was granted a peek through the screens to reveal so much of him. As small and relenting as their tether had been, Ghirahim’s pure joy and pride glowed through the strings that bound them. Time and time again he stated that he was a weapon, but the fulfillment he took in acting the part bloomed even into Zant’s very soul, and he now understood it fully. It put a twisted warmth in his chest, one he could only recall fondly now that it was gone. He wondered, then, what pieces of himself had entered into his beloved. What knowledge he held of him now. 

Three days, Ghirahim had laid unchanged. On the fourth night, suddenly, his chosen skin appeared again to shroud his body. Zant sat excitedly, then, waiting for him to awaken. Only to splay across him, weeping softly, when he did not. Certainly, it meant slowly, but surely, Ghirahim was regaining his strength, but his impatience, his desire to see him, was taking its toll. Ganondorf was growing impatient, their generals anxious, and Yuga, oh, spare the thought.

It was the sixth morning. Ghirahim was awake.

In response to his startled query, he nodded, cooing happily as he nuzzled him. Ghirahim was anxious, only meeting his affection for a second. A smile graced his lips, but his brow creased with worry. Soon, he dismissed him to sit up, a feverish eagerness to return to his post overtaking him. The Sword only knew to serve. But before he could fully rise, he clutched his head and fell back into the pillows. 

Zant braced his hand on his shoulder. “Do not rush, Ghirahim. All your duties are accounted for until your recovery.”

The demon groaned and writhed before him. For a man such as he, having not a single thing to attend to was unheard of, surely. Even as he took his hand, he continued to bemoan his fate. “How pesky it is, to lay here idle! What of our Master? I’m certain he will be positively cross with me, for our carelessness.”

Zant stroked his thumb over Ghirahim’s gloved fingers. Indeed, Ganondorf had been displeased with the lack of progress of Ghirahim’s recovery, and certainly, now that he was awake again, he would put him to work straight away. For now, he wished to shelter him as long as he could. To enjoy that rare moment of being his sole occupation. “I have briefed our successes to our Master. Fortunately for us, word travels fast. Your massacre on the Eastern front was most thrilling to him, [my dear].” Sweetened was the pot, and Ghirahim relaxed just a bit. “Though, I’ve not relayed all the details yet. He will want to see us again and inquire.”

Ghirahim’s lips tightened to a thin, white line as he averted his gaze to the sun peeking past the shutters. Zant drew his attention to him again, with the press of a kiss to his knuckles. He turned to him and spoke. “What of our advance?”

“Oh, you needn’t fret for another few days. We are sending out skirmishes before returning to the border. The Master wishes to send us to Death Mountain, next. The Gorons are holding too fast for his liking, and I must agree.”

Ghirahim nodded again thoughtfully. The buzzing ache of duty ate away at him, hollowing him out beneath his false skin, leaving nothing but the desire to rip himself out of bed and get to his post. Even his affections could not slither their way past that worried scowl. Zant thought carefully, wondering how he could lower his guard, and sink him back into the pillows in relaxation for just a few more precious minutes.

He scooted on the bed towards him, clutching his hand to his chest. Ghirahim looked with hooded eyes at the odd gesture of affection, his attention captured by the heartbeat that resonated through his metallic interior. Zant smiled when he faced him again. “You still have not recovered, Ghirahim. It is quite alright to spend a little more time in leisure.”

“Sentimental creature,” Ghirahim scoffed, a smirk splitting his lips. “I take it you have just been laying here, waiting until I wake up? So unwisely you spend your time.”

He squinted at him. The gravity of the situation simply did not occur to Ghirahim. Not for a moment, did he consider his worries, how he had agonized over his sleeping state. A sword he was, indeed! So tragic was he, to be forged for bloodshed, and understand so little of everything else. If it was practicalities he was worried about, he would soothe him with them, first. “Rest assured, I have been attending to my duties, and yours, perfectly adequately. But, indeed, I spent my nights to watch over you. I do not regret it. Privileged am I, to be the first to see your waking face.”

Ghirahim’s eyes widened, and his brow subtly knit, the tips of his ears getting just a small reddish glow. He was to say something bothersome again, to try to push his buttons. How he desired, instead, to see that blush increase. “Stay with me, just a little longer? I have missed you so terribly, Ghirahim.”

A pause. Ghirahim rolled over on his side, slowly, as to not agitate his dizziness, to face him properly. He looked down at the hand Zant still had pressed to his chest, fixated on the grey fingers gently stroking his own. His eyes flitted up to him again, his milky lips parting as he sought his words. The Demon Lord witnessed him now, truly saw him, how haggard his countenance and disheveled his hair had become. “You worried for me?”

“The term ‘worry’ cannot begin to encapsulate the grief I felt, looking upon you in that wretched slumber.”

A flicker of recognition shone in Ghirahim’s ink-black eyes. The reflection of his chandelier danced in his irises as the stars would reflect in a midnight lake, the fancies he carried within those deep voids bubbling to the surface. A gasp escaped his lips. Slowly, he drew closer to him. They silently entangled, Ghirahim’s face burrowing into the pillowy fabric on his chest as he held him tight. Silently he whispered, muffled and elusive like the turning of a page. “Thank you, for caring for me,” the words left his lips with uncertainty, their pitch stuck between a broken sob and a question. 

The frigid waking body of the Demon Lord slowly warmed in his arms. Cry before him, he would not, but the heavy eyelids fluttering shut as he rested his face upon his breast carried solemnity. Words of gratitude, of lament, and the joy of reunion did not need to be said. They carried their meaning in the gentle touches they placed upon one another, of hands grasping at clothing, and fingers combing through each others’ hair. 

As he cradled him so tenderly against him, Zant smiled.

——

"Tell me. Which of you was it who faced the Chosen Hero?"

Even the spellbinding intimacy of that morning, as much as he’d safeguarded it, had to come to an end. As Zant expected, the very minute their Master suspected Ghirahim’s return to the waking world, he had them summoned to his throne room. They kneeled at his feet, faces cast down to the ground as they gave him their report. Most of it, Zant had relayed himself. But Ganondorf found one slight crack in his report that could cost them both. The Gerudo King fully intended to wring the concealed guilt out of his subordinate ‘til the last drop.

"You let him live," Ganondorf stated coldly. That disdain in his voice. Though he was not permitted to take his eyes off of him, through the very air, a silent whimper. He heard Ghirahim falter. 

"... Yes, Master."

"In your carelessness, your thirst for battle, you injured that boy into defenselessness, and you let him live," he snarled, a fist balling with a creak of his gauntlet's hinges as he pounded it on his armrest. A stammer quaked out beside him, dribbling from the lips of a paralyzed Ghirahim who sought desperately for a proper excuse for his selfish behavior. Against his precious Master, he could never find one.

"I do beg your pardon, My Lord," Zant interjected, immediately attracting the furious gaze of the Demon King to himself. "Though indeed it may appear careless, would you not say his actions on the battlefield accorded well to your wishes? The boy is your prized kill. To take such a monumental achievement from you would only displease you."

Silence tore through the throne room in an instant. Ghirahim, wide-eyed and shocked, ceased his mousey whimpers. Zant and Ganondorf were locked in a sharp, fiery gaze, golden eyes burning holes in one another.

Wrinkles formed at the corners of Ganondorf's eyes. The mighty Demon King threw his head back in roaring laughter, his hand smacking atop his armrest. "Right you are, Shadow Lord. Truly, you know your King."

Zant smiled, closing his eyes and nodding with cold serenity. Better than you could ever know, My Lord.

Ganondorf grunted as his laughter died down, looking between the two of them. "You have done well in securing the border, and though the fortune of coincidence has smiled upon you this time, I will tolerate no further acts of mercy. I have summoned you here to kill for me, not engage in quarrels of your own."

The two of them nodded solemnly in response. Their Master had no need to remind them of the consequences, should they displease him even a shred further. The arrival of Yuga may have strengthened their forces significantly, but it also jeopardized the positions of the two lieutenants. Bit by bit, they became gradually less irreplaceable. A man of flesh and blood at the surface, but below that bronze skin weaved an ever-growing tapestry of golden power. Anything that stood in the way of that power was to be disposed of, camaraderie be damned. 

The pair marched back to the hall, soles clacking on the polished tiles in unison. Veiled Gerudo women closed the massive, gilded door behind them.

Ghirahim remained silent. The thoughts racing through his mind the second he crossed the threshold of subservience might as well have been reflected in his eyes. Yet, not a single word passed his lips. He was stunned.

Zant placed his hand on his shoulder. Ghirahim shrugged it off. 

“Why did you make excuses for me? I am no child. Such blunders have consequences, and I was prepared to face them,” he snarled after whipping around to face him.

Zant remembered the tremor in the air. How the very floor bore the burden of his fears, threatening to crack and fissure, swallowing Ghirahim into the fires resting below the surface. The look on the sword spirit’s face, reflected in the polished surface of their Master’s shin guards. It was the face of a man who had fled the clutches of death, only to hear it knocking on his windowsill in the dead of night.

The shutters of Zant’s helmet closed over his face before his scowl could become any more obvious. “You were not.”

Ghirahim clenched his fist and grit his teeth, but could find no retort. Such a whirlwind of emotions, this one. If only he knew the extent of the typhoon that reckoned before him. Zant braced his hand on the small of Ghirahim’s back and began to walk. He knew that he hadn’t the strength to move the solid metal being if he tried, but much to his satisfaction, he followed along with him, a barely-disguised shuffle stumbling his otherwise straight-postured gait.

“Come, [my nightshade], let us mull over it no longer,” he purred, walking him down the corridor. “The Master has forgiven us for now. If you wish to please him, you would do better to return to your duties than to sulk at me. There is plenty to discuss in the camp. Troops are expected to return with our supplies, to-day.”

Ghirahim clicked his tongue, the pep returning to his step. “I wasn’t sulking. With all the nonsense you pull, I am fully justified in my occasional outburst.”

“Oh, I’m sure.”

——

A sharp gasp startled Zant nearly out of his desk chair.

“What beautiful embroidery,” Ghirahim marveled, taking a folded garment carefully out from his wardrobe. He unfolded it, holding it before him. The dark fuchsia robe, decorated with a subtle wave pattern in white, was dangling from his fingertips, its ends just barely off the ground. “And such exquisite colors! Zant, why do you never wear this?”

Ah, he’d almost forgotten about it. Perhaps now was a good time to retrieve it, but… Somewhere, he shuddered to. With Ghirahim rousing from his deep sleep, Zant was finally in a fair enough mood that Yuga felt comfortable pestering him about portraiture again. Of course, his sword spirit caught onto this and appointed himself to be the one to dress him for the event. Or rather, simply ripped his wardrobe open to rummage inside. Powerless to stop him, Zant had resigned himself with a sigh. Instead, he sat at his desk, attempting to engross himself in completing a field chapter through all the noise. It was not going well. 

He leaned back in his chair, meeting eyes with the giddy thing peeking past the sea of fabric. A hum escaped through his nose. “That… Is part of a set. It is far too ill-fitting on its own.”

The immediate glitter in Ghirahim’s eyes made him somewhat regret those words. “A set?” He immediately dove back into the closet. “Where is the rest of it?”

With a sigh, he stood up from his chair and joined his side. “There are ten layers total-“

“Ten!?”

“Yes,” ignoring the rude interruption, he gestured with his sleeve to the closet’s interior. “These shelves hold the bottom eight layers, and the two overcoats, I’ve hung back here,” Zant murmured, pushing the coats and robes that hung in his closet aside with a sweep of his arms, revealing a pair of spread robes hung tightly against the wall. The outermost was an almost sheer, midnight blue, adorned with the pale swirls of twilit medallions, while the one below it was a bright cyan, decorated with a sprawling pattern of ferns. 

Ghirahim gasped, delighted at the craftsmanship of the robes that were so scandalously tucked away from the light of day. Indignated, almost, he ran the fabric through his fingers. “Why you choose to wear the same thing nigh every day when you have these gorgeous robes just catching dust is beyond me.”

“They’re quite arduous to don,” he pondered. “The whole ensemble needs several attendants to put together.”

Ghirahim looked at him so sharply and quickly that the alarming jingle of his earring drew his eyes straight to him. “How many attendants?”

A dawning realization fell on Zant as he drew a breath. “At least two,” he murmured after a beat of silence. 

It did not take long for him to be set up in the middle of the room, his co-lieutenants once again swarming him like scavengers around an increasingly more well-dressed carcass. He stuck his arms out to either side, while the two men — one behind him, the other up front, busied themselves with robes and sashes. Groaning and frowning, the pair of rag-tag dressing maids soon realized the reason Zant hadn’t worn it in their presence before. It was an incredibly complex piece, requiring specific layering of pins, ribbons, and knots. Not only to keep it in place but to retain the inherent symbolism hidden within the layering of the garment. This, Zant insisted on. Despite it having been a year since he last donned it, he somehow managed to remember what pin went where. More amusingly, it gave him the opportunity to swat and bicker whenever either of them failed to follow his instructions. Childish it was, perhaps, but he wanted to exact a little vengeance on them. They’d been far too comfortable pushing him around!

Nevertheless, sooner or later, they had him dressed. Heavy layers dragged on the ground behind him as he walked towards the standing mirror. He’d been clad in a palette of black, gold, turquoise, and fuchsia, embracing one another in a turbulent gradient. Sweating and disheveled, Ghirahim and Yuga squeezed hands in quiet celebration behind him. Indeed, they’d done fine work. It was a lovely garment, though looking at it, he decided he’d rather not dwell on the memories of having commissioned it. After looking himself up and down once more, he turned back towards the pair, only to find them lingering awfully close behind him. Zant flinched, backing up just a step in surprise, blinking down at the pair that followed him in step. As it turned out, a change of clothes alone would not suffice for royal portraiture. His attendants would not rest until he left this room jingling and glittering with bits, bobs, and bangles. There was a painting to make.

More doll than man was he now, held together by pins and combs and jewels. Zant found himself in the Lorulian sorcerer’s atelier, seated on a prop wooden throne that just barely managed to fit his mass of robes. Across from him sat Yuga, accompanied by Ghirahim, who decided to stick around until he got bored of watching blotches of paint sculpt into shape. Eyes bore down on him, one gawking at him from idle curiosity, while the other pair glared at him with an intensity that could rival the light of the sun. Yuga’s eyes held him in a tight grasp, almost, forbidding him from moving. Rattling at the gate of his consciousness. Though there was nothing antagonistic about it, the sheer heat that flushed the back of his neck prompted him only to stare back, contesting that fierce gaze. And yet, he found he could not trap Yuga within like he could do others. The fluttering sounds of pencil dancing across canvas crackled in his ears as every detail of his form was devoured by the sorcerer’s ravenous eyes. The curve of his jawline, the shade falling upon his nose, and the markings upon his brow, every essence was plucked from him and copied onto the canvas. 

Their gazes met once more. Deep brown met gold, locked together, and stayed, until he was no longer looking at him at all. Zant stared straight through him, swallowed by the void black of his pupils.

Vision blurred, faded, and regained shape. He was now on his throne back at home, illuminated only by the soft glow of turquoise runes, and gazed out in front of him. Though he looked, he saw nothing, his vision clouded by a strange haze. He stared, and stared, and stared, until he realized what it was that he saw. It was not a blur that troubled the translation of sight and interpretation in his mind. Instead, his sight was segmented. Like the bulbous, paned eyeballs of a fly, he saw himself. Not through his own eyes, no, but stolen from the blank stares of his attendants standing at the foot of his throne. Now, he understood the depth of his bewitchment! His curse! 

Oh, how he missed his shadow puppets. So obedient, yet so vicious. 

Each and every one of his servants was caught in an endless web of puppet strings, himself at the center, attached to him through jagged hooks embedded in his mind. He needed not to raise even a finger to force them to do his bidding, powerless against his invasion. On his throne, he sat, indeed, but simultaneously, he was everywhere. Yet he was not scattered, he was fulfilled! Drowning in the delirious tyranny of his own power! Every particle of light that entered his countless eyes, blinding enough to roll his pupils to the back of his skull. The rustle of even the smallest creature scuttling away from his vessels could not go unnoticed. Scents of dried grass and ocean winds and urban bustle, enough to make him see smoke. The overwhelming potpourri of senses collided into him all at once. He was presented with the gift of omnipotence in a goblet and had gripped it with both his hands, gluttonously gulping down to drain every last drop, whether it would go down his throat or spill past his chin. 

Contented he sat, the blur of his vision replaced by disturbing clarity. If he looked closely now, he could see the little strings of his marionettes suspended between himself and his thralls, glittering under the light of his runes.

Until something snagged on his wrist. His eyes snapped open, as if he had opened yet another pair of lids, and transfixed on the source of the odd little tug. There, from under his skin, burrowed in the veins, was another string. Subtly, it shone and sparkled under the light, drawing his eyes up, up, up towards the ceiling to trace its trajectory. His mouth fell agape when he saw it disappear into the shadows of the ceiling.

A voice called.

It insisted.

"Zant," called a shrill voice now with astounding clarity.

He was in Yuga's room. That's right. He was posing. "Yes?"

"Are you feeling quite alright?" Yuga inquired, having stepped away from behind his canvas to approach him. He noticed now that while he drifted someplace else, Ghirahim had left, and Yuga was looking quite a bit more paint-smeared than when he last saw him. The curtains were drawn, though, so he hadn’t the slightest idea how long he’d wandered into the fog of his mind. Rather a touch disoriented than baking in the sun, he supposed. 

The painter continued, cocking his head and clearing his throat as he spotted him losing focus again. "You had quite the scowl on your face for a moment there."

Zant chuckled in response. An artist’s eye is eternally sharp, especially when staring intently at its muse. How careless, to let himself get so lost in terrible thoughts! "Oh, it's really quite embarrassing. I have an itch I daren't relieve, and I didn't want to move to tend to it. I must have gotten distracted."

Yuga laughed, seemingly a little relieved. To mislead him through mundane matters seemed like the best option, indeed. "You can feel free to move a bit, you know! So long as you return to your position after." 

"No, I do not want to risk dislodging my robes. I will manage."

Yuga hummed, and returned to his place behind the easel, humming cheerfully. "Do know that you can be candid with me. I do quite enjoy it!"

Over the next few days, Zant would oblige that offer. A marvelously quick worker, Yuga was, but even she could not finish such an arduous project in a single day. Every day they would have a handful of free hours, Zant found himself returning to the foppish lady’s studio, clad in those heaving robes and sweating the hours away. Every time silence fell, and those heavily painted eyes peeped curiously past the canvas, he found himself sharing just a little snippet of his life.

"It was not a delusion, you know. My pursuit for the throne."

The wispy, scratching sound of brush upon canvas ceased. Yuga looked past her easel with intrigue.

"I truly was considered to be next in line. Our throne is elective – the reigning monarch perishes, and the most suitable successor is decided through vote."

For a moment, Yuga simply stopped and blinked, until a slight smile crossed her, and she returned to painting. So, so eager to catch this expression, this tug of the lips. Zant was fulfilling her wish for candor, every word caught like precious raindrops in the drought. "Is that so? I daren't offend, my most esteemed sitter, but I must say, I had always assumed you to occupy a similar position as I."

Zant shook his head, stiffly and controlled as to not dislodge his many adornments. Jewelry and hairpins jingled in the motion. "I served, indeed, as High Clergy, but I occupied the same realm as princes. But alas, it was not meant to be. Midna, due only to the love of our people and her blood relation to the previous monarch, claimed it for her own."

On a particularly hot day, he appeared to the painter in his undershirt. The unpredictable, ever-changing nature of the Light World never ceased to bewitch him. Still, he allowed himself moments to complain about this so-unfamiliar concept of sweltering desert heat. Wax candles needn’t be lit to melt, in this weather! Yuga lounged around him, piecing together sketches of his face from various angles. Madly he hovered around him, wielding a candlestick to observe how the shadows fell upon his face. Little wicker flames flickered, stuttering in the wind of movement. An almost crazed look lingered in Yuga’s eyes, engrossed in his task. Studious was he, pointed and lacquered nails digging into his skin as he turned his face to whichever angle he wished. Yuga peered at him, a brush between his teeth, lap-sized canvas clutched tightly in his hand. Any other time, it would have unnerved him, but his professionalism made it endurable.

Another ramble struck him. "I do admit, she was my equal in the realm of magic. But she was stubborn. Childish. In scholarly realms, I by far exceeded her, and in ambition. Gods! The only ambition she had was that of peace. In that wretched place, we had suffered nothing else than this coveted 'peace'. The word stagnation would suit it better. A slow death of her spirit. I could have brought feasible change, but alas, I lacked her charisma, her poise."

Yuga, though visibly interested, allowed him to finish speaking, yet still admonished him for daring to move his jaw during such a careful study. He refrained from sharing any more that day.

Yuga was in a fair mood that day. He had presented him with a basket of grapes, to idly eat while the painter worked into the last details of his robes. No longer did he have to stare so intently at his face, but he spied the man occasionally meeting his eye, either way. He popped one of the dark, purple fruits into his mouth. Casually he sat eating, waiting for a chance to once again draw his attention.

"In any other case, to have retained my position would have been strategic. I could have exerted my influence over the reigning monarch and forced that change into being, but Midna… Midna, I could never hope to control. She is too steadfast for that."

His fingers twitched in his lap. The many robes stifled him, made his skin itch like it was ill-fitted. Never could he fully sit still when his temper failed him, his anger masked by gritted teeth and a bitter smile. "Perhaps… Had I kept my old name, I would have had a better chance at gaining the throne."

Again, a pause. Zant partook in another grape. His tongue crushed it against the roof of his mouth, bursting its juices to the inside of his cheeks. He grimaced, subtly. This one was sour. His ear twitched, acutely hearing the quiver of the brush in Yuga's hand. Earrings jingled. 

Hesitation, yet burning with curiosity, held back slimly by his desire to stay polite. Hisself-controll snapped like worn rope. "Oho," Yuga inquired, "If I may ask, whatever might that be?"

Zant chuckled in response. "Perhaps some other time."

This final day was fairest of all, but longest, as well. Yuga pleaded him to sit hours into the night, and had even invited Ghirahim over to join them. His sword spirit sat behind Yuga, draped over a lounging couch, chin resting on his hand. Deep, black eyes curiously, yet with a hint of boyish boredom and envy, stared at the canvas that Zant himself could not see. He looked between him and the painting, and Ghirahim smiled fondly. It was the smile of someone trying their best to hide a surprise, the bouquet they hid just barely peeking past their silhouette. Zant flashed a smile in return, before returning his attention to Yuga. The man paced before the canvas, smearing the excess paint on his hands off on his stained apron, and wiped his brow. Thrilled eyes darted between Zant and the canvas, perfectionism curling his fingers into claws. He lunged back to his canvas every so often between his fits of staring, feverishly working on nothing but a few dots of white on shining lips and jewelry. Amused by his enthusiasm, the pair of lovers exchanged a glance, mouths tightening to stifle a smile.

Finally, Yuga decisively dunked his brushes into the tin of water perched upon his stool and marveled at his work with his hands thrown into the air. “It is finished!”

Ghirahim rose from his chair, covering his lips with his hand. Almost bashful, he gazed upon his depiction! Could he be shy to see him in such opulence? 

“Why, Yuga. Such fine work you’ve put in! This really is one of your better works yet.”

Yuga beamed in response, adoringly grasping Ghirahim by the cheeks. 

“Could one of you help me up? These robes weigh me down, after so many hours of sitting,” Zant cut in. A scandal it would be, for the very subject of the painting to be left out of the conversation. Ghirahim soon made his way over to take his hands, pulling him back upright from the wooden throne. Hand in hand, the two of them walked over to the easel, as a valet would help his Lordship from a carriage. 

Zant gasped as his eyes fell on the painting. So elegantly, he had been depicted! He clutched his robes to his chest to keep them from disheveling, leaning forward close enough for the golden coating to glitter in his eyes. Cosmetics split and creased on his face as he grinned widely. “Oh, Yuga. I adore it. Such a fine way to be immortalized! Truly, you see beauty where others fail to notice it.”

Yuga shrieked with laughter. “Of course you’d love it! I settle for nothing less than perfection, with such a stunning model.” Caked with dried paint, perfumed hands found his face again, and tugged him down. Overcome with joy, Yuga pressed a kiss to his cheek, leaving a smudge of gloss upon it. The past days have made him awfully comfortable with touching him. He wasn’t sure he minded. “What a marvelous sitter you’ve been! I would be very fortunate, indeed, if you were to pose for me again.”

A subtle clear of the throat rang behind him. For the first time since he first laid eyes upon it, he managed to tear his gaze away from the glorious painting and turn his neck to face the noise. “I believe someone else needs tending to, first, Yuga.”

Ghirahim stood self-importantly behind them, pacified only slightly by the paint-stained hand that patted reassuringly on his shoulder.

“Of course I have you penned thoroughly in my schedule already, my dear Ghirahim. But a man can look to the future and hope!”

The gloved hands posed grumpily at his waist, dropped down to dangle beside him, and a playful smile graced his lips. Sneering some comment or other in a whisper at Yuga, he stepped forward, and stuffed his hand into the mass of robes at Zant’s side. Ghirahim locked their elbows together and leaned his head on his shoulder, resting on the pillowing layers of fabric. For just a moment, they gazed at the portrait together, with Yuga stanced proudly behind them. Zant wondered, then, what could be going through the sword spirit’s head. What emotion burned so brightly, that he felt it through countless robes? Perhaps once Yuga had finished his painting of that ivory creature, he would gaze upon it, and understand what Ghirahim felt at that very moment.

Suddenly, something tapped insistently at both their shoulders, and they turned.

“Alright. Out, you rascals! My masterpiece needs to be varnished and framed. I wish to be alone with it!” he squawked, pushing against the both of them, herding them towards the doorway. Bewildered, the sorcerer could never make him anymore, but a startled smile pulled at his lips nonetheless. So intense he was, even at this hour, after such tiring labor! He feared what would become of him when he sat down to paint the capricious man now latching on to his arm. The door slammed shut behind them, and the two were alone. 

In silence they stood in place, disturbed only by the sound of eveningtide cicadas outside. This side of the palace was dark and abandoned, and by now, the maidstaff knew better than to even think about this corridor past sundown.

“… So,” Ghirahim purred, pulling on his arm. “Shall we get those robes off of you?”

“If I did not agree with you so thoroughly, I would scold you, you tomcat,” he snickered, eyes squinting under the fondness of his smile.

——

That very morning, Yuga arrived with bokoblins in tow, carrying his preciously wrapped portrait. It was displayed proudly on the wall opposite to his bed, Yuga beaming and prattling on with pride the entire time he lingered, eager to spend every second he could get with his work. Nevertheless, he left. With the men departing from the room, the day went on, the secret vanity of having one's portrait taken trapped behind the shelter of his helmet.

His door closed behind him with a click, followed by the harsh thunk of the lock, twisted into its socket with a decisive turn of his clenched fist. Tonight, no company would join his chambers. He did not fear they would. The Lorulian sorcerer, his paint-stained hands and chewed-end brushes prowling for a model, had begun to deeply fancy the Demon Lord. Fine he was indeed, with his pearlescent hair and skin the color of bleached bone, with such beautifully sculpted features. Yuga had found his muse. Desperate to be admired as he was, Ghirahim could linger hours into the night, simply wasting wax, just to satisfy the hunger for being ogled and depicted. 

They would not disturb him.

He stepped towards the center of the room. 

Shadows licked at the paved floor from beneath his brass slippers, writhing beneath him like wicked tendrils. He took another step. Next to him, the curtains were drawn tightly, blocking the last rays of sunlight from entering the room fully. 

His sole landed on the tiled floor with a clank, the sound bouncing off of the black walls, echoing throughout the room before being swallowed by the hum and crackle of twilight magic. There was another curtain on the wall opposite him. This one did not quite lead to a window, but in a more fortunate life, it might have been. Yuga would have been appalled by the presence of this curtain, but Zant cared not. Not a soul, beyond the three of them, could know what lay beneath. Not even the servants could be trusted with a peep. They gossip.

He stood before it now, craning his head up as he gazed at the turquoise velvet drapes that hung from the rod fastened into the wall. Something buzzed at the back of his mind as he lingered there. Not a whisper, not an urge, but more like the crawling of an insect, taking residence behind his skull and chewing on his optical nerves. If eyes could itch to see, had a mind of their own to bear witness, his would be clawing their way out of their sockets to clamber behind the curtains. Such a simple offer, really. Take a look? 

He dug his fingers into the fabric and ranked the curtain down. Rings were sent flying, fabric tore at the grommets, and the drapery fell to the ground.

Behind it, lied his own face.

Yuga’s portrait.

He stumbled back. With a flick of his wrist and a clench of his hand, one of the chairs from his seating corner screeched across the floor towards him. Eyes never leaving the portrait, he slumped back into his seat. Upon his dressing table stood a delicate crystal drinking set, with a bottle of brandy as its centerpiece. Gingerly, he lifted its faceted bottle cap, and poured himself a glass. 

Yes. It was a fine portrait. 

Drink tingled at his lips as he took his first burning sip. He looked at the version of himself beyond the picture frame, where he sat smiling serenely, enshrined eternally in an infinite, golden haze. The eyes that gazed back at him, too, were rendered with golden paint at his irises. So intricately, Yuga had captured him. Angular and flowing were the contours of his robes, blurring into one another like the stratum of a rock face. They led the eye towards his face, where a black shroud and tyrian purple hair framed his marble-like visage. Golden pins, blackened metal clasps, and the sharp facets of gemstones accumulated into their own little treasury around his face. His pointed lips rested in the mere hint of a smirk. Brows relaxed, and eyes slightly hooded, he was the picture of peace, of contentment, of a man aware of his achievements and having eaten his fill of them. 

Yet, past that peaceful smile gracing sharp and perky lips, that little sparkle of triumph, Yuga had captured something else. True emotions remained irresistible to any painter. The sorcerer must have seized this moment when he thrust upon him his sliver of candor and immortalized it unknowingly in his work. Past the layers of paint and varnish, something wicked had nestled! Something carved below, seeping in through the scraping wounds left by brush on canvas, and festered in its makeshift grave! True intentions had been captured in that atelier. He saw it, now. 

It was a stab, an insult! A simple indulgence of a delusion, playing along with the poor, wretched Usurper, who’d been bumped twice from the throne he’d claimed. This other version of himself now mocked him in its tranquility. On the other side of the canvas, it lived in a world where it was King, knowing itself to dwell in the twisted abomination of a juvenile dream. 

There Zant stood, on his own side, feet planted in the reality where he was nobody at all. 

And it gazed right at him, lips curled into a disdainful smile, mocking him for daring to have ever dreamed at all. Suddenly, he was struck by the vanity of the piece. His glass shattered in his grip, sending a glittering shower of crystal and spirits splattering onto the floor. Teeth gritted, little drops of blood seeped from his hands. Instead of recognizing his honor, his grace, the painting posed him as the candid guest of a Masquerade. No, it was not vanity; it was confrontation, fodder for the beast of shame and delusion. In an instant, he felt his footing wobble, the tower he had built to the heights of glory crumbling beneath him. Truly! What was he, without a throne? Licking the heels of those more successful than he? Those eyes. Those shining, golden eyes encapsulated everything that had been stolen from him, and sat on the spoils, taunting him from the painted realm!

Zant shrieked and threw himself at his depiction. His chair clattered to the ground behind him, but before it could land, he had already dug his fingers into the canvas. Nails tore the painted surface to ribbons. Lovingly rendered, grey skin disappeared into shreds as he clawed his way through. Gold faded; ostentatious robes tore to bits; his smile, ripped into a yawning, shredded hole, splitting across his doll-like face. Yet, no matter how fiercely he scratched his way through that miserable canvas, nails screeching and bending as they hit the paneling below, those piercing, golden eyes would not relent in their gaze. Wider, they seemed to grow, staring straight at him. Mockery. Disdain. Amusement at his plight! He whimpered and cried, digging his claws desperately in an effort to break that horrid stare away from him. To release him from its judgment, from that horrible reminder of his own hubris. From the knowledge that he had died and failed, thrown away every chance he was given. That gaze. That wicked gaze, why would it not cease!?

Tears burned on his cheeks. Something trickled down to the floor. Like the snapping of a harp string, suddenly, Zant was able to wrestle away from the stifling eye contact of his painting, and looked down at his hands. 

Grey fingers were coated in blood, the underside of his nails sticky and clumpy with fresh scabs and skin. He stared at them in horror. Had the accursed depiction come to life, bearing blood and flesh? His lip quivering, he raised his face —

Only to be met with the mirror, and his portrait behind him, left untouched. It was not the canvas he had assaulted. Instead, in his frenzy, he had clawed at his own face. He shuddered and examined his reflection. Blunt nails did not damage him too terribly, but the bloody red streaks they’d left would surely raise questions. Pain brought clarity. Indeed, that picture, in its loveliness, had taught him a very valuable lesson. None — not even those he had come to consider dear friends, considered him king. Those assertions of his title had been playful, a play-pretend to keep him meek and satisfied. Curiously, he could not find it in him to resent his companions for it. Their dishonesty, in and of itself, held truth. 

Standing there, tracing gingerly over the grooves he’d left on his skin, the blood from his tender flesh staining his fingers, he made a silent promise. He realized what he must do. What had to be done, to prove that he, too, belonged in that promised Golden land!

But first, he had to come up with a proper excuse for these injuries.

[golden-eye-ramblings]

Moore Tomato Headcanon Dump Part 1

Yea ok so I caved this was an inevitably, I need to join in on this. Mashle gives me crumbs so I make bread with it(also sorry no cool gif of Moore he shows up like 3-4 times but you can still admire his handsome face)

----

Moore Tomato

Height: 6ft/184cm

Age: 18

Birthdate: August 9th

Sign: Leo

Gender: Uhhhh??(Agender he hates labels)

Pronouns: He/Him

Sexuality: Demiromantic Pansexual(<- he doesn't know the name of these he's purely going off of vibes)

• Likes rock music. Has a record player in his dorm and one at home so he can play his favorite bands

• He is also in a band! It's your typical 4-person garage rock band he started with his friends. He's not entirely committed, but he still shows up for practice(he is actually really good at playing guitar but he downplays his music skills hard)

• Favorite food is tomatoes... Yes he is aware of the very obvious joke.

• He also often prefers being called by his first name than his surname. For obvious reasons. Mr. Tomato isn't a name to be taken seriously...

• Often teased as House Lang's mascot(wolf wulfes joke here). Hates it. Because they don't know how true they actually hit the mark(put a pin in this and stick it in ur brain we're coming back to this later)

• Son of Mr and Mrs Tomato and is the eldest of 5 siblings. The Tomato Family Tree is extensive...

• Moore's family is quite the rowdy bunch, well known beast tamers with their unique summoning bloodline magic Wulfes. Well known for using "pack tactics" in order to subjugate magical creatures.

• Each Wulf is unique to each corresponding member of the family, size varies as well depending on magic aptitude and hierarchy status within the family. With Mama Tomato's Wulf being the largest and strongest with Moore's coming in second.

• The Wulf Bloodline Magic originally was a curse. Though with each generation, that curse eventually was twisted and evolved into the wulfes magic known within the family today. Unfortunately, for Moore, that curse eventually circled back to him.(aha see it circles back)

• Moore is cursed with lycanthropy. During every full moon, he will transform into a werewolf. It is an incredibly painful and terrifying process, as his body will actually physically change. Aching joints and bones growing and breaking and healing, muscles tearing and mending, fur and hair growing. Actually feeling his intelligence and awareness dwindle. Worst yet, he will not remember a single thing he does whenever he transforms.

• He often treats this condition of his as a form of chronic illness. There's not much he can do about it, no known cure as far as he's aware of. So he kinda has to deal with it every time it happens. He becomes irritable and moody whenever a full moon is coming up, so he often pays a visit to the nurse so they can help deal with his transformations. On the days he cannot make it to the nurse however, he often just fucks off to the woods and prays he doesn't get lost when the following morning comes.

• Very few people know of his condition. That being select members of staff, his family and those he considers to be extremely close friends.

• Comparatively to most other known Lang students, Moore is known to be the most... Approachable, despite his rather blasé disposition. While not nearly as ambitious, he still very much prides himself in his abilities. when it comes to succeeding his goals all on his own without the use of underhanded tricks or a sense of crude superiority over others(or whatever the fuck was happening in the Magia Lupus he doesn't wanna be associated at all with that mess). He is extremely independent and rarely asks for help, making him a bit of the odd one out given how tight knit/close his family is(insert wolf pack joke here).

• After the events of the Divine Visonary Exams, Moore found himself spending more time with that Adler student he teamed up with during the trials... Hmm...

[otomelavenderhaze]

I can't stop thinking about the cave dialogue in which Rayan talks about Chloé, his ex wife, therefore I went back to read whole scene back from University Life episode 8, because what Rayan describes in episode 17 of LL is too diferent from that UL episode and from everything I could remember about it.

It's not to say that I caught some sort of insane discrepancy and AHÁ!

It's more because I find it interesting and I thought maybe others would find it interesting as well. So first I wanna show you what Rayan says in episode 8 of UL (which I never translated before until this post):

In my playthrough of it, back in the day, I asked him directly if he have a wife, which he answers yes first and then the proceeds to talk about it...

"And she will forever be my wife. But the last time we saw each other was seven years ago. Already… seven years… My wife, Chloé, died seven years ago. In a terrorist attack. Some savages came in shooting. No fixed target. In shop windows, in people and even in children."

"There were many wounded, and fortunately few dead. But Chloé is one of those who didn't survive… All that happened seven long years ago. It took me time. At first I didn't want to move. I wanted to keep everything, the smallest memory."

Now why I am showing this 4 panells?

This is important to understand how she died, how sad Rayan showed us to be about her death and his attachment towards Chloé.

He even goes as far to say:

"We met in high school and we got married at 23, in a hurry. We didn't tell anyone. But I'm not going to lie to you and say that everything was all roses."

Candy asks him, how so?

"We often quarreled. We stayed together for a long time, we didn't get to know anyone but each other and, sometimes, we even doubted. But when she left… I was torn apart."

Now we will never know why they used to fight, what made them marry so young and so quickly to the point where he implies they didn't even had a wedding ceremony.

Which makes this difficult to understand what compelled both of them to take such actions - maybe they they were just impulsive, but without a reason behind such impulsivity it's hard to tell if it was warrant or not.

But then, the actual panel that made me do this post in the first place eventually comes up in that same conversation with Candy:

"I loved her with all my soul. Before anything else, she was my best friend. But, sorry… I opened up too much…"

And I believe he did, regardless of anything else, because it makes sense for Rayan's character to marry someone for love.

That's the kind of "person" he is, that's why when he falls for Candy, he's ready to assume so many risks and even later talks about leaving his job for her just so they could have a less tense relationship.

This sets up him to be someone that would intensily love another person and do everything for them - they being Chloé or Candy.

I could say this is actually the point of that whole conversation: to show that he isn't someone that takes love lightly or shallowly, which helps us readers to trust his intentions and to believe that, yes, for love he would indeed be honorable, truth and passionate, instead of a player or a man that just wants to have fun with one of his students.

Not mentioning that he presents himself as a tortured soul that lost a wife tragically and never fell in love ever since, but falls in love for you, the reader, because you're special and irreplaceable, is something very flattering and, even, I dare say, romantic.

Meow meow is sad and you're the only one who can fix that for him.

Personally, I don't like how mcl writes grief, I don't think they know how to dose it without losing their hand, so it comes off as shallow for me, but I guess it serves as another thing: Chloe was loved by Rayan, but Candy needs to be special. The player needs to feel special.

Which brings us to this part of the conversation:

"Every women had something of her own. I saw her everywhere. And yet, it's been seven years. Since then, I have been unable to get involved with another woman, in a new relationship. Even in a simple friendship."

"Until… I met you. I don't know… For the first time, I met someone who has none of her. For the first time, I felt entitled not to think about her."

I understand why in an otome game is important to get the romance right and make the player feel compelled to play the character's route, after all, who wouldn't want to feel special, even if it's only on a game - that's why we have so many MCs or main characters in videogames that are heroes, that cares of others or the place they belong to.

However, I will say, maybe they should've worded it differently, maybe it's not so much about feeling entitled to not think about her, but when I realized, I wasn't searching for her traits on you, I wasn't thinking about her anymore, I was ready to move on. But this is just how I would've done it, just so it would come from Rayan the agency of the "healing" - in another words, he had healed himself before he met Candy and falling in love with her was just another evidence of that.

Which brings us back to episode 17 of Love Life, our Honeymoon episode (and pay attention to the parts that I will mark in blue):

"Y'know, I honestly didn't think I would get over losing her. And then after you got in my classroom and into my life. So, yes, I should have a star up there shining for me. Because, with you, I understood the meaning of true love. And it wasn't the same of what I had with Chloé."

"Sometimes, I think, if the story/timeline was another, if I had met you first before I met her... She and I would've been simply friends, without anything else between us. If fate hadn't been so cruel with her, it would've ended like that anyway, actually. I think she would have been happy to see me so happy these days."

"Just like I would have been in seeing her meeting someone else just as important as you're for me. And when I think of her today, is in this way: as a friend that left too soon. And that, of course, I still get a little with my heart tight. She was someone wonderful/beautiful. There's still some of her in me. But, when I met you, I was like a ghost."

Only Rayan to friendzone the dead.

"Thanks to you and our love, she just became a beautiful star, just like my father..."

At first I thought he was saying that he never really loved Chloé and that Candy made him realize that (How? Don't ask me, he doesn't say how), but thinking about this post and re-reading everything made me rethink my first impression of it.

It's not so much that he didn't loved Chloé, but admittedly, and for reasons that Rayan didn't say, he thought love was something else and he thought he loved her because of that notion, and then his notion of love changed because he met Candy and now he thinks that love is truly what he feels for Candy.

I, as someone that played all of his route, can't really say or even figure out how he would've come up with that reasoning.

Was it because for the first time ever, he had put someone else on his top priority, or at least in a more important position than his reputation and career (which he deeply cares for)? But wasn't he a passionate person to begin with? So isn't it natural for him, once he was sure he fell in love for Candy, to put her as his top priority?

Was it Candy presence alone in his life, simply being there, what made him create that notion? How she taught him that?

I don't know, because the way they fell in love was pretty quick and pretty normal I would dare say - normal not in the sense of, he was her teacher, normal in the sense there was nothing remarkable about their dates, the way they sneak around or in their conversations.

I think if he had realize that falling in love with someone new meant that he had "healed" from his past trauma, that he only had feelings for her because he was ready to have feelings for someone again and the sense of normalcy and easiness he felt in being with her was all he ever wanted after going through so much sadness and heartbreak, then, it would make more sense and sound more realistic, maybe?

But again, they wanted to spin that Candy was special, she needed to be the one that changed him, that was like gravity to him and he could not resist the pull of her.

“... It's just that, with you, I never got under the impression of playing any kind of game. Because I had a lot to lose. Before I met you, I had accepted to never love again. I didn’t want to ever risk lose someone ever again... And, above all, you came to enroll in my course. I looked up and knew that my certainties were worthless...” (episode 14 LL)

That's why I talked about his career before.

They set up Rayan to be someone that loves his work, that cares about his reputation and his career, if not, as he only thing he had since he moved away from his family and was living alone.

Risk it all for Candy was to show that he wasn't playing, he wasn't just trying to get a kick out of it.

And knowing how he got after when Marina actually got him fired, how much of a mess it made him, this put things even more in context, it shows that truly, risk it all for her was no joke, even thou, they used to be pretty reckless about it (never gonna forget their first kiss, crazy, both of them).

Which brings me to one of my favorite parts of dialogue in Rayan's route, episode 15 LL, the marriage proposal dialogue:

"It’s funny... for a long time I thought that love was like a burning fire. And I even thought that, in my case, all that was left was ashes of it. Until I met you and I understood that I didn’t know anything. That I have got it wrong in my whole life. With you, I understood that love is like a stream/flow. A wave that breaks again and again without stopping. And that drags everything wherever it goes. You imposed yourself on me like an evidence. In the calm. I knew it right away. But I only understood it this well later on."

Think that love was like a burning fire: it lights up, it shines bright, it consumes itself, then it becomes ashes and there's nothing left of it.

Ouch, Rayan. 😢

Not to mention the destructive nature of fire, but I don't think Rayan or the person who wrote this scene thought it like that necessarily, I think it had more to do with how fragile and how it consume itself, which feels more how like I would expect from how Rayan described his relationship with Chloé before: intense, too quick to think everything through, the fighting, the feeling that it wouldn't last anyway.

Meanwhile Candy is like a strong wave or a strong stream, his love for her dragged everything with it: all his reasoning, his principles and scruples, the risk of losing his reputation, his career, AND breaking again and again, because it didn't matter if he had build any walls to keep her out in the begining, she somehow brought it all down.

Two kinds of love, one feeling less truth and lasting than the other.

While it would've better, in his head, to have remain just a friendship with Chloé, with Candy, there was no way for it to have ended just in friendship, it would always be more.

You can see the contrast between his feelings for Chloé and his feelings for Candy, how it was different and the key word should always be different.

It surprised me to see him talking about their wedding too, Rayan and Chloé married young and in a hurry (we will never know why), meanwhile, Rayan found Candy in a stage of his life when love wasn't even in the table and when it finally came back to the table, Rayan wanted everything, he wanted celebrate it having a proper wedding ceremony and all.

But those are little subtle things that they left out in the air, instead of saying it so clearly like they did so many times before.

Personally, I don't think would've make any sense for Rayan's character to haven't love Chloé, considering they built a life together before he even met Candy, the same way, I don't think we could've ever thought that Rayan loved Chloé more or even the same way he loved Candy.

Cuz, Chloé and Candy not only met him in different moments of his life BUT ALSO, they totally two different women, it would go without saying it.

But I guess, they wanted to make it even more screaming that it was the case, which I can understand why.

I mean, people thought that Rayan had really tried something with Marina, outside of his route: which for those people I always told it would be impossible.

It would go against what they presented to us about him during that first dialogue in episode 8 of UL and it would represent a contradiction in the writing itself. It would bend the rules that they set themselves to follow too grotesquely. Not to mention, MCL never gave other love interests to the Lis that stayed on the side lines.

Unless, of course, they had set things up that we would understand that Marina was such a special existence is moving like Candy - which, okay, I could've accepted it, but they didn't so. That's why I was so sure of it.

Y'know, have to read so much back in his route to make this post made saying goodbye to his route so hurtful but also so fulfilling, I always loved how they wrote him, despite having my criticisms, I am happy that I got to experience Rayan's route from the start to end.

If you haven't played his route like ever, I totally I encourage you to do it now that we got it all. xD

[thecrowsnestp5]

THE CROW'S NEST 07 — TAICHI

...Well, calling him a member of The Crow's Nest is inaccurate. Taichi is more of Shido's worker than Akechi's—though they have their own deal. He's underqualified for any position so high up, nothing but a clumsy, inept airhead. It's not like he doesn't know that, though; it seems someone else doesn't.

"Please, please, please let me stay here. I don't wanna go back to sleeping on my brother's couch, it'll be so embarrassing! I'll get ya anything you want! ...Whaddya want?"

Shido's "personal secretary", he tried to say, but he gave up on the word 'personal'. That's what he is. He's also Kiyoe's uncle, an astonishing discovery, seeing as how the rest of that family is so exceptional, intelligent, skilled, admirable, and he's just... Taichi.

Apparently, Kiyoe's father had to bribe quite a few people just for the chance of Taichi getting a job. He's not even very good at the one he got—sure, he can remember to tell Shido about important messages and appointments... if he manages to stay sober the whole day. Taichi had to beg to get hired, and he was begging again to be made to look good.

Akechi used to think he was pathetic, deserving every ounce of misery he got. Easy to crush, like a bug. He agrees... eventually.

Taichi, and Akechi's taking a page out of a certain vulgar friend's book for this one, is a bumbling idiot who can't fight against anyone, not even himself. He gives in to his urges easily, often found drinking instead of working, and generally weak-willed when someone starts bossing him around. Maybe he's a good assistant in that regard.

At the very least, he doesn't have a stick up his rear. Taichi is well-meaning, although he fumbles with his words very often, and he has an infectiously cheery attitude. Akechi can't fathom him being Kiyoe's uncle; and such a caring one, at that.

Taichi cares about Kiyoe. He's proud of her for everything she's done, and he doesn't want to disappoint her. He knows he's not the greatest person in the world, but he still wants to be a great uncle. He knows he doesn't have a lot, but he has Kiyoe. The only reason he's trying so hard to keep his job is to keep her happy.

Akechi thinks he's pathetic... yet he agrees to help.

[cadybear420]

ILITW End of Book Questions

From here for @choicesbookclub

If you could change one thing about ILITW, would you? If so, what would it be?

Honestly, most of the problems I have with ILITW are minor nitpicky things. But if I had to change something... I'd probably add more nerve score concequences? While I generally prefer ILITW, one area where ILB definitely has a major leg up over it is that its nerve score system is more complex. There were more consequences to low nerve in the second act of the story than just the moment-of-truth fate trials in the final chapter.

If your MC survived, what are they like 5 years from now? 10? 25? What about the rest of the friends group?

I feel like ILITW, as well as ILB, and ILW canon, covered their futures pretty well. Ava continues the work of Cora, Lucas becomes an environmental scientist and advocate, Lily becomes a video game developer, Dan becomes a therapist. Not quite sure about Stacy and Andy, I don't fully remember their futures in ILB and ILW.

I haven't figured out much of Jo's future yet. But here's what I got so far.

Jo spends the next 4 years staying at home, taking it easy (but also helping Noah/Redfield). I'm still undecided as to whether she'll go to college or not, and what type of profession she might have.

Jo enters a poly relationship with Andy and Lucas during winter break of senior year, and at least 4 years later the three of them get married.

The three of them have agreed to an open relationship when they first became official– Jo has platonic-sexual relationships with Connor and Dan (and Noah, since he gets resurrected in ILW canon), and continues to have one-night stands with a fair amount of other guys.

After graduation, Jo becomes much closer with Andy, while they also maintain a long-distance relationship with Lucas. Jo would sometimes gets very nervous about maintaining this relationship and the possibility of them growing apart.

At some point between high school graduation and the events of ILB/ILW, Jo and Andy get gender-affirming surgeries. Top surgery for Andy, bottom surgery/phalloplasty for Jo. They're very supportive of each other for each of these. Jo and Andy also wear "bottom" and "top" shirts respectively after this, to confuse their friends ("Wait wait wait, Jo you can't bottom to save your life, what does this mean!??!")

Does MC and/or the friends visit Noah (if he is the monster)?

Going by ILB, and ILW's canon, MC and Connor frequently visit Noah to sort of take care of him and keep him from becoming twisted. This is something I can definitely see Jo doing, given she often feels fairly guilty about her choice.

If MC is the monster, what is "life" like? Does anyone visit?

Jo did not become the monster. But let's say there is an AU where she chooses to become the monster. I definitely feel like the friend group (sans Noah, the rest of them would be pissed at him) would frequently go to visit Jo and check up on her.

Any last thoughts about the books? your MC? the rest of the characters?

My review is here. I'm also making a couple of other posts to expand on certain points.

In this playthrough, I definitely enjoyed being able to flesh out Jo a lot more. Back in January/February this year, I did do a playthrough officially using my character of Jo and I did come up with certain ideas for her character and arc. This time, I got to expand on those more. She's even more of a mess than how I originally interpreted her.

That being said, I'm long since overdue for a deliberate failthrough like I did with my first every playthrough. I'm tempted to quickly import my data to ILB and then just do a ILITW failthrough right now, but I also kinda wanna give it some time first. I'll probably be making a new MC for it too. Though I would like to also try a failthrough AU for Jo.