#a snake would first have to be So Big not just any little 5 or 6 foot snake cpuld get ya

[1spooky-dad]

Of the firm belief that of course there's no shame in having a phobia, but there is shame in those who do not find issue with not working away from said phobia.

If you're arachnophobic, i understand, i get it, but if you think you can go through life without experiencing A Spider you're sorely mistaken. So you should take measures to be sure that you can perform as well as possible when facing your phobia.

I have a phobia of adult praying mantises and have long since hated that i found them so disturbing for seemingly no reason, since i knew they're great for natural pest control. Due to the kind of person i am, i recently was given a hatching egg sack of... So. So many praying mantises. I had the chance to say no to it. I took the initiative to work on myself and raise them in hopes it would help my phobia.

I'm not saying everyone who has a snake phobia should go pick up a snake and befriend it, or those with phobias of heights need to go skydiving. But a phobia is a condition, and should be something you work on. It's an explanation of your behavior, but not an excuse. A phobia is a chance to learn how to better understand the world you live in, not shut it out.

[k9catastrophe]

A BIG list of entirely free games therians and alterhumans can get !!! This isn't like an ad for them or anything, but when i was younger i never really had games that fit my theriotypes :( so why not start now!! this is in no real order.

These are all games where you play AS the animal, most of them being semirealistic? They're all free, so they aren't super realistic sorry!!! These are all also games i find on my tablet, so im not sure if they're available on pc!!

Wildcraft: As of today, Wildcraft updates every once and awhile, usually for the Wildpass thing they do almost weekly[? i took a large break from this game, forgive me if im misremembering.] Wildcraft was made by Turbo Rocket Games in early 2018. The multiplayer servers arent as active as they used to be, but it's still fun to play with friends sometimes!! I usually play in singleplayer though!! (Also, there is a settings option to make it first person, and one to hide the buttons!)

Playable Animals: Right now there are 12 land animals: Wolf [Default], Fox [Common], Lynx, Bear, Lion [Rares], Cheetah, Horse, Eagle, Crocodile, Tiger, Gorilla, and Kangaroo! [Ledgendaries], all of which are obtainable through the chests!! There are also 9 transformations [which are more difficult to get !!]: Raccoon, Deer, Hippo, Giraffe, Gazelle, Hyena, Rhino, Parrot, and Snake! There are also 5 Sea creatures: Dolphin [default], Stingray [Rare], Shark, Seal, and Sea turtle! You can have up to eight family members for every animal, who are also customizable! [not including transformations]

Customizability: There are TONS of skins and accessories for every animal, and you can adjust the size of their body parts, making your character entirely customizable! There are also LOTS of pets!

I give it a solid 10/10!! I've loved this game since it came out!! Me and my brother @whisperrdrrop [hii] played it like the year it came out!! I highly recommend playing this one ! >w< The community also has tons of fun creepypastas, and though the only real one is 'Niddhogg,' it's super fun to just learn about them!

Wolf Tales (Home & Heart (IT MIGHT BE 'WILD ANIMAL SIM' NOW IDK)): (The icon may have changed, my ipad doesn't update icons very much!!!) As of Today, Wolf Tales has basically stopped updating from what i can see. However this doesn't take away from the fun of it!! The game was created around 2020 by Foxie Ventures. Servers are multiplayer by default, but there is a singleplayer option!

Playable Animals: There are currently only 5 animals: Wolf, Fox, Bear, Wild/Big cat, and Dragon! All are unlocked by playing through the quests, though you can use moonstones (ingame 'rare' currency) to auto-buy most of them! Your families/packs are grown through opening chests and breeding!

Customizability: There are quite a few skins for every animal, ranging in rarity. you can obtain skins through buying the 'summoning' of the animal you'd like with moonstones and getting a random skin, or buying one directly. Skins are also not changeable! Let's say you're a grey wolf, and you get the sand wolf skin. You would have to enter your den and find that skin, and switch into that one, meaning it could have a different level! There are also LOTS of pets, though i do not remember how to get them. The only way to change your character is through changing limb sizes, there are no accessories!!

I give it a nice little 9/10, as much as i love this game i don't play it too often, but it really is fun! I think i got this game when it came out, and it was really fun watching the game and the community grow and change!! When i joined, not every player had a jump button, and there was this cool feature called 'Clans' (replaced by the player clans, sadly :() where there were 5 packs that you had to either defeat the alpha of or become besties with, and you'd get a packmate of any rarity from them daily!! My bestie pack was called 'the moonrise pack' and the #1 public enemy was 'The tooth pack' or something. I definitely recommend it :3!!

Ultimate Wolf/Fox/Forest/Savanna/Dinosaur/Cat/Shark/Bird/Jungle Simulator: they made a LOT of these games. These are only the ones that are free on my tablet, but im also seeing 'ocean,' 'dog,' 'arctic,' and 'lion' simulators for a dollar, you'd have to check and see if those are free. I'm mostly focusing on the WOLF simulator here, because i do NOT want to download all of those games. There is no multiplayer option for any of them. All made by gluten free games, no idea the release dates.

Playable Animals: The animals depend on which game you get. I know forest has bears, Savanna has cheetahs, Dinosaur has T-rex, triceratops, and ankylosaurus, bird has parrots and eagles, and jungle has tigers, but these are definitely not every animal !!

Customizability: you unlock a skin for every few levels, and you can tint them, but that's about it. For every game. There's like... 8-15 for most?

I give it a 7/10. As much as i do really, really love this game and all the memories playing it, it's really not the most entertaining game out there. If you're really bored and have nothing to do, sure, go wild with it!!

Dog Sim: I just got this game and it's so silly !! Made by Turbo Rocket Games in 2016, the multiplayer servers are surprisingly still decently active! Obviously it doesn't update anymore.

Playable Animals: The only animals in these are: (you guessed it) dogs. There's a single skin that... might? be a wolf, and there's two robo dog skins. There's a total of 38 skins!

Customizability: The only thing you can customize is your breed, sorry!

Other than that, theres a LOT to play with! With 5 bosses, 25 enemy/prey creatures, 1 map, 1 den, a max level of 200, a maximum family size of 4, 20 achievements, and 30 quests, there's plenty to do!

I give it a nice 8/10, the only points taken being because the game itself isnt the highest quality, and the models arent all 10/10, but it's still a really silly game! I do recommend it :)

Cat simulator - animal life: created in 2019 by Pocket Games entertainment, i think this one is pretty cute! With active multiplayer servers!!

Playable Animals: Just kitties! silly little kitties on big adventures!!

Customizability: Lots of cute skins and accessories!!!

There are tons of quests, camp upgrades, and more included in this!!

I didn't play this one for too long, but there are some pvp servers aswell. Overall really cute game, not too buggy/laggy! 10/10 :3

Wild Cougar Sim (3D): Another game made by Turbo Rocket games before their big success that was Wildcraft, Cougar Sim was created in 2015 (I think? I'm only finding the youtube trailer, dont be afraid to correct me.) I'm not seeing an option for multiplayer unfortunately :(!

Playable Animals: Yeah, It's just Cougars! What did you expect?

Customizability: With eight skins (Must be purchased with ingame currency), 9 coat marking options (Almost like tattoos!) including a Shark, Wolf, Lizard, Scorpion, Butterfly and Bird (Phoenix?), and options to change body/limb sizes, there's actually really good customization here!

With 3 unlockable family members, 30 quests, 20 achievements, 18 enemy/prey creatures, 4 biomes, and 8 dens, there is plenty to keep yourself busy with here! That accompanied by the fact that this isn't even a bad looking game, i honestly give it a nice 10/10! Very cute game, not much lag, pretty good in terms of realism, it's pretty cool!! :)

Dragon Sim Online: Yet another game made by Turbo Rocket in 2016, i quite like this one! With semi-active multiplayer servers!!

Playable Animals: Quite a few different types of Dragons, varying in element, colour, and breeds!

Customizability: With 4 elements, 46 (VERY pretty) skins, and limb/body adjustment sliders, you can customize your dragon pretty well!

Similar to both Cougar Sim and Dog Sim, Dragon Sim has plenty to offer: 30 quests, 20 achievements, 27 enemy/prey creatures, 3 bosses, 6 islands and 4[?] dens, there's plenty there to keep you busy! another 10/10 from me :)

[st4rymoon]

𝐒𝐢𝐦𝐨𝐧 𝐑𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐲 𝐱 𝐊𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐠 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟖+

• Generous

.ᐟ Simon letting Konig get a taste of u bc he doesn’t get laid much and feels bad about how long he's been away without making you feel good :(

• dumbification, 3 sum, p in v, cream pie, brat tamer Simon & König, pet names, slut shaming in a loving way :] , breeding kink, pet names, choking, bratty reader, oral (m receiving), slight overstimulation

You couldn’t wait for Simon to walk through the door after months out on contract. You were Simon’s fresh air just like he was to you.

Never in a million years would he think he’d get so lucky and get such a good girl wrapped around his arm. Always so caring and loving to a man who’s feared by many.

Since Simon was finally coming home today you put on your prettiest sun dress and soft knee high socks waiting for the lock to hit 5.

Simon hadn’t thought much about what you were up to so it didn’t feel wrong when he invited könig over for a beer without letting you know.

So when you heard the door open you payed no attention to anyone but Simon, running into his arms and wrapping your legs around his waist. “Si I missed you so much!” you squealed while peppered kisses all over his face.

Simon tumbled onto the wall by the sheer surprise of your body pressed against his. His hands moving to hold you from the bottom of your ass “Dar- darling” he muttered as he rushed to keep you from slipping.

You didn’t notice the big shadow lingering behind Simon as you buried yourself into Simon’s neck. König’s eyes didn’t miss the slip of your white thin panties that hugged at your puffy cunt.

He closed the door behind him as you clung onto Simon “it seems like Riley got himself a clingy little thing” you heard from behind.

Simon chuckled as you hopped off him and fixed your dress up with a look of embarrassment “I- sorry I didn’t know anyone was joining you” you shakily replied.

You’ve seen König once or twice but this was the first time you really could take him in. Seeing someone taller than Simon was shocking, build and all even being horrifyingly similar.

Simon noticed the way you seemed to shrink into yourself as your eyes darted to Simon then König. He smiled as he ran a hand down your hair.

Having two behemoth men towering you was a intimidating to say the least. “You’ve met konig before love” Simon nodded as he faced you.

You nodded and extended your hand towards König “nice to see you”

König reached for your hand and instead of shaking it, he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss onto the back of your palm “nice to see you too” he hummed.

You pulled back slowly and looked back at Simon, to your surprise he was smiling. “Come lovie” Simon cooed, taking his place on the couch as König went to grab a few beers from the fridge.

“Si why didn’t you tell me someone was coming, I thought I’d have you for myself” you pouted and he knew what you meant by the whine in your voiced, he smiled “we don’t take long”

You tensed as the cushion beside you sunk, you heard König groan as he settled beside you. You tried your best not to pay any attention, you had a boyfriend. But simon noticed the way your legs were squeezing together when Konig would shift around beside you.

“fine” you whined as you got up with a bratty pout. Both the men noticed the way you swayed your hips when you got up “Where are you going” Simon cooed “Upstairs since your friend is more important” you hissed.

“A bratty little thing” König chuckled “tell me about it” Simon replied. Both the men gave each other a glare, maybe they should apologize and teach you a lesson all at once.

Simon was a possessive boyfriend but when it came to sharing with his best mate, he had no problem letting you both get a taste of each other because after all, you both mean the world to Simon.

Simon pulled you onto his lap, his hand snaking up to the nape of your neck as he pulled you into a kiss. You mewled at the feeling of his cock bulging through his pants, your hips seeming to move on their own as you rubbed against him.

“You wanna let me and König apologize for how inconsiderate we are?” Simon cooed.

Your eyes widened as you looked over at König “I- Simon I-“ you muttered “shh I know, I know. I don’t mind sharing bunny, it’s all up to you” Simon had a smile on his face as you tried to make out if he was playing a joke on you.

You’d never expect Simon to be open to three sum since he was such a possessive man, König was his closest friend but Simon is willing to bend the rules when he’s in charge.

“Yes I want it” you nodded “knew you would, my needy little slut” Simon chuckled as you felt Königs hands snaking up your back.

“Just gotta break you in” König hummed as his hand wrapped around your throat and pinned you onto his chest . You were on Simon’s lap with your back pinned to Königs chest “look at me” König cooed.

“Get a taste” Simon hummed as he turned you around and placed you on Königs lap, letting you both get acquainted. You swayed your hips onto König’s lap causing a moan to escape both your lips. None of you said a word as your lips met, heavy moans spilling into each others mouths.

König smiled as your hands pinned him onto the couch, you seemed to be taking control as you rubbed onto his lap “needy little thing” he smiled as you began to bounce on his lap.

“I know she is” Simon sighed as he pulled your dress over your head. You were grinding onto Königs meaty lap as his hands cupped your tits, his lips pressing soft sloppy kisses onto your plump flesh.

You mewled at the sensation of his hands unclipping your bra. His tongue expertly swirling around your nipples, giving each equal attention.

You were so drunk of pleasure you didn’t notice Simon unbuckling his belt behind you “lay back f’ me” König hummed, both the men manhandling you into their desired position.

Simon settled your head dangling off the large couch as König spread your legs to accommodate his size. “Shh shh honey look at me, not at him” Simon cooed. He held your head back to look at him as you heard König shuffling out of his pants.

“Open” Simon cooed and you did as told. You opened your mouth wide and stuck your tongue out for Simon, a moan coming from both you as he settles his thick heavy length into your throat.

You held onto Simon’s arms as he thrusted in and out of your warm mouth, his eyes glued onto the bulging in your throat bobbing with each of his thrusts.

“All wet and sticky f’me, isn’t Riley a lucky bastard” König cooed as he nudged his tip into your tight cunt. Your eyes widened as you felt him rubbing between your folds, he was fucking huge.

You tried to moan but the only thing you could get out was gasps and gags as Simon fucked your pretty mouth open. Simon smiled as your eyes rolled back the second you felt König push deep into you.

It felt like you were being stretched open with two men filling you full. One fucking your mouth like a mad man and the other breaking you in for the first time. König was muttering to himself as he slammed into your sticky cunt, each thrust knocking the wind out of you.

You clawed at his arms as he began to drill you onto the couch, his cock nudging perfectly at your g-spot while you sucked Simon off like his own personal pornstar.

“She likes it rough huh?” Köing snickered in awe as he watched the way you took both of them so well. He watched as Simon held his heavy hand to your throat, keeping you in place.

Simon knew köing doesn’t get laid much so why wouldn’t he share his pretty little thing with his best mate? It’s only fair for his best friend and girlfriend to get acquainted.

You gasped as Simon pulled out of your mouth, his hands shifting down to gripping your hair as he knelt down to your face.

“Look at him, don’t be shy lovie. I want you to look at him in the eye- yeahhh just like that” Simon whispered into your ear as köing continued his brutal thrusts.

You stared into Königs eyes, Doe eyed and watery and König was growing overwhelmed with everything you gave him. The pretty moans, Doe eyes, spit dribbling down your chin as he stuffed you full. “That’s it” Simon cooed as he noticed that look on your face.

It was so overwhelming having your boyfriend whispering in your ear while his best friend bottomed you out. You let you a high pitched whine as you came around König, his cock still fucking you through your orgasm.

“A- ah fuck ah-“ König was trying to get his words straight as he felt his cock throbbing against your walls “wh- where do I- fu-“ he panted with your legs now hoisted up against his shoulders.

“In me! I- in me pleaseee” you whined as you managed to get your legs back down to his waist and pushing him against you, caging him in so he could fill you full of his seed.

Königs never came so hard in his life, he was moaning like a mad man as he pumped you full of his loads. His vision turned white as you throbbed against his sensitive and overstimulated cock.

“Forgot to tell you she likes getting bread Kö” Simon chuckled as he stared down at you with admiration.

You were drenched in sweat as his right hand man pulled out of you with traces of his cum buried deep inside you. Just because König fucked you dumb doesn’t mean Simon was going to hold back.

“You made him happy bunny, now it’s my turn”

[betterthanyalls]

hi!

can i request for a hermes x gn!reader x odysseus? :)

i was thinking that maybe reader is already a friend of odysseus, like a childhood friend maybe or a neighbor/citizen of his kingdom and has known him for years

reader liked ody but ody already has penelope so they arent flirting anymore but when hermes shows up and starts taking readers attention for himself that's when ody starts to get a little jealous maybe? aaa sorry it has been a while since ive requested anything - i hope its not too specific ;v;

i just thought it would be fun to see witty banter battles and playful snark ^^"

I have spent my entire day throughout school and home to work on this so i am very sorry for any mistakes or if its bad, i was speed running before i eepy, also i tried to make reader x odysseus more platonic cus he got penelope yk? ALSO NGL THIS WAS VERY FUN TO WRITE HEHEHEH

Masterlist

Divine Intervention

Hermes x GN!Reader x Odysseus [p]

EPIC: The Musical ~ Oneshot ~ Fluff

Words: 2.1K

Published: 11-5-2024

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A gentle puff of air blew through the vacant meadow, flowers brushing each other in a picturesque view. Within the center of the field, two souls lied together, laughing and gazing at the clouds with imagination. 

“That one reminds me of Argos,” Odysseus pointed up to a running puff of white above that loosely resembled said dog. “Oh, I see it!” Penelope grinned, her smile shining brighter than Helios. A short distance away, under the shade of a tree, sat the best friend of the couple. With their backs against the tree, Y/n watched on emotionlessly. Their mind felt blank; witnessing the source of their love showing admiration to somebody else delivered a new type of pain to their chest. Y/n felt lost. Would they never be the first choice? Odysseus had known them for the entirety of both their lives, but the moment he met Penelope, he forgot all about Y/n. He was head over heels, claiming he’d marry the princess before he turned twenty. Sure, they stayed friends, but that wasn’t enough for Y/n though they’d never admit it. Y/n couldn’t even blame Odysseus. Penelope looked like a goddess sent from Olympus. Anyone could mistake her for a divine being. 

With a silent sigh, Y/n prepared to push themself to their feet and take their leave. But a new presence stopped them from rising up. Looking to their left side, Y/n saw another figure sitting beside them. “Wow, really the third wheel, huh?” A cheery voice sounded from his mouth.

“Who are you?” Y/n asked, like any sane person would. “You mean you don’t recognize me? Your friend Ody would if you asked him,” the individual turned to face Y/n, giving them a good view of his identity. A metal helmet sat atop his head, adorned by smaller, brown, speckled wings. A mischievous grin was placed on his lips, with the rest of his face remaining covered by a shadow. Y/n leaned back slightly so the sun could pierce the shade better, revealing more of the man. A chiton made of the finest silk hung loosely from his shoulders, stopping at his knees. The male sat casually criss-crossed, his back propped against the same tree. A scepter sat on the ground beside him, holding two golden snakes and two glistening wings, power radiating off the item. Another point of interest for Y/n’s eyes were the sandals on his feet. Not in a footfetish type of interest, but intrigue with the fact wings fluttered like no big deal off the heels. Just as Y/n was going to breathe out his name, the guest spoke first. “Indeed, it is I, Hermes. God of messengers, travelers, luck, gambling, borders, animal husbandry, thieves, wit, speed, language, trades, commerce, athletes, merchants-”

The god continued rambling proudly about each of his domains as Y/n’s awe slowly fell into a deadpan. “I know you,” they cut off his boasting, not truly caring if it was rude. Thankfully, instead of being offended, the god merely grinned. “So, Y/n, what are you doing out here? Away from the party?” Hermes had a teasing tone in his voice, gesturing to the two lovers ahead of them. Odysseus and Penelope had no knowledge of a god offering company to their closest friend. Y/n wanted to ask how he knew their name, but they figured it was some divine power thing.

“Ody wanted to spend time with Penelope, but he was too nervous to come alone. So he dragged me along. But I don’t want to intrude on their moment together,” Y/n shrugged, looking at their friends.

The mischief god watched the mortal for a moment before a plan formed in his mind. “Well, I can’t let such a beautiful soul be alone, now can I?” Y/n turned to face Hermes, an amused yet confused smile on their lips. “I’m sorry?” They inquired, not sure if they understood his words correctly. In response, Hermes stood up and held his hand out to help the mortal up too. “If they have their moment together, then allow me to give you a moment for us.” The god had a gentle smile, keeping his hand out for them to grab. Raising an eyebrow, Y/n hesitantly took his offer and grabbed his hand. He pulled them up to stand beside him.

“So, where are we going?” Y/n asked, looking into the forest behind them. Hermes just laughed in excitement.

“You’ll see!”

And before Y/n could utter another word, the god pulled them close and took off racing through the trees. The world whipped past them at lightning speed. Trees, rocks, roads, towns—everything went by in a flash until suddenly it all paused.

Taking a deep breath, Y/n stepped away from the god. Their legs felt like brittle wood, threatening to give out at a simple breeze. Once they caught their breath, the mortal looked around to see them in the center stands of the nearby sports. Athletes were in the midst of competition down below, and nobody seemed to question two people just appearing. Hermes sat down on a stone slab and patted for Y/n to sit beside him. Doing so, the god offered them some grapes he may or may not have stolen from other mortals. “Did you choose this event just because you’re the god of athletes?” Y/n questioned  with a small laugh, taking a grape to eat and watching the sports continue. Hermes responded with his own laugh, beaming at the person beside him. “Would you leave if I said yes?” Y/n pretended to think for a moment before turning to face him with a hum. “No, but you better make this worth it,” they chuckled playfully, popping another grape to their mouth. ~~~~~ Hermes did truly make it worth it. So worth it that the two began going on adventures every day. From splashing around in rivers to exploring dark caves, the mortal and god’s friendship grew each day.

Anytime Y/n questioned themself in a mirror, Hermes would somehow maifest behind them to compliment their looks before going back to whatever job he had that day. “Dahling, you look gorgeous—beyond stunning, truly.” Was heard more than once

They would even find gifts sometimes, usually always stolen, waiting in their bedroom.

~~~~~

Currently, Y/n and the king of Ithaca were sitting in his bedroom, just talking like old friends. “So, you’ve been disappearing randomly only to come back in one state or another. Not to mention, you’ve been much more upbeat lately. What’s going on?” Odysseus interrogated with a grin. Y/n stayed quiet for a moment. Could they tell their lifelong friend about the new soul in their life? Odysseus had a raised brow, waiting for a response. “C���mon, you know you can tell me anything.” He offered with a calmer smile. Y/n’s expression softened, and they sighed, deciding to speak the truth. "I met someone,” they began, trying to form the correct words. Something in Odysseus’ eyes changed at this revelation. His posture stiffened just for a moment before returning to his previously relaxed state. “And who may this 'someone’ be?” The king continued, trying to get as much information as possible. With a quiet whisper, Y/n confessed. “Hermes...” Their lips held a bashful smile as they looked away from their friends' eyes. The friend in question paused, blinking slowly to process the information. “Hermes?! The god?!” He exclaimed with an open jaw. Y/n quickly shushed him, shoving their hands in his face. “Sh sh sh! Shut up! Not so loud,” they hissed, taking their hands away carefully once Odysseus nodded in agreement. “You know Hermes?” He continued to quiz. “Don’t you?” Y/n raised an eyebrow, thinking back to the first conversation with the god. Hermes said that Odysseus would know who he was.

“Well, yeah, I do. But I didn’t think you would too,” he tried to reason, although his point fell flat. “You don’t think a lot,” they retorted. Before Odysseus could try to fire back, a sudden breeze blew in from the open balcony. Looking over, a certain god stood against the stone railing with a familiar grin. “If it isn’t my two favorite mortals! If I wasn’t mistaken, I’d say I was the center of this discussion,” Hermes laughed, waltzing into the room. He ruffled Odysseus’ hair playfully before taking a stand next to Y/n.

“Hermes.” Odysseus brought a hand up to fix his hair. The god just laughed again, wrapping an arm around Y/n’s shoulder to give them a side hug. The narrowing eyes of the soldier didn’t go unnoticed by Hermes, brightening his smile.

“Hey Hermes,” Y/n greeted warmly.

Odysseus didn’t enjoy seeing his best friend so cozied up with another person. Even if that other person was a god who saved his life multiple times and also his great-grandfather. An idea began forming in his mind to get rid of the situation. “Y/n, I think I remember seeing a show taking place in the city. You and I can go see it now before it finishes,” the king offered, casting a victorious grin to Hermes as Y/n gave their own smile. “That sounds cool! Yeah, we can go!” Y/n moved away from Hermes' hug as the two mortals took their leave. Once they left, Hermes frowned and took his own leave back to his previous tasks for Olympus. ~~~~~ It didn’t take long for a secret war to begin. Every moment, Y/n was in between two opposing sides. They were either with Odysseus one day and Hermes the next, or they were sitting in between both males who kept trying to one-up each other, which would eventually end in arguments.

“I mean honestly, darling, why spend your time with such a brute when you could have someone as divine as I?” “BRUTE?!”

“Really, Y/n, he’s the god of lies. If anything, his words mean nothing compared to mine.” “Your entire reputation is a lie.” “Well, I guess it’s just you and me, Y/n—” “Oh, please. That’s more of a stress than a privilege.” “Did you hear something, dahling? Why, I can’t seem to hear anything below FIVE FEET.” “OH HOW MATURE—” “IT IS!!”

This took place almost daily, and it acted as peak entertainment for Y/n. ~~~~~ Today, unlike any other, Y/n and Odysseus sat quietly in a familiar meadow. However, the king was being unnaturally quiet. Turning to face their friend, Y/n spoke up.

“Ody, are you alright?” Concern was clear in their voice as they waited patiently. Odysseus didn’t make any notice of hearing their words for a minute before he finally answered.

“You’re replacing me.”

Those words caught Y/n off guard. Odysseus was looking at the grassy field around them rather than meeting his companions eyes.

“What? No, I’m not. What makes you say that?” They furrowed their eyebrows in worry, anxious for his reasoning.

“You spend more time with him,” he hissed, speaking of the god like venom on his tongue.

“Well, maybe, but-”

“BUT NOTHING! I’m supposed to be your best friend! Me! Not him. It’s us against the world; we agreed on that years ago.” Odysseus turned to Y/n with a deep frown, his eyes showing unease. He had been betrayed time and time again before; he couldn’t risk losing another friend.

Y/n stayed silent, stunned by his sudden outburst. Odysseus just looked back to the meadow, shame filling his soul. After a few moments, Y/n regained their bearings as sympathy and guilt covered their features.

“Ody,” they called softly, but he continued to look away. "Ody, look at me.”

Reluctantly, he looked over to his friend.

“Ody, I could never replace you. You are woven into my soul like a grapevine. Why do you think I would break our pact?” They spoke softly, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. Odysseus sighed, looking back to the ground. He felt so stupid for assuming they would hurt him too.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled gently, looking at them out of the corner of his eyes.

“It’s alright; I would do the same if I were you. I forgive you,” Y/n smiled warmly to him, earning a hesitant smile back from him.

~~~~~

After this whole incident, Odysseus stopped arguing so much with Hermes. Sure, the mortal still gave the god a few half-hearted glares, but they eventually learned to share Y/n’s attention.

The trio sat calmly on the balcony of Odysseus’ room, waiting for Penelope to arrive for a nightly get-together. The sun sank slowly below the horizon, offering a charming glow to the city.

“So, darling, how’d you manage to get such a feral man to calm down?”

“FERAL?!”

[coraniaid]

I wish that Professor Maggie Walsh had been the true Big Bad of Season 4. And I wish that she hadn't been unceremoniously killed off halfway through the season. And I wish that -- over the whole history of the show -- she wasn't one of only three human women aged over 25 who were allowed more speaking time than the creepy sex robot Warren Mears builds in Season 5 [and note, by the way, that neither of the other two are alive at the end of the show either].

But most of all I wish -- I really, really wish -- that I could persuade myself that Maggie Walsh was even the slightest bit interesting. Because I'm sorry, but she's just not.

Is there any villainous character on the show where the difference between how compelling they could have been and how boring they actually are in canon is this stark? The show has had some pretty underwhelming arc villains, sure, but Adam is about as interesting as a rejected Doctor Who villian with a floppy disk drive in his chest could ever have been and the First Evil was originally created to be a disposable monster of the week to begin with so it's hardly a surprise she doesn't manage to transcend this and Caleb very obviously only exists at all because the writers panicked when they realized the First coudn't offer any sort of personal physical threat.

But Professor Walsh should have been different! This was the start of the post-high school seasons; a start to establish the tone of the whole show going forward. She would have been the first antagonist fully grounded in the world of the real; not a vampire or an immortal man who sold his soul to become a big snake, but a fully human villain who never stops being human. She could have been written as a juxtaposition of Principal Snyder and the Mayor and Gwendolyn Post; or as a more explicit foil of Joyce Summers or Rupert Giles. She could have been a villain who could challenge Buffy in both the supernatural and regular worlds. She was a successful woman in her fifties in academia in the 1990s! Wouldn't a show whose "feminism" was anything but surface deep be even a little bit interested in exploring what that meant?

Professor Walsh could have related to Buffy and her friends in ways no previous villain ever did. What does it mean for Buffy -- who we've seen worry so much about her own future prospects, and her fear of ending up like her mother -- to have a possible role model who managed to combine a sucessful career with knowledge of the supernatural? What if Walsh's attempts to win Buffy over to her side lasted for more than half an episode? Or, failing that, what sort of threat could a smart and capable human who knew about Buffy's secret identity as a Slayer have posed her, given her own pronounced reluctance about hurting ordinary humans? What would it have meant for Buffy's fears of not being fully human if an expert in the supernatural had looked at her and seen a monster? And why is Willow suddenly interested in studying pyschology all of a sudden, and does it have anything to do with the fact her own parents are both succesful academics who work in this field?

The writers aren't interested in even pretending to address any of these questions. [Did they even remember what career they gave Willow's parents?]

Depressingly, the only reason Professor Walsh is actually here is to answer the question "what if your new boyfriend's stuck-up mom didn't like you because she was a jealous bitch and then she immediately got herself killed anticlimatically because she was also really fundamentally stupid about it?".

What a waste. And they hired Lindsay Crouse for this?

(Also: if they were going to make Professor Walsh a "world renowned" pyschologist the writers should maybe have bothered to look into how seriously the field took the ideas of Sigmund Freud in 1999. Although her character's second career of experimenting on and cutting up demonic creatures for fun and profit would have made a lot more sense if they'd set her up as some kind of biologist, right? Or just make her an English literature teacher, if her teaching career is meant to be a front anyway and you want her to deliver themtically relevant monologues about Freud and Jung. At least I'd believe Buffy and Willow wanting to go to her class then.)

[ineffectualdemon]

I'm still trying to work out the demons cultural violence thing to make it less bad but also keeping it to an extent because the cultural misunderstandings are something I enjoy even if I don't like the implications.

My first thought was, well they are demons they are naturally tougher so they don't know humans are more fragile

And that is still a big problem I realised after

Like yes my thoughts were focusing on that they were demons and comparing them to western demons but that's still doesn't make it better in retrospect and in fact makes it worse

So

I have had a thought

Most of the demons we meet do wrestle and smack each other around and are a little stronger and tougher but!

1. The smacking each other around is in the same way of any group of teenage boys. It's not that they don't feel pain it's that they find that kind of friendly smack and wrestle funny and bonding ← based on the group of tame fucks boys I was friends with in highschool

This is very much the culture especially around teenage and young adult high class demons and Mobei

2. SVSSS demons are made up of many races with different strengths and weaknesses

Like Pokémon!

And in demon culture while you might playfully fight with another demon you do NOT go after their weaknesses. Mobei Jun would not use ice while casually meeting a snake demon and a fire demon wouldn't use their fire on Mobei in a casual friendly greeting. They might smack each other upside the head but no exploiting weaknesses because that could actually hurt someone

3. When I say stronger and tougher I mean like most of the demons we meet specifically who are in peak physical condition. Average demon not much difference from average human. Our very powerful demons like Mobei? Frat boys built like professional wrestlers with demonic cultivation. Stronger then most cultivators but cultivators can get that strong too.

4. Shang Qinghua is actually strong enough to take the hits. He's not getting ribs broken all the time he's getting bruises because he has high physical cultivation and can lift a cart one handed if he really wants to. He just hates it because it's not what he likes

5. The pocket of demon culture we see (High Class Over Powered Gym Brats) is identical to the culture on Bai Zhan peak minus the rules about Pokémon style weaknesses. Like seriously Bai Zhan is exactly the same in "friendly" greetings. Someone on Bai Zhan genuinely thinks beating someone up three times a day (beating them in a spar) is romantic

This still doesn't solve most of the problem but when it you make it

A) not demon culture as a whole just the culture of these particular rich over powered Brats in this particular social circle

B) the power and strength cap of the over power brats is comparable with human power levels

And

C) make Bai Zhan have the same stupid "fighting = flirting" idea

Then it's a bit better I think?

But that means doe Mobei he's doing the done thing in his social circle and also Shang Qinghua isn't saying no and the Bai Zhan brats act the same way so it's fine no? (its embarrassing that it's not)

[demonslayerunhinged]

how different do you think demon slayer would've been if they had modern stuff like phones, social media, video games, better transportation, T H E R A P Y?

Would there be constant online arguments between the hashira and the upper moons?

Just curious on what you think would happen if this were the case

Hi anon! Sorry for the late reply! Here are my headcanons with a little SaneGiyuu sprinkled in of course.

The Hashiras and the Upper Moons would definitely have Whatsapp chat groups where the Master would call them for meetings, they would discuss about their missions and they would clown on Giyuu 😂

The therapy would be one of those closed room sections where they can rant about their colleagues and missions kinda like the way contestants do in Big Brother or Total Drama Island.

...

The Infinity Castle would be an office similar to how it is in the Gakuen. Akaza is desperate to make Rengoku a demon because he needed a (boy)friend in his toxic workplace.

Kokushibo is the bossy, know-it-all who thinks he's the second boss, he definitely has the company logo as his social media profile pic and talks about putting the company first yada yada yada

Douma is the snake that pretends to be nice to you but talks about you when you're not around, preys on the new female hires, and has a special seat reserved for him in the HR department.

Nakime is the colleague that keeps to herself, does their work, doesn't really talk to anyone and peaces out once it's 5.

Gyokko is the suck up who tries to see how far they can push their nose up the boss's ass to get a promotion or recognition.

Hantengu is the old head that pretends to be incompetent and pitiful so that you'll end up doing all their work

Gyutaro and Daki are the gen-z types that hate the job but need the money, won't stop questioning authority and who you're secretly jealous of because of their gutsy behavior.

Akaza is the only sane one who has an already drafted resignation letter saved on his computer desktop that he wants to submit every Monday or everytime Douma opens his mouth. He copes by scrolling through office/shitty colleague memes, snorting coffee and dreaming up fantasies about the office exploding.

Douma has been banned from the Upper Moon group chat for posting too many memes and Blue Spider lily troll posts.

...

Giyuu constantly forgets the gate code to the Master's mansion when there's a Hashira meeting and when he asks on the group chat the other Hashiras mostly ignore him.

Sanemi dms him and gives him the code after calling him a dumbass.

Gyomei is always posting cat pictures and videos on the group chats.

Tengen takes a selfie during every mission and posts ot on his status.

Giyuu's driver is always late because he is old and always forgets where Giyuu's house is but Giyuu doesn't have the heart to fire him because the driver cares for him like a grandson.

Sanemi drives himself to his missions.

Rengoku always types in capital letters and Obanai is always asking why he's shouting.

Mitsuri has an Instagram where she posts about fashion, her cats and food. Obanai likes every post, he also likes every Mitsuri group chat post no matter how silly it is.

Whenever Rengoku goes on missions, he always visits the restaurants in the area and gives ratings and reviews on Google Maps.

Muichiro, Genya, Kanao, Inosuke, Zenitsu and Tanjiro spend their free time on their shared Minecraft server making cool builds.

Zenitsu screams whenever there's a creeper around, Inosuke just runs towards it like an idiot. He has the highest respawn rate out of any of them.

Tanjiro always greets each of the villagers he encounters, he's even nice to the traveling merchant. He also has a lot of dogs and cats. His base is in the jungle because of the pandas. He likes to explore and collect lots of resources.

Muichiro, Kanao and Inosuke like to explore the caves. Inosuke likes to sneak into Zenitsu's base and steal his stuff. He also has a lot of dogs which he calls the Hoard.

Kanao makes fancy builds and has a lot of xp, food and resource farms because she values efficiency and she always shows off her builds to Shinobu and the butterfly girls. She's the first one in the group to get netherite armor and sword.

Inosuke is banned from several stores and malls especially Walmart.

Sanemi and Obanai play COD together and bully/kill teammates or other players who are misogynistic and shout slurs.

Giyuu saves the Hashira's names formally on his phone but saves Sanemi's with his first name.

Giyuu and Sanemi text each other constantly and Sanemi always asks if he's eaten and offers to cook food for Giyuu at his place.

Shinobu always trolls Giyuu on the groupchat and she's banned from several pharmacies for her questionable requests about poisons but has settled for ordering them from the dark web.

She's currently on a watchlist for her ties to several eco-terrorist groups. She had a channel where she talked about poisons and bombs but it was taken down by YouTube.

She often takes the butterfly girls for ice cream and they have movie nights. Her favorite movie is Jennifer's Body and Mean Girls, least to say Aoi and Kanao are very concerned for her.

Muichiro always has to explain gen-z slang and memes to Gyomei.

Tengen is always posting thirst traps on Instagram along with pictures of his wives.

...

Kokushibo always handles Muzan's Amazon orders. Muzan orders a lot of hair products, he shops at designer stores and has a Sephora membership card.

Gyutaro and Daki are always bullying kids on Roblox and griefing peoples builds on public Minecraft servers.

Gyokko's Instagram page features his pots and 'art pieces', Hantengu likes all his posts.

Akaza listens to Avril Lavigne and posts about his colleagues and how he hates his job on Reddit and Tumblr.

The Infinity Castle wifi password is Muzan4prez set by Douma of course.

Nakime's favorite channel is HGTV because she's always looking for ideas on how to redecorate the Infinity Castle.

Muzan always watches E! especially when the Awards Season comes around. He's especially fond of the Met Gala. His favorite show is Hell's Kitchen.

Kokushibo likes watching the National Geographic channel and NatGeo wild on occasion.

...

The Master always forces Shinobu, Sanemi, Obanai and Giyuu to have professional therapy sessions. He also checks up on them to make sure they go every week and bribes them with movie nights with him.

He always posts motivational quotes and positive messages for the Hashira but isn't above posting memes and troll posts every once in a while. Sanemi likes all of his posts, chats and comments.

...

That's all I can think of for now. The slaying of the demons will be the same, they would still use katanas because they're more efficient than guns.

[mischiefmaker615]

The Boy is Mine

Rating: R

Summary: Loki finds you after dark.. but who owns who? 

Note: Based off the song The Boy is Mine by Ariana Grande

Requester: @Laer111ee (wattpad)

*Insert slut song here First and play as you read LOL*

Your hips swayed from side to side as your fingers gripped the pole firmly to keep your balance. Shifting your weight as you swung yourself, arched your back and flipped your hair, all were the main ingredience to get the big bucks coming, especially with those regular fat cats in the audience that continued to gawk at you for the 5th day in a row. It paid the bills at least, kept your head away from other problems and.. you just really loved to dance.

Your hair was loose, make up was light but still captured a sexy look, you ditched the ridiculous high heels and just put on the shorter ones that almost said ‘sexy business woman’ and you had your favorite black outfit that almost resembled slave Leia from Star Wars.. or at least, that’s what that one guy shouted from the audience that one time.

As soon as your last song ended, you struck your pose and closed your eyes, catching your breath with a smile as the feeling of paper brushed against your exposed skin as people threw cash and cat called. After a moment, you collected it all after a corny bow and headed down the stairs for the next girl to take over.

‘’hey Y/N, some fella in curtain 5 paid for a private dance’’ your boss whispered before you could get to the back rooms. His grip on your arm indicated his usual ‘I’m telling’ not ‘asking’.

Your eyes glanced over at the closed curtain room, as if expecting to see the gentleman right there and glanced at your boss with a sigh. ‘’fine, then I’m done for the night.’’

‘’sure.’’ He waved off and disappeared elsewhere.

After placing your bag in your locker, tiding yourself up a bit and even changing into something similar, just with more exposed leg space for your usual lap dances and headed over. Ignoring the stares and cat calling as you pass people, you paused at the curtain and took a deep breath- knowing you’ve done hundreds but it was just to prepare for.. anything, and went in.

“hello darling, you’ve never mentioned about your little side business..’’

You stopped dead in your tracks with wide eyes and queasy stomach. Your body ran a cold shiver up your spine as you remained a deer in the headlights at who sat before you, manspreading and comfortable, rocking his perfect black suit and your expression was still.

Snake..

‘’what the hell are you doing here?’’ you managed to squeeze out, your voice not indicating any anger but more.. uncertainty as you glanced at the curtain behind you to make sure it was closed.

‘’don’t worry darling, I’ll keep your little secret’’ Loki smirked and laced his fingers together before him with a cross of his legs. ‘’but might I say, you do look ravishing, especially displaying your skillset and.. assets on stage’’ he smirked, trying to get a rise out of you.

So he had been there that long.. your eyes narrowed in challenge as you remained calm. At least on the outside. Loki has been your long-time crush for a long time, having seen him amongst the tower many times to share some playful bickering and knowledgeable conversation here and there. He was someone to keep things interesting, never boring and got your mind to always think- unlike the dull and self-centered males that also occupied the tower. Most of them anyway. Being an Avenger was also your job, but you just couldn’t give up your first job here when Stark offered you the position, so you worked both, this one obviously in secret- until now.

‘’how did you know I was here?’’ you questioned, crossing your arms as worry showed on your brow nevertheless.. for some strange reason you trusted he would keep your secret- it didn’t mean he wouldn’t use it against you though.

‘’the tower tends to get rather boring, and most of your Midgardian locations don’t suit my interest. But you do, you’ve always have..’’ his voice got dangerously low as he leaned forward as he spoke. ‘’so, I followed you. you tended to disappear every evening and I got curious’’ he smirked.

You looked away a little as he spoke, glad the dim lighting hid your blush you felt come to your cheeks as you took a deep breath. Were you really going to do this? ‘’..you know I could always refuse you right?’’ you challenged out of curiosity.

‘’true,’’ he shrugged, relaxing back on the couch as he watched you, his eyes slipping down from yours a few times. ‘’but I could tell a part of you actually wants to do this,’’ he smirked, his eyes flicking up to yours again. ‘’and I don’t even have to blackmail you.’’

Your eyes narrowed as you stared at each other, almost daring to see who would do what first, but unfortunately it was all you. he was the customer and you hated that he was right. He wasn’t just a customer; you had wanted him for a long time; there was no use in denying it. if you had to do this, you were going to take your time and take charge. You will not give him a chance to belittle or doubt, this was your job and you were good at it.

As if on que, the music had started playing again and you wished you had taken a shot of tequila while you had put your stuff away, because the way he gazed at you now was making it hard to focus. He was sat back, limbs loose and relaxed as if he had been drinking a bit himself. His legs were a bit more together now, his slender hands resting at his thighs as his eyes drank you in now. His expression was difficult to read, but you could tell by his deep breathing and how now and again he would shift a little, that he was aroused, and that made you extremely powerful to offer your own smirk.

Taking a small step forward to be more in the center of his room, you kept your half-lidded eyes on him as your hands gently brushed over your thighs, slowly swaying your hips in the beat of the music while they slowly rose and flattened a little at your covered center.

His chin tilted up as his eyes seemed to pry, almost as if trying to look right through your clothes themselves as he swallowed and remained his composure. Your body slowly turned, showing off as your hands slowly rose around your hips and brushed against your perfect ass with your cut dress covering your intimate parts before you slowly faced him again while you gripped your chest.

Your eyes closed then, as if your own touch alone could make you orgasm and your fingers traveled into your hair while your lips parted. While your eyes were closed as you moved to the music, Loki’s hands briefly brushed against his pants as he began getting antsy, his jaw tight but he remained patient as he drank you in. gods you were beautiful, and you both knew it. the fact that he also knew your personality form your encounters at home as well he felt you were all the sexier.

His breath hitched when you placed your hands on his knees, feeling him having no rejection as you leaned forward and he took advantage of the view of your cleavage. Feeling his tense but loose limbs, you pushed his legs apart, standing between them as you remained holding eye contact and you smirked, seeing a small flash of defeat in his eyes that he hated and loved at the same time.

You had the upper hand now.

You turned yourself and slowly, just ever so slowly to tease him- more- began grinding your ass on him. depending on the package, it could involve touch, but you still weren’t expecting your breath to hitch when you felt his slender hands rest at your hips, his finger tips lightly digging into your flesh as he used strained control to bring you harder again him. speaking of..

By the gods he was huge, and you could feel yourself getting aroused every time he pulled and you pushed your cunt against his hard cock. You almost felt like you could salivate as your grinded more into him, hearing him growl as his grip strengthened ever so slightly, as if to stop himself from slapping your ass. You had him where you wanted him and pulled away, his fingers hesitating to let you go as you turned around to face him and placed your hands on his shoulders with do-me-eyes.

Loki’s lips parted weakly as he remained himself to breath, his eyes looking up into yours as if silently begging for you to take him. you wanted to.. if you wouldn’t get fired. Though it didn’t mean you couldn’t tease him a bit as you got onto his lap, your thighs resting against his while your cunt began grinding itself again on his bulge.

His hands went back to your hips as fast as magnets, wanting to grope and touch but he was unsure if he was allowed. You felt him squeeze your flesh as he leaned forward, making you grip his shoulders more as he inhaled your scent with fluttering eyes closed.

This gave you the perfect opportunity to lean forward and run your tongue teasingly up his neck, making your body lift as his cock got impossibly bigger to raise you. his eyes shock open with blown, hungry pupils and his own cologne filled your sensed as you gazed at him. he gave you a frustrated breath, his hips almost thrusting up as if he forgot you both were clothed.

Just to add fuel to the fire, your hands ran down his chest and took his wrists, pulling them off your thighs to rest against your chest as he eagerly began to massage and knead. His eyes never left yours as he almost seemed to study you, admiration on his features as if he never thought this moment would be possible- and he was still trying to believe it.

his thumbs ghosted under the edge of your bra at the bottom-if you want to call it a bra. It was thin as paper, you might as well of not have been wearing one as his movements slowed, asking silent permission as his teeth grasped his bottom lip lightly. Giving a small smile with a nod, his thumbs lifted the bra forward enough to slip his hands in and he almost shuddered in pleasure as he grasped your globes. Your head almost fell back as you moaned, slowing your griding at his bulge to deep, long strokes and you felt a warm tongue run up your neck.

You pulled away just enough to give him a playful smile as he shared one, knowing it was a pay back tease before a hand left your chest to move to the back of your head. It moved it forward, his fingers lightly grasping your hair as he tilted your head up and began sucking at your neck. Your hands went to his shoulders, nails digging into his suit as your own body shuddered in pleasure. He left open mouth kisses below your jawline and ran his tongue to your collar bone.

‘’F-Fuck..’’ you breathed before there was a knock outside the room.

‘’hey Y/N, I’m not paying over time.’’ your boss called and you realized the music had stopped.

Loki pulled away and removed his hands to rest at your hips, looking up at you curiously as you both caught your breaths.

‘’..the songs over..’’ you whisper, your eyes breaking contact as you use his shoulders to help yourself off of him and he keeps his hands on your hips for as long as possible as he lets go and stands up.

His height reminds you just how different you both are as you brush and straighten your clothes before you feel his hand at your chin and lift it to look at him. his expression was gentle but deadly serious and seriously still aroused.

‘’what time are you off?’’

Your blush darkens and you could feel your arousal as your thighs close tight. ‘’now-‘’

He leans down a bit, his knees bending to accommodate his height as he holds your eyes hostage and your noses almost touch.

‘’then this is most certainly not over.’’

Tag List: @foxherder @asgards-princess-of-mischief @fire-in-her-veinz

Note: Thank you for reading! it's kind of like a series~ you send songs, i write based off of them LOL More on my masterlist!

~Funny *on the subject*

[mossyivy]

To whoever brought up breeding kink Chris…I love you. [NSFW warning!]

He’d definitely keep it on the low at first, but as you two got married and stuff, that’s when it really came out. That man would go FERAL. He wouldn’t let you leave until he practically made your mind all mush, mumbling and crying out random things.

Oh, but once you got pregnant and your belly got all full? The two of you would turn into rabbits. He just loved seeing your belly all big, and he especially loved seeing those perky tits of yours bounce up and down when you’d try to ride his dick. All swollen and full of milk. It was especially cute when you’d have to take little 5 seconds breaks once in a while, being pregnant and having sex was tiring, okay?

Let’s be honest—You’d be a pillow princess all your pregnancy, there were days your hormones would go crazy and you’d be soooooo horny, but you were just too tired and pregnancy to move around. This eventually led to Chris accommodating to your princess needs, fucking you as you laid on your side and let out little whimpers and moans. Prompting his hand to cover your mouth, trying to shush you to not wake up Ollie, he was asleep just right down the hall. Oh my goodness. How he’d grunt into your ear, and mumble ‘Fuck…’ under his breath…Butterflies in my tummy!!!

He’d also like fucking you while you laid on your back, that man would love seeing your face as he fucked you. Especially because he loved watching you slowly turn into a mess, begging him to stop because it just felt too good! Tears streaming down your face from all the pleasure and overstimulation, rambling on about how it felt so good, how you couldn’t take it anymore, but he knew you could. As soon as he filled you up and the two of you were satisfied, he’d pull out and watch his cum drip from your hole. How you’d try and catch your breath as he slowly pushed some dripping liquid back inside, not wanting to waste a single drop.

Of course he’d make sure you were okay. Asking you if he went too far, or if he hurt you in any way. But you’d just shake your head and snuggle up against him. Your breathing slowing down as he peppered you with love and kisses, like a good man does. He’d just look down to see you fast asleep against his chest, he’d smile, then doze off himself.

- Anon! 🎀

(I just finished cross posting a fic on a03 and come back to this!? I'M BLESSED!! Def adding onto this.)

CW: Praise Kink, dumbification, and daddy kink

(Everyday I stray further from God's light...)

Chris had no idea he had a daddy kink. Not until he started getting referred to as daddy. You'd obviously calling him that when talking to Ollie or to the baby but on occasion you'd slip up and call him daddy. Correcting yourself seconds later before he could even respond.

But dear Lord does it make his chest tight and brain/stomach do somersaults every time you say it.

But during sex at the moments you get tired and it's clear you're frustrated with yourself. You get tired so quickly from the baby but Daddy Chris comes to the rescue. Rubbing your hips gently as he sits up and pulls you closer to him. Usually he'd pull your back up to his chest and hold you in a full nelson. But with your bump that's not really feasible.

But now he lifts you up, shushing you gently as you start asking what he's doing. He'll simply answer with, "Let daddy take care of you," in a tone that makes your pussy throb and brain to mush.

Putting you on your side, making sure he has a firm grip on your thigh as he slides into you from behind. His hand snaking around your shoulders and holding your chin so he can whisper sweet praises into your ear about how good you're doing and how well you take his cock.

That's when your ramblings start.

"It's too much."

"Gonna break."

"Can't take it anymore."

But he just teases you after groaning a soft "fuck" in your ear, feeling your pussy clench around him as his warm breath hits your ear.

"You want me to stop? Sure feels like you don't want daddy to stop." You shake your head no. Not knowing left from right or yes from no at this point. His hand slides from your thigh to your clit. Circling it tightly as hand glides over your mouth to cover your desperate cries. His teeth gently sink into your shoulder as you milk him, buried deep, cumming inside you as you gush on his cock with a muffled cry. Eyes teary and body drenched in sweat.

He pants with a smirk, huffing out a chuckle as he kisses your shoulder and neck, moving his hand off your mouth.

[thalialunacy]

[for the @calaisreno Prompts May-hem (get it?!); cw for more violence than I usually do, ymmv. Also I have a feeling this one shows my American-ness more than most, so uh, sorry? ^^;]

(1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11) (12) (13) (14) 15: nightmare (16) (17) (18) (19) (20) (21) (22) (23) (24) (25) (26) (27) (28) (29) (30) (31)

'This,' John mutters to himself as he eyes the flashing red on the departures board, 'is a bloody nightmare.'

Sherlock frowns beside him. 'We're being shunted to a less direct route. Inconvenient, but hardly the stuff to disturb one's sleep.' 

John closes his eyes momentarily. By and large, he's a good fit for Sherlock's behaviours, even when they're--especially when they're?--somewhat off the beaten path. But sometimes he doesn't have the energy. He just doesn't.

They've been on a literally cold case in Nowhereton, Bumfuckshire, and although the jewellery was found and no one was hurt John could absolutely murder a home-brewed cup of tea. And he would very much like to hold his daughter.

'Don't worry, John, you'll be home to her soon,' Sherlock says to him as they board the overstuffed train. They're not the only ones whose night has been sidetracked, literally, but John's empathy is thin on the ground as he jostles his way to two open seats, fantasising about going for a rugby tackle if someone else gets their first.

Sherlock ends up doing the tackling, though, because he gives not one damn about how train passengers view him. And it's not really a tackle, just a Very Cold Look. And maybe a thrown elbow.

Amused, at least a little, John takes his seat.

They manage to get an hour in before it all goes to hell.

---

The sound of the train car sliding over something besides tracks is the first thing that happens -- and really it's more of a feeling than a sound, somehow.

At first.

'Sherlock,' John says quietly, his stomach twisting. 'What was that?'

'Likely just--'

But Sherlock is interrupted by a great dirty shake, like the train is a snake trying to shed its skin in a big ugly hurry.

'Shit,' John mutters, feeling adrenaline flood his system. 'Hang on to something.'

---

John doesn't wait until the dust clears; he's out of his seat and beating his way through the door at the end of the car the second there's stillness beneath him. Their coach is still on the tracks, but he somehow knows that those ahead of them are not so lucky.

The emergency lights are on, but they're flickering and John has to squint as he makes his way through. His gaze sweeps around and he listens hard, but everyone in the car seems to be suffering from merely shock, bumps and bruises, minor things.

The next car is where shit gets real. The angles are all wrong, and he can see several people tangled in an awful unnatural embrace with metal pieces popped out from seats and side rails.

'Jesus,' he hears himself mutter. 'This is not ideal.'

Sherlock is right behind him, which he'd known but not paid any attention to. 'Triaging a hoard of exhausted people in the middle of the night in the middle of nowhere with no avenues of immediate escalation?'

'Yeah, like I said. Not ideal.' 

Sherlock opens his mouth, but John has no time for whatever witticism is about to be gifted upon the world, so he steps away from the detective and further into the chaos.

He raises his voice, but tries to keep it calm. 'Hello, everyone. My name is John, I'm a medical doctor, and I'm here to help.'

---

It's a long fucking night. Four dead, a couple dozen injured. One cannot save them all.

---

Hours later, the sun peeking over the horizon and Molly sacked out on the couch, he's about to pivot onto the staircase to his room when Sherlock puts a hand on his elbow. 'Let's wash up first,' he says, voice low and firm. 'Your daughter doesn't need to see you covered in blood, even if it's someone else's.'

'God damn it,' John mutters, knowing Sherlock is right but hating it; his skin itches with the need to see his little girl. 'Fine, but quick-like.'

He sheds his jacket and button down, which had got the brunt of it, on the way to the toilet, then barely looks at himself in the mirror as he runs a flannel over his face and scrubs at his hands. Sherlock is quiet beside him, handing him soap and cloth when needed, without prompting.

John finishes, then looks up at him. 'Aren't you coming?'

Sherlock's face-- well, It does something very complicated before smoothing out into a small smile. 'All right, let's.'

---

Anticlimactically, Rosie barely stirs when John picks her up. His limbs are finally able to shake out the events of the last twelve hours, and he feels Sherlock's arms around him and beneath her like a bridge truss, supporting them both.

John breathes in deeply, taking in the scent of his daughter and his flatmate. His-- his family, he thinks, trying the word out.

'Stay,' he says quietly, not looking away from Rosie. 'Just-- Stay?'

Sherlock hums for a moment, then answers like it was never in question. 'Of course.'

They don't consider pyjamas, instead curling around each other's dusty skin in pants and vests while murmuring about inconsequential things, domestic things that send warmth spiralling through John to replace the chill that had settled in somewhere during the journey they've just finished.

'I do have one question,' Sherlock says finally, the words warming the skin at John's neck.

'Go on.'

'As you know, many common understandings about the English language, particularly when it comes to colloquialisms, are not part of my… erm, base worldview.'

'Right, I am aware.'

'So I'd like to confirm: When you called the train delay a nightmare, you were exaggerating for humour, and when you called the derailment "not ideal," you were…'

John chuckles tiredly. 'Being English.'

'Being facetious.'

'Yes.' He pauses, fingers in Sherlock's mildly tangled hair. 'Sometimes, it's all that gets you from one moment to the next. One body to the next.'

Sherlock murmurs a noise, and John feels his embrace tighten. 

'Well,' the detective finally says, voice deep and sleepy. 'Besides all that, I really must say that watching you in action was quite... informative.'

'Oh? In what way?'

'Informing me that I find your medical competency viscerally pleasing.'

John huffs a surprised breath. 'Yeah?'

'Mm-hmm. You're very good, and it's very attractive.'

'Noted,' John murmurs, eyes closed. 'Next time.'

'Mm-hmm.' Sherlock's palm is warm on his solar plexus, and John doesn't think twice as he succumbs to a deep, quiet sleep.

[❤️]

[a/n- I have not been in a derailment, but I have been in a train car when it ran over a live human being going 70mph, so forgive me for not being keen to research the former for the sake of accuracy.]

ETA OH GOD I forgot the best part! My inspiration for this piece:

[beausmom1214]

Today (December 14th, 2024) was your birthday, you would have been 5 yrs old today. It has been half a decade since God welcomed you into Heaven and made a special place there just for YOU, my sweet baby boy….and someday I hope you will be showing it all to me with nothing but excitement and joy, as I join you and all our loved ones in that special place. When the time is right I can’t wait to get there, wherever it is, simply bc it means I will finally get to meet you, little one. You are my first born son, the only child of mine that I’ve ever held in my arms and the only soul I’ve ever met that I’ve ever loved so much, even before I got to hold you. And saying goodbye (for now) was the single most difficult life experience I’ve ever, ever had. It was so devastating to lose you, to finally get to see you but knowing your gorgeous little eyes would never get to open and see me. It’s been 5 yrs and I still think about you every single day, son….i wonder about the little man you would be growing up to be, & dream of what your future on earth could have held in store for you. I know in my heart you would be making me so very proud, and would have lived your life to the fullest, & loved with all you had in your great big heart…and the world would have loved you so much. I know because I love you so much, more love than I’ve ever felt for anyone before, and my love for you is so strong and runs so deeply through me that I know I will love you with my whole heart for the rest of my entire life (and even after that, always and forever). I know that God made a special spot for you, and I am so proud to know without a doubt that my son is sitting right there beside Him and helping Him in any way he can. I know your heart, because I made it, & helped it grow, beat by beat, right here next to mine. I know how much love you have to offer the world, and I know you are using that love and intense passion to help others, even from the other side. I know you are making me so proud and helping others find happiness as much as you can bc it is what you would have loved to do. You have a heart of gold and are so blessed to be in the presence of God and all of his Grace, fulfilling your noble purpose right there amongst all of the angels. I miss you so much, every single day. Losing you left such a huge wake of emptiness and sorrow in my life. Everything would be so different if you were still here, my sweet boy. I hope you had the best 5th birthday today in Heaven that any little boy has ever known. I hope you are happy, and I hope you are looking forward to the day when we will finally be reunited as much as I am looking forward to it. I am so proud to be your Mom, and I love you with all my heart. Happy Birthday, Beau Maverick, my sweet little angel in Heaven. Take good care of Brown Doggie and Miss Gaia, and Rosie the snake. Love them with all your heart, and care for them as best you would care for any of God’s creatures, and they will love you immensely right back, and someday we can all be together again. I’ll be here waiting for that day.

[dixonzzgirl]

the day was long. not just for you, but for daryl too. you had been out on a supply run with rosita and glenn, going through each house in a small neighborhood you had come across a few weeks back. in the last house you went searching through, you spotted a shiny, red altoid tin. after picking it up and shaking it for a moment, you flip the lid open to see its contents. four joints all rolled in dark brown paper. Without even lifting the tin closer, a familiar, almost piney smell filled your nose. you smiled to yourself and slipped it into your pack. 

daryl had been out recruiting all day, but his only thought was you. he hated when you had to go on runs without each other. there was no way he could ensure your safety being so far away. don’t get me wrong, daryl knows you can hold your own. he just never wants you to feel hopeless or alone. however, rosita and glenn were two people daryl knew he could trust to look after you in his absence. he knew they would have your back if shit went down. even then, he was still worried. he arrived back at alexandria around 5 p.m. and sat on the porch steps until he heard a vehicle approaching outside the gates. He quickly snuffed out his cigarette and threw it by the bushes. 

as he got closer to the gates, they started to open and the three of you made your way in. you immediately spotted daryl standing where he always did when you came back from a run. you smiled and snaked your arms around his neck and he buried his face into your neck. glenn and rosita were too busy greeting their respective loved ones to notice anything. “any luck today?” you asked, slightly muffled. “nah.” he grunted and pulled away to look at your face. he examined every inch of skin that wasn’t currently covered in clothing for bites or scratches. “you?” his tired eyes found yours. you cracked a mischievous grin and pulled him into another hug. “i have a present for you.” you sang into his chest. “for me?” he blushed a little bit as he tried to match my excited tone. “mhm.” you slipped your hand into one of his and began walking back to your shared house. 

daryl led you up the stairs and into your bedroom where you slid off your pack and plopped it down on your bed. he stood beside you as you started digging around for something. “okay, close your eyes.” you clutched the cold tin at the bottom of your bag. daryl closed his eyes and you placed the tin on his palm. “okay, now open.” you ordered, holding back a squeal. his eyes opened and looked directly down at the tin. he popped it open and chuckled when he saw the joints. he took one out and lifted it to his nose, inhaling the bitter scent. the thought of you both being able to just relax outside and smoke together made him so eager. “do you like it?” you were smiling like a kid. “like it? i love it.” the corner of his mouth was curled up as he pulled you into another embrace. “i had a feeling you would.” you laughed into his neck and left a trail of kisses from his cheek to his lips. he pulled your hips flush against his own and rested his big hands on your ass as you held onto one of his biceps. “c’mon.” you poked at his side. “let’s get super high and stare up at the sky.” 

a/n: this is my first ever daryl dixon fic, so please be kind! i'm open to doing a part two!! :)

[weaselle]

i've seen this before but i just now heard some people talking about it so i'm going to weigh in.

(I don't sit around day dreaming about fighting animals or anything, but i live under a hill with coyotes and a mountain lion and i've done a fair amount of wandering around where the wild things are, so this kind of thing does cross my mind)

First of all, we're talking a fight not an altercation. I think there's a chance i could drive off just about any of these animals, by bluffing them or acting weird enough or getting them to give a little ground which often turns into giving more ground and going away. I've navigated interactions with wild animals before, and you can usually make yourself seem like not enough of a threat and yet also too much trouble, and end things before they really begin.

What we're talking about is after these tactics fail and you are already in a physical fight.

And for the purposes of this i'm going to say this includes fighting for your life against a predatory attack -- there's a big difference between driving off a large predator that is just roughing you up because it's mad you're in its territory, and one that has already decided its for sure going to kill you, and we're going to say "what if the worst should happen". So:

rat

house cat

goose

medium sized dog

eagle

large dog are all a yes from me. Large dog and eagle are trouble but doable -- i'm very experienced with large dogs and i grew up around geese and the eagle is going to be the same as the goose but you'll walk away with more significant injuries. Like, an eagle weighs the same as a jack russell terrier and has hollow bones, if i can get a hold of it i can end it, but i'm probably gonna need, like, so many stitches. Same with the large dog, i'll likely need to visit the hospital after (and i'd be real sad) but i could get it done if i had to.

now. The unknowns. These are all animals that there's some chance, however small, i might survive.

wolf

king cobra

crocodile

kangaroo

Wolf. So. I work with dogs professionally, I have had to break up several dog fights, i'm comfortable physically interacting with very large dogs, and that's why i think i could definitely win a fight against a dog if i had to. I've also come face to face with a wild wolf in the woods (which was pretty damn scary) and i think there's a chance i could win against a single wolf basically the same way i would win against a large dog, but also, wolves are not dogs, they literally kill other animals all the time, they're like, professionals at it, so. Maybe.

King cobra, yeah, i can for sure kill this poor snake with my bare hands, but whether or not i can do it without getting a lethal dose of venom stuck into me is a big coin flip. Is it winning if you kill the snake but you also die? not to me

Crocodile just depends on so much. I mean probably not. Like, a large adult Saltwater or Nile croc? absolutely not, nope, no way, i'm for sure deadzo. But crocs come in a lot of sizes and shapes. And many of them sort of keep growing their whole life, so, a 5 and a half foot croc might be an adult or i could be facing an adult crocodile of the same species that weighs more than 2,000 pounds.

Gharial crocs can also get way bigger than i can do anything with, but they have a really thin snout designed to catch fish. Other species of crocs also have smaller, thinner mouths and specialize in fish, like the central african slender-snouted croc, which do not get as large as their nile cousins. And various smaller species of crocodile exist that might be adults at only three or four feet long.

Most crocodiles enter tonic immobility like sharks, so if i can get it on its back for a couple breaths it will go sort of unconscious, and if it's not too big i might be able to make that happen. Of course, even if it only weighs like 40 pounds, if we're in water that's deeper than i am tall it can just latch on and keep my head under the surface... so a lot depends on what kind of croc, what size, and what specific ground/water environment we're in. The answer is, probably not. But it depends.

Kangaroo. So that leaves this guy. Basically, this is like fighting a soccer player who has a short-bladed knife in each hand and a spike on each foot. The kicks are hard, and i'm getting cut up real good, but there's some chance i could win. Or not. It kind of depends on the individual. Some adult kangaroos are smaller than me and some are bigger than me and i do know how to fight but then again i definitely fight less often than the kangaroo does and it has weapons and i don't, so. Likely not. But maybe. Depends. Also depends on what you mean by "win". It definitely doesn't want to eat me and they don't usually fight to the death -- I've seen a person punch a large kangaroo hard enough to make it change its mind about wanting to fight. i kinda think i might be able to achieve a similar outcome.

Okay, now the rest of these are just crazy! Chimps are a big no, they can do everything i can do but stronger, better, and with fangs.

A gorilla? If they do decide you have to be ended, gorillas are an even worse opponent, there's just no way. A male gorilla has jaw muscles the same size as my biceps. They have a bite force twice as strong as a lion's. They can weigh more than 400 pounds. There's absolutely no way.

And there's literally nothing an unarmed human could do against a determined lion, brown bear, or elephant. Less than zero chance if one of those things decides you have to die.

look, the smallest of those last three would be a lioness. Here's three big strong men testing their strength against a single lioness

dude. She's not even trying very hard. A wild lioness that decided an unarmed person was food? There's basically nothing you can do once she takes action, all your options depend on doing something to make her change her mind before she gets a hold of you. It's the same for a brown bear, and lmao, an elephant could literally throw a car at you. An elephant can weigh six thousand pounds and lowkey has to move carefully around a person to not kill them accidentally.

idk who these 6-17% think they are, but some of these "yes" answers up on that poll are insane.

[yiga-hellhole]

TFTK: CHAPTERS 21&22

Ghirahim copes with the aftermath of his conspiracy. What is a blade to do, without a hand to wield it?

I'VE kept you all waiting for quite a bit haven't i. well i'm making it up to you! 2 chapters in one go! one VERY big thank you to @bulgariansumo and @orfeoarte for betareading these. quite a bit happens in the aftermath of zant's betrayal... i'll let it speak for itself.

the promo art for these chapters was heavily inspired by, and is basically an homage, to Houseki no Kuni's volume 7 cover! HnK influences a lot of my writing tone and symbolism. i really recommend it!!

this chapter has a bonus of another new language... protogermanic! it's written in elder futhark. you'll have to wiktionary the rest! teehee! (it's not plot-relevant, just a little easter egg for you all!)

ao3 mirror

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16

CW for: graphic violence, toxic relationship, suicidal ideation (brief mention)

From the shadow of one colossal threat, into the other. This one weighed on him far heavier. Ghirahim stood in the cold dark of Zant’s chambers, for a moment, taking refuge in the first second before his eyes could adjust. Ever-so-indulgently, he blinked just a little longer than he had to, shrouding himself in the comfort of that shadowy blanket and shielding himself from what he would now have to undertake. When he opened his eyes again, he glared at the shape lying on the bed. When he strained his ears, he could hear a squeaky wheeze, little grunts of pain spotting through his breath. 

Perhaps he had been a little too optimistic, hoping for Zant to have succumbed in his absence. Ghirahim approached the bed, the injured Twili upon it heaving his blankets with his arduous breathing. Neither of them had noticed he was still holding the Demon Scimitar. What good would it have done, to be any more aware of that frivolous thing? Ghirahim could forget about any urge, any fantasy, of using it to pounce upon him and flay him where he lied. With every step closer, that little dagger all but shook in his hands, cheering to see its beloved alive, though not well. It exploded into a cloud of diamonds, each shred and particle snaking back into Ghirahim's core by a trail. Such bothersome affection was best left where he could keep watch of it, and lock it away, deep where he could no longer feel it. All until this rotten fool would recover, rip it from him, and drag him about by the strings of his weakness all over again, no doubt.

Six seconds. That was how long he spent in that chamber, up until that point, when a flash of light broke through the gaps in the curtains, and briefly cast the room in dim light. Another second and the thunderous roar of a massive impact followed. The whole castle shook, dust raining down from the ceiling, the contents of shelves jolting in place and tumbling to the floor, glass and ceramics shattering on the spot, and wooden furniture rattling on their legs. The screws from Zant’s canopy bed gave way. A curtain rod, drapes and all, dislodged from its place and bared the fallen Twilight King to the little light that made it through the windows.

The tremors subsided at last. All of the palace – no, the world, was eerily silent. Sand, carried across the desert by the shockwave, pelted against the outside walls and spewed through the curtains. Ghirahim approached the bed, grains crunching beneath his feet.

Peering at him through swollen eyelids, Zant turned his head ever so slightly. “Your last gambit, I take it?”

Ghirahim deigned to answer. A last gambit, indeed, but one he never wanted to play. Majora’s words rang in his head, clear as day.

“... use it wisely, for when the tides of war turn irreversibly against your favor.”

Oh, and how the tides had turned. In one fell swoop, Ghirahim had lost both the battle and his Master, both of these promises doomed for failure from the very start. By accepting Majora’s allegiance, all in the name of the pitiful man now lying wheezing before him, those very tides crashed into him again, only from a different angle. Now that he stood there, wave-beaten as he was, the water cleared from his eyes. He could see just how laughable of a trap he’d fallen for. In calling Majora to his aid, Ghirahim silently wondered whose hands he had played into.

Zant stammered through this silence. It seemed he could not go a single minute without ushering his little plans along. “We cannot stay here. In the next few hours, those taking refuge in the dungeons will free themselves from their barricades and swarm through the Palace. If they find us–”

“Our lives will not remain secret” Ghirahim interrupted. “I get it. You want me to find some alternate place, yes? Or, even more probable, you already know exactly where you want to go?”

Zant averted his gaze. If Ghirahim didn’t know any better, he’d think it was an expression of guilt. Though, a playful one, like that of a prankster caught in the middle of their schemes. It may as well have been, to a man like him. 

“Do you remember… That ruined little village in the woods?” Zant asked, finally.

“I do.” 

Questions he once would have freely blurted out with a wry smile now refused to move, lodged somewhere in his throat by their barbs. They buzzed in place, instead, like cicadas stuck in their husks. Was there even a single house intact? Would such shabby lodging truly be up to his standards? But to return to such banter, nothing would feel more unnatural. In choosing to remain with this man, his capricious yet determined self was cut off from whatever steered him now. 

So Ghirahim stood and said nothing further; simply stared.

Zant took his silence as a prompt to continue. “I spied one house on the outskirts, I believe, that could at least shelter us until I recover. I was considering our base at Eldin, first, but I do not trust it to be properly deserted. For the time being, if you could take us there…”

“Yes. Fine.” Zant’s words were full of implicit little meanings as usual. Teleport us there. Clear the coast. Bring bandages. Bring bedding. Steal whatever food you think we can use. Take every God-damned thing that you value because we are not coming back. And don’t get caught. 

Once, he thought reading into his every word was a skill, a convenience that made the two of them more efficient than any other pair. How awfully intrusive it felt now! As if Zant, instead, wormed his way into his mind, and commandeered him as he pleased!

Ghirahim’s arms hooked under the fold of Zant’s knees and around his shoulders all the same, cradling the injured man to his chest. To let that line of thought go any further was to suspect a past weakness where he had once seen strength. He thoroughly had enough of those today. To dig any deeper, to realize –

Zant’s head slumped to the side, burying his face in the nape of Ghirahim’s neck. He was burning up. Of all the wounds he’d sustained that day, one of them was bound to fester. Ghirahim supposed he would have to snatch some coriander along the way for a tincture or two, and –

Oh, Hell. 

—

Their arrival at the abandoned town had been uneventful. War was raging on beyond the treeline, miles and miles away, but in this forest, the simple cycle of life and death turned and turned along as though the world had been quiet. Birds rooted around in piles of fallen leaves for their morsels, bucks bellowed for their harems further out in the woods, and rodents hurried for cover, away from these strange new arrivals, as though they’d been the only disturbance for years. It felt thoroughly undeserved. Ghirahim’s life was on fire. It would only have been fair for this place to feel its cinders, too. 

But if everything was judged by his standard of fairness, he never would have left Ganondorf’s side. Zant would have been wearing his usual stupid, blindly loyal smile beside them both, and they would have Hyrule’s ashes stomped to coals beneath their feet. Instead, Ghirahim stood inside the last standing house of this village, surrounded by bare necessities. Zant lay in a makeshift cot, sweating a fever away tucked in the shadows of the room. Finding a spot for him had been a bit of a challenge. The place was littered with uncovered windows and a hole in the roof let in a persistent beam of sunlight even if he managed to fashion some curtains. Ghirahim sat against the wall across the Twili, face buried in the comfort of his favorite cloak. Termites and lichen made their home in the logs pressed against his back – how this place hadn’t collapsed along with the rest of the village, Ghirahim couldn’t say. Zant would probably have some long-winded theory about it all, but if he heard even another squeak out of that man before sundown, he wouldn’t hold himself responsible for whatever happened next.

And night did fall, after hours spent in nothing but solitude. Ghirahim sporadically flitted about the house, passing through like a ghost. Through the windows, the forest’s naked branches clacked in the wind like the dead waving their skeletal arms. One way or the other, he supposed the memory of those he wiped from the face of the earth in Gerudo Desert, sent its regards. But the Desert was far behind them now, their belongings scattered across the floor or bundled up in chests throughout the little house. They would not return. 

Ghirahim sat outside as the sun sank below the treeline, poking at the cinders of a fire pit he’d set up a little ways from their shelter. The night air was a little easier out in the open, without the soft sounds of suffering keeping him so dreadfully on edge. To sit by Zant, with so many accusations to sling at him but no motivation to do so, filled him with such a terrible thunder. He couldn’t stand another minute in there with him. 

Of course, he was enraged at Zant. Somehow, that maniac had managed to deceive a Demon, and, with how Ghirahim so piteously carried him to safety, had gotten away with it, too. It was infuriating, as much as it tore his heart to pieces. They had loved each other then, and though Ghirahim had let it shatter, the shards of this love still remained within him.

Zant meant no harm to him, this he knew. But what the Twili did not seem to get through his thick skull was that in threatening his Master, that threat extended to his most loyal blade. 

What other choice did Ghirahim have, though? He didn’t have the authority to be selfish, but deep inside himself, he cherished that wish, still, to have his true purpose fulfilled in the hands of his Master. Removed so far from Him now, for the first time, Ghirahim confronted his wish head-on. He could not bear dying a second time, without his true purpose fulfilled. So, even if this incarnation of Demise would not wield him, he could at least try to live on, and wait for the next. The only way to safeguard that childish desire now, was to remain hidden away, by Zant’s side.

Plop. Plop. Plop. Something was close to burning in the pot he was tending to. Bubbles rose through the thick liquid and popped into tufts of steam at its tawny surface. He took the pot, but a little rattle behind him urged him to turn before he could return to the cabin. Yet the ruined village around them was quiet, his idle scrying sensing nothing out of place. Dismissing the disturbance as another quirk of his agitation, he kicked a serving of sand over the smoldering ashes of the fire pit and headed back inside.

Zant sat propped up in his bed. His hand was raised to his face in a puckish, half-hearted attempt to conceal that he had been poking at his stitches mere seconds earlier. Ghirahim ignored those silly traits and handed him a bowl.

Raising shaky hands, his scarred ear straining to twitch, Zant took the bowl with surprise. Wide eyes peered inside. “I… Did not know you could cook.”

Ghirahim curled his lip, offended both by his carefree attempt at small-talk and at the underestimation of his abilities. “I am Demon Lord. I hold encyclopedic knowledge spanning thousands of years, and you think I wouldn’t know how to prepare a simple gruel?”

“... Forgive me for inquiring,” Zant mumbled, bringing the bowl to his parched lips. 

A moment of silence passed between them, with Ghirahim again hunched down against the far wall. Sitting there, staring at Zant somewhat struggling to feed himself through tremoring hands and an injured throat, became quickly unbearable. 

Ghirahim was tending to one of his daggers, a leather case full of them beside him, when Zant interrupted their silence again. “I must say, Ghirahim… I did not expect you to want to care for me, as grateful as I am for it. I remain a little jarred.”

Ghirahim furrowed his brows. Rose from his seat, made his way over to the cot and loom over the wicked thing nesting there. “Simple. It would be inconvenient if you died now. I have put everything on the line for you, Zant, and to let you perish from something as simple as a fever would mean I’ve wasted valuable time. I’m a deserter now, thanks to you,” Ghirahim hissed, looking down on him from beside his bed. “Do you understand? You owe me everything.”

Zant for a moment seemed intimidated. A long, spindly form, normally so towering, sat folded in on himself more fragile than a newborn bird. He blinked up at him with his big eyes, before resigning himself to nursing his bowl of food. “I know, Ghirahim. I know. And you shall get it. All in due time…”

That was how Ghirahim spent hours. Days. Cleaning bandages and watching a traitor eat porridge. Oh, Demise Mercy. He must have been defective. The both of them, fools locked in a little hut, each robbed of their sound minds. Back in the Palace, Ghirahim must have knocked the last sense out of Zant when pummeling him for his transgressions, or he would have realized the idiocy of his plans by now. In that same vein, he himself must have had his reasoning beaten out from him with the hammering of steel. Otherwise, he never would have tagged along. The Demon King was not an enemy one could meet in any way other than prostrated, begging for a quick end. Yet here he was, persuaded to betray him, head-on.

This exact line of thought repeated ad nauseum in his mind nigh every hour of every day. Either Ghirahim would hush it with some excuse, or let its flame run its course, quietly, yet viciously, behind dark eyes aimed straight at his conspirator. Today was one such day of well-contained rage, tempered as he tended to the last of Zant’s injuries. Despite the many ills he would wish upon the man in his darkest hours, Zant’s health was indeed improving, leaving only lethargy and persistent pains, both of which motivated his loud complaints. 

And how he cursed this recovery. Every bit of care sparked an affectionate streak in the Twili. Zant spent what little energy he could spare on conveying his gratitude, carefully at first, but growing ever more bold. Ghirahim flinched from his touch in these early hours, until it angered him, swatting his hands away at the slightest provocation. But at the first solid contact, the laying of those pallid fingers on his false skin, he realized he was powerless. 

He had missed it. Ghirahim craved to be touched by him. It was the closest thing to a disease he had ever felt.

There could have been many things that made him stay. It could have been Zant’s bizarre kindness, his devotion, and all their fond memories. But above all, Ghirahim was a Blade. He followed power. Even when laying there, too ill to move, there was a spark of determination in Zant’s eyes. A deep grudge that had rested in smoldering tar until finally ignited, burst into flame deep within the Twili, and would not cease burning until he got what he wanted. Zant had died not once, but twice, and came clawing out his grave with the same deathly resolve each time. Narrowly escaping death a third time, the fire still lit in his soul proved it. There would be nothing stopping that man from taking Hyrule, promised by his expression alone. How horrifyingly familiar it was.

So Ghirahim allowed it. All of it, his affection, his schemes, and his weakness, as Zant lay there shallowly breathing. Even in the chance his comparison was false. His captor, his usurper, had trapped Ghirahim so thoroughly by his side that there was no choice but to remain. And through his efforts, past something so cruel, Ghirahim loved him still. Zant would take everything the Demon King ever had, starting with His blade.

As Ghirahim lamented this, he loomed over him, tugging the stitches out of a freshly sealed scar. Out of all moments, Zant thusly decided to be possessed by another one of his honey-eyed fits. He reached his hand – a little steadier this time, but hesitant, still – to Ghirahim’s face, to trace a thumb along the blemished skin of his cheek.

Only to recoil. Zant tested again, running his thumb along the little dimples left by Darunia’s hammer. “Did I do this, Ghirahim? In convincing you to betray your Master, did I damage you?”

Before Ghirahim could get past his perturbation and respond, Zant looked at him intently. His hand flat on his jaw, Zant spoke gravely. “If I cannot do this without hurting you, I have already failed. You are a collateral I cannot accept. I wouldn’t forgive myself, and, by the Sols, would not expect you to either.” 

Pallid hands found his own. Zant stroked past his fingernails, talons that they were, beneath his gloves. He guided this hand, and pointed its nails at his heart. “Tell me, then, if I am to blame, and, should you wish it, to repay my crime against you… Kill me.”

Ghirahim paused. For a moment, he indulged the thought. He imagined rooting past his ribcage and ripping out whatever strange, beating organ lay beneath. Only to find the appeal fall flat. If he had any cheer in him, he would have had to stifle a laugh at this bizarre request. He must think I’m stupid, he thought. It’s a bluff. He knows I’m in too deep to conspire against him. 

Pathetic, wretched man. Is this the only way he knows how to express love? Empty threats on his own life, gored upon my blade?

“Don’t go on such ridiculous tangents,” Ghirahim said, wrenching his hand free. “It was Darunia.” He turned his back on him, then said no more. 

Silence fell, one of the many unbearable ones they kept on having inside this house. Without looking back once, Ghirahim made for the door.

Zant interrupted him, right as he placed his hand on the door handle. “... Ghirahim, please-”

“Please, what?” Ghirahim snapped, glaring at him over his shoulder. “After everything you’ve already taken from me, you have the nerve to ask any more from me? What could you possibly want?”

Zant startled. “This is what I mean! Do you intend to sit and simmer in silence for the entirety of our cooperation? You are bursting at the seams with unsaid frustrations, and yet, you remain with me. So do us both this favor and hurl whatever you have bottled up in there my way. Clearly, this tension benefits neither of us!”

Ghirahim froze. Did it truly take this many days for Zant to wonder? Was it so inconceivable to him, up until this point, that anger would remain? The urge to snap at him was irresistible. He pushed the small crack in the door he’d pulled open back shut with far more vigor than necessary, and whipped himself around.

“You wish to hear it? Fine. I’m astounded I even have to spell it out for you. Aren’t you so smart? So cunning? You’ve ruined my life!” Ghirahim shouted, stomping his way to the center to the room. “Every chance I’ve had in this war, to build my reputation, to bond myself to my Master, you’ve sabotaged. With your ridiculous plots, your manipulative little distractions. And then, oh so merrily, you lay there on your deathbed and say, you intended to have the one man that matters to me, killed!? What a terrible fate you’ve strung me up with!”

In all technicalities, it was impossible for Ghirahim to run his voice ragged. In his frustration, it still had. His words tumbled out of him moreso than he spoke them, tripping over hitches and bumps on their way out. “By all means, ‘sitting and simmering’ is the most charitable thing I could do to you. I ought to tear you limb from limb and feed you to the pigs!”

Ghirahim heaved breaths through clenched teeth, fast-paced in his rage, but gradually slowing. Before him, Zant looked petrified. How cathartic! To cause him even the slightest fraction of pain, after he himself was hurt so deeply! 

But as much as it soothed him, the sight also fizzled out his drive. Ghirahim knew he couldn’t tear into him forever. So, his hackles going slack, he resigned himself to solemn reasoning. He looked at him bitterly as he spoke. “But I won’t. Because what good would it do me? You’ve made sure every home I ever had in this wretched time is burned to the ground, and every ally, gone with it. You give me no choice but to go along with your schemes. I’m trapped in here with you, so I will act as damned frustrated with the part as I please.”

Throughout his outburst, Zant had cowered, his eyes wide and on the verge of tears. He’d looked hurt, like for once his plans weren’t packing out the way he expected. This changed when Ghirahim’s temper grew calmer – where Ghirahim’s resolve faded, Zant’s grew. His eyes narrowed, his lips drew to a tight line, and his back straightened. Zant looked thoughtfully down at his hands in his lap. “I see. So you think you are blameless in all this?”

“Don’t you dare –”

Zant’s face snapped up towards him, once again freezing him inside that all-consuming gaze. “No, no. Ghirahim, you act as though I’ve forced your hand at every turn through this. I must make one thing crystal clear to you, it seems.”

Zant took a deep breath, his eyes closed, and sighed it back out. His patience gathered, he spoke. “When Ganondorf first summoned me, Ghirahim, I was ready to die. I had been since Cia resurrected me, too. And though I indeed intended to stray from Ganondorf, it was only ever a wishful thought.” His tone grave at first, he soon grew wistful. “Had you not accompanied me, my Blade, and showed me the vastness of this world, I would not have wanted to remain in it. I would have lost myself to a drone-like state and fought to the death without aim, as I had before.”

“And,” Zant said, eyes aimed straight at his core. “Had you not taught me swordsmanship, had you not given me our scimitar, I would not have become as strong as I am now.”

Ghirahim could see it now. The full extent of the trap he’d fallen into. Strings intertwined. Each bound by their wrists, twisted and tangled. Forcing each other closer, and closer, until their laced fingers tied together and soaked red with the blood on their hands.

Zant saw the moment the dots connected behind his eyes. Despicably so, he almost looked smug. “So face it. We have sculpted each other like this, for better or for worse. You chose to return to me. On Death Mountain, in the Temple of Souls, and even after I revealed my deceit to you, you came to me of your own accord. Do not dare blame me for the impulses of your own heart.”

All throughout Zant’s words, Ghirahim felt a storm brewing inside his chest. Thunder threatened, rolled, deep within, until at long last, it snapped free at such simple words. 

“My heart?” Ghirahim scoffed, grit his teeth. The elation of his next words nearly sent him into delirium. He glared at him madly, wearing an incredulous smile. “I do not have one!”

Somehow, a statement of truth evoked instant distress in Zant. His eyes went wide along with the cracking of his temper. Biting his lip, huffing almost childishly through his nostrils, Zant reverted to his old ways with tears beading in his eyes. 

“Why must you always quarrel with me?” Zant whimpered, composure finally gone. “I saw you exploited, in danger, and I took you with me. I cannot deny you your nature as a blade, this I know. B-but even then, all I wanted was to place you in safer hands!”

Ghirahim’s expression, on the other hand, did not change. He folded his arms, his nails digging into his skin even through the cover of his gloves. Fabric nearly creaked beneath his grip, straining at the seams. The stupidity of it all was almost enough to pacify him. Keep him safe? A living weapon, in time of war? Zant was a little boy living in his own reverie. 

Ghirahim was at once disappointed with this spineless response. He sighed. Narrowed his eyes, then growled his next words. “Then you failed.”

Zant bared his teeth, similarly balling his fists. “Perhaps I may have. But in banishing us, Ganondorf, too, forced us into this fate. If it had otherwise meant dooming you to scrap, then my conscience is spotless.”

He felt the corner of his lip twitch with involuntary rage at this. Such a presumptuous face was just begging for a fist to be planted square in the middle of it. Ghirahim wanted to step forward, to grab him by the collar of his nightgown and rattle the mess of his brain some more, but a different part of him begged for him to be reasonable. 

Ghirahim would never get the chance to wrestle past whatever held him back. Before he could set another step, a tremor shook him to a standstill. At once, the gentle, golden rays seeping in through the ceiling cracks turned red. Not the warm vermillion of sundown, but rather, a sickly crimson, stifling every other bit of light like a bloody fog. At once, the woods around them turned dead quiet. Not a leaf dared to rustle. Then, another tremor, rattling the rusty nails in the floorboards and shaking dust loose from the ceiling. At once, Ghirahim felt it. Deep in his soul, a roar and a magnetic pull, urging him to flee the house. Yet, he remained frozen in place.

Zant looked up, peering intently out what little window he could see. He whispered.

“Ganon.”

Ghirahim did not notice when he stepped into Zant’s range, but he must have, because a hand suddenly clasped around his wrist. Zant stared at him intently.

“It’s time. Take us there,” he insisted, clamping on with a tightness a man this frail shouldn’t be able to manage. “Somewhere safe. A vantage point. I must see him perish with my own eyes – I’ll trust no one’s account on it.”

Ghirahim furrowed his brows, revolted, but soon stopped struggling against him. Either way, there was a deep instinctual need that drew him to the battle Ganon now was entangled in. If he dragged Zant along, the man could do very little harm to begin with. But what allured him most, was the thought of leaving him there to be discovered. Zant’s naive drivel had, once again, drawn his ire. The effort Ghirahim had spent in keeping him alive may very well have been a fallacy, should he change his mind now… But to bring him directly before his old Master may very well reinstate his position by Ganondorf’s side. 

And, if he was lucky, in his hands. This was his very last chance. 

—

As they arrived, within a second, Ghirahim saw his last chance slip from him, vanishing into thin air. He had taken Zant with almost suspicious eagerness, situating the both of them atop the cliffs that surrounded Hyrule Field. Stroking a hand through his hair, he propped the man in the shadow of a great tree. Leaning on makeshift crutches as he was, lacking his helmet, he would need to be a semblance of safe. Or at least feel the part. 

But when Ghirahim turned to face the battlefield, to where his Master was bringing chaos to the lands of Hyrule, he lost any hope he had. The source of the ground-shaking pounding of hooves, of the malice-filled roars, was unmistakable. There rampaged Ganon, Demon King, reducing the once-green fields to a barren wasteland under the deep-red skies. He was colossal, resembling the man he knew only by his fiery red mane. Now, he tore through barricades in the form of a boar, with tusks like battering rams and clawed fists decimating men by the dozens just by galloping past. In his wake, keeps had crumbled, monsters had feasted, and a gigantic sword had lodged itself in the most suitable pedestal of all: Hyrule Castle.

Zant limped to the edge of the shadow to stand behind Ghirahim, close enough for him to hear the manic giggle under his breath over the carnage.

“Magnificent, isn’t it? All that power. That is what the Triforce contains.”

It was. He was dazzling, awe-inspiring, enough to bring the demon to his knees, eyes and mouth agape. The world trembled before the Great King of Evil, who had brought ruin to the once-so-grand Hyrule Castle, and swept any resistance aside with a single swing of his hand. But it was also terribly, terribly, wrong.

“... He’s lost his mind. I have seen this before. Ganondorf, as we have known him, is gone. There will be no more negotiations, no more allegiances, and no Kingdom to rule. The Princess must have pushed him over the edge –”

“And he’s taking everything down with him,” Ghirahim finished, the words leaving him in a quiver, like it was the last breath he would ever take. He fell to his knees.

Zant had the gall to snicker. “Oh, but he will not win. He cannot, not if – Ah, there you have it.”

As if struck by some unseen force, Bestial Ganon recoiled. Attacks once focused on the Demon himself now veered to the Colossus Blade lodged in Hyrule Castle, instead. Ghirahim remembered this sword – forged for the hands of Giants, only to be seized by the clutches of Hell, and made into a conduit for the Demon King. If it functioned anything like the one kept in Demise’s palace, it would have served as an amulet, to cast a protective spell over its Master. 

And now, it was being bombarded by a deluge of shimmering arrows, and wicked little birds carrying explosives in their talons. It all pitter-pattered on the midnight steel like prismatic rain, but the shriek of cracking metal was no less foreboding. Though Ganon chased them down, with the arrival of the Rito, all troops were heading for the Castle to reclaim it. Ganon tore through brick and mortar with enough force to crack one of his horns clean off, but it was too late. Launching the demon boar back, the Colossus Sword shattered. Though no less dangerous, Ganon was now vulnerable. 

Ghirahim whipped around to glare at the man behind him. Those eyes looked on the ensuing chaos like nothing was out of place. “You know more than you let on. Spit it out.”

Zant squinted his eyes nearly shut with a wide grin. “Ah, well… It was a gamble on my part, but I confess. Do you remember Chancellor Meherat?”

Ghirahim grimaced at him fiercely enough that no words were necessary to get him to continue.

“I intercepted her in the desert, buried her in a shallow grave. But not before planting a letter on her body, detailing some… Educated guesses, on how he might attempt to conquer the Castle. I’d hoped her traitor-sisters might find the body and give her a proper burial, and I was correct. I’m almost a little taken aback by how well something so brash seems to have worked.”

Ghirahim at once flew back to his feet and lunged at the Twili. He grabbed him fiercely by the tabbard, tugging him down to eye-level with his fangs bared… But past his enraged panting, found he couldn’t force a single word to form. With every anguished bellow behind him, his grip on Zant slackened. He couldn’t bring himself to turn around and look. So he buried his face in the fabric of Zant’s cloak, and let it soak up every tear he spilled. When Zant brought his hand to his back and stroked it softly, he wanted to recoil. He wanted to shake off his wretched affection, sprint down to the battlefield and come to his Master’s aid, but all was hopeless. In this state, Ganon would not even recognize him. Not as his ally, not as his blade. He would shatter him to splinters on the spot.

Ganondorf had broken his promise. Ghirahim would never return to his hand.

So, defeated and ensnared in the Twilight King’s web, Ghirahim gave up. He hid himself from the sight of his dying Master, as the monomaniac he clung to looked on in fiendish delight, nearly drooling at the power he coveted.

Until, as the clamor continued, Zant prodded at him to catch his attention. “Ghirahim,” he hissed. “We have been spotted.”

Mind gone muggy from his despair, Ghirahim sluggishly turned to where Zant urged him. Surely, at a distance, there stood a trio of blue-clad Hyrulean soldiers – two Hylians and a Rito. They were almost mere specks in the yards between them, but certainly eye-locked, nonetheless. 

Zant leaned in, whispering as though they might hear from such a distance. “It is in our best interest that Hyrule believes we are dead. We cannot afford witnesses.”

Ghirahim stared a little longer, but soon the Rito braced himself, flapping his wings to take off in flight. 

“So, what are you waiting for?” Zant chimed, extending his bony hand in the direction of the now-fleeing group. “Go, Yima Gradiegra. Kill.”

Ghirahim hadn’t realized how he’d hungered for such words until the command alone blazed fire within him. Before he’d even registered it in his mind, his feet took off in a sprint. All his fatigue, his listlessness, had disappeared, peopling his mind instead with this newly-acquired purpose. With bloodlust.

Kill. 

The first head rolled. The next drew a sword on him, only to find his blade flying into the dirt and himself skewered in a flash. Downy feathers fluttering down from above reminded Ghirahim of the Rito, who had taken off beyond his reach. With a snap of his fingers, Ghirahim sent a cloud of daggers whistling through the skies and plunging themselves into the plumed flesh of his target. With a squawking scream and a few futile wingbeats, the Rito sank in the air, and plummeted down to the ground. 

Only when he pounced on the already corpse-bound soldier to carve his throat for good measure, did a call of his name snap him out of this droning state. Without even looking back at the carnage he’d left, he winked himself back to Zant, and hid himself in his arms.

“Excellent work, my Blade… You and I, we shall have Hyrule at our feet.”

Those words, those hands stroking his back, encouragingly… Something burned within him and it sickened him. Enough to burrow further in those wretched arms. It was not just the sights of war Ghirahim hid from. Not just the unbearable reality of watching his Master die before him a second – no, third time. Most of all, he hid from the off chance he would meet Ganon’s eye from afar and have him see the spark of delight that lingered there. The shame it would bring to admit he had followed another man’s commands – a mortal, – and found joy in it… It would be far easier, were He to die without knowing of it.

So Ghirahim let Him. In the shadows of the Twili’s cloak, he could see nothing, but the deafening sounds of the clash behind him spoke volumes. An army of demons, falling to the hands of flesh-born men. The mightiest of them all, slain by the powers of light. As he had time, and time, and time again. For once, Ghirahim had the privilege to avert his gaze from his Master’s fall. Though he took it, he regretted it in an instant. 

But this regret did not last long. His eyes snapped wide open when he heard a low rumble, followed by a horridly familiar giggle. A shockwave soon launched the both of them back. Ghirahim, still hidden in Zant’s arms, landed on top of the injured man completely unceremoniously. When he raised himself to see what pushed them back, he came upon clear amber skies of dusk, and Hyrule Field green and spry as if nothing had ever touched it. A crumbled land, bathed in golden light, stretched out before him.

“Ghirahim, my ribs,” groaned the man below him. Though addressed, Ghirahim lingered just a few seconds longer than necessary, before turning to sit beside him. Listlessly, he pulled his knees to his chest.

“Now, I truly cannot go back.”

“No,” said Zant. “But we can start anew, once more.”

Ghirahim deigned to respond. He supposed they would have to. 

So, they returned to that little forest town, as bit by bit, the World returned to normal for the victors. The two of them noticed nothing of these efforts, other than their bond slowly returning, as much as Ghirahim wished to struggle against it. With his last tethers to his True Master now gone, there was little, so, so very little, tying him to the wishes of his past life. Day, after day, Ghirahim’s walls chipped away, allowing that old fondness to peer cheekily at him through the cracks in the mortar. Captive and Keeper, Victim and Tormentor, Blade and Master. Conniver, and Target. Such words he would once have used for their dynamic, but he had no word for what it was melting into. The life they led, sheltered in these woods, defied everything he knew. 

It was bare, it was calm, it was quiet, this one-man sick bay. These days, the most excitement Ghirahim got was the occasional target practice on a woodland bird, that he could then feed to his patient. If they’d wanted, they could have fled, then, a pair of deserters never to be heard from again. But, deceptively, in these moments of peace, Zant was letting his plot simmer. A man like him would never have been content with a simple life. 

Neither was Ghirahim. Not for one minute did he consider this drag of an affair his possible future life. If he could not have Demise, then he would at the very least have vengeance. Now that Ganondorf could not give that to him, he would take it himself. Hyrule would burn for what it did.

Ghirahim dapped a wet rag on the gash by Zant’s forehead. Arterial scabs were stubborn to heal, and on Twili, this seemed to be no different. By all means, there was no reason for him to keep doing this. Zant was able to sit up by himself just fine and had long abandoned his fever. Yet, with so little to do but wait, not even an army below him to amuse himself with, he’d rather care for this fool and feel useful than sit around. When he finished reapplying the bandages, Zant thanked him with a coo and a stroke of his thumb across his cheek. Then, he requested from him his field guide, that strange hobby of his. Though he’d traded calligraphy ink for graphite, Zant was no less eager in his scholarly pursuits and would sit, hunched, working on sketches and descriptions of creatures whose appearances he’d long committed to memory. Ghirahim was thankful for these moments. There were only a few forces in this world that could rip Zant from his concentration now, and he wasn’t up to such nonsense that day. 

So, he did what he would every time the house got quiet. He went for a walk. At first, he would just explore the ruined town at his leisure, perhaps turn over a stone they had missed when they first came here and find anything of intrigue whatsoever. On the third evening, though, far into the woods, he began to hear voices. Whether it was the fairies, or huntsmen, or soldiers looking for the last monstrous hideouts, he was not keen on finding out. What if, upon the sight of him, they would scatter, and spread word of his survival to Hyrule? No, he would much rather ambush them than seek them out. Since then, he’d taken to calling his habit of wandering a patrol.

On the eighth day of his roaming, an unfamiliar sound sent his hair standing on end, and his fingers braced to summon his weapon. It was a rattle; not like the clacking of branches, as he was used to, but like the shaking of an instrument. Hollow… As his eyes scanned his surroundings, he remembered something Zant said, so long ago now. He, too, complained of hearing such a sound at the edge of the woods when Ghirahim himself could perceive no such thing. Did he, somehow, transfer this madness to him?

But madness it was not. For soon, the rattling returned, this time accompanied by a troubled little whine. Then, out from the bushes, a strange creature barely the height of his knees came toddling towards him. It seemed to be entirely made out of wood, with stumpy limbs, antlers like branches, and a painted leaf stuck to it, serving as its face. Once it had confirmed Ghirahim could see it (doubtlessly through his bewildered, and somewhat disgusted look), it spoke.

“ᚺᛁᛏ:ᚾᛖ:ᛊᛁ:ᛊᛈᚱᛖᚲᚨᚾᚨ:ᚹᛁᚦᚱᚨ:ᛃᚢᛉ:ᛁᛏ:ᚷᚱᚨᚢᛏᚨᛉ:ᛒᚱᛖᛊᛏᚨᚾᚨ:ᚾᛖ:ᛚᚨᛁᛒᛁᛃᚨᚾᚨ! ᚠᚢᛚᚷᚨᚾᚨ:ᛗᛖᚲ!”

Of course, Ghirahim understood not a word of what it had just said, but had an idea of what it wanted. It waddled away from him with great urgency, only to turn and jump up and down a few paces later. Ghirahim looked behind him, thinking what would become of Zant, were he too stray too far… Well, if he was spirited away, that wouldn’t matter to him anymore, would it? With his true purpose gone, his sense of caution had also gone almost entirely slack. He decided he didn’t much care for the consequences of following woodland creatures into the thicket. So he just did that, and set off after the panickedly bouncing creature. Every once a while, it hopped high enough to see past the tall grass. Which was a thoughtful, but unnecessary gesture. He had long since set his dowsing to the odd little thing, and could follow it to the ends of the continent if he had to. 

It had already been later in the day when Ghirahim departed their shelter, but the light in the forest grew ever more ochre as he chased after his odd chaperone. They passed through wisps of fog, which were familiar in their chill… For a moment, Ghirahim thought the moment of his disappearance must have arrived, and the soaring sound of wind seemed to agree. Until, with just a few steps, the clouds pulled away at once, and his sight could not have been more clear. The wooden creature guiding him then came to a sudden halt, refusing to go any further. When Ghirahim stopped behind it, it quickly grew anxiously irritated. Squeaking some unintelligible request, it got up behind him and started pushing him in the calves, urging him to go on. Generously, he complied. Less generously, he took offense to this undignified interaction, and promptly kicked the creature off of him. It led out some little cry of pain, tumbled backwards into the brush, and, alive nonetheless, scurried out of sight.

The last stretch the pixie expected him to walk was short, as soon he waded past a juvenile treeline to find a clearing. In the middle of it, hovering above the gnarled stump of a felled tree, was Majora. And, the poor sod it inhabited, slumped over in the air like a marionette at rest. The second Ghirahim stepped closer, though, the puppet came to life. Glowing a deep purple, it shrieked a little, before rapidly jerking its arms to and fro. Having sufficiently awakened, its mask leered down at him.

“Ahh, how nice of you to join meee, Ghi-ra-hi mmm,” spoke the mask, hitching on each vowel like a rusty hinge. Majora’s host convulsed, creaked, its master forcing its head into jittering angles. 

Somewhat unnerved, but unwilling to show it, Ghirahim crossed his arms and managed a pleasant greeting. “Good evening, Great Gluttony. Your vessel is looking a little worse for wear.”

“Yesss-s-s-ss, it is becoming… Too small for me ee e. Crampedddd d. T t t. But it matters not. Not for me, and not for it. W itness me.”

The puppet stopped shivering. Its arms fell limply by its side. Hand by hand, it then began to grasp at its face, feeling around for the edge of the mask. Gloved hands, their talons poking through the fabric, found the opening of the puppet’s jaw and yanked. 

From its open mouth, a claw surfaced. More curled around the rim, one by one, until an entire draconic hand forced itself through the far-too-small opening, and slammed itself into the ground. From this anchoring point, Majora pulled itself out. Wild, iridiscent manes pooled from the defenseless Skull Kid in an avalanche, until from this mass of fur, an armored dragon burst outward. The mask, once stuck to the vessel, now rooted itself to the dragon’s face, leeching into its flesh by pulsing, pink veins.

It bristled and shook. The last of its body wormed itself unnaturally from the beak of its vessel, like a snake shedding its skin. With a single flick of its furred tail, it had completed this metamorphosis, and discarded the Skull Kid against a nearby tree with a thwack. 

Now before Ghirahim, the towering mountain of armor and mane that it was, stood Majora, the spitting image of its former self. Once, it was more massive than this, yet Ghirahim was dwarfed before it. The tips of its horns almost grazed the lower canopy of these infant woods as it sat. Where its colors were muted and meager millennia past, the bright colors of its sealing curse had turned it into a veritable prism. Through the trees, the light of the setting sun enshrined its wispy fur in an infernal halo, leaving Ghirahim imprisoned in its shadow. The Great Gluttony, Arch-Demon of the Timeless Lands, had returned to this realm.

Well, for as long as that mask could keep this form up, at least. It rumbled with satisfaction, shaking out its head to dislodge its fur from its triple set of horns. As it moved, the plates of its armor clanked together like cymbals. Ch-Ch-Chsss!

“Charmed. Anyhow,” said Ghirahim, thoroughly unamused and checking his manicure. “A little woodland sprite hassled me to come pay you a visit.”

Majora grimaced, for as far as a reptilian face could do so. It dropped itself to the ground, folding its claws comfortably. “Messing around with fairies? Have you learned nothing from our last encounter?”

Stepping back slightly from the gnarled purple face leering closely at him, Ghirahim kept his countenance cold. “I’ve learned to spot a trail when I see it. Now, what do you want from me? I’m a very busy man.”

Majora wagged its head side to side almost cheerfully. “Oh, I wanted nothing more than to say my thanks for the little nudge you’ve given me. And, of course, to have you witness my return to glory,” it said and raised its behind. Curving into an arc, Majora stretched out its long-dormant body. “It’s been soooo long since I could properly stretch my legs!”

“I don’t recall doing a single thing for you. But, if it gets you out of my hair, then I most gratefully accept.”

Sitting back down with a gasp, Majora had its eyes wide and grin wry. “You truly must give yourself more credit, your lordship! Had it not been for your oh-so punctual summoning, I wouldn’t have had enough power to feed!”

Majora sat up on its haunches, coloring its words with gestures of its claws. “With the lives you sacrificed in the Desert, I could finally clamp my jaws into a long-desired target. All of Ganondorf’s misery, mine, all mine!”

Standing in the dragon’s shadow, Ghirahim widened his eyes and covered his mouth in shock. But before he could sink into guilt over complicity in his Master’s death, Majora took his expression alone as a cue to keep babbling. “Oh, don’t look so surprised. How else do you think Hyrule returned to peace so quickly? This place would have been a wasteland, had even a drop of his rage been left to simmer. By all means, I’m such a nice little demon! The Hylians should love me.”

Amidst that self-satisfied prattling, Ghirahim could have been gnawing his nails clean off. Had he not accepted Majora’s offer, then it wouldn’t have been able to, ‘eat Ganondorf’s misery,’ as it said. But then, did this contribute to Ganon’s defeat? Had he, by purging Gerudo Valley, ensured that untimely demise? Or was Majora merely a scavenger, picking the scraps off the Demon King’s carcass? 

Could he be certain Zant hadn’t known all this, the second they left those woods, mere months ago?

Nail polish sticking to his teeth, he was quickly snapped out of his thoughts by large, shimmering talons pawing at him. “Ghirahim!! Lookie-look! My little vessel seems to have survived. How quaint!”

Just by the tree where Majora left the little creature, small squeaks and groans emitted from a beaten form. It sat up shakily, patting at itself. Said vessel’s true face was now revealed. It was a featureless, shadowy thing, with two glowing beady eyes and a sparrow’s beak. Soon, that beak burst open, freeing an anguished wail. Unintelligible babbles poured from it, prompting the two distraught fairies beside it to start dragging it to the shrubbery, doubtlessly perturbed by the pair of demons glaring down at them. But being parted from what was once its mask only made the childish thing shriek harder. Nevertheless, the fairies prevailed in their escort, as more and more of them poured from the woods to help pull it away. 

“Poor thing,” tutted Majora, watching along. “It must have gotten attached to me. And who can blame it? Power is alluring, even as it devours you.”

Ghirahim turned, feeling thoroughly addressed, to indeed find Majora looking at him closely. When their eyes met, it flashed its teeth with a grin and got back to its feet, prowling circles around him. Ghirahim felt his hand itching for his blade. Why did he come here unarmed?

“Either way, once more,” Majora purred, teeth still bared past its lips. The marks on its mask coiling, coiling, coiling, in the illusion of its shimmering scales. “I thank you two for your generous assistance. Consider your debt from the Lost Woods… Thoroughly repaid.”

Yet the intimidation display shook Ghirahim none. It could prowl around him all it wanted, he would not be prey. 

“Us two?” Hook, line, and sinker. “So, you were aware of Zant’s intentions, all along? Have you both wound me up in your cahoots behind my back?”

Majora stopped in its tracks, but Ghirahim would be hard-pressed to find even a split second of insecurity in that wicked face. “Cahoots? Oh, I didn’t have to get involved with him whatsoever to know his intentions,” it said. “They were clear as day! But, even though I poked around him a bit… He most likely does not even know I exist.”

So, his two tormentors just so happened to get viciously lucky. Ghirahim didn’t believe a lick of it. Though, the idea of the Arch-Demon breaking past Zant’s mental wards unnoticed… It was as unlikely as it was intriguing.

Guilt turned to contempt in a flash. He now saw Majora as responsible for the death of his beloved Master, rather than a tool that ran haywire under his watch. His apprehension, as such, disappeared just as quickly. Anger scrubbed every courtier’s discretion from him, and returned to him his true foul temper of a Demon. Ghirahim crossed his arms and faced Majora. 

“If you supposedly know everything, surely you can tell me if Zant is hiding anything else from me.”

He very quickly saw that boldness cost him. Majora approached him, placing each claw carefully before the last in an elegant prowl, and burst into laughter once it was right before him. Just then, it braced itself, bristled its fur to become a mountain of shimmering fleece, and hurled itself at him.

Ghirahim yelled out as he was pounced. Had he thought quick enough, he could have summoned his sabre and buried its tip in the pink flesh of its throat, bared as it was when it guffawed at him. But he hadn’t, so pinned between its claws, he stumbled to the floor, and let it loom over him.

“You are getting greedy, imp,” hissed Majora, inches away from his face. The colors in its eyes pulsed with warning. “By all means, I have been generous with my information… Yet you demand more? Knew I not steel to taste terribly…”

“You cannot blame me for trying –”

“I can,” it growled.

Yet in its rage, Ghirahim found his escape. His one hand concealed under the bulk of the dragon’s scaled claw, he snapped his fingers, and promptly disappeared from under its grip. Instantly annoyed, Majora hobbled in a circle, only to find Ghirahim sitting on a branch above just out of its reach.

“Right, then, I suppose I will have to find out some other way,” said Ghirahim, idly swaying his leg over the edge of the branch. “If neither of us have anything else to tell each other, I assume our little parley ends here.”

Majora flexed its talons, for a moment looking as if it would jump up and scuff him. But it narrowed its eyes in a relinquished temper. 

It sat back down. “If that’s how you want to part, fine by me. You’re dismissed, ‘Demon Lord’.”

“Wonderful. I hope to be seeing very little of you, Great Gluttony Majora. Enjoy the new skin. I found mine suited me quite well.”

With another snap of his fingers, he was out of sight of the clearing. He felt like a buzzing in his head finally faded, while he hadn’t even noticed it come on as he spoke with Majora. With a few more paces, it had gone completely. Just as he, Majora had departed. As it did, the forest took just a moment of quiet; held its breath. Then, it sighed collectively, a knee-height plume of fog pouring in through every crack. Above him, at his feet, and every which way, chittering and chirping filled his empty head in gratitude. He supposed, for now, the annoyance of fairies was preferable to the hatred and regret he’d left simmering on the backburner after the encounter of mere moments ago. 

It was time to head back.

Ghirahim shambled back through the treeline. Gossamer fog pulled away from him like a sigh the further he departed from that clearing, the fairies’ cries faded with every step. As luck would have it, he’d let himself be lured into the woods by the Fair Folk, and they hadn’t even had the decency to spirit him away.

Back he went to his house of conspiracy. With that excuse for escape now locked behind him, Ghirahim felt an odd sense of peace. A resigned one, but peace nonetheless. 

Ghirahim neared the edge of the forest, but did not yet surface from it. Through the leaves, the last light of dusk colored his surroundings golden, tree trunks carving big black pillars of shadows all throughout this dying light. These shadows made for a fine hiding spot, but not at all from the man looking for him. It then struck him just how long he must have spent with Majora, even if at the time, it seemed like minutes.

Which meant all the more that he should quit dawdling. Ghirahim stepped through the mouth of the little elephant path he’d followed before and entered the town. 

His King was waiting for him there. Zant sat on a stack of firewood outside the house, staring at the first stars speckling the skies. On his hands, he was idly letting some kind of beetle tromp along his wheeling fingers. He perked up from his thoughts when Ghirahim’s arrival rustled the thicket. The two met eyes.

“Gone for a bit of an evening walk?”

“Indeed. You don’t mind, do you?” Ghirahim scoffed. “Surely, you can manage an hour or two without me?”

Zant smiled, turquoise flashing through the marks of his forehead. “Yes, I can, but I would prefer not to,” he responded, beckoning him over to sit with him. Ghirahim only half-refused, opting to lean against the shack wall behind him, instead. 

With a brief pause, Zant looked over his shoulder to address him. “Right, ah… Listen, Ghirahim. I wish to divulge the next step of my plans with you.”

Ghirahim hummed, cocking his head. “Just about time, I’d say.”

While Zant should have expected snark, he clearly didn’t. A little caught off guard and flustered, he continued. “... Yes, my apologies. I –”

“Oh, please,” interrupted Ghirahim. “I don’t want any excuses. Just tell me.”

Zant nodded sheepishly, then scraped together what little dignity he could. “I will allow myself a few more days of rest, six at the latest. We will reclaim the Triforce of Power first, but we cannot take the Valley with just the two of us. We will need troops.”

So, that’s what he wanted all along. Ghirahim couldn’t even find it in him to be surprised. Perhaps somewhere, he’d hoped that Zant was content with Ganon’s death alone. But, always there was more. His Master and Zant, both, thirsted for Hyrule’s throne. It was to be expected that he would follow through, and, with enemies like theirs… They’d need some seriously hefty tools for the job. Taking the Triforce was the next logical step. 

‘We can start anew,’ indeed… They were back at square one. 

The lack of response made his companion nervous. Somewhat anxiously tapping his foot in the dirt by his seat, Zant continued. “The Bulblin Clans have been loyal to me before, and they are easier to persuade than most. When I have recovered, we will recruit them first thing.”

Eyes cast to the ground, Ghirahim hummed, crossed his arms. So, their little getaway was to end so soon.

Zant shifted in his seat. He looked up at him. “But, in the meantime, Ghirahim, I want to ask you a favor.”

“And what would that be?” Ghirahim asked, tipping his head. Might as well humor him.

“I have been resigned to bedrest for too long, and I fear I have grown sluggish. For both our sakes, Ghirahim, teach me how to wield you again.”

Ah, this was it. Just as he’d predicted, Zant was to break through his walls, and free what part of himself he had so thoroughly kept locked away. Smothered no more, the little dagger that loved him so pressed itself to the gate of its prison, and awaited its opening with bated breath. They would give it what it wanted. The Demon Scimitar was made to be wielded, just as he was. At least a part of him should feel that satisfaction.

So, saying nothing, Ghirahim pulled the Twili to his feet. In doing so, the wobbly creature stumbled into him, squeaking in surprise. That saved him the trouble of pulling him close, he supposed. Hands at his sides, Ghirahim craned his head up to look at him, daring him to act. Zant had wronged him, worse than he thought he ever could. Yet, Ghirahim saved his life, twice over. The least he could do now was show him that he at least had the guts to assert himself. Ghirahim would not lead this dance.

After some deliberation, the wide-eyed gawking of his amber eyes and wiggling fingers on reserved hands, Zant made his move at last. One lanky arm curled around his waist, as it would always do, while the other hovered above his chest. For once, it was Zant avoiding his gaze, not the other way around. All this effort, all this plotting, all these meticulous efforts to secure his usurpation… And now he could not even touch the one he called his lover. He was a fool. A coward. And Ghirahim would not stand for it. So he tested what Majora claimed it had done.

He pierced through that frail, mortal mind at once. Of course, against his Gradiegra, he’d built no wards. Ghirahim seized him firmly by what tethers he could grab, and commanded him.

Look at me.

With a yelp, Zant obeyed at once. And when those glowing eyes found the deep, void pupils of his own, Zant faltered. His hand fell on his chest and the Scimitar was beckoned. Their souls latched together, just like that. Crack, crack, Twilit magic slowly peeling away the skin to his core to lay bare that precious gem. Where he was once apprehensive, Zant quickly became eager. For a powerful blade was just that, and he would chase after such an allure without cease. Even if it meant toying with the heart of the one who mattered most to him. Especially then. But it was not just Ghirahim’s deepest self brought to light – he still had Zant ensnared, like fingers wrapping around his throat. As his questing magic lapped at the edges between them, Ghirahim saw every inch of him. Through his mind, through his hands, and through his eyes, so close to him now.

So was the truth to be revealed. Zant had not changed. After parting his veil of lies, Ghirahim expected to find a completely different man hiding behind. But he did not. All that had changed was the light he saw him in. And how dazzling it was, pointing at his every nook and cranny, bright as day! He’d torn him open, baring every ugly rotten part of him, that stabbed and plotted and hated, so, so deeply, sticking out from his flesh like hooks to gutted fish. And yet, amidst all now in plain sight, Zant’s eyes looked at him that very same way. A laughably simple plea for affection glinted in the wetness of his eyes. Somehow, even when orchestrating a grander scheme than Ghirahim could even dream of doing, a deathly weapon within reach, Zant could think to wish for his companionship – No, to strive for it, to hold it tight and make it his own. As if it could be of any importance, as if Ghirahim cared, as if he expected him to simply forgive him overnight. All just because he loved him.

They were the same, in this way. They’d ripped each other apart and sat panting across each other, hands drenched in each others’ deepest parts. In this idiotic, violent act, the borders between them had blurred and slurried together.

Oh, how they were the same. And how gently Zant traced his fingers along the measly wall that kept them separate. Hoping, perhaps, that a tender touch now might ease the violence that would come later. It would not, but the sentimentality of it all would bring mirth to even this demon. Nevertheless, Ghirahim groped his wrist, dragging him along to place his hand square on his chest. Ghirahim then wished nothing more than to be breached. To return the favor, to mend what was broken. The gentle flutter of eyelashes and Zant’s shaky breath tickling his skin made the wait unbearable. All at once, the heat in his body gathered in his chest, and its surface cracked. His core was within view, within touch. Enter me. Let us blur together some more.

So, Zant’s fingers slipped past him. Dodging his sharpest facets, and plunging directly into the molten heat of his core, Zant made his way to that promised hilt. And as his hand drew closer to its goal, so too did their bodies draw together. They hid in each other, their faces buried into the napes of each others’ necks. Like this, Ghirahim could feel every wince, every drop of sweat from that awful Twili, who struggled through his endurance to keep his hand in the blazing heat of his chest. Ghirahim smiled a wicked smile, and at last, embraced the man who tried so hard for him.

“By the eighteen Hells, I hate you,” Ghirahim hissed. But how I missed this love. 

“Then, forged by the fires of those Hells, and your burning hatred, Yima Oibede, let me draw our blade.”

Ghirahim laughed in mockery. Yet, all the same, he jut his chest forward, and in doing so, pushed the pommel of the blade he’d hidden into Zant’s hand. Such tenderness had earned him this gift; embraced as he was, with each engrossed in nothing but the other. For a sword was equally made to be held, as it was made to kill. 

Spindly fingers finally dared to curl around the grip of him. But when Zant tugged, he found it stuck. Once again, the blade was incomplete – after such a betrayal, the image of their bond had irrevocably changed. So, the little dagger that embodied it had to change, too. This time, when the blade sapped Zant of his strength, he did not yelp, he did not even flinch. Readily, he poured his magic into it, and let its threads be woven into a truly wicked sword.

Ghirahim hated it. He wanted that composure shattered and he wanted it fast. So he sunk his teeth into the tender flesh of Zant’s neck and let him squirm. And, though indeed, his reaction was as delicious as the taste of his blood, it only lasted so long. Zant, driven by what could only be instinct, snarled with bared teeth and bit him back. Like two wild dogs entangled in strife, they took from each other, one pulling at shards of the soul, and the other savoring drops of blood. Ghirahim let ichor leave him past the holes left in him by needle teeth, and Zant lapped it up, even if by all means, it could poison him. 

Zant whined at him through black-stained lips. “Ghirahim-ili… How I’ve longed to rule with you by my side.” 

With that promise, Zant freed the blade with one last tug. It burst from him, spurting an arc of white-hot liquid metal in its trail as Zant held it by their side. The Demon Scimitar has returned to his hand, once wicked but now gnarled, black and red in hatred and the love of a bleeding heart. Even with this blade in his hand, as instrumental a key it was in his plans, Zant never took his eyes off the scabbard in his arms.

When they kissed, it was like lightning. Fierce, shocking, and above all, bold, serving to release their bottled-up affections and frustrations both. With the taste of iron on their lips, they sealed their blood pact in this way. A promise of carnal pleasure, turbulent love, and of course, with blade in hand… The violent glory of battle. 

When they parted, neither of them could say how long they’d stood there in lip-lock, though the smearing of blood and cosmetics gave them an idea. 

Now, Zant stepped back, his arm still loosely resting on Ghirahim’s waist. He finally took the time to survey the changes to their blade. A grin stretched across his face… He likely didn’t even notice it did.

“Beautiful, Ghirahim-ili,” he said, turning it in his hand to drink in every angle. “I would go to war with no other blade.”

Ghirahim slipped from his embrace and laughed. “Then prove it. Let’s fight.”

Ghirahim drew his own blade, one simple and heavy. He did not have the concentration to summon anything more thoughtful, for his core hummed and buzzed far too erratically to let him even think of a careful choice. The man whose hands just plunged into his soul and pulled out his own piece stood before him… With his stance too wide and his arms wobbling. Where Ghirahim wanted to again spiral into conflict and despair, he now puffed out a laugh. 

“Last time I struck you in the chin for such sloppy stancework, Zant, but I’m a little hesitant to do so, without your helmet to guard you.”

Zant grinned. “I don’t think you’re hesitant at all.”

“You’re right,” Ghirahim chimed. At once, he launched for him. Zant flinched, but did not falter, swinging upwards to catch the offending blade on his fingerguard. Of course, Ghirahim didn’t fight him with all his vigor… They were only practicing, after all, and Zant was recovering from the brink of death, still. But every few swings, he found he could hit harder than he anticipated. Only once did Zant’s hands shake enough for their clings to slip, and land him a painful jab to the wards in his armpit. He was still just as careful, as analytical, and as fierce as he was before his bed-ridding… Taking advantage of the new, thorny shapes jutting from the Demon Scimitar, he flicked Ghirahim’s swing off course. 

When Ghirahim was then struck, he stumbled, and realized how he’d been tricked. 

“ ‘Teach me how to wield you again’ ? What an awful excuse! You remember what I’ve taught you just fine,” Ghirahim grimaced, poorly masking a grin with fake rage as he brought the flat of his blade down on Zant’s shoulder. “Deceitful fiend! You baited me.”

“Indeed, I teased you,” Zant whistled through gritted teeth, prying the both of them apart through the locking of their swords. “But I could use the refresher.”

They trained for what felt like hours – not from dull exhaustion, but because the minutes melted away as they clashed their blades under the setting sun. Zant’s joy was infectious – or was it he who had started laughing? – and soon, they chased each other in a true mockery of swordsmanship. They then cared not what bruised or what tore. All that mattered was this dance.

Inbetween manic giggles, Zant reeled him in with glee. “Don’t you feel it, Ghirahim-hasir? The thrill of sparring again? Day, after day, how I’ve longed for this!”

Ghirahim could have berated him then, for having dared dream of such childish things while bringing him such suffering. But to reject this shared joy now, nothing could feel more unnatural. So, he went for the next best thing: a swordmaster’s scolding. He had been merciful with Zant’s sloppy mistakes up until then, but no longer. Whacking right into the Scimitar’s sharp edge, he trapped Zant’s blade in his and wrenched it from his hands with one sweep of his arms. With nothing left to protect him, Zant flinched, staying perfectly in place to then be kicked square in the chest and knocked to the ground.

Sword planted firmly in the soil right beside Zant’s face, Ghirahim stepped over him, one foot at each side of his chest, and leered down. “Then, you ought to long for tomorrow, too, Twilight King. You’re getting rusty.”

Blinking up at him and panting, Zant was frozen in place from his startle and exhaustion. A drop of ichor falling on his cheek thawed him out quickly enough. His fingers curling around his victor’s blade, he smiled.

–

And so, six days went by, with Zant retiring from his bedrest and taking up their blade once more. Before the sun rose, Ghirahim was shaken from a daze to find the bed next to him empty. Stood waiting at the window, eyes wide and staring miles ahead of himself, was Zant. The day to recruit their soldiers had arrived.

They joined hands. Zant knew just where the Bulblins would be that season, and could warp the both of them there, without Ghirahim’s assistance. Since the event of Ganon’s death, Zant had recovered almost to the point of being his old self, if one ignored the gray hairs, the scars, and the dent along his jaw. Magic flowed through his veins once again – if Ghirahim had to hazard a guess, he must have been conservative with it before, not wanting to draw the attention of their Master. He wondered, idly, if sharing a piece of the same Triforce came with a bond he could not have had. Ghirahim shut this line of thought, very quickly, before he could vie for the attention of a dead man all too severely.

They arrived at the outskirts of the Bulblin settlement shortly, just as the sun began to set behind the dry grass. The expanse colored ochre in the light of dusk, almost bloodstained, to cast the camp in a similar light. It was a tall-fenced enclosure, with only some shacks on the outside for the occasional pastoralists… Who were now glaring at them with great scrutiny. Upon wandering a smidge too close to the gate, a small troupe of guards marched up to halt them. Only to then, where they’d been blinded by the sun before, realize who stood before them, and sent one of their numbers to inform the Earl post-haste.

Led through the sea of tents and cabins, they arrived at a large, black, goat-hair tent at the nexus of the settlement. Inside, they found – eyes led to the center by racks upon racks of ornamental weaponry and tapestries – the Bulblin Earl, Lord Hallra, seated upon a wooden throne, and surrounded by smaller blins. 

Upon their entry, Lord Hallra laughed, his arms spread and clutching a massive axe in his right hand. “Shadow Lord Zant,” he shouted, beckoning them to approach. “What a surprise. Word had it you’re dead. Or has your Master resurrected you once more?”

Zant bowed his head, just to be polite. Ghirahim did no such thing. “No, Lord Hallra. I am alive and well. And, here today, of my own accord.”

The Earl leaned forward, his elbow resting on his knee. He wore a cheeky grin. “Then, I take it that you need something from me.”

“Indeed I do,” said Zant, prompted to continue by a gesture of Lord Hallra’s meaty hand. “Your hospitality is much appreciated, Your Excellency, and assures me that our favor with you has not yet faded. I will keep it short. As soon as our forces are ready, I will march for the Valley of Seers. To do this, I need soldiers. Your clans happen to be the finest that I know.”

Flattery. How bold. Ghirahim decided to sit this one out – he had very little to do with the brutes around them, as interested as they seemed to be in him. Doubtlessly, the smaller Bulblins peeking at him through the spear racks were making plans to make some room for him in the armory. 

Lord Hallra, meanwhile, rumbled thoughtfully and sank back into his chair. He ruminated on the offer for a frustratingly long time. Finally, he shook his head, rattling the decorations on his horned helmet. 

“My people have sworn ourselves to you before, Shadow Lord. You are strong, I know this, but we have already pledged our allegiance to Ganondorf before. By all means, he was your superior, and still he failed. I see no reason to join forces with you again.”

Such words were poison to Zant, made vile by the mentioning of his former Master. Zant recoiled accordingly but did not back down. “Ganondorf was a fool, and so was I, when I followed him the first time. He was under the impression that he could rule alone, abandoning those who served him to keep his throne of ashes to himself. He did so in the Age of Twilight, and he would have done so again. My usurpation of Hyrule now will be very different from back then. I will not settle for a mere piece of the Triforce. This time, we will claim all of its power in full, for our own.”

Though he seemed ready to have the two dismissed just seconds before, Lord Hallra sat back in his throne, scratching at his beard with intrigue. “Curious, then, how you didn’t attempt taking it before.”

“Back then I did not know I could. The Triforce will only settle in the palms of those with its birthright. Unless you know how to tear it from them.”

“Hah! I don’t suppose you can simply tell me?”

Just then, Zant exchanged a glance with Ghirahim. They at once spotted a weakness in Lord Hallra’s otherwise powerful stature. An obvious fracture to Ghirahim, but seemingly, just as clear to his companion. Zant was a demon in this way. A desire – and if the Earl had something to wish for, so did the Twilight King have a bargaining chip.

Naturally, Zant sunk his teeth into the opportunity with a smile and amicably raised hands. “You spoke of our allegiance before. Centuries past for you, and mere months ago for me. I remember it clearly. Particularly, how you abandoned your bond to me when Hyrule’s Hero bested you in battle.”

At the first sign of a frown from Lord Hallra, Zant stepped closer. Sand puffed up from the tapestry below his brass slipper. “The Bulblins are an honorable people. You follow the strongest. With Hyrule’s victory over Ganondorf, I do suppose that would make Queen Zelda your superior, but I know neither of you would fancy such an alliance. Instead, I propose the following.”

Reaching behind him, Zant took the hand of his Sword without having to look for him. He held him as if escorting him to a dance, feather-light. “Lord Hallra, I challenge you to a duel. If I am the victor, the Bulblins will serve me with their numbers in overtaking the Valley of Seers once more. Should you win, I will surrender, and with it, bestow the knowledge upon you that shall lead you to the Triforce. It will be yours to command, and yours alone.”

As Zant spoke, the pudge of Lord Hallra’s cheeks dented more and more under the force of his knuckles as he leaned his face upon them. With that last sentence, a spark of greed lit in his eyes and raised his brows – the bane of all Men. “... Hah! You pillock. Ganondorf would never have proposed such a promising offer.”

Zant’s smile did not even twitch. Slowly raising his hand, he led Ghirahim closer. “Did I not tell you my rule would be very different?”

With a chuckle, the Earl lowered his eyes, hiding his gaze behind wrinkled lids and plucky lashes, like straw stuck into his skin. He leaned into the whispers of a Blin beside him, nodding all the while, until so boldly, he grinned widely, and defiantly shook his head. His hand firmly clutched his armrest. He sat up and boomed his answer. “Aye, that you did. Very well. I accept your terms!”

As the sun set, torches lit around the camp. Zant fitted himself in his form-fitting armor and plates beneath his robes, though his helmet remained as absent as it had been. The Earl’s squires, in the meantime, clad him in chainmail, helmet, and banners, every splinter of metal glittering in the flickering light.

In this almost companionable silence, Zant drew the ire of every bulblin in the room, and lightly addressed his fellow duelist. “I must ask for reassurance, Lord Hallra. For the sake of your people, I hope you have procured some heirs.”

Lord Hallra’s eyes remained ever hostile, until the weight of Zant’s words hit him. Jagged teeth bared, he erupted into gut-shaking laughter, pounding the staff of his axe on the ground beside his throne. His underlings burst out in a heckling chortle beside him.

“Shadow Lord. I have lived to see fifty-three monsoons, and in this time, taken four wives. You tell me if you think I have heirs.” Creaking his chair, he leaned forward with a mocking grimace. “Do you?”

“Oh, I do not expect to need them,” Zant waved him off. With a single tug, he pulled his Demon into his arms, one hand bracing on his shoulder. “Ghirahim, our blade, if you will.”

So was the Demon Scimitar drawn. Their entourage was led behind the Earl’s throne room to an open-air battlefield. At the sight of their leader, clad in steel and axe in hand, clamor burst out throughout the camp. Every blin and mount, be they green, red, or magenta, just about plastered themselves to the fence to watch the battle unfold. All were eager to witness their leader off another poser. His people were confident in him and cheered thrice as loud, wishing him his fortunes in defeating their former lieutenant.

And, truth to be told, Lord Hallra was formidable. Decades of pure, honed strength jettisoned his every swing. The massive axe flew through the air, never losing its edge no matter how hard he cleaved it into the dirt. More and more of their arena was destroyed, both men leaving decimation in their wake. The Earl pushed Zant off of him with shoves of his axe handle, or kicks of his feet, or swings of his horns. Against anyone, man or beast, Lord Hallra would fall to no weapon.

Had his opponent not been Zant. Ghirahim could see it in his floaty gait – he was simply stretching time, perhaps to allow this washed-up senior his last moments of glory in front of his people. But when Zant drew his blade; truly drew it, with killing intent palpable enough for Ghirahim to feel it in his soul, it was over in seconds. Shadows trailed Zant as he burst forward, then assailed the Bulblin General from all angles in wicked tendrils. One slice of the Demon Scimitar, and the first of Lord Hallra’s armor was torn through like paper. A second swing, and yellowed fat tissue pooled free from a blood-drenched wound. Before the third could land, the hammer-end of the axe crunched into Zant’s upper arm, but it wasn’t enough to save Hallra’s life.

A flash of darkness. A splatter, a deafening silence from the crowd. Zant limped to the severed head now on the floor and raised it before his army. Their contract was sealed.

[sommerregenjuniluft]

@hpsaffics feb 5 - flowers & chocolate - 1k words - cw: mentioned oral sex at the end

aka beautiful, happy, older wifeys <3

When Sirius opens the front door it’s to the smell and sounds of cooking. Garlic heavy in the air, curry and spice. Lentils, fresh rosemary, the radio chiming in the background and Remus’ voice humming along sweetly as she presumably shuffles around.

Sirius smiles to herself as she slips out of her loafers and makes her way farther into the cottage barefooted, the old hardwood floor warm under the soles of her aching feet. She should have gone to yoga with Remus on Sunday instead of taking a four hour hike with Harry and the dogs. She’s not in her late bloody twenties anymore as opposed to her godson. But alas, the things you do for love, right?

It’s pleasantly warm inside, air crispy with oxygen but mellow warm from the afternoon sunshine beaming in through their old windows. The plastic is crinkling in Sirius’ palms as she saunters down the hallway, the chocolate and flowers she picked up on the way back from work and Sirius smile widens in anticipation of presenting the gift to her wife.

She presses her lips together, deliberately keeping quiet so that she can peek around the doorframe first and take her love in as Remus thinks she’s still home by herself. Well, apart from Macy and Squash, of course, which Sirius already greeted outside when they spinted down the front yard to welcome her, tails wagging in elation.

Sirius is careful to lean around the edge slowly so as not to attract any attention by the sudden movement and immediately her heart does a little spin inside her ribcage. Feels a little fuller, possibly overflowing with adoration.

Remus has her hair pulled back into a low, lazy bun, a smaller strand at the front has slipped out and it gleaming golden grey in the sunlight streaming in from behind her. Her lips are pursed and her head is bobbing lightly to the music—fucking precious. Only clad in a form fitting black halter top, tied into a loop at the back of her neck and a pair of bulky linen shorts that could be mistaken for striped boxers at first glance but Sirius knows better. Knows they’re soft from wear and comfortable but still something nicer, something Remus would categorise as ‘chic’. Sirius looks again, closer, and notices the gleam of something bright red and lacy under the pants that make the corners of her grin tug into something sharper. Make her want to fall into giddy giggles and pull Remus into her and kiss her breathless. There’s no bra—Remus doesn’t do those and Sirius is all the happier for it, blessed with easy access for a lifetime—the nipples of Remus’ big breasts visible through the sheer cotton top and Sirius’ mouth waters as she gapes at the freckles trailing over the round skin and down her wife’s cleavage like some pervert. Well, she thinks she’s earned the right to ogle like that after 30 plus years though.

It doesn’t take much more incentive for Sirius to step out of her hiding spot, “Moony, sweets, aren’t you just the most gorgeous thing to ever grace this planet.”

Remus looks up from her cooking, eyes rolling and lips pulling into a smile despite herself. Sirius thinks it’s cute that she still tries to make Sirius believe she’s not swooning at her antics every single time without fail.

Her wife lays down the cooking spoon and meets her halfway unhurriedly, laugh lines wrinkling her eyes and then her hands come up to pull Sirius into a kiss by the cheeks. Her own hand snakes around to the small of Remus’ back, tugging her close and then there’s a happy hum. Lips not quite open but not closed either and it has a bit of a wet smack to it when they pull apart—it makes Sirius irrationally ecstatic and she beams at her wife toothily.

Remus snorts, bumping their noses, “What have you done now, Black?”

Sirius shakes her head in faux disappointment, “Lupin-Black, my love, you should remember by now! It’s nearly our 20 year anniversary.”

Remus pokes her in the side with a rigid index finger and Sirius squirms, snickering. Bony fingers drive through the short, black curls on Sirius’ head, blunt nails scratching over her skull and eliciting a shiver from Sirius that she feels als the way down into her toes.

She sighs and Remus kisses her again before she nods over Sirius’ shoulder, “What’cha got there, baby?”

“This?” Sirius purposely rustles the plastic, “Oh, just a little gift for the most wonderful, breathtaking, awestrucking, fascinating—”

“A-huh.”

“—spectacular, terrific—”

“Oh, wow.”

“ —kind, beautiful, incredible—

“Laying it on thick.”

“—smart, stunning—”

“Oh, we’re not done yet. Got it.”

Sirius sucks in a breath,  “—magnificent, mind-boggling woman in the world.”

Remus nods along in mock-indulgence but Sirius can see the blush crawling into the freckled apples of her cheeks. Makes her want to take a bite out of her.

Instead, she gives her one more quick peck and then extracts herself from her and steps back to hold out the Lindt pralines and colourful mix of tulips.

A precious smile pulls onto Remus’ rosy mouth, blinking at Sirius through her lashes and voice low when she mumbles, “Thank you so much, baby. I love them.”

She places the gift on the kitchen counter next to them and pulls Sirius into another kiss, thumbs caressing her cheeks. Sirius feels like she could do another 4 hour hike right now, high on endorphins and adrenaline.

When she pulls back Sirius feels a little hazy in the best way and the way only Remus can make her feel. Her wife cocks a brow at her, palms sliding down to settle against her waist, “You already saw the panties, didn’t you?”

Sirius blinks, lips stretching into another grin, “Yup.”

Remus scrunches her nose at her in a childish manner and Sirius laughs.

“So are we having dinner first or can I take the free time slot to eat you out?”

Remus bites onto her bottom lip, long lines in her cheeks from smiling, “It’s gotta simmer for about thirty.”

“Perfect,” Sirius winks and then tugs her in the direction of the living room for the sofa.

[beneathsilverstars]

What kind of pet (if at all) does each party member prefer? Either the idea of owning one or actually having one

Siffrin could get attached to anything. You could put an ant in a jar and he would go to the library to look up what ants eat, like yes they eat anything you leave out but what are they supposed to eat how much of what oh stars what if he forgets to feed it maybe he should just let it go but what if it's already too far from home and it would die without its ant family?? But anyway, they'd love any pet, but a snuggly mammal would be best for them. I think a couple rats would be cute... Imagine a rat peaking out of the high neck of his cloak! He could build them little obstacle courses and teach them little tricks! Or they could have a cat that sits on their chest at night and purrs, or a dog that licks their face their morning... But they wouldn't get any pet until they had a home to share with it.

Mirabelle gets a bunny!! I just think she would like them. Afaik they're a lot of work, but not like too hard as long as you're willing to do that work..? And she's a very hard worker!! She definitely wouldn't commit unless she can commit, though, and rabbits need a lot of space and a lot of rabbit-proofed space, so it depends what her life is like... but let's say she had a bunny as a kid! Her parents did most of the taking care of it though, because everyone knows that when a young child asks for a pet they don't actually understand the work involved, so you can't expect them to do it reliably. Better to just do it all themselves in the first place than risk Mirabelle forgetting something important! Someday Mira will feel confident enough in herself to get her own pet as an adult...

Isabeau is obviously a dog guy, he gives off friendly dog energy on purpose, and he would love the excuse/company to go on a morning run and throw a frisbee at the park. I think either his family always had at least two dogs at a time, or someone was allergic so no dogs allowed and it made him sooo sad. Hm.. Let's go with, yes dogs, but Isabeau wasn't allowed to get one personally because there was already enough of them in the house, but he really loved an older sibling's dog, but then they moved out and took that dog with them, and then he wasn't even allowed to get a dog then because a younger sibling got priority bc she's younger and you're so old now Isabeau, don't be jealous, your sister has been begging for a dog for months and months, well yes I believe you that you asked for one three years ago but how was I supposed to remember that? And then he was busy with defender training, and working odd shifts, and his place in the city was kind of cramped... But! Someday! He will get his dog!!

Odile is definitely a cat person. Cats are perfect for having a little company when you don't want actual company! I don't know if she loves them enough to actually get one – litter boxes are a pain – but if she was gonna get a pet it would 95% sure be a cat. (The other 5% chance is a reptile.) Maybe she assumed she would get one after she came back to Ka Bue, done with her traveling and no family left. But now she has a whole new family! Probably still wouldn't say no to a cat if one came into her life, though.

Bonnie wants a wolf, except you can't do that, so a husky would be good enough they guess. Or maybe a snake!!! Or a hissing cockroach. Or a big old fluffy cat, or like ten hamsters, or a turtle. A turtle would be awesome. But maybe not as awesome as a parrot that they can teach to say rude words. Or a monkey, sometimes people have monkeys as pets, right? Or fish, a whole bunch of them! Nille is not super thrilled at the idea of having another creature to take care of, but would probably eventually allow a dog or a turtle or maybe a couple chickens.

Loop leans a little more towards dogs I think, as opposed to Siffrin who leans a little more towards cats. Assuming a post-canon scenario where Loop is wandering on their own, I think it would be nice if they found a lonely stray dog to wander with them!