Mephistopheles shut their diary in one hand with a "snap", and rushed off as fast as he could. His steps mixed with the rapid clacking of his cane, and his old injury screamed at him, but that didn't matter right now.
He had to find them. To set the record straight.
But what exactly was the truth? Wasn't his whole reason for snooping because he disliked them? Hadn't he been trying to unearth dirt on them? To write a scathing piece in the R.A.D. Times on? To sully their reputation, and prove they weren't as honest as they appeared to be?
Stupid.
They always told him the truth. He had tried time and again to catch them in a lie, but he never could. They never lied. Even when they knew what they said could be misconstrued, or twisted against them, they always spoke the truth. Their truth.
Why would their diary be any different?
He was so stupid.
It was one of the things he liked about them. But if he disliked them, why would he like something, anything about them?
Why would it hurt that they thought he hated them?
He liked a lot of things about them. Their honesty. Their quick, yet cutting, wit. Their ability to get in and out of the most frustrating and precarious of situations, always with a new story to tell. Their humor. Their laugh.
He liked them, damnit, so why did they think he hated them? Why did he think he hated them?
He gritted his teeth, and clutched their diary tighter in his free hand.
God above and Demon Lord below, he was so stupid.
He turned a corner, and found them exactly where he knew they would be. He had, after all, had to plan for the optimal time to go looking through their most personal of belongings, and it'd be a rookie mistake to not know where your target was at the time of infiltration.
The human exchange student was alone, after class, at a table outside of the school. They were packing up after working on their homework for exactly 58 minutes, so they could make the late bus that left exactly an hour after school. Something he had planned meticulously for.
Too bad all of that planning had gone out the window. (Which was, ironically, how he had planned to make his daring escape.)
He approached them as they were placing their books in their bag, not yet noticing him.
"How dare you write such accusations!" is probably not the best thing to shout at someone while holding their diary.
Which is why Mephistopheles preferred the written word. Preferably, articles. Then, he could go back and forth and rewrite anything that came out too harshly or just plain wrong. Here? Oh no. He couldn't backspace a single letter from what he said here.
They looked up, bewildered.
And then he saw it. The dawning realization that in his left hand he held their diary, replaced quickly by the shock and betrayal that he had alluded to having read it.
It was like they had frozen in front of him, yet he was the one who felt cold from his own thoughtless actions.
Had he mentioned how stupid he was? Because he really was quite stupid.
"Why do you have that?" They asked him, their voice low and serious.
"I-! Well-!" He spluttered, unable to think of a perfectly valid excuse for breaking in to their house, their room, and their locked and magically-enchanted diary.
"You know me! I'm an investigator! And I must investigate you!"
They stared at him, then at their diary, still clutched firmly in his hand.
"Give it back."
Mephistopheles blinked at their outstretched hand, processing, for a moment too long, what they had requested of him.
They made a grabbing motion.
"Oh-" he finally realized, quickly dropping their diary back into their palm.
They packed it in their bag with the rest of their books, silently, as Mephistopheles watched.
"We- we really must talk!" He managed at last, stumbling on his words.
Their head snapped up, and the glare they threw his way he would've sworn gave him physical damage. Even Lucifer, king of the death glare, would have quaked in his stupid fancy shoes.
"What's. There. To. Talk. About?" They asked him, enunciating each word carefully.
"About what you wrote-"
"-You mean my private thoughts?" They cut him off. "You mean my private thoughts that you violated? That you read without my permission? That I wrote so I wouldn't have them running around my head? So that I wouldn't speak them out loud? Those?"
He winced.
This was not going well.
And he was probably digging his own grave.
Which he assumed they would then dance on.
And then they'd probably raise him from the dead, just to kill him and dance on it again.
But still...
He had to know.
No matter what, he had to know.
"...Do you really think I hate you...?"
They stared at him, as if he was completely stupid. (A sentiment he was really truly beginning to agree with.)
"Why would I lie to my diary? Of course I do. What other proof do I need after this stunt you just pulled?"
Ouch. That one stung a little.
Ok, a lot.
"Then, what about the other things you wrote about me?"
They held his gaze for a moment, before looking down at the table, quiet.
"...What does it matter?" They asked bitterly, sadness tinging the edges of their words as they avoided eye contact with him.
He approached the table from the other side, placing his white-gloved hands on it's filthy surface, leaning forward to try to catch their gaze.
"It matters a lot." He said gently, reaching out cautiously to their face to comfort then, or at the very least get them to look up at him once again.
"At least, to me it does." He withdrew, suddenly anxious his touch was unwelcome. "Because I don't hate you. In fact, I've come to enjoy your company."
The human's face shot up once more, their eyes wide, searching his own meticulously for any trace of sarcasm or untruthfulness.
"What?"
He felt his heart thud in his chest when their eyes locked with his. He hadn't even meant to say that last part, it had just come out of his mouth without thought, but now, he was forced to address it. He was forced to confront his feelings about them. Or, rather, his feelings for them.
Why hadn't he noticed it before? Had it happened too slowly for him to perceive the changes? Had all of their late night "investigations" into Lucifer and even later night editing sessions together caused them to rub off on him? All of the teasing they did of each other? The back-and-forth quips they exchanged as if they were playing tennis? The compliments veiled as insults? The insults veiled as compliments? Had they completely flipped his opinion of them without him even knowing?
Or had it happened all at once, when he had read confession note after confession note in their diary, crossed out and marked up and edited, not unlike how he wrote his articles, and felt his chest swell with each word? Each little thing they claimed to admire in him? Each piece of evidence that showed how much effort they had put into trying to make everything perfect? Had he been swayed in that instant, convinced, finally, that they weren't always nearby just to be a thorn in his side?
They stared at him expectantly.
"I- I..."
He suddenly couldn't find the words.
Well, that was a first. He almost laughed out loud at the ludicrousness of it. Him. At a loss for words. The very idea had never crossed his mind before. Sure, he had sometimes had to look up different ways to get his point across more eloquently, his thesaurus was sometimes his best friend, but he had never been so completely devoid of words before.
He pursed his lips, dumbfounded.
"Mephistopheles...?"
They managed to shake him out of his reverie, their voice gentle, and quieter than he had ever heard it before.
Their voice. He really liked their voice. When had that happened? They had just said his name. His full name, with their clumsy, human voice. He was supposed to hate human voices. They tended to trip over his name. But this one didn't. Why didn't they? Had they practiced? They must have. But why would they? Why had it mattered to them? After everything he had put them through, why did they even bother giving him the time of day, much less recite his name over and over to themself until they got it right?
His hands, seemingly of their own accord, drifted to their face once more.
The human, a flustered expression plastered to thdid own face, could only splutter as he brought his forehead to theirs.
"What I mean..." Mephistopheles stated, so close now to them he felt he his heart might burst, "...is this."
The last thing he saw before closing his eyes and locking his lips with theirs, was a look of pure wonder.
He burned it into his memory forever.
It was like he was desperate; the second he had given in and kissed them, he couldn't get enough. But the way they was responding to him, it seemed as if they felt the same. Their hands had hooked around his neck, pulling him as close to themself as they could with a table in between the two of them.
They tasted so sweet. Like the berries they ate throughout the day that he would poke fun at them for, seemingly the only healthy things they'd eat with regularity amidst the snacks and junk foods they enjoyed.
Their hands were exploring now, fingers combing through his undershave. But his were no different. Running up and down their neck before slowly making his way back to their face.
He wanted to stay in this moment forever, but alas, he knew they couldn't. After all, they both sadly needed to breathe.
As they parted, he realized he was the last out of the two of them to open his eyes.
They were staring at him, panting, stars in their eyes. It was enough to make his own breath hitch.
"What... Was that...?" They asked, breathlessly.
"That..." He stopped, panic creeping in. What was that, indeed? It was unlike him to suddenly lose himself like that.
He scrambled internally for a reply, some kind of excuse, a way to claim temporary insanity, anything except the truth...!
The truth.
It suddenly smacked him.
The truth, the one thing he knew he could always count on from them. His MC. His wonderfully human MC.
He loved them.
No matter how hard he tried to bury it away from himself, there was no hiding from the truth. He should have known that.
He loved them.
"...That was my own confession." He finally managed, looking down in embarrassment.
"I read page after page of yours... Which I know was wrong...!" He added hastily, "but after reading all of those kind words, and then... Reading how much you thought I hated you, I..."
He locked eyes with them again, scared of how they would react, but determined to vocalize his feelings.
"I don't hate you. MC, I adore you. I've come to realize I am absolutely smitten with you. I was just too stupid to figure it out until now."
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Inevitable Gerudo Headcanon Posting
i spend too much time thinking about the gerudo like genuinely theyre one of my favorite recurring tribes in the zelda series, which as we all know is a form of suffering because god forbid nintendo stop relying on racist tropes and caricatures.
keeping in line with this nintendos portrayal of the gerudo tends to either be 1) why theyre bad, and/or 2) how a culture of all women has kids. like thats an oversimplification of ALLL the problems present in the gerudos portrayal but thats a different post for another time. in general i bring this up because it means, for me as well as any others interested and invested un the gerudo, that there is a kind of generalized lack of pre botw characterization or cultural concepts to work with, esp when compared to the other tribes of hyrule. (looks pointedly at how theres no gerudo in the gerudo desert but there is a prison slash execution site where their king was held. LOOKS AT WHO SURVIVED THE PROLOGUE CUTSCENE IN WINDWAKER)
ANYWAYS. botw was really fun because, while it had plenty of its own issues with the gerudo, they were at least non hostile! so with that in mind, the headcanons and worldbuilding i write primarily apply to the wilds era gerudo, which spans the timeframe between ganondorfs reign as king to totk (suspending disbelief because that timeframe is. by all accounts. longer than recorded human history. friendly reminder ganondorf does All That before we even get sheikah wifi towers. christ.)
anyways. second verse same as the first, core assumptions and then a readmore
Some core assumptions:
The BotW branch of the timeline is chronologically set AFTER the previous timeline, ie the events of ToTKs ancient past is set AFTER the last event of the Hyrule Historia timeline. essentially they all come back together to form one line that makes up ToTKs ancient era
The biggest effect on Hyrules topography was the flooding in Wind Waker. after an unknown point, the flooding ocean receded leaving behind the ruins of ancient Hyrule. at some point after that, the zonai settled parts of it and made the buildings wed see as ruins by the time of BotW. slowly the various tribes of hyrule immigrated back
all peoples within the setting of hyrule are loosely grouped into categories called tribes. in this sense, tribe refers a collection of peoples with shared traits, without anything concretely set in stone (for example, hyrule includes the tribe of hylians, the tribe of gorons, the tribe of koroks, etc etc). the main six who show up repeatedly can be considered the sage tribes (gerudo, hylian, sheikah, rito, goron, zora), and the various types of enemies can be considered the monster tribes (the blin tribe of bokoblin, moblin, bulblin, etc)
so. starting at the beginning. near entirely headcanons
in ocarina of time, we see the spirit temple, where Nabooru awakens as a sage. this temple features a MASSIVE statue of a woman adorned with a snake and its primary mechanic centers around mirrors and reflected light. while the mirrors return, we dont really get that same kind of implied spiritual/religious focus again. so instead im going to make a mountain out of a molehill and position her as the primary spiritual figure here. im running low on name ideas tho so suggestions are much appreciated. for right now ill refer to her as the serpent goddess
the gerudo are culturally a people of function over form, practicality over whimsy, but when circumstances allow for it, are drawn like any other to arts and music and decoration. they have a long history of bloody, brutal battle, and while the war has long since ended, its kings buried and its warriors naught but ghosts, the desert remembers. its sands haunted by the bloodstains of conflict past, and echoes of ancient tragedies. the gerudo here in the era of wilds may have lost their records of their ancient history of conflict, but some aspects, preserved by the sands, have managed to survive the onslaught of time
surviving all this time is the ancient creation myth of the gerudo people. as legend tells it, long ago in the time before myth, there existed a goddess whos power was transformation. she was possessed of two forms, one a proud humanoid figure, the other a striking serpentine form twisting through the heavens with ease, her scales glittering with mirror sheen. to shift from serpent to human, she would shed her skin, and grow it back again to embrace her serpentine form anew
seven times she shed her skin, and from these shed skins rose the first gerudo, each embodying a key aspect of their sacred mother. the serpent goddess's scales are each a nascent soul of a gerudo, and when those scales are shed and fall to the land below, a new gerudo is born. likewise, when a gerudo dies, their soul returns to the scales of the serpent goddess, to await until they would descend again and reincarnate once more. the seven daughters of the serpent goddess led these gerudo as their guardians, leaders, and protectors. but, away from the seven heroines and their new people, the goddess shed her skin an eighth time. this daughter was born alone, and while her sisters embodies the strengths of spirit, flight, endurance, knowledge, motion, skill, and gentleness, the eighth was born with insatiable wanderlust. learning of this, the seven sisters cursed her name for leaving them and their people behind, and despite their shared ancestry, the eighth was forbidden to be spoken of. this suited her just fine, and the eighth was free to walk the land and learn all of its hidden paths
in time, war came to the gerudo, as it often does. though they were united, and strong, they were a small collection of people, and thus despite their proficiency were threatened nonetheless. it became clear at last that they could not stand and fight, and that to survive, they could not remain in place for long. but the enemy had pushed them deep into their home, and knew all the paths back. as hope seemed lost, as if summoned by call, the eighth sister at last wandered home. calling her seven sisters to her, she proclaimed that every hidden step was known to her, and while she lacked the power to guide them on her own, together they would escape unseen into the night, their enemy none the wiser. thus, skillfully guiding the skills of her sisters, the eighth heroine led the gerudo into safety, and the seven were humbled from their pettiness. seeking to apologize to the sister they had banished and forgotten, the seven sought to make amends, but the eighth was content merely to have a place of remembrance among them. to wander is not a sin, as long as one remembers where their home lies.
the eight heroines have long since passed and returned to their mothers scales, but the virtues they embody are cherished by the gerudo family they left behind, seeking to hold their memory close even as the years wear on
to the gerudo was bestowed the blessing of the element of Spirit, embodied by their iron wills and manifesting as crackling lightning. this spirit lightning is the gerudo's will made tangible, arcing out towards their target as an extension of their focus and sheer determination. to a gerudo, nothing is impossible until one has devoted themselves entirely to it, giving it their all, and only then may it be conceded
a long history of persecution has resulted in the gerudo being increasingly insular and isolationist. their admiration of the art of combat and how it can bring forth an individuals talents, achieving a perfect harmony between body and will as the weapon became an extension of ones limbs, was often perceived as aggression by outsiders, who would react as if to defend their own interests. the gerudo have suffered much at the hands of hyrule at large, and have pulled further and further away.
as the gerudo pulled away from hyrule, and hyrule from them, they devoted most of their attention to themselves. cooperation amongst themselves is seen as paramount to their survival, and familial affection often extends well past ones blood relations.
the gerudo value family, and loyalty, alongside independence and cooperation. everyone should have the opportunity to pursue their goals, but if someone is struggling, it is the responsibility of everyone to help. children are raised by as many people as are available, and even in the times of monarchy, the palace was less a formal dwelling place belonging to the gerudo ruler and more a public forum that the ruler simply happened to live in
most of the palaces amenities are fully public, a tradition that has carried on to riju's time. meals are communal and the kitchens open to all, and the palace has no strictly dedicated servants, merely a collection of amenities the gerudo people are free to use at will and often do so together. what this means is that there is no servant, for example, dedicated to preparing riju's meals but instead a collection of people willing to cook and willing to eat making meals riju partakes in, and this applies to most other menial tasks as well. the throne room is where the leader of the gerudo engages in their job as public servant, attending to the needs of the gerudo at large and responding to crises as they arise.
as nintendo is keen to point out, the gerudo are a people that are predominantly "all women", and thus spends plenty of time going over dialogue wherein people wonder how they have children and including a plethora of sidequests in the wilds era about acquiring partners. im ignoring all of that and instead going by lizard rules, in part because here theyre descended from a serpent dragon goddess, wherein a population of all female lizards were able to successfully maintain a stable population and have children without major issue. gerudo like ganondorf are the equivalent of a rare genetic mutation that flips some other genes on and has a different result, that really doesnt affect anything besides this one kid and doesnt have any major effects or differences in their life. two gerudo are perfectly capable of having kids together, having relationships as usual, and on the topic of "how do the gerudo have kids", thats all i really feel like exploring that topic
with an insular, isolationist culture that appeared for all intents and purposes to be all women, the gerudo were often a source of major culture shock when interacting with the other tribes of hyrule, most notably hylians
bonus hylian lore: hylians experience an even greater lack of sexual dimorphism than irl humans do, so gender presentation is near exclusively presentation based, with a heavy emphasis on clothing. showing skin is considered an act of emotional intimacy, and most hylians opt to cover as much as they can. the intensity of presentation scales upwards with their role in society, with the royal family having the most extreme form of gender presentation. gender is presented through clothing style and hair length, with ornamentation, jewelry, and piercings serving as a kind of intensifier, and hylian culture at large tends to operate on a sliding scale of masculine to feminine, with the middle androgynous zone being a weird gender spot for them
the gerudo, by contrast, never really developed a concept of masculinity versus femininity. gender pronouns in gerudo are based on personal proximity, occupation in society, and familiarity. these barely translate at all into hyrulean.
as the gerudo, by circumstance or by choice, interacted with hylians and the tribes of hyrule more and more often, some kind of understanding had to be reached with regards to translation. as relations were already terse, making an attempt to fully translate the gerudos understanding of gender to your average hylian was considered a fools errand, and thus translation was done in broad strokes, giving hylians the simplest root form of gender pronouns (and none of the increasingly specific declensions). loosely, the term vai is closer in concept to "us" and voe is closer to "not us" "foreigner" "outsider", and has taken on a connotation of " forbidden" or "taboo" (leading to wilds era gerudo secret clubs often imploying translatable Adult Puns regarding their catering to voe and the overall titillating atmosphere they tend to put on for customers). with regards to hylians, the feminine princesses and queens had more in common with the gerudo and were thus "vai", but the masculine kings and soldiers, who were often the main figures pushing aggressive efforts into conquering or otherwise absorbing the gerudo into hyrule, were "voe". this was then distributed in various guides to understanding the gerudo language as " vai" meaning "woman" and "voe" meaning man
gerudo town, as the capital of their people and general hub, has a law banning the entrance of voe. at the time if its writing, this was a fairly obvious law, because most "people who are forbidden" are forbidden from entering. as time has passed, hostilities cooled, and relations warmed, this law has been the subject of a long struggle of interpretation. it doesnt translate well into nearly any other language, and thus who counts as "voe" and "vai" is subject to endless debate. the differences in gender perception are most clearly on display with the admittance of the gorons. one might assume that the gorons, being a monogendered people who typically use masculine terms of identity and endearment in hyrulean, to thus qualify as voe, but the gorons cooperative nature, near uniform monogendered culture, and emphasis on hard work and independence has enough in common with your average gerudo that considering them as vai is a no brainer
ganondorf thus is also, clearly, considered vai. the specific pronouns he uses in his native gerudo include declensions regarding his position as royalty (one that has since gone out of use and is fairly archaic now, only really being used as a kind of neo-pronoun by current era gerudo as a rebellious self identification thing), his relation as the only child of koume and kotake, and are conjugated based on relation between the speaker and him. in the ancient era, calling ganondorf voe would be so confusing as to not even read as an insult. if one really wanted to refer to ganondorf with a tone of insult, theyd substitute the declension of familiarity with one used for strangers
ganondorf achieved his position as king the old fashioned way: a gift from his moms. ancient era gerudo practiced typical monarchy with a line of succession, and koume and kotake named him as the next royal of the gerudo as their heir. the hyruleans, seeing a masculine gerudo of royal birth, referred to him as "king", and correcting a culture of people he had little respect for was just a waste of ganondorfs time. after ganondorfs sealing, the gerudo changed to the current system of chiefs, wherein the current chief names a successor, or by default passes it onto their living heir. a system is in place to democratically install a new chief if the current one passes without naming a child their heir, or naming a successor in their place, a system drafted and then used in ganondorfs absence. riju thus inherited the mantle from her mother, but could opt instead to force a vote, or have such a vote forced on her due to her age, leading to much of her insecurity seen in BotW. this system has proven to be relatively stable, especially coupled with the continued tradition of keeping the palace an open public forum
the first chief of the gerudo was nabooru, advised by the sage of lightning we see in totk, following ganondorfs sealing
the gerudo are very familiar with the souls of the dead. poes, souls lost and aimless, wander the desert after millennia of bloodshed. thus their funerary customs have persisted, even as the folklore behind them fades in and out of memory.
a person perceives reality through their body. they know the sky is above them both by craning their neck up, and by the sensation of ground beneath them. in death, one is bodiless, and sensation becomes a confusing, directionless onslaught. it is so easy for a spirit to become lost, unable to orient themselves. the gerudos funerary rites seeks to aid these souls in their journey towards returning to the serpent goddess, as without guidance they are liable to become poes. the body after death is merely an empty receptacle, and on a practical level is a potential draw for dangerous desert scavengers seeking an easy meal. the shifting sands and hard soil makes burial difficult to impossible, so instead the gerudo burn their dead. smoke is ephemeral and thus able to be seen by spirits, and even as the wind rushes, smoke will still travel upwards towards the heavens. a spirit will linger by its body for a time, and thus cremation helps provide guidance to the dead. unable to feel the earth beneath them, the dead can follow the trails of smoke to orient themselves upwards, and dispel lingering confusion
as the body is burned both to guide the departed's soul and to ward away scavengers, the gerudo inter their belongings into gravesites instead, usually one or a small collection of items that the deceased valued or were considered emblematic of them. having a proud history of warriors, many gerudo consider their weapons extensions of themselves, and thus many gravesites will consist of a single weapon.
the sage of lightnings temple served as the primary gravesite for many gerudo, and in its heyday was decorated with love and care as befitting its role. torches burned bright in its sconces and the walls painted with care in massive sweeping murals. here in the temple, a foreigners idea of the gerudo as austere and practical would fall away, as the halls shone with warmth and color, taken from their desert home
lost souls that become poes often end up becoming consumed by their regrets and despair at their inability to find their way back to reincarnation through the serpent goddess's scales, and from there turn to rage and aggression. the sunlight glinting off of the goddess's mirror scales will blind and disorient the dead who have lost their way, as they try in vain to rely on their half forgotten senses, and thus poes eschew the day in favor of the cover of night. though incorporeal, poes move as fast as the desert winds, and try all they can to cause mischief and havoc. usually the end result of their shenanigans is light injuries and scratches, but it isn't uncommon for a waylaid traveller or adrenaline seeking youngster to suffer fatal consequences. despite this, poe hunting tends to be the go-to act of rebellion for antsy teenagers with a taste for danger. in general, one of the only things fast enough to strike a poe is a fired arrow
as the sands grew and the desert expanded, it grew more and more difficult for the steeds of the gerudo to gallop across the dunes, and they were driven further and further back until the gerudo phased out their horseback traditions entirely
and as an AU specific trivia tidbit
after ganondorf's sealing, nabooru grieved the loss of her childhood friend by constructing a dedicated tomb to house ganondorf's gravesite. even though he wouldn't die, nabooru would never live to see him again, and in traditional gerudo fashion, his gravesite is marked by his signature trident, further imbued by nabooru's blessing of lighting (in a similar fashion to urbosa's fury, despite urbosa not being a sage).
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