#twilight but she only appears briefly

[beanjang-draws]

Plague Ponies - Obligations

CONTENT WARNING: Death mention, disease mention, implied suicidal ideation

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Summary:

After sending Apple Bloom away, Big Mac confesses what happened with Nurse Sweetheart to Twilight.

Big Mac has accepted his fate and asks Princess Twilight to help him prepare, only for her to present him with another path. For Big Mac, the choice was never up for question.

Transcript below:

Title Page:

Plague Ponies Episode 5: “Obligations”

After sending Apple Bloom back to the house, Big Mac reveals to Twilight what happened with Nurse Sweetheart…

Content Warnings: death mention, disease mention, implied suicidal ideation.

Comic Start

Twilight Sparkle: Big Mac, this is—

Big Mac: Now that you know, in a few days from now…please dispose of my body.

Twilight Sparkle: What? Hold on—

Twilight Sparkle: It was self defense. You made the only choice you had.

Big Mac: Princess—

Twilight Sparkle: You don’t have to call me that.

Big Mac: No, I do.

As he continues to speak, Big Mac turns away from Twilight, stepping past her and deeper into the barn.

Big Mac: Princesses…they’re—you’re supposed to help us, aren’t you? I’m sorry, Princess. There’s nopony else I can ask this of.

Twilight’s expression changes to one of shock as she begins to understand Big Mac’s full circumstances. Big Mac stops to observe Apple Bloom’s project.

Twilight Sparkle: Your leg…

Big Mac: Apple Bloom’s getting to be a real talent.

Big Mac: Don’t tell the others, Twilight. I don’t want them to know.

Twilight Sparkle: No.

Twilight Sparkle: I need you to promise…not to say a word about what I’m about to tell you.

Big Mac is startled, but nods in assent.

Twilight Sparkle: Thank you.

Twilight begins to use her magic, washing her eyes with her signature magenta as she retrieves a tarp from inside the barn. As she works to hide Nurse Sweetheart’s body, she continues to speak.

Twilight Sparkle: There’s a new sickness going around in Equestria. The initial symptoms appear similar to rabies, but they diverge as they progress. Luckily, it hasn’t been killing as quickly as rabies does.

Big Mac looks stricken at the last bit of information.

Big Mac: Do you think Nurse Sweetheart could have lived, then?

Twilight Sparkle: No, I don’t think so.

Twilight Sparkle: From the sounds of it, she was too far along for us to treat. We can only go off of what we know, and right now, we don’t know much. But we’re trying to change that.

A far away look comes over Twilight as if an idea is occurring to her.

Twilight Sparkle: If you’ll work with us and let us try to help you, I can keep you hidden until we figure things out. What do you say?

Big Mac is surprised by the offer, and only needs to consider it briefly before his mind turns to his family. The scene he pictures is a nostalgic one of Granny Smith reading to a younger Apple Bloom and Applejack.

Big Mac: Yup.

End of transcript.

[catfern]

outback.

in support of palestine ∙ the reality of tlou ∙ resources

pairing: trucker!abby x afab!reader

music: her - unloved

word count: 1.7k

summary: the night shift at a remote petrol station sounded like easy double pay. but nights get lonely. you've gotta find something to keep yourself entertained.

warnings: porn with a smidgen of plot, fingering, some perverted staring, tiny tiny implied age gap, australia. this is rlly just porn

fern says ⎯ THIS ONE IS FOR ALL THE AUSSIES IN THE AUDIENCE MAKE SOME NOISE!!!!!! this truly is self indulgent cause i miss flirting with hot women who call me darl.

you brought this on yourself, really.

the pale blue of the bug zapper fought a contrast with the dying fluorescents, painting half the aisles in an eery, twilight movie shade. the heat of a high december night was creeping, clinging to your shitty polyester uniform as you camp out in front of the only standing fan.

you had begged for a job, pleaded for it really, in the wickedness of this economic climate. you had run, tail between your legs, from your local chain grocery at the sight of the price of an avocado, and thrown yourself at the feet of the next passing employer. like a squire to the knights of old.

you just hadn’t expected it would be this job.

the gatekeeper of one of the last vestiges of civilisation. the night shift at a deserted highway petrol station.

the flickering floodlights by the pumps fighting an uphill battle to keep the creeping night at bay, you can do nothing but stare, eyes adjusting, ‘unadjusting’, readjusting to the dark over and over again. you’d had a total of two customers since you took over from the day shift crew. one just threw a gatorade your way in exchange for the bathroom key.

the high beam headlights of an oncoming truck shake you from your fading thoughts, baking you into the linoleum tile as you squint, blind. asshole.

you’d been warned about truckers, briefly. handsy rednecks, your manager had called them in passing while giving you a tour of the storage room. desperate old fucks who crawl like dogs to anything with a hole.

you watch with an almost bated breath as the peeling yellow cabin of the long-haul truck pulls into park, your eyes following its jaunty movement through the glass of the front windows. you’re starting to think maybe you should have brought an illegal switchblade to work. if you had one.

you avert your gaze quick, grabbing at something from the magazine rack in desperate hopes to appear disinterested, unapproachable. 15 Ways to Homeschool Your Kids. sure, that works.

the bell above the door chimes, you spy the scuffed leather boots crossing the plastic tiling with heavy footfall. 

“y’got a lounge?”

standing at the counter, you have to admit, she’s not what you pictured when you saw the truck. not that what you see is at all worth of complaint.

a thin sheen of sweat clings to her, echoes of the heat of the road. her skin is flushed, the contour of her muscle sitting, almost man-made, in a thin, cotton singlet. her hair is tied tight, her features, sharp, discerning, eyeing you down. you try not to stare, too obviously, at the soft outline of her nipple piercings beneath her shirt.

“hm?” you’re distracted.

“a lounge, darl. trucker lounge?” she repeats slowly with a bite of a smirk, looking at you like you were only a little bit stupid. your stomach drops with the honey of the nickname.

your eyes dart around the small space of the shop. you barely had space for the 3 aisles and the dingy bathroom. you clear your throat, trying to shake the feeling of fascination, “oh — uh, nah.”

she scoffs, a wicked, small laugh, before retreating to browse the snack section.

you watch her, when you think she isn’t looking. small, caught glimpses in your feigned disinterest. she’s been on the road long, a tension in the broadness of her shoulders obvious as she readjusts her posture, eyeing the chips. you try bury whatever rears its head in your stomach when you hear her groan as she squats to better see the canned fruit. a roughness in her voice, lead with age and smoke.

you drop your reading material and smile, tight lipped, polite, as she approaches the counter. a cold meat pie and a ginger beer.

"and uh — pack'a rothmans, thanks, love.”

you nod, turning to wrestle with the rusting cigarette cage behind the counter, when you hear her chuckle, breathy and deep as she talks,

“y’look a little young to have kids.”

spinning back so quick you make yourself dizzy, you swipe the shitty magazine off the counter, discarded and unimportant, “nah, i… i was just bored.”

she rakes her eyes over you, slow, and you can’t help but feel the pull, magnetic, a knot in your stomach as she studies you. you feel caught in a trap, under her gaze. looking up at her, her looming presence is becoming all too real.

you slide the pack of cigarettes over the counter, trapped meeting her eye. a smile, something sly, plays on her lips as she thanks you, moving to catch a breeze of the fan.

an uncomfortable beat of silence passes between you. well, it’s uncomfortable for you. no longer able to hide behind disinterest behind glossy paper, you instead wrestle with yourself to seem at least neutrally interested, not utterly obsessed. you wring your hands behind the shelter of the till.

the woman shakes a cigarette free from the pack, holding it between the skin of her lips. “you smoke?” she’s looking at you, through the corner of her eye.

no, never.

“uh, yeah.”

you follow her out the shop, tied to her artificial shadow in the fluorescents. something is crawling in the night, when you step outside. a cicada silence echoes across the gathering dirt and dust.

she offers you the cig she had been holding, you take it gingerly, holding it in your mouth as she holds her lighter up. she brings her hand to cup the flame, to keep the absent breeze from destroying it. you feel, just slightly, the brush of her calloused palms against the low of your cheek, and you pray that the navy hue of the bug zapper is enough to hide the heat on your skin.

smoke fills your lungs, foreign and quick, an itch inside you that feels impossible. you cough and splutter to the chorus of her raspy laughter.

“you haven’t smoked a day in your life.” she says with a lopsided smile, plucking the cigarette from your hand and bringing it to her lips, taking a long, constrastly confident draw.

you shake your head in between wheezes, “is that what everyone is always going on about?”

“you’ll get used to it, here,” 

she hands it back to you, you feel obliged to take it. to try again, as she so quietly commands. your second go is met with an only slightly irritating tickle in your throat.

“that’s it, good girl,” something that seems so unsure rolls off her like syrup, something you had never known you were so desperate for. her hand finds the small of your back, her fingers dancing circles in something akin to comfort, to praise.

you look up to find her eyes already on you, tracing the contours of your neck in icy blue form.

the smell of artificial pine and day-old dust clings to her, swallows you whole as you fall victim to her touch, light-headed and weak at the knees as her breath fills your lungs.

she’s nothing if not vocal, desperation falling from her lips in tortured moans as she presses herself into the crook below your jaw, drawing your soft skin beneath her teeth, softly licking the littered aftermath, a trail down your chest.

she’s quick to undress you, pulling impatiently at the scratchy fabric of your worn company polo shirt. she’s not phased by any forgotten need for privacy, for decency. she’s only here in passing, after all.

“oh, sweetheart,”

the lace of your bra is a temptation not lost on her, a delight she so happily indulges in after days on the road. in some perverted part of her mind, you wore it for her. maybe, in some cosmic, fated way, you did.

her hands snake down your body, helping themselves to the lux of your curves as her lips press, all-consuming, against yours. her fingers lightly spreading your legs, a mean chuckle souring the kiss.

she’s not at all easy, or kind, the way she pulls you open, watches you fall apart in the brutality of her control. she touches you like she aims to destroy you, her fingers working relentlessly to the pull of your walls, unheard to your pleas to — please, slow down.

“that’s it, darling. come on,” it’s sharp, delirious and oh so pleased to hear you, a whisper tickling the dip of your chest, watching you through the blonde of her eyelashes as you throw your head back, your body rocking to the rhythm she sets.

“p-please, fuck, jesus, fuck!” if she was any meaner, she would have laughed. but god, she’s distracted. driven mad by her own dripping need.

“you wanna come, baby? yeah, yeah?” she’s slowing down, and you chase her question with a desperate, shakey nod. “yeah, you do. come here.”

she takes your hand in hers, delicate, kind, a wicked contrast. under the guidance of her touch, you grip the stiff denim of her jeans, tender, unsure, until she leads you to the heat between her legs and you nearly melt. her hand goes to fiddle with her belt, her eyes finding yours, bleary, in the haze.

“think you can help me out, sweetheart?” she nods along with you, and you’re unsure if she’s copying you, or you are her.

“yeah — i can, please, please,” you whine, your hips still rutting a lazy pace against the now stagnant force inside you. your hand pulls, impatiently, at the waistband of her cotton boxers, pulling them down to sit unceremoniously at her hips.

“fuck, good girl,” she seethes at the languid circles you draw on her clit, gentle and paced, as you chase your own euphoria on her fingers, “come on,” a whisper, hot on your neck, “i’ll go faster if you do, darlin’.”

you pick up in a daze, so compliant to the whim of her demand, so desperate to feel her calloused fingers trace the tide against your centre. rushing that feeling, wretched to have her tear you apart.

her fingers rock against you without care, wrenching every ragged moan from the cut of your throat as her speed picks up, “that’s it, fuck, you feel so good, sweetness. keep — keep going.” hoarse whispers against your chest as she presses sloppy, undone kisses to the ghosts of your ribcage.

you watch, above the broadness of her shoulder, as a peak of the sun paints the horizon a muddy pink, your moans a soundtrack to the emptiness of the desert as you practically bounce on the stranger’s fingers, loud for your own release.

yeah, you lost your job.

⎯ kofi

taglist; @whore4abby @endureher @beemillss @afraidofheightss @sentimentalyellow

[garlicbreadbatstarion]

BG3 Companion Headcanons

🪩🥂🌹Going to a ball🌹🥂🪩

Wyll:

We all know Wyll is definitely the best dancer

And everyone would recognize him and want to chat and don't even get me started on the ladies absolutely swooning over him

But he'd be sure to show you off and focus in on you in such a way that you never doubted that he only has eyes for you

Give him a tune and he will make it happen: he can dance ballroom, waltz, tango, salsa, swing, and more!

It would also be super important to him to learn dances from your culture to show you how invested he is in you���

Will always have one last dance with you after you stumble home, just the two of you as he hums in the twilight of the kitchen

Lae'zel:

Would complain about having to dress in impractical clothes the whole time getting ready

Until she sees how stunning you are and, although she still says it is impractical, she would definitely tell you your elevated look is beyond satisfactory

Would probably hop into random conversations she finds interesting and scope out the whole event

Though she'd resist dancing in front of strangers, you'd catch her tapping her foot to the music

And on the walk back you could twirl her around (very briefly) and crack her tough exterior just enough to see her smile but she would deny any such thing if you ever tried to mention it again

Astarion:

Doesn't remember much about actually learning it anymore, but ballroom comes really easily to Astarion and it brings him a lot of joy to feel something his torment could not successfully erase

He also loves that dancing with you is an easy excuse not to talk to the high society crowds that often show up at events like this, and instead you can gossip together the whole night

"my dear we should get one of those for you!" And he'd wiggle his eyebrows and gesture to an over-the-top man in a bright green tailcoat, an 18" powdered wig covered with tiny Baldurian flags and ribbons atop his head. You'd slap his shoulder playfully and try to conceal your laughter

Even when you take a break from dancing, his hand is (respectfully) around your waist to protect and guide you through the crowd

Would 100% get drunk with you and sneak off into a non-party area of the venue to make out

Karlach:

A little too excited bc she lovesss parties of any variety

Does a frantic fashion show while you get ready, panicking about what go wear

She definitely does crazy moves in each outfit to test out it's danceability

Would turn into a dad the way she makes friends literally the whole time; it takes 10 minutes just to get inside because she can't stop chatting with the doorman

She asked Astarion to teach her to dance as soon as she found out you were going to this, that way she can successfully woo you on the dancefloor!

Gale:

He was very nervous to dance because he always skipped his school dances at the academy so he could explore forbidden places while the rest of the school was preoccupied

He definitely confides in Wyll on all this, and our lovely homeboy teaches him then and there how to lead💃

Gale can't stop the bi-panic when Wyll dips him almost down to the floor, with a cheeky wink

But now that you're here he's excited to listen in on the conversations of the many researchers and society members here!

He would get engrossed in conversation and you'd go dance with some friends that were there and it's like a romcom when he turns and sees you twirl across the floor🥲

He completely abandons his colleagues and appears out of nowhere, hand on your waist, waltzing you around

Wyll does a sly lil fist pump "yes, my man!" as he sees Gale spin you from across the floor

Shadowheart:

She lovesss getting ready and helping you get ready as well

Loves the tiny hors d'eouvres and smallglasses of wine and champagne they serve at events of this scale

It unlocks a core memory of her mother reading her fairytales as a girl, and she quickly wipes a small tear before it can fall

The quadrille is her favorite, she loves that it's social and friendly without having to hold a full conversation with a stranger

Would pepper your face with kisses on the way home thanking you for such a lovely time

Halsin:

He's not super used to the formal dance styles of the city, but he's ready to learn as he goes for you!

But he also flirts with the violinist and easily convinces him to play a little jig so he can show off

Also loves the food; I firmly feel Halsin would be a really adventurous eater and he'd be excited to try the variety of new spices and flavors they have at this event

Has 0 clue but the entire venue is ✨obsessed✨ with him

[the-archetype-of-civilization]

More little things I noticed in my third rewatch of ATSV.

-SPOILERS AHEAD-

There was a moment that confused me where Spot was robbing the guy of the ATM and he was setting down some cans for (seemingly) no reason. He was actually placing the ATM on top of the cans so he can roll it out.

I can't confirm if this is what was actually there, but when Uncle Aaron was telling Miles they "gotta roll," there was an acrylic stand of Spider-Man there that looked like Miles Morales Spider-Man (color and all).

When Miles was swinging through 42 NYC, there was an advertisement for "Vulture" something, I'm assuming a company. Messed up.

When Miguel first introduces himself by ramming into Vulture, Gwen gets to the spot and does this really slick landing animation where she kinda just gracefully brushes against the bannister briefly before landing on the ground.

42 Rio being given more hours at the hospital shows just how bad 42 New York has gotten without a Spider-Man. Terrifying.

I think I may have pointed this out on a previous post, but 1610 Uncle Aaron had a lucky black cat while 42 Uncle Aaron had a lucky white cat instead. I also like the parallels of Peter being tied up against a punching bag by Miles in ITSV while Miles is tied up by Uncle Aaron in ATSV.

I find it hilarious that Miles STILL doesn't know about ComicCon and didn't bother to look it up since ITSV when 42 Rio brings up "ComicsCon."

When Hobie is blocking off Miles from walking through to Miguel and Miles bumps into him, there's a tiny skull that appears when they make contact. It might just be a punk thing, but I wonder if it's an omen for the bad thing that's ahead of Miles.

Lego Spider-Man's vocalized "boop boop"s killed me.

I love the reveal when Miles realizes he's in the wrong universe, the camera pulls into his face and twists slightly. Obvious but nonetheless cool film styling of "his world is spinning" aside, I love that it feels like a 40's/50's kind of thing. Like this is something that you would see in The Twilight Zone, it nails the old comic book-y vibes too.

42 Miles' facial posture has his head up high and his chin slightly jutting out and up, like he's this "in-charge," cold, dignified superior while our Miles has his chin straight, sometimes pointed down and his head straight, showing he's trying to appeal to his humanity and trying to be humble and unassuming. It's awesome details like this that I love.

Hearing Spot say that he couldn't get a job because of what happened to him at that deli really hurts, honestly. Even if, in a way, he himself is partially to blame, it sucks that he has to resort to this. And the way he says it, almost in a "well, I can't do anything else so this is the only thing I can do ¯\_(ツ)_/¯" kind of way is really saddening, like he's trying to take it in stride and as a matter of fact. As awful as Spot becomes, I still feel bad for him.

Miles has a "#BLM" pin on his backpack. I'm sure people saw it already and it's probably a given, but in a world where media is trying to appeal to as wide of an audience as possible, it's nice to see the studio make a clear stance with a character that absolutely fits the bill.

That title drop for Earth 42 when Uncle Aaron tries to dab up Miles going into slow-mo with the music subdued was dope as fuck.

Miles throwing his arms up when asking when his dad dies ("When does it happen?!") is so on-point and well animated, it feels like something every New Yorker would do (I would personally know, since I am one).

When Gwen asks Jess if she ever made mistakes, Jess' reply, saying "yeah, but I got over it," is pretty toxic. It feeds into Gwen's need to avoid her problems rather than address them and face them, and I think that's why she probably chooses to avoid discussing things about Miles to him directly.

That look of disgust on Miles' face when he's being surrounded by Spider-People ("What is this? Some kind of intervention or something?") was so real.

The long silence between Miles choosing to go into the portal to follow Gwen is so good, I love when the movie speaks for itself rather than the dialogue. You can see the hesitation in Miles' eyes and face and then his determination as he jumps headfirst into the portal. A great character scene and fitting transition into the next act.

The album cover for the soundtrack is so good and comes from the scene where Miles goes into the portal. It feels like a mix of something from a Golden Age comic book cover, Miles' hand opened out towards the camera like he's being thrust into another world. And the colors of the portal and transition to Mumbattan are gorgeous. Fills the 40's/50's vibes I was talking about earlier, too.

Jeff's toast is really well done and I like how heartfelt and real it feels. Makes his anger, unfortunately, justified on Miles, even if Miles was trying to do the right thing for him and Rio in the end.

"I was just cool the whole time" is such a boss line, I love Hobie.

Miguel casually (almost lazily) swinging around rescuing civilians at the Guggenheim whilst talking to Gwen about a serious conversation is unironically cool. And it fits to his character, he's probably done it so many times that it becomes child's play in the end.

"I ain't got Scooby-Doo, mate."

How does Hobie know that Miles should use his palms for those powers? Curious.

"But now...I'm not afraid of anything." I love Miles so much, he's grown and become so strong not just for himself but for others. He's the best Spidey. Full stop.

I love the reversal of reflections for Gwen. At the beginning of the movie, she's in her casual wear but with the reflections always showing her in her Spider outfit. At the end, she comes home in her Spider outfit but with herself in her casual wear in the reflection instead. She started off alone in the world as Spider-Woman and ended feeling like Gwen. Her arc was completed and she's facing herself, the real Gwen Stacy and not Spider-Woman.

I felt bad that the deli clerk got bonked by the bat :( But, at least he's all right.

Miles saying "Don't do that" to the kid licking the subway window is real. That shit is nasty, the windows are the least clean parts of NYC's subway.

I love that both Gwen and Miles use comically deep voices around their respective dads. It's cute.

When the police officer was saying "I think we found our sign" when Gwen webbed them up, George's silent head turn with unamusement was awesome.

I will not have anymore George Stacy slander. Yeah, he made a bad call in seemingly arresting his daughter, but he QUIT his job for her. He loves her that much that he quit being, not just a police officer, but a CAPTAIN, for HER sake.

Speaking of which, when George had his gun pointed at her before she unmasked, he had his gun down the whole time after she unmasked, even while he was re-relaying her her rights. And when she tries to approach him, his gun flinches up a bit but stops.

"Can you go easy on the penguin?"

This is actually a follow-up post, since I said before that I might make another. This movie is too much for me and I love taking it apart.

Edit: I'm sorry for the constant updates and changes/revisions, but I can't stop thinking about this movie.

[thana-topsy]

I realized you're able to see the shrine of Azura from the College of Winterhold. Would Teldryn have any thoughts about it, given his past, or would he not care or give it too much thought?

Morning approached, though the sun had not yet broken over the mountains to the east of Winterhold. The sky had lightened to a dusky pink as the stars slowly began to fade into the purple edges of the cloud-dappled sky. Teldryn leaned against the stone wall atop the great balcony that encircled the College of Winterhold’s campus and gazed out across the gorge and over the sleepy city just beyond. He’d wandered, away from his warm bed and slumbering partner, out into the blistering cold to chase away the macabre visions that had robbed him of the final few hours of sleep. The intensity of the nightmares would ebb and flow, though they never truly went away. 

The massive black silhouette of the Shrine to Azura adorned the highest peak, overlooking the city. Like a hovering mother, Teldryn thought. When he’d first noticed the statue, he’d been briefly paralyzed with shock and nearly convinced himself that it was a hallucination. Because what were the odds? Here, in the frozen north of Skyrim. His mind had reasoned that they weren’t that far from Blacklight. The diaspora would have easily brought some of Her worshipers to Winterhold…

And yet, he couldn’t shake the feeling that it had all been planned. That the track of his life had always been carved ahead of him, and he was simply rolling along between the grooves, picking up speed as he hurdled like a toy marble towards an unchangeable destiny. And She was always there to remind him of that—to keep him in his place—to make sure he remembered who he served and who his life really belonged to.

“Teldryn,” came a sharp voice from behind him. He glanced over his shoulder to see Neloth approaching with a pinched expression and hunched shoulders. “What in the blazes are you doing up here? Come back to bed.”

“Couldn’t sleep,” he replied, turning his gaze back to the shrine. He felt himself relax marginally when Neloth stepped up beside him. He threw part of his cloak over Neloth’s shoulder, sliding an arm around his waist and pulling him closer. “I was about to enjoy the sunrise.” 

“It would be more enjoyable in a warmer environment. Were you trying to catch your death?”

“Not actively trying, no,” Teldryn replied with a half-smirk. “I’m much more subtle about my suicidal tendencies.”

Neloth let out a bark of laughter. “I’ll concede you that.” 

The silence lingered between them as the first golden rays of dawn appeared over the mountains, streaking across the sky and chasing away the lingering twilight.

“I wonder if I should visit the shrine.”

Neloth shifted closer with a shudder. “What shrine?” he asked, his breath hanging in the air. 

“The shrine to Azura. Up there.” Teldryn pointed. 

“Oh. Curious. I never noticed it.” 

Teldryn snorted in amusement, his grip tightening on Neloth’s waist. “The giant, impossible-to-miss statue, and he says he never noticed it.”

“Has it been there long?” 

Teldryn’s laughter echoed off the stone walls, and he turned to press his face to Neloth’s neck. “Thank you,” he murmured.

“What in Oblivion are you thanking me for?” Regardless of his peevish tone, Neloth’s arms encircled Teldryn’s waist with a softness he only seemed to reserve for him.

Teldryn didn’t feel the need to clarify.    

----

Thanks for the ask, anon! I decided to turn it into a small writing prompt.

[mistressofduskanddawn]

THE PHYSICAL STAR OF AZURA

Photo by Etienne Marais on Pexels.com

read this post on wordpress

[ID: A sky reaching sunset, with the colours shifting from a clouded darker blue sky to a warm red and pink sunset. To the left stands a bare woman, smiling, as she drapes robes round herself as if in a dance. The scene is peaceful and beautiful.]

AZURA’S STAR IS VERY DEAR TO ME,  as a symbol of not only my mistress but also her power over magic, transitions, fate, and souls. My mistress has the capacity over the transition of souls through the star, for they are trapped for but a moment until released into either Aetherius or Oblivion, depending on the canon source. Azura’s inherent liminality certainly lends to this, with the state of ghosts often being viewed as here yet not. 

Most of us are familiar with Azura’s star, especially her quest in skyrim—in which it is mentioned that the star stores unlimited souls until they can pass unto Oblivion—implying much about the Elder Scrolls afterlives. Yet also her star is a physical location, which with my own personal gnosis, comes into effect of honouring Azura on Earth especially. 

THE PLANETARY STAR 

The artifact of Azura, her star, is one of many powerful daedric artifacts that are sought out for their unique properties. Unlike the other daedric artifacts however, Azura’s star is also described as a physical location, briefly summarised by the The Elder Scrolls fan wiki as: 

Azura’s Star (also known as the Twilight Star) is a star which appears briefly at dawn and dusk, low on the horizon below the constellation of the Steed.[1] It is not to be confused with the artifact named Azura’s Star, a powerful soul gem and symbol of Azura.[2][3]

And then, the star is further put into a physical location as described in the Anticipations: 

Azura is the Anticipation of Sotha Sil, but female to his male. Azura was the ancestor who taught the Chimer how to be different from the Altmer. Her teachings are sometimes attributed to Boethiah. In the stories, Azura is often encountered more as a communal progenitor of the race as a whole rather than as an individual ancestor. She is associated with Dusk and Dawn, and is sometimes called the Mother Soul. Azura’s Star, also called the Twilight Star, appears briefly at dawn and dusk low on the horizon below the constellation of the Steed. Azura is associated with mystery and magic, fate and prophecy. 

While not much lore is given on this topic, this does establish the name of Azura’s star as beyond the divine artifact. This naturally struck my mind as something of note, especially with the nature of planetary bodies and the divine of the other pagan religions I follow. In this world, planets such as Venus could be called Aster Aphrodites (“Star of Aphrodite”). Planets, which were seen as stars, have been long attributed to deities and archangels across history—which lead into my gnosis revolving Azura’s morning star. 

VENUS, THE DAWNSTAR OF AZURA

In this world, and reflected within Nirn, is the dawnstar—the planet we call Venus, shining brilliantly at dawn and dusk. The planet Venus has been long linked to beauty, being the star of Aphrodite, Venus, Ishstar, etc—and it is no surprise that it would come within Azura’s grasp. I find myself seeing the Aedra and Daedra woven into this world everyday; I tread the path and this is but one part of recognising the power of earthly Azura. 

For myself, I very much see an identification with the star and the planetary light. Just as stars hold souls in Hellenic and medieval belief, I do possess the lovely gnosis gifted from Azura that the planetary star of Azura holds the souls within her gem. As a liminal goddess, it only makes sense—she having a power over where souls go, the Crimson gates, fits within her natural realm. While some may connect souls to passing through the moon or elsewhere, I see the planet Venus as a spiritual realm on top of the physical planetary star. If her star were to be forged in this world, it would be deeply linked to her star within the heavens. 

And for magic, the select window of dawn and dusk only grows stronger. I could see Azurite mages awaiting until her time to invoke the most of her magic—after all, magic in Nirn is about pulling magicka from Aetherius, so in this realm, we could look to the sun and stars for magic. As dawn and dusk arise, we can invoke Azura’s star of dawn and dusk, endearing the ever-pleasant magic and liminality that Azura brings every rising day. Planetary magic is a staple of the occult arts: perhaps there is something to be said about Azura’s hand in such a fated path.

References

ASTRA PLANETA – Greek Gods of the Planet-Stars. (n.d.). https://www.theoi.com/Titan/AstraPlaneta.html

Lore:Azura’s Star (astronomy) – The Unofficial Elder Scrolls Pages (UESP). (n.d.). https://en.uesp.net/wiki/Lore:Azura%27s_Star_(astronomy)

Lore:The Anticipations – The Unofficial Elder Scrolls Pages (UESP). (n.d.). https://en.uesp.net/wiki/Lore:The_Anticipations

[cutebutalsostabby]

In which LoZ games can Link see ghosts, and are there any reasons why he can see ghosts in those games? What about Zelda? Does she ever get to see ghosts or is that a Link thing.

It's a bit arbitrary tbh? In short, I would say that some ghosts are able to make themselves visible whenever they like, whereas others can only be seen if Link has a particular item or ability. I don't recall any of the Zeldas having specific items or abilities here, but you tend to only interact briefly with Zelda in these games so it doesn't actually come up. The specific Links with items/abilities are OoT/MM!Link, WW/PH!Link (arguable), TP!Link, LA!Link, ALBW!Link and AoL!Link - see further details below.

Skyward Sword: Link can see one (1) singular ghost and it's the toilet hand. Which maybe doesn't actually count as a ghost? Do ghosts have physical forms? Nonetheless, it's indicated that other people can hear if not see this ghost, so SS!Link doesn't seem to have any special powers.

Minish Cap: Link can meet a few different ghosts! These include the ghost of a dead king, the ghost of a swordsman, a pair of ghost siblings and some sort of ghost parasite that you can suck up with your gust jar if you arrive at the right time (which I didn't. No light arrows for me...)

Four Swords/Four Swords Adventures: I don't recall there being any ghosts in the former? I think there were some in the latter, but there were no specific abilities/items associated with them. I'm less familiar with these two games however.

Ocarina of Time: you can view ghost Dampe with the naked eye (I think) but need the eye of truth to see the spirit in the wasteland. While you're in the Shadow Temple, Well and a few other areas, Navi mentions being able to see/hear spirits that Link can't.

Majora's Mask: this game's version of the Eye of Truth lets you see a few other ghosts, including Darmani! Though you can see his shadow without it, which is interesting.

Wind Waker: you meet a few dead people, including Fado, Laruto and King Boat Dad. It seems like they all appear specifically because they want to talk to Link, e.g. in response to him conducting the sage's melodies. He doesn't have any special items or abilities, except potentially the Ghost Ship chart: you need this in order to board the ship, and the game text hints that the object is cursed somehow. Might explain why Phantom Hourglass is suddenly so much ghostlier?

Phantom Hourglass: same Link as above, but he meets way more ghosts this time! They're everywhere! Spooky!

Spirit Tracks: technically Zelda isn't a ghost? I think? She's technically still alive, after all? I don't recall there being any other ghosts in this game.

Twilight Princess: hell yeah ghosts, and this time you actually have a reason(?) for being able to see them! Turn on wolf senses. At least one ghost is visible (to both Link and Midna) even WITHOUT wolf senses, and it's the dead Zora queen who wants you to save her child.

A Link to the Past: nothing that I recall, outside of monsters.

A Link Between Worlds: you can get the highly fashionable hint glasses, which let you view hint ghosts! I of course am a pro gamer and never used this ability.

Oracle of Ages + Oracle of Seasons: there are a few ghosts, but no special items or abilities. They're just there.

Link's Awakening: some ghosts are visible without items, but you can also obtain the Magnifying Glass, which lets you see others! But then again, this is a dream so whatever goes, I guess (spoiler lol).

Triforce Heroes: nada afaik.

Zelda I: it's not really clear who is and is not a ghost? You meet an old man under a grave and he gives you a sword. It's probably fine?

Zelda II (Adventure of Link): you obtain the Cross! Definitely not based on any real world religions. The Cross lets you see invisible ghost monsters. You don't meet any actual ghost NPCs in this game, but theoretically this Link would be able to see them if they were there.

Breath of the Wild/Tears of the Kingdom: you meet plenty of ghosts but don't have any special items to see them. Imo this version of Hyrule must be SUPER haunted, so you're probably only seeing a fraction of what's there.

Hyrule Warriors (if you count it): no special items or abilities, except maybe the magic mirror you get in the water temple? It's an item that you can use to break an illusion spell. But in general, if a ghost shows up, it's visible to all characters.

I think that's everything? Let me know if I missed a game!

[blueskittlesart]

I know you're not fond of Twilight Princess, but what would you think if they brought back worldbuilding elements from it (the Twilight world and Midna, mainly) to a newer game? I'm not familiar enough with the series to know a whole lot, but that stuff at least seems really neat to me from my secondhand knowledge, but if Twilight Princess was as bad as you say... I would love to see them revisit it somehow with the BotW/TotK continuity.

i have this. thing about twilight princess. we know this. but genuinely even looking at the lore from an objective standpoint i think trying to pull any of it into other games is a bad decision at best and actively detrimental to the new game in question at worst. there are two main reasons for this:

the first is that mainline, non-sequel zelda games have a general rule about standing alone. in order for the games to remain accessible to players of all ages and backgrounds, every original (non-sequel) zelda title has to be able to function as an introduction to the franchise, meaning any lore required to understand the story must be exposited WITHIN the story of that game. the few lore-points that HAVE been adapted from other games (sacred realm, oot ganondorf, talking sword) are generic enough that they can be explained briefly within the story without taking too much time away from the player's journey. while those of us who ARE versed in the lore might have a deeper understanding of the overarching implications of these elements, NOT understanding the history behind them isn't going to impede your understanding or enjoyment of the game. for example, this is likely the practical reason why fi was never named or appeared in botw beyond her generic sound effect and the glowing of the sword, because even players who don't KNOW fi are able to tell from context that the sword is magical and is speaking. not knowing who fi is doesn't impede your ability to understand how and why the sword is speaking, given the rest of the context of botw's story. the two elements of tp that you mentioned, the twilight realm and midna, are VERY difficult from a writer's standpoint to work into a game without requiring the player to understand the plot of twilight princess. neither element easily fits into a new cycle's story without requiring a ton of expositional explanation which will inevitably take players out of the story, and relying on convoluted lore that new players won't even be familiar with to drive your story just sets you up for failure.

the second reason is that, from a writer's standpoint, neither midna nor the twilight realm were well-written enough in TP to be compelling. lmao. If you're going to adapt world-altering lore like the twilight realm into consistent canon, you need to have a firm grasp on the implications of adapting it. even the writers of TP had no fucking clue what the twilight realm was or where it came from or how it tied into the existing world of hyrule at all. literally the first sentence on the zelda wiki for twilight realm history is "The Twilight Realm's full history is incomplete." adding something like a new dimension to your consistent canon is world-altering. when you do something like that, it HAS to be thought-out and for good reason, or you're just confusing your audience unnecessarily. IF the twilight realm was to be brought back, it would HAVE to be with explicit knowledge of of how it effects the narrative and theming of the story its being written into, something that wasn't even present in the game where it was introduced. the same goes for midna; if you bring her back, she needs a reason to be there. she needs narrative weight and thematic consistency with the entire rest of the game, things that were barely present in her original story. ripping these elements out of their own game and tossing them into another only makes them more likely to feel out-of-place and confusing to players. And to be completely honest, almost anything that writers wanted to accomplish with the twilight realm could be done just as easily utilizing the sacred realm, an element which is already in consistent canon and is much easier to write into a given story than something as mysterious and confusing as the twilight realm. with midna, almost anything that she would accomplish could be accomplished by a game-specific guide character, which is already staple of loz anyway. using a game-specific guide character would also remove any potential confusion for new players who lack the context of midna's past appearances. the only reason you might NEED midna as a character is if you ALSO have the twilight realm and specifically require a twili guide character to explain it, but. for all the reasons stated above. you shouldn't have the twilight realm. lol

[raidergamerspice]

Here's yet another Spy x Family ramble post since those seem to do well here lmao

It's about Yor this time!

Originally I just wanted to talk about one headcanon I had for her, but then I figured, why not talk about a few while I'm here? Considering how much I talked about Twilight in the last two posts alone, Yor deserves some rambles from me.

Anyway, first headcanon: she's autistic. Like, I got some vibes when I first watched the anime, and saw how she took her coworkers' joke to blow snot (I watch it dubbed, don't judge me) in someone's coffee seriously, then being told she's "unique". Then she constantly worries about appearing normal in front of people, and not just because she's a single woman at 27 (which happened to be the age I was when I first got into Spy x Family). She even has "unconventional" hyperfixations (on knives or other sharp weapons), and clearly has major social anxiety. Basically, Yor screams autistic/neurodivergent vibes. Honestly, the whole Forger family does, but Yor is especially blatant for me as I'm also autistic. So, yeah. Yor is autistic because I said so 😂

Another headcanon I'm projecting onto her is that she's part Filipino (I know the series takes place in a semi fictional world where even though it's inspired by our world, it's not exact). This came from a fanfic I found where Yor takes care of a sick Loid and, thinking he's sleeping, opens up a bit about her mother being from the Philippines. Even the author was projecting this because they too are Filipino, and guess what? So am I! Well, only by a quarter, but that still matters! I also know I'm not the only fan that headcanons Yor (and Yuri) to be Spy x Family's equivalent of Asian, so my interpretation (as well as the author of that fic) is just one of many 🥰

Here's that fanfic if anyone's interested: https://archiveofourown.org/works/46420426

Next, here's a headcanon that I'm NOT projecting onto her: she has a rose tattoo on her abdomen. This idea came about after listening to Victoria Beckham's song "Not Such an Innocent Girl", specifically the lyric about having a secret rose tattoo. I was struck by the thought that Yor would totally rock a rose tattoo (especially if it had thorns, 'cause Thorn Princess), and that it would definitely be kept a secret for several reasons. It clearly can't be on any of her limbs, so it would have to be somewhere on her torso. I looked up several examples for ideas, and this one is my favorite:

(Can you just imagine, when Twiyor gets intimate for the first time, Loid kisses the tattoo? 'Cause I can 🥵)

Also, I realize that this particular headcanon is the least plausible of what I talked about here so far, but I don't care. I'm letting the Yor in my head rock this tattoo 'cause she would look great with it! 😤🌹

Now this one, I'm not sure if it's merely a headcanon or borderline canon without being explicitly stated, but I have seen this topic come up every now and again. Without getting too deep into it for now, I'll just say: Yor is a virgin, but she still knows what sex is 😳

ahem, moving on.

This is the last headcanon I'll share for now, and it's something I briefly mentioned before: Yor is bisexual. Like, I'm a major Twiyor, obviously, but I'm not blind to how she and Melinda interact with each other (also, Melinda is straight up a lesbian, but I digress). I have a love-hate relationship with this phrase because reasons, but I still think it's valid to say that Yor has two hands. She deserves a husband and a girlfriend 😏 (let's just hope that Melinda doesn't turn out to be evil 💀)

Well, that's all for now! I know I said in my last Spy x Family post that my next one might be about Twiyor having twins, but I promise that will come soon! What do you think about these headcanons? Agree or disagree? Valid thoughts or delusional rambles?

[ask-healthy-light]

With a deep sigh and a quiet chuckle, Shining turned away as he rubbed the back of his head, before he admitted that he did not know if Twilight or Solar would understand his letter, since neither of them had shown much interest in learning about the game from which he copied the code; but the fact that they also sent a letter to him told him enough, and he was glad they and Spike figured it out.

At that moment, a bittersweet smile grew upon his face as he looked at Cadance and their Daughters, and kindly asked Nox if there was anything else she needed to tell him, for if not, he would rather take the time to rest next to his Family in his dream; but Nox just got up to leave as she solemnly nodded to him, and wished him a good night, while Shining carefully pulled the covers over himself.

Just before she cast the spell to leave his dreams again, though, Shining asked her to be on guard, and to avoid challenging whatever foulness had affected Boom on her own, regardless of whether they were awake or asleep; for if what he remembered about his tale from many aeons ago was correct, and the evil within him did not rest, there was a worrying chance that it was aware of all her actions.

In return, Nox merely turned away as she let out a great sigh, and confirmed Shining's thoughts, as she had caught a glimpse of the faceless terror that lived within the darkness that is Boom's mind; but although she wore a smile on her face, Shining knew that it was but a mere facade, and that Nox was hiding a fear so terrible, it would darken the light of day, and he did not utter another word.

Fortunately, with a brief glance, the two out-of-place Royals understood each other's thoughts, and as Shining laid his head on his pillow, Nox cast a spell upon herself to leave his dreams, until, a moment later, his dream had become entirely silent; and a warm smile grew upon Shining's face as he pulled Cadance closer, while Nox left his dream by flight to visit the next being of their company.

After she quietly closed the crystal door behind her, and slowly let out a deep sigh, always making sure to keep an eye on the dark nothingness not too far away, Nox stopped to think for a moment, as she still could not believe that Shining had noticed something felt off, while she had not; but she did not worry about it for too long, as her relief over this matter was greater than her annoyance.

Since she would much rather that her Captain and the Dragon Lord have as much private time together as possible, Nox decided to visit them last, only briefly, if at all, as she had already learnt the importance of staying out of situations that she had no part in; but as a blush grew upon her face, she hurriedly trotted over to the door made of bark, and decorated with leaves dancing in the wind.

As soon as she stepped through the door, and entered the mind of whom she assumed to be Summer, Nox noticed a similar feeling to when she previously visited Light's mind with her Mother, as it seemed as though there was a strange power around her; but while she did not know if it was coincidence or something inherent to their Kirin nature, Nox had to put her thoughts aside as she searched for Ty.

A few moments after she hopped into a flight, Nox saw the familiar shape of dreams appearing in the distance, but she grew confused as to why she heard little, until she got close enough, and found a village of Kirin calmly talking to one another; and she wandered past houses and a couple of stalls to look for Ty, either as his current or younger self, which she reckoned was a more likely option.

When she flew up to get a better view of the entire area, however, not only did she notice that the Sun was setting, and the undecorated Moon was quickly rising in her place, but in the distance, she could just see the very top of the Great Volcano peering over the horizon; and she wondered whether she had found herself within the memory of Ty only shortly before he started to follow their group.

But even as the village shrank and she nearly reached the dream's edge, she still could not see Ty.

It was then, she heard the sound of a hurricane blow past her…

(Thanks for reading! And if you enjoyed, please reblog! Thanks in advance!)

Send an ask or request! | Start at the beginning! | Next part!

Featuring: Nox Lunarwing from @nox-lunarwing

(Keep in mind that there won't any new episodes for a few days, here is where I explain why! ^^)

[batw1nggg]

Same anon here who brought up that stuff about Nagito's contempt for the Reserve Course being intensified in the simulation by misinformation. For a number of reasons I'm much more accepting of the premise of literal brainwashing than other fans. In fact, controversial opinion, I actually think it is a more logical and coherent premise than the idea of Class 77-B all becoming terrorists of their own free will.

Now just to be clear I do agree that the idea of insta-brainwashing via a Despair video that Junko had all along is daft. Since on top of it being kind of anticlimactic, it retroactively means she was sitting on an "I win" button the entire time in DR1. But to summarize why I don't think the idea of literal brainwashing is an unreasonable premise, it mainly comes to three points.

The first is that the precedent for brainwashing technology had already been set in the DR universe. DR1 established that it was possible to precisely erase targeted memories. DR0 took that to the next extreme by showing it was possible to create a new persona through that same technology. UDG established that helmets to mind control victims existed too. So the idea of Class 77-B also being brainwashed is far from outlandish in the setting. In fact I accidentally predicted the V3 twist before reaching the end. Since I initially assumed they would have gone through a more visceral version of what was done to the V3 cast (though possibly with some other nastiness like sensory depravation and solitary confinement).

The second is that...well, the premise of Junko indoctrinating them one by one into a cult sounds deep and clever until you seriously think about it for like 5 minutes. The timeline simply doesn't work. Junko would have maybe 10 months tops to pull something like this off. And making matters worse is that she's in a separate class, and has a whole lot of other shit to prepare in the year leading up to the Tragedy. Manipulating Yasuke and Izuru, arranging for the school council massacre, getting Monaca and the Warriors of Hope on her side, and all the while keeping up appearances as a member of Class 78. A class who were implied in the DR1 photos to be abnormally tightknit by Hope's Peak standards, like Class 77-B was with Chisa and Chiaki.

I've seen plenty of headcanons for how she'd go about it. And yes, stuff like the Twilight Syndrome incident could help things. But that only applies to about a third of the class. And overall just about every explanation I've heard treats Junko and Class 77-B like they exist in a vacuum. With none of the other people at school noticing that anything is off. Which is just nonsensical. DR0 shows a lot of the events right before the Tragedy from the perspective of people like Kyoko, Yasuke, Makoto, and Jin. And NOBODY seems to think there's something kind of off about Class 77-B, or brings up that Junko seems to spend a strange amount of time around them. Makoto of all people would be just the kind of person to try and bond with some of his senpais. And the Ultimate Detective not seeing any signs of bizarre cult-like behavior among the school's students is pretty absurd.

Not to mention that it requires that while they're still at school the Remnants never behave in such a way that's counterproductive to Junko's plans. Like Teruteru is briefly alluded to in DR0. Now am I really expected to believe that someone like him, who presumably would already be part of Junko's cult that late into the timeline, wouldn't already be doing some fucked up shit? Like increasingly creepy sexual harassment or violent mood swings? Same for people like Hiyoko, Nekomaru, Akane, Ibuki, and so on. This premise requires them all to be good little robots and rein in the Despair antics until after the riots spiral out of control. That's a level of subtlety that many in Class 77-B just don't have.

And finally...I'm sorry, but no. You can't have it both ways. You can't have the Remnants be fully responsible for carrying out their misdeeds of their own free will. And then have them be rehabilitated and redeemed via the Neo World Program. Using targeted amnesia to rehabilitate criminals is unethical to an absurd degree. If you're going to say "These people deserve a second chance", then you're going to have to commit to doing things the hard way. Detain and rehabilitate them with their memories intact. Literally the only scenario where something as extreme as the Neo World Program would ever be remotely justifiable would be an equally extreme scenario like a subject having been subjected to literal mind control.

So yeah. That's my controversial take. I disagree with DR3's depiction, but think the Remnants being brainwashed as more than just a figure of speech is perfectly reasonable. Mainly for pragmatic reasons related to story consistency, due stuff like DR0 not only doesn't have any hint of Junko secretly running a cult, but makes a lot less sense if we assume that's going on offscreen. But also for some ideological reasons too. Plus the alternative requires a level of competence and manipulative brilliance that it wildly inconsistent with what Junko showed in DR1. There is no way that someone who could convert all of Class 77-B with the constraints listed above in such a short timeframe, would be so easily thwarted by stuff like Sakura's sacrifice and Makoto's rallying speech at the end. In fact Class 78 should have all gone completely mad after a year in isolation with her if she was as brilliant as some fans hype her up to be.

OK WAIT NO NO NO i didnt mean to imply that junko should like. Run a cult or something. i agree with all of these points, i think that TOO personalized of manipulation would be unrealistic. the way dr3 did the brainwashing seemed lazy and anticlimactic for junko but also junko is smart and wouldnt put in all that unnecessary work for a class she doesnt care about.

youre right that brainwashing and mind altering does consistently show up throughout danganronpa, but i do also really really wish we couldve seen it be pulled off in a slightly more personalized manner. i used mikan as an example in that post but i didnt mean to imply i wanted them to show junko doing that to like. Everyone. i just personally wish they wouldve taken the “the brainwashing takes advantage of your personal desires and hopes” thing a bit farther somehow. like elaborated a little more

i dont have a clear vision of how danganronpa 3 shouldve ended. i think i’d be a lot more on board with the brainwashing if theyd just. Done it a little better, made it more climactic, made the scene more intense or something idk. it’s just so obvious to me that dr3’s ending (and dr3 as a whole but especially the ending) really seemed rushed and careless. we BARELY even get to see the remnants while theyre despaired, with the exception of komaeda. which SUCKSSSS SO BAD i wish they couldve at least incorporated THAT. like for dr being about the apocalypse we dont really get to see much of. The Apocalypse. outside of udg.

and ohhh yeah the forcefully inducing amnesia on a criminal thing is a point i never even considered. youre totally right there i have no comments to add about that

To Conclude. it does make sense that the brainwashing had to be done and i do admit that it is consistent with dr. But Also. It was Anticlimactic and the way they wrote it seemed half assed to me

[wandering-free-and-queer]

Any resources/advice for someone hoping to approach worship to Nyx?

She recently made a strong emergence in a reading I did for my Hellenic friend, and my friend is feeling very intimidated and overwhelmed. I was wondering if you have anything you’d suggest for reading, listening, etc. (I am asking with their permission btw.)

The way I see my deities is they are the personification of their respective realms. They aren't 100% corporeal, but they aren't 100% spiritual essence either. Nyx, in my UPG, is the literal personification of the Night. When the sun goes down, and the first stars come out, that's when She is there. When the sun comes up, She takes her reprieve and rests.

The easiest way I have found to connect with her is simply sitting outside during that shift from sunset to twilight to dusk to night. To stargaze and watch the sky darken and count the first stars and listen to nature (and the unfortunate highway street racers that plague the major highway I live near lol). She is hardly an intimidating goddess. Night is liminal, especially when you're not doing the traditional "night time" things like resting or sleeping. When the world is quiet, Nyx is there. It's a transitional time where, in the right circumstances, you can feel like the only one that matters in any given moment.

I have always had a personal connection with the nighttime, for reasons I won't get into here, but it's been my favorite time since I was young, we're talking elementary school age. It seemed natural for me to resonate with the Goddess that was the personification of the time of day where I found the most comfort.

I unfortunately don't have a lot of "canon" material on Nyx, because she doesn't appear in much of mythology. As far as I'm aware in terms of literature, she's mentioned briefly in The Theogony (Hesiod). I definitely think something that would be a good read to go along with Nyx would be The Night School by Maia Toll. It's intended to be a work-along book that takes you through lessons and exercises specifically to be done at night.

I will say my UPGs of Nyx are heavily based on a fictional book series I read as a kid, so take what I say with a grain of salt. But seriously, the best beginning to working with Nyx is just... experiencing the nighttime. You don't even have to meditate or be mindful (I'm not that type of person, too "unmedicated ADHD" for that lol). Sit outside, cozy up, listen to your favorite music, and just get to know what the nighttime is like under your expanse of sky.

My inbox and DMs are both open if you or your friend have anymore questions.

~Wander 🖤

[dragonmasterhiccup]

———

As Hiccup re-situated her, she murmured something soft incoherently, her snores pausing briefly when he draped the fallen furs back over her.

When Astrid came back, she didn’t stir whatsoever, far too deep in her sleep to even remotely notice any change.

———

Danny slept peacefully for hours, well into the night. She was most likely exhausted from everything that had happened the past few days, added on from the continued soreness that the venom was still causing her.

Though her peaceful sleep didn’t last until morning, sadly.

Just before dawn, when the rest of the hut was still asleep, Danny shot up on the wooden couch, head pounding and breathing heavily.

Her seemingly chronic nightmares had made their return, ones of either her back with Grimmel, taking innocent lives against her will, or ones where Spitelout would sneak up on her, axe in hand, and murder her in some disgustingly gruesome way.

She wasn’t in her right mind when she woke up, in a panicked frenzy, tears rapidly pouring down her face, though she remained quiet the entire time— she was good at that now, keeping quiet.

Shakily standing up, there was only one thought running through her mind; she needed to leave, she couldn’t stay here, because it wasn’t safe. She wasn’t safe.

Squeezing her eyes shut as a weak attempt to dull her headache, she quickly chugged some water, setting the now half empty jug on the counter, and made her way out of Hiccup and Astrid’s hut.

———

She remembered what happened last time, when she left, how she had stolen far too much supplies and almost got herself into jail doing so. Because of that, the only things she took was the new sketchbook and bow that Hiccup had given her [thank the Gods there was a new window installed into her room that she could sneak in and out of].

She almost left a note, almost, telling her brother and mom that she was safe and to not come after her, but in the end, she’d decided against it.

———

When she got to the stables, she didn’t mount onto Twilight’s saddle, having remembered the comment she made about her about a week prior; ‘I’d feed her to the Grippers.’ Twilight wasn’t safe with her, who knew what could happen if she lost control again?

Picking up the saddle, that now seemed far more heavy for her than it was a few months ago, she placed it on a different Nadder, one that was green and pink, and also very confused. He knew Danny, but why was she placing a saddle on him?

In the end, the dragon decided that it was fine, knowing that Danny was far from a threat.

Pulling herself up and over the saddle, she took off, leaving Berk behind.

———

By the time she’d landed at her first rest point, the island Hiccup had taken her too for her birthday, and the one where they’d had that ‘family outing’ almost a year prior, the tears were starting to pour out, she didn’t want to leave Berk, she just wanted to be safe.

She couldn’t go back now though, Hiccup was most likely awaken knowing how early he gets up in the morning.

Instead, she started foraging for supplies, preparing to head to their next island.

Hiccup woke up at dawn, as usual. Astrid was still asleep, though he knew she probably wouldn't be up for another hour or so.

Putting on his prosthetic, he made his way over to Zephyr, who usually woke as early as Hiccup did.

This morning, though, she was taking after Astrid, and was still in a deep sleep.

Heading downstairs, he went to check on his sister, only to find the couch empty, fur blankets in disarray.

Scanning the hut, it didn't appear that there had been any sign of struggle, as no furniture had been knocked over, but that didn't prove that there wasn't an intruder.

Maybe Danny went to Gothi's, or to their mom? He hoped that was the case.

He rushed back upstairs, getting his armor on. He hastily woke Astrid and let her know what happened, though she was too out of it to do more than nod.

Heading out of his hut, he went off to get Toothless to help investigate.

-----------------------

Valka hadn't seen her, but Hiccup knew Danny had been there since her sketchbook and now we're missing as well.

When he found the missing saddle, his suspicions were confirmed, though Twilight still being in her stall confused him for a moment.

How could he have not thought she'd do that again? Especially after Spitelout's threats yesterday...

"Come on, bud. We're going to need Eret and Skullcrusher's help. Hopefully that fur blanket will have her scent enough for him to track..."

-------------------

Hiccup, fur blanket folded in hand, knocked on the door to Eret's hut.

When the door opened, all he could say was "She ran. At least, I think she ran...but we need to find her."

Did she take any of the cure with her? That was the only thing that could expel the venom...without it, what would happen to Danny?

[canonically47]

headcanons (/facts!!) that would make yandev’s blood absolutely boil

ayano doesn’t love taro and never will, she just desperately wants to be ‘cured’ and projectes this need onto the first decent guy she found. (they do become friends in my au though.)

the rivals are, in fact, not ‘canonically’ bisexual since taeko and taro exist in different universes.

most of the rivals don’t even like taro. osana forced herself to ‘like’ him when she’s actually aroace, amai did it for the appearance of it but she’s a lesbian, kizana just wanted to feel better about herself but she’s a lesbian, oka is lonely (and a lesbian), asu was actually briefly crushing on him but quickly got over him, muja and mida are not pedos and muja is a happy lesbian dating kyoshi, osoro is also aroace, hanako is his fucking sister, and megami is aroace.

none of the suitors like the rivals. kyuji is gay and dating toga, shoku is gay and crushing on taro, tsuruzo is gay and crushing on itachi and kaga, shin is aroace, iruka is crushing on midori, otohiko (😢) is gay and crushing on kencho, toga (😢) is gay and dating kyuji, hazu is aroace, and kaga is bisexual and crushing on itachi and tsuruzo. L + ratio + everyone is gay

everyone in akademi likes MLP but everyone except gema and midori, who are pretty much the ‘cringiest’ people in the school, hides it. gema and midori though? they cannot shut the fuck up about it. “listen i know i’m most similar to dash but twilight is the BEST” “i see your twilight and i raise you pinkie pie” “wait ur right i fucking love pinkie pie BUT TWILIGHTTT” “ur right WHY IS IT SO HARD TO DECIDE ON A FAVORITEEE”

there are only two cishet people in the school including the teachers. even ryuto who is only attracted to pippi is trans & ace

there are like over 25 aroace people because i’m aroace and i said so idc

AND FINALLY THIS IS A FACT DON’T LET HIM FOOL YOU: FIRST YEARS ARE 15-16, SECOND YEARS ARE 16-17, AND THIRD YEARS ARE 17-18 LITERALLY SHUT UP IF YOU THINK OTHERWISE.

[darklordazalin]

Azalin Reviews: Darklord Morgoroth

Domain: Avonleigh Domain Formation: 643 BC Power Level: 💀💀⚫⚫⚫ Sources: A Light in the Belfry (2e), Ravenloft Dungeon Master's Guide (3e), Secrets of the Dread Realms (3e), VRGTR (5e)

Morgoroth is briefly mentioned as a “villain necromancer” in van Richten’s latest guide. When I say briefly, I mean his name is called out in a list of villains in the good doctor's description of the Shadowlands and nothing more. He is also no longer listed as a Darklord. It appears that this disembodied voice was downgraded to a third rate villain.

Morgoroth was the omnipresent Darklord of Avonleigh. At least until someone decides to assemble the thirteen pieces of the broken mirror that contains his essence and bring him back to his full potential, which is that of a rather powerful wizard. Morgoroth was not an easy Darklord to find information on. The main source is A Light in the Belfry, which, I believe, is the only module in DND that features an audio CD. So, instead of box text for the DM to read aloud to the players, the text only includes “play track X”. Having no accompanying text in the module itself, the CD was a necessary component to track down some information on this elusive Darklord. But, I am nothing else but persistent when it comes to my research.

Avonleigh is part of the Shadowlands and in an eternal twilight, never experiencing true day or night. There are no settlements in Avonleigh, with its denizens being made up mostly of the spectral undead and various beasts that inhabit the Phantasmal Forest. The only building is Tergeron Manor. That is, if you consider an uninhabited, crumbling and decrepit estate a building. Though it is a suitable dwelling for our fractured Darklord.

Morgoroth was one of those love-sick fools that did a bunch of idiotic things in the name of “love”. Morgoroth was a powerful wizard and tyrant of a distant land who attempted to redeem himself by traveling to Avonleigh and putting aside his evil ways. If I could roll my eyes, I would be doing so right now. Naturally, the holier than thou Shadowborn family forgave him and the siblings, Ferran and Aurora, took him in. Ferran was a Paladin of The Circle, an Order of do-gooder knights formed by the Shadowborn clan.

Morgoroth developed feelings for Aurora but she was destined to join the priesthood, which required a vow of celibacy. Why do Deities and holy orders so often have this requirement? It seems like they’re just asking for trouble as such an easy vow to uphold often leads to highly foreseeable complications. Morgoroth, in an attempt to be a “nice” guy, didn’t tell Aurora about his feelings until he did...He decided to tell her the day she made her vow of celibacy. Perhaps he was waiting for the most dramatic moment to confess his love? And in a rare instance of Darklord lore, Aurora loved him back but was SO upset about him telling her too late that she fled from him. Morgoroth assumed she fled in disgust and quickly turned back to his evil ways. I’ve not experienced a loving relationship myself, but I do not believe sex is a necessity for romantic love, but frail mortal minds often blend love and lust into one confusing ball of emotions.

From Morgoroth’s actions, he killed Ferran and abducted Aurora. The Circle attempted to rescue Aurora, but as things normally go for The Circle, they were all destroyed in the effort. Sure way to win her heart...abduct her, don’t listen to her thoughts and feelings, and lock her in a tower while you kill every single member of her faith. This mass murder pulled Morgoroth into the Mists. To taunt him, the Dark Powers placed Aurora in a stasis within a glass coffin. Morgoroth attempted to escape his new prison by opening a portal in a mirror, but it backfired and instead he was shattered into 13 pieces. I cannot relate to this at all…

As Darklord, Morgoroth is fused with Tergeron Manor where he constantly bemoans his love for Aurora and attempts to kill any heroes that stumble into his Domain instead of, let’s say, attempting to influence them to piece together his mirror and bring him back? Morgoroth’s powers as a disembodied Darklord are rather underwhelming except that he can, if he wishes, prevent any Necromancy spell cast in his Domain. The other powers appear to be designed to give him a more spooky aesthetic - extinguishing all non-magical lights in the manor, conjuring a cold wind, annoying the living with his disembodied voice, manipulating reflections, and so on.

Morgoroth is a watered down version of the Necromancer of Dol Guldur, though quite formidable if you're foolish enough to piece together his mirror and bring him back into his full power...which, in all honesty, what Adventurer group wouldn’t do this? How does one rate a shiver up your spine created by a lovesick moron? I don’t know. Two skulls?

[yiga-hellhole]

Twilight Forest, Twilight King part 3

Part 3 of my fic is now out!! once again i have no self control, and it's super long. about 9k words under the cut. you can find the ao3 mirror here!

and here are part 1 and part 2 !

this chapter briefly dives into zant's pov, looking at some of his dreams and memories. and after that, we got the LEGENDARY FILLER CHAPTER, where i do nothing but have these weird men CHAT AND KISS. also midna is there because i adore her, even if i hate hurting her. anyway, zant is scary and difficult to write. hope you enjoy!!!

There stood the bane of his existence. His foil. The dim glow of their sky, the perpetual haze seeping the horizon like rotting honey, deepening the shadows on her face. Midna, standing atop her balcony, one hand gently lain atop the balusters as though caressing it. She was adorned in her brand new veils and jewelries. Truly, she had the appearance of a queen, though such robes could make even a mutt look of noble blood. She looked down upon their courtyard, a gaze so affectionate. It couldn't fool him. Behind that royal love laid a petty sense of pride, self-satisfied in her accomplishment, her crushing of the competition. Zant knew, he knew, for he would have had the exact same look on his face. She mocked him, even when she presumed he wasn't around. Midna was the same as he!

Yet, yet. He must compose himself. He stumbled towards her, step by step, though his shambling gait made no noise. His feet didn't touch the ground.

“Allow me to congratulate you, Twilight Princess, with your ascension to the throne," Zant stated, bowing in feigned respect.

If she was startled, she masked it well. Midna turned to face him, pushing herself away from the balcony railing. “… Zant. What uncharacteristically high spirits you’re in.”

“Such a cold tone," Zant responded, tutting slightly. "Whatever happened between us, Dear Midna?”

She deigned to respond, but her eyes lingered on his shoulder guards. Never a man for the battlefield, he realized she must have never seen them before. Did they intimidate her? He hoped so. May she dwell on their implication through the entirety of this accursed encounter! 

After enough of her silence, he hummed, narrowing his eyes. “Oh, don’t worry. I know, indeed. But that does not erase our history," he stated, stepping towards her. Her eyes darted down to the floor, before settling her glare back at his face. "Midna, tell me. Who was there for you, when your little friend from the Light World abandoned you, and your scrying mirror no longer responded to your call?" He took another step. "Who was there to dry your tears, to listen to you when the cold walls of our court proved too much to bear?”

Midna sighed, dismissing his words with a flick of her wrist before turning away from him, facing the view past her balcony. “Our past changes nothing about the rift you’ve wedged between us now, Zant. Why bring up this sentimental babbling now?”

In the blink of an eye, he was now right in front of her. “Because everything has changed, Midna.” 

The Twilight Princess flinched, quickly whipping her head to where he stood before. Only to find that, indeed, he had popped up before her with near supernatural speeds. No amount of forced elegance, of disdain, could hide her surprise! Her perturbation!

“Just yesterday, mere minutes after your coronation, I met with something truly spectacular," he stated with a giggle, bracing his knees to launch himself backward. His sleeves flapped and fluttered in his ascent, tassels jingling like wind chimes as he floated to where he stood before. Her eyes were glued to him in… Wariness? Dare he say, fear?

"I met God, face to face in all His glory, and he bestowed upon me something truly unimaginable. You can feel it too, can’t you?”

He stepped closer again. Still, he had little control over his movements. It was like he had grown too big for his own body, bursting from his skin, creaking his bones. It was like puppeteering his own body like a marionette with the strings entangled, dragging himself slumped across the ground. It was like sweet, liberating agony, a spider struggling wildly to break free from its molt. His joints twitched under the sheer electrifying magic as he raised his arms, basking in the surge of strength.

“The power. How it sings through my veins. Even now, it rings in my ears, clouds my vision. This delectable symphony of the arcane! Just listen.”

A droning hum. Like ink-black flames, licking at the air around him, shadow intersected with shadow at his feet. He bathed in the glory of his darkly divine aureole, undeniable as it was! Not even their ancestors’ magic could hope to live up to this overwhelming, euphoric feeling!

All Midna could do was stare, frowning at him with wide eyes, fingers tightly gripping the baluster behind her. What a sight! Such glory, to sweep her feet out from under her! Dared he kick her while she was down?

“I could change everything with this. We could," his voice quivered as he spoke, extending his hand to her. Was it… Always that color? This strange grey? His magic was changing even his body!

Just as he began to admire his new features, her very next words snapped him out of his second-long trance, forcing his gaze to her scowl. “You’ve gone mad.”

He threw his head back in laughter, ear-grating and brutal. "Then perhaps madness is the price I will have to pay for this blessing!"

Zant was getting carried away, and his situation was dire. The royal family only continued to tolerate his presence in the Palace through his extended position as a servant. And the grains in his hourglass were rapidly running out; her gaze turned to the doorway, and she was about to call for whatever guard patrolled the halls. He needed to occupy her attention again before he could. 

Almost amicably, he lowered his arms again, palms upturned in submission. “I have a proposition for you, Midna. A final offer of reason," he smiled, and she, for just a second, exhaled audibly, sighing off her tension. He did not allow for relief for long. "Marry me.”

Immediately, Midna’s face turned from an unsettled frown to a full-blown grimace of disgust, “What!?” she snapped, fully backing up against the balcony railing. Oh, how he delighted in pushing her around. But not like this. Even he was not such a brute.

He shook his head. “Let me be clear. You hold no affection for me, and neither do I you. But think of the lengths we’ll go, Midna,” he raved on, swept away by the splendor of his own schemes. “With the love you’ve won of our people, and our combined power, we have a chance of finally retaliating against the Hylians-“

But Midna interrupted him harshly, her incredulity managing to rip her free of her fearful paralysis. “Again with this nonsense! Zant, when will you understand?” she hissed, fists balled at her sides. Such an infantile posture, not changed even a bit from when they were children!

“The Twilight Kingdom doesn’t want war with Hyrule. It is nothing other than your own selfish ambitions!”

“Selfish!?" He shouted, pupils narrowing and drool trailing between his teeth. "You call me selfish? Look around you, Midna,” he gestured to the city she so fondly looked to earlier. Amid his bubbling hatred, the true, despicable nature of their rotten home became ever clearer. All a sickly beige, stretching out into the horizon, interrupted only by blackening and withering shrubbery. Even the sky itself was ill, stuck in the same perpetual dim orange, shedding neither light nor darkness on the lands below. Day in, day out, if such a concept even existed! Their world was like a decaying beast that had forgotten to die. They were living like maggots inside a corpse! And she had resigned to it, dooming them to this fate!

This sobering realization brought him back to his usual calmness. He simply had to convince her. “Behold the wasteland in which they’ve cursed us to live. Our Sols — the lifeblood of our world, poisoned by the scum they’ve sullied us with. Thieves, outlaws, murderers pepper our landscape like rats scurrying in the sewers. Perhaps we can live like this a little longer, but we will never thrive,” he snided, eyes narrowing as he straightened his posture again, looking down at her with as much poise as he could muster.

Instead of listening to him, she simply laughed. As she always did! “Pfah! Listen to yourself! We go to war, and we die!”

But his resolve would endure. “Then that brings us to two options. We can die in conquest, or we can slowly wither away, doomed to an agonizingly slow death under your hideous, neglectful leadership!”

“That’s enough! I’ll no longer tolerate this madness,” she spat, a firm gesture of her hand cutting his words short, like a knife through thread. “All of this disrespect, and you still dare to ask for my hand in marriage!? I reject your proposition, now, and forever! Now get out of my sight. That is my order, as your Queen!”

Zant stood in silence, but not in surprise. The truth was, he never did expect his reasoning to land with her. After all these years of mockery and social exile, any attempt to converse with her was a shot in the dark. Perhaps there was a slim chance she could have said yes, and he would have been more than happy with such a strategic position, even if he had to share it with someone he so despised. 

“… Very well,” he nodded, and with a resounding clunk, the mechanical whirring of his shoulder guards assembled his helmet over his face, gazing down at her in menacing opulence. Slowly he stepped towards her, as she raised her hands almost feebly, trying to keep him at a distance.

The truth was, he just wanted to see if he could scare her before he got her out of the way.

With a single swipe of his hand, Midna was sent flying to the ground. There was no other choice. He was dead set on the throne. Zant had to take over. He was the only one who could! The only one with the ambition to rip their people from this dying world! His reasoning was impeccable. He had to. He could not sit idle and wait for someone else to do it, and now, he had all the power to take not only this crown, but the ones in worlds beyond! The Fused Shadows, laughable as they may have been in comparison to his magic, now in Midna’s possession, had to be done away with. And their owner with them! Such distractions would not be tolerated! 

He had to. He had to! He must! 

Though, it would be boring to kill her. Perhaps too cruel. His loyalty he may have abandoned, but his soul, he did not!

So instead, he found an alternative. Before his very eyes, Midna began to change. But her transformation was not painful. It was instant, like blowing the dust off an old book, only to find it drastically changed underneath. Within the blink of an eye, gone was the beautiful Princess of Twilight. On the ground lay nothing but a small, insignificant creature.

Zant stood petrified, in shock of his own power. All he did was rid her of her abilities, wedge a shard of his grudge where she could not reach it. And it had turned her into the pathetic semblance of a child. Not a trace was left of her beauty, her cunning, her graceful form, demanding of awe and respect. As if they’d never even existed. Was this what happened to their kind, if drained from the magic of their noble bloodline?

It was terrifying. It was astounding. It was magnificent. 

She began to come to, slowly rising from the ground, only to find her body worked far differently than it should. She stared in horror at her pitiful, tiny little hands, and whipped her head around to face him.

“What have you done to me..?” she whimpered, her voice shaking.

A twisted grin began to stretch across his face.

“What have you done to me!?” she now shouted, pupils small as birdseed. Zant simply laughed.

This was sweeter than any victory. No attempt on her life could have produced a more satisfactory result. Not pushing her off the balcony, watching her plummet down into the abyss, smacking down on the bricks and splattering like an egg. Not wrapping his fingers around her throat and squeezing, until the lack of breath made her skin thrice as blue as usual. Not slashing her throat and watching her drown in a pool of her own crimson.

No, here she was, perfectly alive, and whimpering at his feet. He had kicked her while she was down and ground her to the floor with his heel like the stray ashes from a pipe. Zant rapidly came to find he much preferred this dynamic. Such colorful humiliation! Perhaps it would compare to all those years she spent shattering his esteem! 

“Run, little imp! Run,” he bellowed as she scrambled to her feet, stumbling down the stairs of her balcony. As if his goading alone could knock the disgraced royal off balance. “Your cowardice will be remembered, Twilight Princess!” 

As she left his gaze, he panted in exertion. Ridding such a powerful mage of her powers proved to be an incredibly taxing ordeal. He had to recover, and he had to do it quickly, he thought, slowly turning back to the castle. The throne now stood empty, abandoned by its ruler. It was his for the taking.

The rest of his trek through the palace was a haze. 

Black. 

Deep, rich, black, clouding his gaze like a lace blindfold, holding him so tenderly in its embrace as it coaxed him into abhorrent violence. He recalled shouting, frantic tugs at his sleeves as the palatial staff attempted to put an end to his advance, but to no avail. With nothing but his gaze and the flick of his hands, stone carvings appeared from thin air, melting themselves against the faces of struggling Twili. Flesh torn and crumpled, bones twisted and cracked, twisting into abominable shapes, punishment and degradation into his servitude. No longer would he be bossed around by these people. 

It was his turn for dominion. 

He drowned in the sensations of his golden slippers against the stone floors, each echoing clack sending shivers of delight up his spine. His feet dragged him striding forward, stalwart to nothing but his own cause. At last, his dream was in reach before him, his so-deserved title. As he stood in the gateway of that glorious throne room, it was as if it had been his first time setting foot inside it. That once so dreary room, a source of envy and disdain, was now bathed in a glory he could never have fathomed.

And as he turned and sat, the sound of a thousand trumpets sounded in his ears. All blaring in deranged joy, so deafening his vision blurred. A perfect, bloodless usurpation, with kneeling servants where their mangled bodies should be at the foot of his throne. And he could do nothing but cry. Weep and scream at the overwhelming sensation of relief and exemplar. Hot, fat drops of tears hurried their way down his cheeks, but as the first of them dropped their way past his gaping lips, he found they tasted remarkably metallic.

———

Zant awakened. 

A dream. 

A memory? The line was blurry these days, yet he was confident in this one’s authenticity. Ever since his God had blessed him with his divine power, his mind had changed. Elusive like glass windows shattering to dust under a hurricane. Cracked, like floating ice caps, drifting and wobbling under the motion of the water beneath. Those closest to him were, though unstable, easy enough to reach. The further away he went, however, it required increasingly arduous jumps, sending him plummeting into the mind-numbing, freezing abyss between, only to find upon clawing his way out of it, the slab of ice had irrevocably changed.

This one, however, was always within reach. Fresh. This particular memory had its very own bridge, its foundations hammered with jagged nails into his very psyche.

He found every time he reached it, it evoked an intense emotion in his sleeping mind. Today was no different. He seemed to have bitten his tongue. A slight grimace folded his face. Rolling the bleeding appendage around in his mouth, he rubbed its injured edge against the roof of his mouth. Fed up plenty with his other injuries, he decided this one would heal on its own, as it usually did. 

He slowly rose, dismissing the drapes of his light blankets. The thing was hardly necessary in such a sweltering environment, much less with the pillowy layers of his night robes, but he found he enjoyed its pressure as he slept. Comforting, reassuring, lulling him into the embrace of abyssal sleep. Immediately upon moving his coverings, his body greeted him good morning with the hellish pains glowing through his arms and chest. They made the groggy, hungover ache in his head nigh forgettable in comparison.

Zant mildly cursed himself for having found it a good idea to get drunk the very evening after a grievous battle. That Midna, that princess, that wretched woman that undid all his hard work while letting some boy do most of it for her. That repulsive, smug little face, the way she looked at him as if he were lesser than the dirt under her impish feet. How he longed to tell her the feeling was much reciprocated! But alas, either she would never let him finish speaking, or she would simply ignore him, brushing his words off like he was void before her. It was such a compelling urge to grab her by the shoulders, screaming every word that stabbed into his heart in her face, until his undying rage and animosity were the only things her feeble mind had the space for.

The fabric of his sleeves bunched his grip as he hugged himself tightly, gnashing his teeth and digging his nails into his skin. She was detestable. Midna would never understand his grief, his fury. Even though he had conveyed it to her, 

over, 

and over. 

Only to have his pleas ignored, deemed selfish, deemed insane. Overwhelming, red-hot, vindictive rage bubbled up from his toes to the bulging veins in his neck, but fizzled as the bruising squeeze of his fingers in his already battered arms pulled him back to his senses. 

Hot, glowing pain. 

A reminder, yet a damper on his motivation. The crown jewel of his loss. 

His manic whimpering turned to heaving, forcibly slowed breaths. Yes, he realized it. As satisfying as it would be to pour his heart out to her, it would hardly have the effect he’d wished for. He hung his head with a sob.

Those injuries. That woman, that blasted woman, had injured him so deeply. In front of his closest comrade, no less! His fingers shook as he tried to lift his hands past the agony in his forearms.

Muscles straining, tendons flexing, and skin tugging around the holes bored into the now absent flesh by her spectral familiars. Wolves. The so-called manifestations of heroes. A ridiculous notion! How egotistical! He almost had to laugh, if it didn’t hurt so terribly. He wheezed, his ribs aching with every breath taken too deep. 

Ragged. 

Pathetic. 

Dispelling her magic from his body was easy enough, but his body now bore the aftermath of the sheer force of the cannonball she’d blasted straight into him. To his dismay, he realized it was likely time to change those bandages. 

Carefully, he unwrapped himself. He was greeted by a purple bruise underneath the black membrane over his arms, radiating from the bite marks like a smoldering crater. An amber-colored ooze was smeared on it, caking to his puncture wounds. His injuries were healing, but not as quickly as he would like them to. Still, he was given strict orders by incredibly stern-sounding poes not to touch them, and as any wise man he was hesitant to argue with the dead. His magic could easily cure the worst of it, but he knew that he was best left sparing as much energy as he could. A treatment of fresh bandages would have to do, to draw the ‘ichor’ out, as they had so pleasantly called it. He idly washed his arms with the water stood at his bedside, tipping the contents of a ceramic jug into a tub and soaking some rags in. His chest was next. He carefully peeled back the countless layers of his robes, bunching them over his shoulders, to reveal his black and white form below. These wounds were the least severe, nothing but bruises, though it had been a miracle that Midna didn’t crack a rib or two. The marks on his breast were green and yellow, speckled with sickly purples, skin broken here and there from the sheer friction of the arcane ball that had struck him. Winding the bandage around himself proved to be the most difficult task. The pain of moving his body so dexterously screamed in his joints, as if knives had been buried under his skin, poking and slicing him from the inside as he moved. 

All that, and he had another briefing in mere hours. What a magnificent situation to be in.

Still, he got himself sufficiently cleaned. He idly wondered what time it must be; the staff below was oddly quiet, and men were not yet out in the training field for their usual spar. With a bit of a pleasant smile, he realized he had, for a change, awoken quite early, and had all the time in the world until he was called for. He knew exactly what to do with this time. Grogginess be damned.

———

It was the next morning, and Zant, his co-lieutenant, was unfashionably late to rise. Ghirahim had spent the last stretch of the night quite leisurely, repairing the damages to his sword that had been inflicted that afternoon. Despite the strenuous labor that went into it, it nourished him, refreshing both mind and body as he polished part of his soul back to a presentable state. Kinks and fractures were beaten and smoothened back to their original state, and finally, he felt whole again. Though the weirdly nauseating buzz of twilight magic was still lingering in his core, he was essentially once again fit as a fiddle. By all means, he could return to the battlefield in the next hour if he must. 

His companion was not so fortunate. Zant, though having attained arcane mastery, was still a being of flesh and blood. He presumed it would take days before he fully recovered from his injuries, even with the assistance of the Poes’ magical healing. The Twili was a secretive creature, he came to find. As such, he wasn’t able to assess the state of his injuries. Still, the limp in his step and his sluggish movement from the night before surely weren’t from the drink alone. Ghirahim could hazard a guess. 

And now, with the last time that he saw him tickling freshly in his mind, he once again felt a pang of concern. After all the battles they had won before, were these nudges going to do him in? It was unbelievable. He should have been alerted by the moan and groan of that whining creature, nagging about the ache in his ravaged arms, hours ago. His room was across the hall, after all. Instead, there was a perfect silence, all the while the sun peeked past the horizon and the first of the staff busied themselves with their livestock and caring for the injured. There were mouths to be fed and graves to be dug, and depending on the state of it, his neighbor across the hallway would be the recipient of at least one of those services.

He shook his head. What ridiculous things to worry about! Zant was their lieutenant and should be the absolute top priority of their medics. Certainly, he had been assessed already, and if anything had happened, Ghirahim would be the first to hear about it. Certainly.

He still found himself standing in front of the Shadow King’s door. How infuriating! After the invigorating battle and intriguing night they shared yesterday, not even a peep had come from his fellow commander. It was preposterous. Didn't they begin to share a bond? He tapped his foot, half in impatience and half as a nervous tic, scrunching his nose as he pondered. It gradually began to annoy him that the longer he stood there, nothing but silence came from Zant’s sleeping quarters. Even though it was entirely unrealistic to expect him to be aware he was out there, he still felt like somehow, the mad wizard should be. Oh! He was getting so irritatingly angry with him. Ghirahim decided he no longer had the privilege of being warned to protect his privacy and opted to instead teleport right to the other side of the door.

He expected to find him asleep but instead encountered a figure sitting at a desk next to the door in dim candlelight, studiously engrossed in the task of combing through a daunting stack of books. Said figure clearly noticed him, as he could tell from the startled screech that rang from him.

“Ghirahim!” Zant shrieked, “have you no sense of decorum!? What business do you have in my quarters, unannounced like this!?” He clutched and covered his body with his arms as though he had been spotted nude, despite the flowing flax robe that covered him almost completely. 

Ghirahim knit his brows, rolling his eyes. “Oh, please. Is that how you greet your fellow lieutenant, who so graciously took it upon himself to check in on you? Frankly, I expected you to be sleeping.”

Zant responded with a scowl, hugging himself as he shrunk into his seat with a hunch. “I refuse to accept such excuses. You are not to enter my room without my duly consent!” He huffed, averting his gaze from him with great effort, as though fearing Ghirahim would harm him if he took his eyes off of him. “Moreover, I am not properly dressed! I do not wish to appear before you so indecently, at this time of day.”

Ghirahim hummed puzzledly, examining Zant head to toe. He didn’t understand what the fuss was about whatsoever. The Shadow King, though not as particularly accessorized as usual, was perfectly concealed by what appeared to be several layers of robes. The only skin he could see was that of his hands, his neck, and his face. Otherwise, his usual bell-like silhouette was perfectly intact. Clearly uncomfortable with being browsed so thoroughly, Zant turned his body away from him with a fluster. It was an amusing sight, to see him act so prudishly. “I assure you, Zant, you are as thoroughly covered as you usually are.” He stepped toward the desk, his eyes scanning through the items strewn atop it. Picking up a small glass vial with some form of long-dead, yet still glittering insect inside it, he examined it idly as his companion could do nothing but sputter. “How are your injuries?” Ghirahim inquired, too focused on Zant’s odd little collection to meet his eye.

Zant stammered and fumed, visibly restraining a yelling fit. A rare display of constraint came to him, it seemed, as he sighed out in frustration, stiffly pressing his back to his chair. “I am finding it a bit difficult to move, though my wounds have been treated well, and are at no risk of infection. I need only worry for their persistent ache to pass.” 

Ghirahim nodded, turning to face him again, but Zant quickly looked away from him. Equally annoyed and endeared by this shyness, he smirked. “That is fortunate enough news, I suppose. Will you be attending our briefing?”

Patience was wearing thin. Zant dawdled for a moment, huffing and tapping his fingers on the arms he still clutched himself with. Finally, with a determined sigh, he looked at him again, a stern frown crinkling his brow. “Ghirahim, I will be more than happy to mingle with you after I’m dressed, but for the time being, I must request you to leave!”

Ghirahim scoffed. What bond was supposed to develop between warriors, or potential lovers, even, who could not even stand to have the other witness his bare form? That being said, they were both fully clothed! Imagine the tantrum he would have thrown if it were any more drastic a situation! Before he could utter even another word, a hand smacked itself on his forearm, and before he knew it, he was teleported right outside Zant’s door. He let out an affronted cry, sputtering as he turned to the closed door now in front of him. Unbelievable! He had half a mind to simply walk off and ignore the man for the entire rest of the day, but he soon realized that he was still holding one of Zant’s field samples. With a frustrated sigh, he realized he would have to return to him at some point and give this strange bug back to him. He was not quite so petty as to break his things in indignation… Yet. For now, he returned to his room, opting to wait out however long it took for Zant to slip in and out of his copious amounts of clothing. Walking down the hall, vial in hand, it now occurred to Ghirahim that maintaining partnerships was an incredibly tedious affair… But at least not a boring one, by any means. He ought to not allow that lunatic to keep him too much on his toes.

As it turned out, that lunatic was really keeping him on his toes. It must have been half an hour later, by now at least seven in the morning, and Zant had not yet called for him. Knowing now that the man was in stable condition, he no longer had to worry about anything too awful happening in his absence, so he felt it well within his right to once again become irritated. To keep someone like him waiting! Had Zant already forgotten? Or was he so fed up with him he no longer felt the need to invite him? Both options were completely unacceptable. Lounging on the bed that was set up for him, but was hardly used, he began to pout and fidget at the transgressions committed against him. A Lord such as he was too important to be cast aside! 

As he sat there fuming, the air got thicker and thicker with his own annoyance. With a flip of his hair and a frustrated grunt, he teleported himself to the nearest window and dramatically threw open the shutters to alleviate the sheer miasma accumulating in his little hidey-hole. He slumped against the windowsill with a sigh, gazing out over the dry mountain valley beyond. The slowly rising sun on the other side of the complex bathed the dry, sandy landscape in gold. A fine commemoration of their battle, as though the universe congratulated them with riches. Still, Ghirahim's mood was as dark and brooding as the tall shadow that stretched out into the distance, cast by the very building he stood in.

Loneliness. That's what he felt, and what he thought he frequently felt in the past, but never truly noticed until he had built a budding friendship with Zant. And now that he was denied this companionship, he found it stung far more than before. Such mopiness was unbecoming of him! He knew rage, he knew agony, and he knew what to do to those that burdened him with such feelings. But he didn't know such petty and persistent feelings like these naggy ones. Any proper response to this small, juvenile thing was unfathomable. 

It was a little cold out, so early and before the sun had fully risen, and the cool breeze tickled the short hairs at the base of his side shave The sudden sensation forced him to retract from his thoughts. Nigh sparkling air, scattered with dew, broke the barrier between his slightly stuffy room and the fresh chill of the world beyond, wind billowing the various drapes and fabrics that lined his walls and shelves. There was something pleasant about it; perhaps he could take a walk. 

Or, alternatively, he could use his slightly refreshed state to stomp over to Zant’s room and give him an earful.

He ended up doing the latter.

Ghirahim stood in front of Zant’s door for the second time this morning, resisting the urge to blink himself straight to the other side of it again. Still, he was hesitant. After the extreme reaction from earlier, he thought that he might get more merit out of their interaction when acting a touch more amicably. So instead, he opted for a firm, rapid knock. Though not instant, indeed, the scrape of a chair and a shambling footfall sounded from behind the door. About time!

“Ah, Ghirahim,” Zant exclaimed upon opening the door. “I had been waiting. Please, do come in.” He took a slight step back, gesturing with his sleeve to the room behind him in slight genuflection. Ghirahim returned the gesture with his own curt greeting but did not step through his doorway quite yet. He gave him a bit of a look up-and-down, quietly noting his appearance. Zant was dressed in his usual garb, though he had foregone both his balaclava and his red banner. Perhaps this was the man’s idea of ‘casual dress’. It appeared that his host took notice of his hesitation, as he began to slightly stammer. For just a moment, Zant looked rather bashful. “Right, ah — I must apologize for my earlier behavior. I have been a bit irritable this morning, and you startled me amidst my focus. I was fearing I may have affronted you, but from your return, I assume I have not angered you too terribly..?”

Again, Ghirahim was completely mystified by the man’s mannerisms. He did not expect to find such decency in a man who would start screaming and flailing every time he was mildly inconvenienced. Well, he supposed it was about time to leave that single-faceted view of him behind, by now. Zant had proven himself to be a complex character with many different faces, but he continued to find great difficulty in predicting which mask he would be met with every time he approached him. Even so, an apology..? This one was new. His pride stung, but he realized that it would likely reflect poorly on him if he were to reject him. After staring at him with raised brows for a couple of seconds, he sighed, running a hand through his bangs to press it to his forehead. “Ah, well… I suppose I was careless in my treatment of you, myself. Let us agree to let bygones be bygones, yes?”

A bit of a smile stretched across Zant’s lips. “Yes, that seems agreeable,” he nodded, taking another step back to allow Ghirahim entry. He found himself so jarred, the urge to berate him for his earlier insults suddenly left him. Instead, he decided he could retaliate by being a completely nosey busybody. Which, fortunately, circumstances allowed. Now that the room was a little more well-lit, he could have more of a proper look-around. Zant’s quarters were shockingly well-furnished for a military camp. There stood a bed in the corner between the two tightly locked windows, where a light blanket was neatly tucked into the edges of the wooden bed frame. Several chests and a closet lined the wall toward the left side of the room, where his various pieces of equipment had been displayed. It was a little unsettling to witness that helmet ‘airing out’ without being attached to Zant’s body. He felt oddly watched.

By far the most eye-catching part of the room was his desk area. It was strewn with books, papers, and samples, with a repurposed medicine cabinet placed upon it, and a small, two-story bookcase next to it. Whatever he was doing, he seemed to be quite busy with it. How strange it was, to see this man — the arguably less… Refined, of the two — reside in such a personable room. Certainly, it was a work in progress, but after a single day, it already looked lived in. Ghirahim’s own was incredibly bare in comparison. He was almost getting a little embarrassed. 

Zant idly followed him, passing by him to sit back down at his desk. Ghirahim joined him, standing at its edge. “Right, I was still holding onto this, somehow,” he pondered out loud, holding out the vial with the beetle inside. “Here you are.”

A gangly gray hand reached out to his hand, brushing fingers against his gloves as he took the specimen from him with a smile. “Ah, yes. That was my incentive for you to return. Thank you for indulging me,” he snickered, before groaning slightly as he opened his cabinet and placed the vial in an empty slot. Presumably, his injuries still bothered him. Ghirahim shook his head a little, smiling incredulously. He couldn’t believe Zant thought so strategically about these kinds of things, but in hindsight, he probably should have. His eyes strayed from his companion, scouting the top of the desk again. He had two volumes open, one in Hylian script, yet the other bearing scribbles and abstract sketches he could not conceive. A strange, stiff quill stood stabbed into an ink pillow, next to a sheet of paper that Zant must have been writing on. Whether this too was an alien script, or his handwriting was just indecipherable he genuinely couldn’t tell. 

His curiosity got the better of him. “You seem awfully busy. What have you been working on, so early after daybreak?”

“Ah, this,” he responded, rifling through his belongings in an attempt to tidy them, “is somewhat of a… Study, I’m working on.”

Ghirahim hummed and raised his brow, prompting him to continue. “I have browsed through a variety of subjects, like some personal favorites of mine I’ve managed to bring from home. Though, lately, I’ve been taking a bit of a novice interest in Hyrulean political history, as well,” he stated, bending back to squint thoughtfully at his bookcase. “Right now, I’m focused on comparing various bestiaries of the locale. They've proven to be quite dense."

“Oh, yes. A real assortment,” Ghirahim drawled, half-seating himself on the space that was now cleared out on the edge of the desk. “Is that why you’ve been dragging me along on little hikes all this time?” He recalled now the various times Zant would bend down to scoop sprigs of vegetation or insects into vials and jars, thinking of it as nothing but an odd quirk until now. The man wasn't simply strange, he was an academic. A wizened eccentric. It almost made him more intimidating.

The question interrupted Zant's train of thought, and his attention was dragged away from his work. Instead, he looked up at Ghirahim, a touch flustered. “Well, yes, though… I’ve also grown to enjoy your company, over time.”

Ghirahim smiled at him in return, daintily clasping his hands together at his knees. “Certainly I don’t blame you. I, myself, find myself pleasantly surprised by your interests. You do not hesitate to burn the entire province down, and yet here you are, writing down everything you can before you turn it to ashes. You’re an amusing man, Zant.”

Zant laughed heartily, baring his teeth and wrinkling his eyes. “Well! It is only a little pet project of mine,” Zant prattled on pleasantly. “The biodiversity of Hyrule is truly staggering. The Twilight Realm was far more restrictive in species richness, especially in the area my House reigned from. As you said, indeed, I would very much like to at least document as much of it as I can before our forces repurpose the landscape.” Ghirahim stood in bewilderment as the man continued to rant. “Simply compare the volume of these tomes, for example,” he stated, smacking his hand down on the stack next to him. “This one,” he wiggled a graceful black tome with a pressure-carved spine at him, “describes the various dynamics in the faunal food chain in the Twilight Realm wastelands.” Said tome was now shoved in Ghirahim’s hands, opened on a random page, for his perusal. 

The Twilight Realm. Zant spoke of it several times before – the accursed place with that enviously, obsessively desired throne. It was an interesting contrast, to hear him deliberate on it. He detested the Twilight Realm, though he 'loved' its people, while coveting the Light World, despite despising nearly everyone in it. This love, in the meantime, appeared to be a twisted, possessive sensation in Zant's mind. As a demon, he shared this difficulty with viceless affection, so he supposed he understood. 

Though Ghirahim didn't much care for scenery, the Realm never did quite sound appealing. An eternally dark, withering expanse. Beaten and starved like a beast of burden past its prime. Growing up in a place like that, he assumed anyone's mind would crack under the sheer mind-numbing monotony, but even Zant at one point admitted he was the odd one out in that regard. Too intense, too passionate, bursting with want and fury. No wonder he was awestruck by the Light World, which was ever-changing even when stuck in the same Cycle for millennia. Ghirahim, having been absent and then resummoned after thousands of years, could attest to that. To someone who has been shunned all his life for wanting an escape, this world, with all of its strange, unpredictable phenomena, was everything Zant could ever want and more. When met with such a fervor for research, the least he could do was indulge him.

In the meantime, his Scholar gestured to a second tome, which was thrice the size to the point he daren't even lift it. "This one is from the same approximate ecological zone, but in the Light World, instead. You see the difference." Zant absolutely did not exaggerate. “I hope to have written up a bit of a compendium, or at least a field guide, by the time our army reclaims the Triforce.”

Ghirahim idly flipped some pages, thumbing through stark white paper with pure gibberish. Other than the occasional drawing, he didn’t understand even a lick of it. “Well, in that case, I do hope your wit is as quick as the way you swing your scimitars. If every campaign we face packs out like yesterday, we might reach the Valley of Seers sooner than you think,” he smirked, snapping the book shut in his hand.

“I admire your optimism, Sword. Your lust for war is truly one of your virtues," he chuckled in response, taking the book back from Ghirahim as he held it out to him.

By now satiated by his rambles, Ghirahim once again took it upon himself to wander. He slowly strode across the room, idly dragging his finger across the surfaces of furniture along the way. Despite its furnishing, the room was obviously set up with just one person in mind, as he found it dreadfully lacking in seating areas. Not that he was one to talk. Instead, a very appealing alternative failed to escape his notice. Was he so bold as to sit on his bed? Oh, of course he was. Zant had his back turned to him, busying himself with the various stationery on his desk once their conversation died out. In other words, he had not the slightest idea what he was up to back there. What a perfect opportunity.

"That reminds me, Zant. You so rudely left one of my questions unanswered earlier – though, of course, I've chosen to forgive you, for now," Ghirahim babbled, leaning back on the bed with his legs crossed. Zant did not react vocally, but his shoulders hunched the slightest bit. "Do you think you're well enough to attend our briefing today?"

A clear of the throat rang in response. Zant idly thumped a stack of papers on his desk to straighten them and laid them aside. "Of course. It would be a disgrace for me to idly sit here and abandon our troops."

"Ah, excellent. After yesterday's victory, we do have plenty to discuss," he drawled, fiddling coyly with the chain on his cape.

Zant sighed. "I suppose it was a victory, in the end. If only we didn't let their commander get away."

Ghirahim groaned, draping himself back on the mattress. Bouncy, what was it filled with? More importantly, what could be laid upon it? "Now you're simply being a nag. You got us that battle, Zant, and though you never seem to fight with grace, you did do so valiantly."

"A delightfully back-handed compliment as usual, Ghirahim,” Zant chortled, for a moment again rising in pitch. Ghirahim noted that such displays must be not-so-subtle indicators of genuine amusement, rather than a polite front. Were they getting that familiar already, at this hour? It was almost endearing. How easily the infamous King of Shadows lowered his guard around him! Zant hesitated a moment again, before continuing to speak. “I must commend you, in return, for coming to my aid so swiftly after I called for you."

Ghirahim idly waved him off, rolling over to lay on his side, draping an arm over his hip. "Ah, well… I was nearby, is all." That was a lie, but he didn't know that.

And yet, Zant smirked, turning his head with an inhuman, snake-like twist in an attempt to look over his shoulder. "Oh, yes, how fortunate. Without you, we likely wouldn't have delivered our definitive blow before dusk. I was fully prepared to have been battling until after nightfall."

"A good thing we did, otherwise you wouldn't have had the time now to sit and work on your hobbies."

Zant turned back to him, smiling with his lips slightly parted as if to say something, but he seemed a little taken off guard. Without that massive helmet on, the man was an open book, a breeze rapidly flipping through each of its pages, allowing him to read his every thought. The sight of a graceful and alluring creature such as himself, draping himself on his bed, proved to be too much for him to bear unflinchingly. Those big, softly glowing, amber eyes blinked at him, before resuming his speech. “I take it you must have passions of your own? I am aware of your lack of mortal necessities, and a diligent person such as yourself surely doesn’t spend the entire night waiting around for the sun to rise.” A smirk crooked his lips as he cocked his head.

Ghirahim fiddled with a lock of hair, propping himself up on his elbow. “Hmm, well. I do have a handful of activities I occupy myself with." Zant looked at him expectantly, like a dog waiting for scraps to drop. He couldn't help but tease. "But… I am thinking it best to just show you. Not today, though. My room is not quite presentable.”

Zant scoffed. “Those are quite the words, coming from a man who so gleefully barged into my own room, without a care in the world for the state I, or my room, were in!”

Tapping his lip thoughtfully, he hummed in thought. “You do make a compelling argument. Then, perhaps, tonight I will invite you over.”

“Oh, splendid!" Zant gasped delightedly, though an air of smugness dripped through his tone. "You appear to be quite easily swayed when it comes to inviting me to your room."

Ghirahim shrugged, caught in the act. "What can I say? I prefer not to beat around the bush," he lowered himself, now laying fully back and rubbing the sheets between his fingers. Zant's eyes combed through him, glued to his form as he so sultrily displayed himself to him. But there was something unprecedented about it. His eyes did not have that lewd, ogling possession that Ghirahim was so used to being cast his way. Instead, he beheld him as though he were the stars themselves, a look of awe and adoration. An unknown pulse coursed through his chest. He needed more of it, and desperately. "Besides, you already invited me over to yours."

This flirtatious behavior proved to be too much. Zant walked on over, the limp in his step much improved from the night before, before taking his seat on the bed next to him. Ghirahim was quick to rise, scooting over to sit a little closer to him, just barely shoulder to shoulder. “Ghirahim,” he started, looking intently, though a bit playfully at him. “This briefing… How much time do we have until then?”

The thump in his chest had finally landed, like doves upon the branches of infinite possibilities. It all made sense – he yearned for it. Ghirahim found himself overcome with a sudden ache for companionship, and the feeling was mutual. The Twili sitting so close to him trapped him in his gaze once again, penetrating past his false skin, and into the proxy of his core. But it was not an intrusive one. It was gentle, like fingers gingerly parting the curtains to let in the light of dawn. And whatever Zant had found beyond, he was basking in it. What an addictive feeling!

He had no choice but to indulge his every wish. “Hmmm…" The tip of his tongue briefly darted between his lips, like an invitation. "I say, probably another two hours.”

“Very well, then," Zant deliberated, looming over him, lips close to his scarred ear. "If I might make so bold of a suggestion," he whispered, spindly fingers coursing through his silver hair. "I do think it best we spend such time wisely.”

Ghirahim laughed, but leaned back to gaze at him daringly. It was now his mission to goad him into boldness, just to see if bullying alone could turn him into an assertive partner. “I won’t play such games with you, Zant. Speak clearly. What do you want?”

“Kiss me.”

“What, not even a ‘please’?” But before he could reply, he was met with lips suddenly pressed against his. Excellent, he was learning. As endearing as he found the hesitant mannerisms Zant showed before, he did always prefer a more confident partner. His arm hooked around Zant's neck, pulling him in to press their bodies together, and denied his dear any attempt at pulling away. He sought to entrap him, as Zant had him, eager to show him the consequences of coaxing him with such affections. His companion, too, found himself a little handsy. Ghirahim felt one arm snake its way around his waist, while the other placed itself upon his knee, squeezing him in his grip. 

Their contact deepened. Something tingled inside Ghirahim as a familiar taste crossed between their lips. Coppery. Thick, and staining his lips.

… Blood?

For a moment, their kiss was interrupted, a mutual gasp between them as they parted. Zant had pulled away, but lingered close enough for their noses to brush. "Ah, Ghirahim… As much as I enjoy your company, might I request we not – Escalate too far? I suspect my bruises would not take too kindly to anything too strenuous…"

Ghirahim roused from the rosy feeling of their kiss, at first befuddled by his pulling away, but soon softening. "Oh, why, of course. You must be exhausted still, I understand." He didn't. Mortal needs were a mystery to him. But, honestly, after Zant's hesitance to bare himself from earlier, he reckoned the Twilight King was a touch too nervous about the prospect still. He was going to be more difficult to seduce than he thought. "Not to worry, King of Shadows. I know just the way to take care of you."

Zant perked up at the words. His feline eyes widened in excitement as Ghirahim began tickling his fingers through the hair at the base of his neck. "My… How intriguing. Do what you will, then," he cooed, tittering in anticipation.

The Twili blinked, tilting his head and leaning in with great interest as the object of his affections loomed over him with a smirk. "I will," assured Ghirahim, before pressing their lips together, not to part until duty called.

Thus was the start of their near-daily routine.