#xanthus my love

[thedivinevera]

Xanthus x reader, Xanthus Claiborne x reader, Xanthus x fem!reader, Xanthus x afab!reader, Zsakuva character x reader, m4f

Vampire x reader, Vampire x human established relationship, bond aka soulmate trope, smut, fluff, angst, angst without comfort, two ending

Tw: a little smut, angst, angst without comfort, angst with comfort, mention of mc's death, mention of religious theme, yandere tendency, obsession, insanity of the ml, more warning in the actual chapter

chapter 1: THE DAWN

Chapter 2: THE MORNING

Chapter 3: THE NOON

Chapter 4: THE SUNSET

Chapter 5: THE EVENING

Ending 1: THE MIDNIGHT

Ending 2: THE DEATH OF NIGHT

[c-t-r-l14]

Tennesee Waltz

“I remember the night, and the Tennesee Waltz

Now I know just how much I have lost.”

———————-💔————————————

Synopsis: You introduce an old friend to Xanthus.

Based off of this post.

———————-💔———————————-

You were never one to believe in soulmates. That concept simply never made sense to you. The notion that some “universal force of nature” chooses the person that is “perfect” for you, how it ties an invisible red string of fate to you and your lover's pinky finger—forever making you two bound to each other for all eternity—was simply ludacris.

Sometimes, when you were out with your friends, they’d talk about how they met their lovers, and how they just instantly knew that they were the ones. And they’d say it with the tenderness, warmth, and certain fondness of love swimming in their bright eyes. You’d watch how their bodies swooned with adoration, how the corners of their lips were lifted up into a smile of utter enchantment. As you sat there, watching them whisper and swoon about how the “stars aligned for them to be together,” with their hands on their hearts—their bright, love struck eyes gazing longingly at the sky—you couldn’t help but think that for a moment, for just a moment—how nice it would be if the theories of “soul-ties” and “soulmates” were real. But, as soon as those thoughts came, they vanished just as instantly—fading away from existence like the steam that permeated from your hot cup of tea. Although it was a nice thought in theory, it was absolutely ridiculous in practice. There is no destiny, or “path of fate”, when it comes to falling in love. There are no “outside forces” pulling the strings behind the scenes—no cupid or Eros to shoot an arrow of love in your back. You simply meet someone, get to know who they are, fall in love, and eventually settle down with them. A completely natural process—one with no red strings attached. And for a little a while, that’s what you truly believed.

That is, until you met Xanthus.

You were drawn to everything about him—his air of mystique, and his beautiful golden hair, how his bangs fell over his forehead and framed his pale face, how his eyes of red seemed to sparkle brightly with the radiance of rubies—and how his thin lips seemed to form the most gorgeous smile you’ve ever seen. You loved the way he held you in his strong arms; the way you melted in the cocoon of his warm embrace. When the evening made way for the night—when the red, orange, and yellow hues morphed into a midnight blue, you’d be comforted by the faint sound of his breathing and the smell of cologne lingering in the air; and as the night made way for the dawn, your heart was filled with so much bliss—so much happiness—simply because you were lucky enough to wake up to him sleeping beside you. You thanked your lucky stars every time he used you as his muse for any new book he composed. Your body felt lighter than air when he recited the sonnets he wrote for you. You beamed brightly every single time you posed for any painting he’d create in your honor. With him, the world was bathed in pink hues—bursting with absolute beauty.

And, on one clear night—without a single twinkling star in the sky—when there was nothing but the luminescence of the full moon hanging over the city, he held your hand tightly as he stared into your eyes, and said to you:

“Dearest, my love for you is deeper than the deepest depths of the vastest oceans, and is as plentiful as the stars in the sky. It extends to even the most remote regions of the universe—reaching a distance above the very heavens itself; a devotion so strong that it breaks the concept of time. Whenever you’re around me, my heart sings—a simple song morphs into a symphony whenever I look at you. You bring me comfort on my darkest nights, and laughter in my lowest moments. You’re a beacon that melted the ice of my once frozen heart. And that is why, I want to be there for you—for as long as you allow me to be.”

You can practically hear the fast paced thumping of your heart beating loudly in your chest. And your vision blurred with tears as he reached into his pocket.

“I promise.”

In his hand sat the most beautiful ring you’ve ever laid your eyes on—complete with brilliant red rubies encrusted in the golden band. Ruby red—the color of his eyes. Your mouth, although quivering—quirked up into a smile as he slid the ring onto your finger. And he smiled back as he took out another ring, with diamonds that shone with the luminance, beauty, and color of your own eyes—sliding it on to his own finger.

You let the tears flow. And, on that clear night—without a single twinkling star in the sky—you two shared a tender kiss under the ethereal glow of the full moon hanging over the city.

It was a moment that you cherished for a long time. But even as you stood there, staring lovingly in his ruby red eyes, his face and blond tresses bathed in the pale white glow of the moonlight—you still didn’t understand what your friends swooned and sighed about.

Because despite the immense love you felt, and the sweet aroma of romance wafting through the air, you still didn’t believe in soulmates.

…..

As you ascended the long staircase, you nervously fiddled with your hair, trying your best to give your whole ensemble a finishing touch. Your stomach was swimming with apprehensiveness, and a bit of anxiety as you got to the top—your heart thumping wildly in your chest as you came face to face with the large ballroom. You huffed as Xanthus chuckled with pure amusement.

“Dearest,” he laughed, “there is nothing to worry about. The way you look tonight will take everyone’s breath away.”

“Thanks, Xanthus, but this is the first time I’ve ever been to a ball! We’ll be dancing in front of people, too. I have to make sure I don’t mess up.”

He chuckled once more. “We’ve danced with each other many times before; it’s not really anything to fret over.”

“Okay, but the difference is that people will be watching.”

“You worry too much, my dear. You’ll do wonderful.”

He gave you a reassuring smile as he offered his arm to you, and you took it—smiling back as you both sauntered into the ballroom.

You were taken aback from the level of absolute grandeur that encompassed every single inch of the ballroom. The silk velvet drapes, which were the color of old red wine, cascaded from the ceiling to the ground—their gold trimmings almost sweeping against the marble floor—its own tiles embellished with swirling patterns and geometric shapes. Frescoes—paintings that were vibrant in colors and rich with lore—adorned the high ceilings as it stretched far across the room. And, in the center of it all, was a crystal chandelier looming overhead—casting a beautiful, soft glow—almost as astonishing as the moonlight that engulfed you and Xanthus just a few days prior.

The room was filled with people who were dressed to the nines—opulent gowns and dresses that cascaded all the way down to the floor, grazing it as the women walked. Men dressed in their best suits and tailcoats, standing with nonchalance as they carry on a conversation with the person talking to them. And, besides from the magnificent harmonies melted together by the woodwinds, percussions, and strings played by the live grand orchestra—the quiet sounds of excited chatter, laughter and clinking wine glasses filled the air. However, within the sea of fancy dresses and tailcoats, you spotted a familiar face—one you hadn’t seen in what felt like a million years. Still as beautiful as they were on the last day you saw them, their smile as radiant as ever—their laughter loud and full of life. And while they did go many names, you chose to call out the one that was most familiar to you.

“Love!”

In an instant they caught your gaze, and their own eyes lit up as you two made your way over.

“Well, I’ll be! It’s been so long!” They exclaimed, grabbing your hands and squeezing it.

“Too long!” You laughed, “Oh, and before I forget—Love, this is Xanthus.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Love,” Xanthus said—with a certain softness in his tone as he extended his hand.

“Pleasure’s all mine,” they responded shyly, shaking it.

And for a moment, they both stood there, staring into each other’s eyes—almost as if they were in a trance, or under some sort of spell. But, there was something different in Xanthus’ gaze; while it was true that he had looked at you with adoration and astonishment swimming in his eyes, there was something very unfamiliar about the way he looked at Love. There was a certain something in his stare—something that never appeared when he looked at you. And, that very same something gleamed in Love’s eyes.

Enamour.

Suddenly, the excitement that swam in your stomach—and the warmness that filled your heart froze over. You opened your mouth to say something, but then the live orchestra started playing a song that made all the women squeal and drag their dates to the dance floor.

The Tennessee Waltz.

Xanthus pulled away from you, and took their hand.

“May I have this dance, Love?”

“Yes you may,” they giggled.

You watched as they sauntered to the dancefloor, hand in hand, never once letting the fire of captivation fizzle out of their bright eyes. You couldn’t bring yourself to call after them, because even if you tried, the words would get stuck in your throat. So, you stood there, and watched from afar as they waltzed.

You watched as the melody consumed them—never taking a step out of turn—always on beat.

You watched as they laughed when Xanthus gave Love a twirl—his smile so wide that his teeth were showing. He never smiled at you like that.

You watched as they still held each other close, even when it was time to switch partners. They danced as if they were in their own little universe.

And, while the orchestra played the finishing note, you watched as they both shared a tender kiss, bathed in the soft glow that was casted by the chandelier looming overhead.

Your heart clenched, and a pain that burned like a wildfire consumed your chest. With great haste, and blurry vision, you ran out of there. The ballroom air was suffocating; it was filled with their new found love, and the scent was so thick and strong that it was getting harder to breathe.

You stumbled into the ballroom garden, and let the tears flow—heaving sobs and broken cries filling the atmosphere. It was a clear night, without a twinkling star in the sky—with nothing but the luminescence of the full moon hanging over the city. You cried under the very same sky your darling Xanthus declared his love for you.

The night you believed in soulmates wasn’t the night he recited his first sonnet to you. It wasn’t the night he used you as his muse for his first book, or when he made his first painting. It wasn’t even the night he gave you a promise ring, vowing to stay by your side for as long as you’d let him.

No, the night you believed in soulmates was the night Xanthus found his.

The night your friend stole your sweetheart from you.

The night they were playing the beautiful Tennessee Waltz.

———————————💔———————————

A/N: Sorry this took so long, I had so much things to do. I’m glad to be back! Have some angst!

Masterlist

[peppymintdreams]

Period comfort from Xanthus and Dontis please. From loves view. Thank you 🫶

So for this I didn’t know if you wanted it separate for both of them like each of their listeners are just love getting comfort from both Xanthus and Dontis so I’ll do that separately but right now I have Xanthus done

Periods

Xanthus Claiborne x Love

Xanthus had always known when something was off. With heightened senses, he could pick up on the tiniest shifts in heartbeat, the faintest changes in mood. Love’s usually bright energy had dimmed over the past few hours. She had tried to brush it off, but he could see it in the way she hugged herself, a silent attempt to ease the pain she thought she could hide.

Without a word, he stepped away from the painting he had been half-heartedly admiring and approached her. His footsteps were soundless on the polished wood floor, but Love was too wrapped up in her discomfort to notice him until the weight of his presence settled beside her on the sofa. She glanced up, offering him a weak smile, but it faded quickly as another wave of cramps hit her.

Xanthus narrowed his eyes, the predator in him recognizing her distress immediately. He knew better than to press—Love didn’t like to admit when something was wrong—but after centuries of observing, he’d learned the subtleties of human pain. His hand, cool but soothing, brushed against her forehead.

"You're hurting," he murmured, his voice low and wrapped in concern.

"It's just..." Love waved a hand vaguely towards her stomach, attempting to downplay it. "Cramps. Nothing major."

Xanthus tilted his head, dark eyes studying her intently. He didn’t buy the nonchalance. "I’ve lived long enough to know when someone is in more pain than they’re letting on, Love."

She let out a small sigh, curling her knees tighter to her chest. "Fine, it’s bad. But it happens every month. I’m used to it."

Xanthus’s gaze softened, his lips curving into a sympathetic frown. His mind raced through the many things he could do for her—he might not have experienced this particular type of suffering, but his knowledge of the human body, especially after centuries of studying anatomy and medicine, gave him an advantage.

Without another word, he stood and moved swiftly to the kitchen, retrieving a warm water bottle and some herbal tea from the pantry. Within minutes, the kettle whistled softly, and he returned to the sofa, placing the water bottle gently against her abdomen.

Love gave him a surprised look as the warmth spread through her body, easing some of the tension in her muscles. "You didn’t have to—"

"I don’t need to," Xanthus cut her off gently, his smile just a little smug as he handed her the steaming mug of chamomile tea. "But I want to."

She accepted the tea, holding it close to her chest. The warmth felt good, soothing her from the inside out. Xanthus settled back beside her, his arm draping loosely over her shoulders as he pulled her against his side. Despite his cool skin, the contact was comforting.

"I know it doesn’t help much," he admitted softly, his fingers lightly tracing patterns on her arm, "but I’m here, whatever you need. I’ve dealt with worse things in my centuries. If I can handle wars and revolutions, I think I can handle this."

She couldn’t help the small laugh that bubbled up at his comment. His dark, sarcastic humor always had a way of easing her discomfort. "Are you saying my period is worse than a revolution?"

He grinned, sharp fangs just barely visible as he leaned in closer. "I’m saying I would face a revolution a hundred times over before letting you suffer through this alone."

Love smiled softly, resting her head on his shoulder. His arm tightened around her just a fraction, the kind of subtle gesture that reminded her of how fiercely protective he could be.

The storm outside continued to build, but the warmth inside the penthouse remained steady. Xanthus shifted slightly, and his fingers moved to rub gentle circles over her abdomen where the cramps were strongest. His touch was firm but soothing, a far cry from the danger he normally exuded. In moments like these, she almost forgot the ancient creature of the night he truly was. Almost.

They sat in comfortable silence for a while, the rain a steady rhythm in the background. The warmth of the tea, the water bottle, and Xanthus’s gentle ministrations slowly started to make the pain more bearable.

"Why do you always know what to do?" Love asked softly, tilting her head to look up at him.

Xanthus smiled down at her, his gaze filled with an affection so deep it almost hurt to look at. "Because I care for you, Love. And after four hundred years, I’ve learned that small comforts can make all the difference in the world." He paused, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "Besides, I’ve got nothing but time to take care of you."

His words wrapped around her like the warmest blanket, and Love allowed herself to relax fully against him. Xanthus pressed a soft kiss to her temple, his cool lips lingering for a moment longer than necessary, as if to anchor her in this moment of peace.

"Thank you," she whispered.

"Always, Love," he murmured, his voice low and steady. "Always."

[Dontis coming soon]

[soscarlett1twas]

currently laughing my ass off scrolling through reblogs of the debate raging between @xzhdjsj and @claiestve , and between their paragraphs that’d make sticky keys breakdown are random bystanders just munching on some popcorn and enjoying the show.

truly showcasing the beauty of the crumpet fandom

[vasiliascrow]

“How Terrible It Is To Be Loved By Something That Death Could Touch”

He lays on the bed that you used to sleep on. An ache that lingers in his chest simply holds him down, making him unable to remove himself from it. your bed. He holds onto the bedding so tightly that his knuckles turn white. He refuses to let go of the last remnant of you. Your scent. God how he misses how you smell . All he can think of is the times you would lie in bed together, how peaceful you’d look as you rested. The memory of your presence makes him realize just how much comfort he got from it in the wake of your absence.

He looks worn, absolutely frayed. worn. His skin, which used to be oh so bright and beautiful, has now become a dulled muted tone that no longer holds onto his natural beauty. His body, which was one of great strength, has now become a weakened, frail frame of what used to be such a powerful entity. It’s been months since he last fed; he isn’t able to bring himself to feed from another. They all taste bitter and stale. An absolutely horrid taste lingers in his mouth from his last attempt causing a wave of disgust to wash over his body. God how he misses how you taste. Now here he is , lying in what used to be your bed, unable to bring himself to leave the room Even the thought makes him afraid that if he does, what’s left of your scent will be long gone and lost.

After the…god he can’t even speak of it himself, Dontis decided to return to the house of Xanthus. The losses they all suffered that day are a constant thought in his mind and haunts him daily. Dontis makes his way to the house speaking softly as he enters.

“Xanthus?” His voice echoes through the entryway as he walks through the front door. Only the silence of the house returns his greeting, causing some worry to creep in to him. He gently shuts and locks the door before making his way through the house in search of this friend. After making his way up to the second floor, a sigh escapes his mouth as he realizes where his friend has been hiding away all this time.

A gentle knock taps at the edges of Xanthus’s senses, along with Dontis’s sweet-toned voice.

“Xanny? I’m coming in,'' he consoles as he slowly pushes the door open and peaks through it, looking for the vampire. The sight of him lying on the bed causes concern to fall heavy on his face as he takes in the state of the lad. He steps into the bedroom and closes the bedroom door before making his way to the side of the bed where Xanthus lays.

Dontis gently caresses Xanthus’s cheek with his fingers, muttering softly. “Oh Xanthus..what’s become of you?” Concern and worry laces his tongue as he continues to stroke his dear friend’s cheek.

Xanthus's ears perk at the sound of his friend's voice, the familiar accent doing little to soothe his despair. He turns to look at him, his face drowning with grief. His eyes are bloodshot and dark bags hang heavy below his crimson irises; the colour of them seeming to lack any life at all.. Dead.

“Dontis..I-“ His eyes fill with tears that threaten to fall at the slightest movement. At a loss for words, he struggles to bring to life what has been racking his mind all this time. Dontis takes this opportunity to speak,

“Shhh shhh..it’s alright.” He coos as he sits on a chair beside the bed, not wanting to sit on the mattress knowing the vampire holds such high importance to it and he doesn’t want to overstep. He ushers Xanthus into his arms, embracing the vampire and trying to provide him comfort. He tightens his arms around the vampire's frail frame carefully. It feels like one wrong move and his dear friend’s delicate form will crack.

“I know. I know Xanny.” He mumbles, holding onto his friend securely.

Xanthus’s eyes finally begin to let his tears fall as he submits to the Incubus’s embrace. His body shakes with his sobs and his knuckles turn white with the strength of the grip he has on his friend’s shirt.

“I- I can’t live like this..Dontis I can’t.” He chokes out with heavy breaths. Dontis’s eyes soften at the sound of the vampire's voice; god when did it get so hoarse?

“When did you last feed?” He asks with concern and turns his face to look at the vampire.

A small sigh escapes Xanthus’s lips and he sucks in a small breath before answering.

“Months..Dontis.” He utters, leaning his head against his shoulder.

“Xanny… “ Dontis admonishes. “No wonder you are in this condition. I..I should have come back sooner..” his hand gently caresses Xanthus’s cheek as she speaks. The Incubus’s eyes assess the condition of the vampire’s once bright and happy face, now wet with tears, and his concern increases.

“Xanthus..how long have you been here? In this bed.”

Xanthus’s eyes grow heavier and he mutters his response. “Since I returned. This room..was theirs. I can’t leave it. Their scent.”

“Come now..you can’t rot in here. Look at you..” Dontis pleads and urges him to get out of bed, the guilt flooding him at the sight of his dear friend in this condition.

Xanthus’s body goes rigid in his hold, the thought of leaving the bedroom causing his breath to turn to ice in his lungs. No power on this plane or any other can rip him from the last remaining piece he has of his bonded lover.

“I- I can’t Dontis no.” He whispers.

Dontis leans back slightly, putting some space between them and gently places a hand on Xanthus’s cheek, wiping a tear away as it falls.

“I know you can. You must. They wouldn’t want this to become of you.” He pleads gently, struggling to keep his own voice steady. Releasing Xanthus from his hold, Dontis moves to stand beside the bed and extends his hand to help the vampire up. “Up you get now” he urges firmly.

Xanthus scowls slightly as he places his hand in his and slowly stands, his legs begin to shake from the effort. His grip on Dontis tightens while he steadies himself.

“Well done,” Dontis praises in a gentle voice and leads him to the bathroom.

“Come, let’s freshen you up now? Hmm?” He says with a soft grin on his face

Xanthus follows without uttering a single word, letting him lead the way and do as he pleases. Dontis stops in front of the shower and turns toward him.

“Shower. It will make you feel better to wash away what’s resting on your shoulders.” Dontis gently pats the smaller man’s shoulder and leaves the room to give Xanthus privacy.

———————『✩ 🕯️☾༺♰༻☽🕯️✩』————————

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ 𝔠𝔯𝔬𝔴

Authors note ;

It’s been fun writing this out, and I apologize for how long it’s taken me to rewrite it how I originally intended. I’ve been dealing with some stuff and the weight of those burdens got quite heavy upon my shoulders.

I hope the wait is well worth it, and I Thank you for taking the time to read it, and even supporting me & my writing.

A big thank you to my Beta reader, & friend for helping me with this. You’ve done more than you could imagine. (Thank you for correcting my terrible English smh 🤦🏻‍♂️ <3)

[literary-motif]

Sakuverse Characters as Paintings

So, I had thoughts on this and I wanted to share them with you a bit extensively. Feel free to let me know your opinion on this, especially if your interpretations differ from mine.

I’m by no means an expert on art and art history, so take my analysis with a grain of salt. Apologies for the (mostly) Eurocentric collection. Shoutout to this website for helping me understand art movements and some of these paintings better.

Now, let's begin.

Alex — Narcissus, Caravaggio

Italian, Baroque, painted ca. 1597-1599

The myth of Narcissus first appears in the Roman poet Ovid’s Metamorphoses. In essence, the myth runs thus: 

Narcissus, a very handsome man, rejects every person who falls in love with him and his dashing looks, which leads him to be cursed by the Gods. One day, coming by a body of water, he looks at his reflection, and falls in love with it/himself, fulfilling the Gods’ curse never to be able to have what he loves. He wastes away by the water until he turns into a Daffodil, also known as Narcissus.

A possible interpretation of this painting is that it is a Vanitas, a piece of art serving as a reminder of the briefness of life, the inevitability of death, and not to waste time on frivolous things — kind of like memento mori. Inherent to this is also the pointlessness of ambition, since everything done and wanted in life is ultimately meaningless and fated to wither away.

The light and dark colors used here in the typical baroque style have a dramatizing effect — Alex’s overall story grows more dramatic as it progresses from part four onward, although the elements of tension in his relationship with Gremlin were introduced well before that. 

Alex is one of the more dramatic characters in that it is somehow inherent to him as a person, as opposed to characters such as Xanthus, where the drama lies outside the character and focuses more on the exterior world or the circumstances they are in.

Alex is also very ambitious and aware of his talent. He knows what he wants and works hard to get it. His career goals and achieving something substantial with his art are crucial to him, which is why he is willing to leave behind Gremlin and their life together to advance his profession. 

He is willing to sacrifice everything for his work — his dream — and invests so much time and effort into it that it consumes him, erasing everything else around him. Alex knows that. He is aware of how his ambition guides him and how absorbed he is, so he tries to better himself to be more grounded in reality and live outside his hopes and dreams.

Ultimately, he gives up on that process — when he gives up on Gremlin, who is his tether to the world outside of work (“If it wasn’t for you these past couples of weeks, I would have gone mad,” part 4) — choosing instead to abandon the general life he is a part of to throw himself into photography, his career, and detach himself from everything else. 

Still, he is by no means overly selfish or unkind to others to further his ambition and get ahead in life. Alex tries his best to be considerate — despite the anxieties and passion clouding his mind. He is not nearly as arrogant and self-absorbed as Narcissus, but resembles him in his discontent of the present. Some similarities turn Alex very much into Narcissus, who — in the spirit of a Vanitas — values the ultimately meaningless and works towards the completion of a frivolous goal. 

In the end, Alex’s restlessness and always thinking ahead to things that could possibly advance his career keep him from being satisfied, especially now that he has no grounding presence around him anymore. He is unhappy in the present, which is the message and warning a Vanitas tries to convey — that time is short and every moment should be relished because this life won’t last forever.

Alex will never be content with himself as a person, where he is in life, his achievements, and the present as a whole — much like Narcissus felt himself above the present and the people around him, only to ultimately be trapped in his own vanity.

One last thing: the reflection Narcissus stares into is both ironic and very fitting for Alex as a photographer. Alex takes pictures of other people and does not like to be in front of a camera lens, which means he does not really see himself since he is too busy looking at others. The reflection in the water correlates to the artistic lens Alex views the world through. As a photographer, he tries to capture what is in front of him, but only in a superficial sense that shows the form of things, not the depth behind them.

Isaac — Wanderer above the Sea of Fog, Casper David Friedrich

German, Romanticism, painted 1818

German romanticism was, in a way, predated by the Sturm und Drang (Storm and Stress) movement, stretching across the fields of the arts, including literature. One of its most known works is perhaps Goethe’s The Sorrows of Young Werther.

Romanticism focuses on the expression of emotion and subjective experiences, which is quite the opposite of the period of enlightenment that predated it, focusing instead on rationality and tangible knowledge, turning the human mind away from superstitions and faith to think rationally for itself and reason with the world around it. The appreciation of nature and its connection to humanity was a typical element of the German romantic movement. 

Wanderer above the Sea of Fog (German: Der Wanderer über dem Nebelmeer) is perhaps one of the better known pieces of art from this period. 

The vastness of the landscape beyond creates a striking contrast to the solid and narrow man in the middle. At first, it looks like he is the center, exploring and conquering, but with the haziness and mystery the fog creates, the landscape seems to stretch into infinity, much farther than the man can grasp and even fully comprehend. It shows that, in reality, humankind is infinitesimal in the grand scale of nature and the richness of existence.

The color choice — tones of green, blue, and white — as well as the texture and soft brushstrokes of the fog create an eariness and a sense of fleetingness. The lightness of the scenery is a reminder of the transitory of life and the briefness of existence.  

The central motif of this painting is solitude. The lonely wanderer, alone in nature, alone in facing the world and existence before him — very much similar to Isaac and his solitude, relying only on himself to get through life unscathed. He is isolated by his own design, having cut off all his relations due to the dangerous nature of his work, Pickle being the exception.

He worries excessively that the people he cares about will get hurt because of him and the enemies he has made through his work. Isaac has a deep urge to protect those around him. His tragic backstory and overall stoic demeanor makes him a Byronic Hero-esque figure, suiting the general impression of pride but ultimately soul-crushing loneliness of this painting.

His story focuses, at its core, on overcoming this solitude and daring to trust and love someone again after losing every person close to him. Before this healing process, he is much like a deserted man, wandering aimlessly from one case to the next, buried in work, trying to make sense of it all.

Isaac guards the secret of the supernatural and is in contact with it due to his work. He sees and knows that reality stretches further than is commonly known, which suits the grandeur of the depicted scenery the wanderer is gazing at.

Xanthus - The Drinker, Erich Plontke

German, Modern, painted 1910 or 1914

Modernism is more like a supercategory, incorporating more specific art movements and styles lasting from the late nineteenth to the end of the twentieth century. Due to this painting and the artist being less known, I could not specify the art movement, nor even find out reliably when it was painted. As just someone, meaning no credentials and comprehensive knowledge of art, as I’ve stated before, personally, I would count this painting as belonging to the subcategory of symbolism. A few reasons. 

Firstly, it was a popular movement in the late nineteenth and early twentieth century, fitting the timeframe of Plontke’s life and the possible timeframe of when he painted The Drinker. More importantly, however, it is similar in style and nature to the painting of one of the leading artists of symbolism, Arnold Böcklin, and his famous self-portrait (I’ll get to him when discussing Asirel), therefore giving the impression that The Drinker can be seen as a part of it as well.

Symbolism, as an art movement, follows romanticism, which had begun losing its emotional and expressive natures according to some contemporary artists, therefore creating the need to establish a new art movement to escape reality and the realistic depiction of things in art (remember, art, especially in romanticism, was basically the counterbalance to the rationalization of the world brought on by the enlightenment — the subjective, as opposed to the predominant objective).

Interestingly enough — but also very fitting considering the renewed need to express the individual inner feelings — symbolism does not necessarily have a defined technique or some such thing that separates it cleanly from other art movements. It branches off and evolves into many others, such as expressionism and art nouveau, due to the focus on personal expression and subsequent disregard for a unified aesthetic or technique.

The drinker has a lot of dark tones, which create a heavy atmosphere, contrasting starkly with the apparent lightness of the man’s shared company with death. The room around them is chaotic; empty bottles, a sign of the man’s overindulgence, and wilted flowers, a symbol of death, are spread over the floor. The most striking thing about the depicted scene, however, is the nearly painfully intimate and familiar relationship between death and the man. They look entirely at ease in each other's company, and the heavy atmosphere surrounding them — evoked by the dark colors and chaos around them — is elevated slightly by the calmness exuded by them and their familiarity.

The central message of The Drinker appears to be that hedonism and overindulgence — be it in alcohol (as the title of the painting suggests) or other things — is a way of familiarizing oneself with death, as a way to an early grave. 

The disarray of the room reflects Xanthus’ inner being well. His life is very much in disarray, even though he keeps an iron grip on his impulses and maintains his control almost flawlessly throughout everything. From being turned in a war he did not want to fight in, to losing connection with his family and accidentally betraying his friends because of his arrogance, to chasing after Love — he evolves from a product of circumstance to actively taking charge of his life, and to an extent also those around him. 

The darker tones relate well to Xanthus’ dark past, his crushing regrets, his darker side, and his predominant bitterness about the world. Despite or perhaps because of having lived for so long, he has little hope and optimism. He is stoic most of the time, does not indulge freely, and prides himself on being, or appearing to be in control of any given situation, and himself, including his emotions and impulses. 

A rare occurrence when Xanthus entirely loses it, to put it mildly, is caused by the emotion of Love getting to him through the bond. Their feelings of panic and fear as Audric threatens them reach Xanthus, overwhelming him to the extent that he throws himself at the locked door relentlessly to escape and save the person he loves most. Technically, they are not his emotions.

One of the most fundamental principles of stoicism is to keep an organized mind and examine oneself. Only when we know ourselves can we truly understand the world around us. Stoics are not easily overwhelmed by their emotions, not because they suppress them, but because they know themselves and have examined their mind, knowing what, why, and how things affect them. Ideally, therefore, they can keep calm in any situation, because they can rely on themselves fully and their judgment is not clouded by emotion.

Another part of stoicism that is tremendously interesting with Xanthus, is the focus on things we can control. The stoic belief is that we should only concern ourselves with the things inside of our control — things that we can influence and change — as opposed to wasting our energy worrying about those we cannot change and have no control over.

Xanthus, of course, has a lot of power, both because of his long lifespan and subsequent advantages, and his special abilities as a vampire. Everything he sets his mind to is somehow within his control because most of the time, he has the power and ability to influence it.

This, coupled with the bitterness he carries, results in a very ruthless side, which also comes due to his long life and the familiarity with death and decay it has brought him. 

Xanthus is no longer fazed by the people around him dying. He has grown used to it over the centuries, and he has been the cause of it, too. It does not have any effect on him anymore. In a way, he sits in the company of death as an equal to it, which makes him very dangerous because as opposed to the natural and passive process of dying, he has a will and is actively able to kill. Xanthus is aware of his power, and views himself as dangerous, as a threat. 

He is god-like, a force of nature almost, due to what he is, what he can do, and the high level of control he keeps of himself, not daring to indulge or lower his guard, lest he should lower himself to what is beneath him. He believes in shaping the world around him and has grown comfortable with the ever-present, familiar companion of death throughout the changing centuries. It is much like him, after all, near-eternal and inevitable.

Asirel - Self-Portrait with Fiddling Death, Arnold Böcklin

Swiss, Symbolism, painted 1872

Typical for symbolism is the recurring image of skeletons as a reminder of death and mortality — which is also the primary connecting element between this self-portrait and The Drinker. Thematically, the paintings as well as the characters fit well together or resemble each other in some way. 

Xanthus and Asirel are perhaps two sides of the same coin. Both are closely connected with the supernatural, Xanthus because he is a vampire, and Asirel due to the nature of his work. They are both connected with “darker” themes, which are the driving factor of their stories, as opposed to characters such as Isaac, where these elements are merely an added factor to a story more focused on character development. 

Böcklin is one of the leading artists of symbolism, depicting the inevitability of death through the classical image of a skeleton. In that way, the painting serves as a reminder of the fragility of human life — perhaps like a vanitas — and alludes to the briefness of life.

Mortality is specifically expressed by death looming over Böcklin’s shoulder and playing a single-string violin while laughing almost menacingly at him. It shows the shortness of life and death as the inevitable victor over all. 

Despite the stark reminder of his mortality by death literally playing the tune of the end of his life beside him, it is not exactly fear in Böcklin’s eyes but a mixture of awe, realization, and dread. His eyes stay fixed on his work — his painting — which shows his unwavering concentration and devotion to his profession despite death being inches away from him.

An added detail that I believe is interesting but which could be purely coincidental or for which my lack of comprehension of painting and colors is to blame is the color on the artist’s brush. It is a deep bluish green which does not appear anywhere else in the picture, suggesting that the real-life artist Böcklin painted himself in his self-portrait, who in turn is painting a different picture, perhaps a happier one since the color is lighter and less dramatic and bleak than those used in the self-portrait. 

Asirel works towards creating a better world as well since he has the power and influence to make his plans come true for the most part. He is ambitious in that he perfects what he does and never fails to meet his duties and responsibilities due to being unwaveringly focused on his work, unrelenting even when his life is threatened. Instead of succumbing to fear, Asirel circumnavigates the issue by seeking additional protection and continuing his work, holding fast to his ideals and plans for the future. He is much like Böcklin, who continues painting despite death looming over him. 

Due to the nature of his work and the many enemies he has made, Asirel is always close to death and danger, from which he tries to shield himself by hiring Pet and somewhat securing his safety through a strong ally. Despite his mortality, he is not outright terrified of dying and the constant threat on his life; Asirel is more concerned about it since dying at the hands of his enemies is a fate he would much rather avoid.

Andrew - The Unequal Marriage, Vasili Pukirev

Russian, Realism, painted 1863

The central point of realism is the depiction of things as they are — the ugly parts of everyday life and the societal structure of the mid-19th century — and its darker parts, stepping away from the creation of glorifying images and expressions of mostly grand scenes or events as well as the more traditional idea of beauty. 

The subject matter here, and the ugly reality of society in the 19th century depicted, is an arranged marriage between a young woman and an older man, much to her discontent and evidently against her will, as the title would suggest.

She is downcast, her red-rimmed eyes averted. The bride’s expression is one of sorrow and regret. Her evident unhappiness with the marriage taking place contrasts greatly with the beauty of her appearance. The veil on her head looks almost like a crown. Her hair is nicely arranged in locks, and the golden jewelry she wears speaks of her higher standing in society. 

The marriage the bride is being forced into parallels the academic career thrust on Andrew by his parents. He excelled at it and ultimately found peace with the prestigious position it led him towards, but it was not his decision. He felt like he did not have control of his life, despite ultimately enjoying where he ended up. 

Andrew was continuously crushed under the expectations of his parents, under the title of the ‘Golden Child’ they bestowed upon him while brushing the brother he so loved aside. He feels he missed out on life because he followed a predestined path. He was never able to make decisions on his own because he already knew what his parents expected him to do. His life was lived in service to their ideals for him.

The groom stands stiffly next to the bride, eyeing her with a sideways glance. He seems unbothered by her evident unhappiness, his mouth twisted into something resembling a self-satisfied smirk.

Before them both stands the pastor, officiating the marriage. He is bent forward, holding perhaps the bride’s ring — the symbol of her marriage and the cause of her discontent — in one hand and an open Bible in the other.

Andrew’s difficult relationship with religion is noteworthy here. He grew up evangelist catholic, witnessing his parents twisting their faith to justify their abusive behavior towards his brother and their prejudices against him. The unhappiness he ultimately feels — both at feeling like his life is not his own and being strangely isolated in life — stems from his religious upbringing, in essence. It was his parents’ faith — however twisted it was — that drove his brother away, it was their belief and opinion of him being gifted that made them watch him like a hawk, obsessed with having him live up to the expectations they had for him, and ultimately robbing him of his agency. 

In the background, a few guests are visible attending the ceremony. The feeling the painting evokes is one of suffocation. The bride is being forced into a life she does not want, and the dark colors of the background create a tightness in viewing the scene that fits the theme perfectly. Viewing the painting, it feels almost claustrophobic. 

Among the guests are two women, both looking intently at the groom. One stands between the groom and the pastor, and the other is hardly visible, only her head poking over the shoulder of the pastor at the edge of the painting. They are both seemingly dressed in wedding clothes, the flowers on both their heads similar to those worn by the bride, creating the impression that they could both be former wives of the groom, continuing to show how much life he has already lived as opposed to his young wife. 

The women in the crowd are against the wedding judging by their glares directed at the groom. With him being the object of their scorn, it is more likely that they are blaming him for the marriage and opposing him taking her as a wife — perhaps criticizing the evident age gap between them — as opposed to glaring at her, which would have been more likely if the motive for their action would have been jealousy. Thus, the women are concerned for the bride, seemingly trying to protect her and silently calling for the groom to leave her be.

Andrew did not have that kind of support against his parents' predestined path for him, nor when he eventually tore himself away from them and their expectations. Eventually, he did meet people who cared for and supported him — such as Isaac, Darling, Luca, and Claire — out of which only Darling truly helped him when he abandoned his position as a professor and started on his own career path, free from the expectations of his parents and their judging eyes. 

Behind the bride, to the right, stands a gentleman with crossed arms who also glares at the groom. His head is inclined forward, and he looks almost protective of the bride and ready to fight the groom over her like a lover would. 

Before their relationship irreparably fell apart, Andrew and his brother were inseparable. Andrew still talks of him fondly, wishing more than anything to be able to mend the rift his parents had torn between them because it had never been jealousy that alienated the twins from one another, but their parents' unfair treatment of his brother while pushing Andrew onto a pedestal so high, they no longer cared for his twin. He is the discarded child, forgotten and out of sight. 

Ultimately, Andrew’s upbringing left him isolated in life much like the bride. They are alone in a room full of people, lost despite their possible future success after elevating their status — with marriage or a flourishing career — because they walk a path they did not choose for themselves.

There is silent support for both of them in the shadows, and while it is evident that some people disapprove of the groom’s or his parent’s actions, that is still not enough to tear either of them from the path they were predestined to follow.

Zaros - The Storming of the Winter Palace, Sokolov-Skalya

Soviet, Realism, painted 1939

The story of The Noble Trials is political at its core. In essence, it is the want for reform, whose most reverent supporter is Zaros, against the continuity of a ‘working’ system, as incorporated by the Earis. 

The relation between Zaros and this particular painting is less about what is outright shown and more about its implications.

The storming of the Winter Palace was an event that took place during the October Revolution in Russia in 1917. Close to the end of what was the initial turmoil of the communist uprising — and what would later become a Civil War between Tsarists and Communists (rather Bolsheviks) after Lenin was de-facto in power — the ministers of the provisional government of the old regime had barricaded themselves in the Winter Palace in Petrograd, which is St. Petersburg today, and served as the capital of Tsarist Russia from 1712. The Bolsheviks moved the capital of Soviet Russia to Moscow in 1918. 

What would be portrayed as an epic scene, glorifying the October Revolution and mystifying it with grandeur and splendor in soviet propaganda — judging by the date of its publication much like this painting, which was retroactively made to do just that — the historical happenings were a bit less spectacular.

The tsarist ministers held out in the Winter Palace for a while, debating what to do against their slipping power, before they eventually surrendered in the face of the Bolshevik’s much greater military force and logistic superiority. The revolutionaries arrested them, ending the constitutional monarchy with a victory for communism.

The events were later adapted into a scripted ‘play.’ I say ‘play,’ because it was a reenactment inspired by the events. Of course, being Soviet Russia in 1920, it was not an authentic and historically accurate depiction, but rather a communist fantasy about the glory and grandeur of the days of the October Revolution. The Storming of the Winter Palace — by that I mean these words in that order — refers to the propaganda reenactment, less to the historical events. 

History lesson aside, I see similarities between the Communist Revolution overthrowing the Tsarist Empire and Zaros’ political ideas for the future of Serulla. There are a few reasons, not limited to the obvious reformative spirit he has in common with the revolutionaries, the idea of focusing on the benefit of the people rather than the ruling elite — nobles or bourgeoisie — and the utter chaos it plunged the empire into.

The idealistic version of communism, and by extension the October Revolution the Bolsheviks used to implement their interpretation of it, basically followed the simple principle of putting the people, that is the workers (or proletariat), first in their politics. 

The central idea of Communism is to end the ‘class struggle’ between the proletariat and bourgeoisie — that is, between workers and their employers, or the general public and the upper classes in society. Especially in the 18th to 19th century during the boom of the Industrial Revolution, worker’s rights were practically nonexistent. The broad public was suffering, toiling away while a few select people owning the means of production (that is, the machines with which the people worked to create a finished product) were amplifying their wealth on the backs of their workers.

This injustice, or the struggle between bourgeoisie and proletariat, is something communism professes to fix by creating a classless society, in which the proletariat owns the means of producing and the finished product — the country morphing into a worker’s state, so to speak.

Of course, all this is theory, and the reality of Soviet Russia and later the Soviet Union as a whole was different. The general quality of living was worse than in the West — and the state used oppression, secrecy, and propaganda to mask the fact that despite professing to be for the people — the workers, the general public, the proletariat — in truth, the proletariat of capitalist countries generally had it much better.

The central link between Zaros Atha’lin and the October Revolution — and the reason this painting is so fitting for him — is the absolute chaos it plunged the country into. What followed the October Revolution was a bloody Civil War with monarchists opposing the revolutionaries with tremendous violence on both sides in a conflict that lasted until 1922, the year the Soviet Union was founded, and brought its own set of problems and system of oppression that I won’t get into in detail. 

Zaros as a character is calm and collected most of the time. He appears at least somewhat in charge of the situation — as opposed to the Earis, who is quick to be pulled around by their emotions, specifically their frustration and anger. The problem with Zaros is less about his character, as it is with his circumstances and plans — both ultimately bound to destabilize the kingdom should he ascend to the throne alone and try to make them a reality. 

His politics for the people — the general public, so to speak — stem from his sense of injustice in the organization of society. The central problem here is that he cannot rule with their backing (he cannot rule for them) because the people have a very strenuous relationship with him. They do not like him. They do not support him as they support the popular Earis — or the Ilves family — despite the queen’s politics not meant for them. 

It is a difficult thing to change the politics of a country or kingdom so drastically top-down as Zaros suggests. His theory is nice, incorporating all the right reasons for giving the people more power and dismantling the unjust superiority of the noble families in the kingdom and their influence over politics. But Zaros — certainly a persona non grata in the eyes of basically every one of these nobles — is bound to fail in establishing his rule and keep himself on the throne. The nobles will sabotage him and undermine his authority every chance they get because they do not like him, they do not respect him, and his politics would strip power away from them while reforming the whole societal system they profit from greatly. 

He has no support or friends in high places. Wanting to implement his ideas on his own, with no backup from the ruling elite — the ‘government’ he should run — and especially lacking support from the masses who by any means should be his greatest backers and the very people he wants to do these things for, will end in disaster. The golden ideals that ultimately bring nothing but chaos and pain when implemented in reality are befitting the image of the October Revolution, the sentiment similar to the early days of Soviet Russia.

Kayson - The Kiss, Klimt

Austrian, Art Nouveau, painted 1907-1908

The focus of this composition lies in the center, on the for Klimt characteristically two-dimensional drawing of the embracing couple before a shimmering golden background. 

They are both on a flower field, the woman kneeling with bare feet and bright flowers in her hair. The man leans over her, enveloping her in a tight embrace, partly hidden by the golden robe draped over his shoulder, an ivy crown on his head.

The man’s face is obscured, hidden against the skin of the woman as he cradles her face, kissing her cheek softly as her eyes are closed in blissful contentment, one arm resting on his neck, pulling him closer to her and furthering the raw feeling of intimacy between them.

The vivid colors of the geometrical shapes add to the overarching feeling of softness. The warm gold gives the painting a certain sensuality — vulnerability shown in the love the two people share and the women’s bare feet.

Kayson is a natural caregiver. He cares so much for the people around him, always trying to help them or get them to laugh with such fond affection that the softness in this painting — the obvious care depicted between the two lovers — fits perfectly with his essence. He is warm. His actions speak of kindness and love while he works his absolute hardest to give as much of his heart to the people around him. The comfort he exudes and the affection he so openly shows work well with the overall warmth and trust expressed here.

Further, this is a little silly observation, but with the cloak draped around the man’s shoulder and the woman kneeling on the ground, allowing him to shower her in love, it looks like they are trapped under the cloak together.

Niall - Mona Lisa, Leonardo da Vinci

Italian, Renaissance, painted 1503-1506

Perhaps the most famous painting in the world, the Mona Lisa is the portrait of a woman. She is sitting comfortably upright, her arms folded, with a small smile on her lips. The background is of a twisting scenery with mountains and a body of water. The predominant color is brown, but despite the dark tones on the canvas, the painting holds no threatening or dark atmosphere. The image is calm, the color of her clothes blending into the scenery, but making her look refined rather than gloomy. 

Niall is a serene character that matches the calm energy of the Mona Lisa. They are both quietly content and peaceful in their lives — Niall especially now that he resolved issues from his past that weighed heavily on his mind. 

The dark background of the scenery, while not threatening per se, still casts a darkness over the painting that matches the circumstances of Niall’s past life. His years in school, where he was subjected to bullying, and the long stretch of lonely years in university until he eventually moved back to his mother, practically putting a standstill on his life as he was caught in echoes of the past. 

The new relationship with SB helped him break out of it, mending the scars left by the past, and although it shaped his character permanently, now he set out on a new road of healing until the rekindled relationship and renewed trust between them led Niall to his presently content self, comfortable with his life and happy where he is — even if that happiness is still sometimes tainted by the memories of his past traumatic experiences and can never be as carefree and light as he perhaps would have wished. 

The dark colors of this painting corroborate this, making the Mona Lisa appear majestic and grave. Working against her smile and her evident contentment is an underlying seriousness that suits Niall’s character, evidence of the dark stretches of his life he walked through alone.

Dontis - Café Terrace at Night, Van Gogh

Dutch, post-impressionism, painted 1888

The subject matter of this post-impressionist painting is, as the title suggests, the café terrace on the center-left side, lit in a bright yellow light by the gas lamp above. Its numerous tables, chairs, and people give the place a bustling atmosphere. It seems brimming with life, while the cobblestone street outside, especially in the front, is empty. A few figures wander around in the background, perhaps walking towards the focal point of the painting — walking towards the light. 

Moving away from the cafe, the scenery becomes dark. The deep blues and greens on the night create a nearly mystical air while the stars twinkle above — noticeably the same yellow color used for the light of the gas lamp in their center.

The feeling of familiarity the cafe evokes, as well as the intimacy and homeliness of the bright, warm yellow contrast with the dark blue of the cobblestone street and the bleak night beyond it, empty with a crushing loneliness accompanying it that not even the gentle glimmer of the stars above can soothe. 

Dontis’ character needs a connection with people. He actively seeks them out, naturally drawn to places bustling with life to relish the connection with humanity. He needs closeness to be well, seeking out company and offering an ear to listen to their troubles and feelings without judgment. He wants to take care of his chance encounters, if only for a short while — a cafe being a perfect symbol for this brief but intimate connection.

The darkness beyond reflects his heavy past and the pain he endured, the stars shining above a reminder of the kindness he retained throughout. Dontis does not fare well alone — it is not in his nature — he seeks out people to interact with, no matter how much they might hurt him, and he still offers them all the care in his heart despite it. He needs the connection to live, just like the café, which only retains its essence of loose intimacy by various people coming and going.

It is a fast-paced environment despite its apparent homeliness, much like Dontis, who can never bind himself to one single person for long.

Jonah - Nighthawks, Hopper

American, Genre art, painted 1942

The eerie stillness and the quietness of night depicted here might seem too bleak and lonely for a character (and story) as bright and loving as Jonah. It is less about this oppressing feeling of isolation — the loneliness of being alone in a room full of people or alone in a big city — which carries a sense of particular tragedy given the fact the painting stems from a time when the Second World War raged, amplifying the heaviness of the desolate scene. 

The focus here is on a diner on what appears to be a street corner. It is painted from the perspective of a spectator on the outside, looking in, regarding the four people calmly lost in their thoughts. There is no sign of life other than those four under the bright fluorescent light of the diner, the only source of light in the entire painting. It illuminates the street outside dimly.

A noteworthy aspect of the painting is what appears to be a couple sitting by the wooden countertop. They seem to be touching, but upon closer inspection, their hands are a short distance away from each other. It makes them look close but worlds apart all the same while they reflect, perhaps lost in their thoughts. 

It is this quiet company that is reminiscent of Jonah. The couple’s intimacy while occupied by other things outside of their love for one another parallels him and Babe. Both of them are so clearly living their own lives — with Babe working at the bar and Jonah occupied by gaming — but remain close despite it, seeking each other out and making space for each other in their life. 

An example highlighting this is when Jonah visits Babe at the end of their shift, picking them up from work and walking home together, a small act of affection that speaks of their deep connection and love. So is Babe keeping him company when he games, knowing they would fall asleep after an exhausting shift but choosing to keep him company anyway simply to show that they are there. 

It is this depiction of closeness while being worlds apart — in mind or body — that suits Jonah’s character, and this feeling of being close but far away at the same time, which this painting conveys in volumes — like being isolated in a city brimming with people, alone despite the sheer intensity of life around oneself. 

Matias - The Water Lily Pond, Monet

French, Impressionism, painted 1899

Monet created numerous pieces depicting water lilies. Some paintings feature simply the surface of the water, others include the bridge shown here, from different perspectives. Here, its edges are hardly visible. The bridge overarches the edges of the painting, showing only its central part, gently twisting upwards in a slight arch. 

In true impressionist fashion — where the world is stylistically depicted with disregard to symmetry and placement of forms — the highest part of the bridge is not aligned with the center of the canvas. Instead, it can be found slightly to the right, throwing off the symmetry and giving the perspective of looking at the bridge slightly from the left. 

The river flowing beneath it is littered with water lilies, nearly covering its entire surface. The predominant colors are soft pastel greens and blues, occasionally accompanied by red, pink, or purple. 

Its overall atmosphere is peaceful. The scenery looks inviting and bright — due to the method of painting outside (en plein aire) to capture the natural light. There is a softness in the gentle reflection of the trees above in the water, the blooming lilies accompanying this gentleness, but there is a depth there as well, under the beautiful image and beneath the water’s surface. 

It is not a mindless painting of pretty scenery. The shift of perspective — the tilt to the left, the asymmetry of it — gives it more depth. It makes it look interesting beyond the beauty at its surface. The painting is engaging, and the softness adds to this feeling of intrigue.  

Matias, beyond his gentle demeanor and comforting softness, has this twist. He is intriguing. His bright soul is captivating because its depth is apparent, perhaps in the polar opposite way of a Tortured Artist. The darkness on the surface of this archetype gives way to pain and beauty and a shimmer of hope in its depth. The softness, gentleness, and brightness of Matias, immediately apparent in his character, actions, and thoughts, parts in its depths to something more serious. Not dark, exactly, nor pained or hurting as would be the case with the Tortured Artist, but instead genuine and clear in a way water in the depths of the ocean might be. 

Perhaps adding onto this analogy with water, the water lilies blooming calmly on its reflective surface could very well symbolize the beauty of the things he creates —an artist pouring his soul into his art, baring his heart to the world with it;or more specifically, a writer following the ideas in his head and bringing them to life on a page.

Luca - The Great Wave off Kanagawa, Hokusai

Japanese, Edo (Japanese art period from 1603 to 1867), painted 1831

This painting is a bit of an enigma. The beige and white colors of the background at the breaking waves make it appear soft, the deep blue of the waves nearly comforting in their beauty. In contrast to this softness and seemingly peacefulness is the actual depiction of the waves, rising high with sharp, claw-like edges over the boats on the water, mere moments before they crash over them. It looks very much like a snapshot image before a tragedy, highlighting the majestic strength of the ocean while simultaneously praising its beauty. 

The wave rising above Mount Fuji is further placed cleverly, not only highlighting the ruthlessness of the ocean with how threateningly high it reaches — making up nearly a third of the painting — but ingeniously showing its soft beauty as well in making the white droplets of water falling from the edge of the wave appear to be snow, drifting gently down on Mount Fuji in the distant background.

Luca, as soft and innocent of a character he might appear to be on the surface, has a quiet depth about him and a more serious side that becomes apparent when he shows his vulnerability. He has insecurities, and he can be decisive and brave despite how innocent he seems to be most of the time. 

In a way, the painting is Luca in reverse. The ruthlessness of the water is the central point here, whereas the gentle beauty of it is secondary. With Luca, the first thing to notice is the soft heart he wears on his sleeve, while his more somber depths merely peek through on occasion.

Elias - The Creation of Adam, Michelangelo

Italian, Renaissance, painted 1508-1512

Again, this is less about the actual religious image of putting a verse of the bible into art and more about the deeper meaning of it outside of religion. 

The fresco depicts God to the right, reaching his hand out towards Adam, lounging on a field of grass on the left. Adam, in turn, reaches out to God, their index fingers nearly touching. There is a laden tension between them, anticipation whilethe figures are forever frozen in suspension just an instant before God gives Adam the spark of life and creates mankind. 

Elias is a complex character who is ultimately motivated by his need to be part of something bigger than himself. It begins with his desire to be taken seriously by his father and the other gang members, trying to prove himself worthy of the role he is expected to fill despite not being certain about wanting that position. It is not about being head of the Wraiths but being fully part of the group of people for which he had suffered the enormous loss of his mother. The gang is important to him, and he is trying to elevate himself, shaping himself into someone worthy of it — reaching out to give his life the spark he feels has been missing since Tara died.

This search for something grand outside himself can also be seen in his fascination with the stars, figuratively reaching out to understand ‘God’s creation’ (to speak with this painting in mind) and feeling distantly connected with something far outside his reach — just like God and Adam, nearly touching but forever just shy of connecting.

Cevyk - The Course of Empire Destruction, Thomas Cole

American, Hudson River School , painted 1836

The Course of Empire is a series of five paintings, depicting the rise and fall of an imaginary city. Destruction is the fourth painting of this series, the title aptly fitting the desolate scene of the city being ransacked by enemy forces. At the same time, a tempest rages in the distance, foretelling the fall of the empire. 

The scene is as dramatic as it is chaotic. There is a bridge mere moments before collapsing in the center of the painting, although the focal point is slightly to the right, to the now headless statue of what could be supposed to be the empire’s greatest hero. Thick clouds of smoke rise from the empirical palace by the river, flames reaching up into the sky with a faint red that does not immediately attract attention, but rather subtly plays into the raging chaos depicted. 

The hazy background with its dark gray storm clouds adds an atmosphere to the picture that somehow makes it less about what is directly shown — a burning palace, a collapsing bridge, countless dead, raging war — but about the general desolation it evokes. It is not the ransacking of a city, which superficially appears to be what is directly painted onto the canvas, but the destruction of an empire. 

Cevyk is a difficult character to understand, simply because there is still much mystery surrounding him. Being a literal demon from hell, he creates an atmosphere of volatile chaos. The fall of an empire — or better yet the destruction of one — is inherent to a tremendous amount of chaos and suffering. Both are aspects Cevyk embodies, not only because he causes them, but as overarching themes of his story. 

This is only speculation, given we know little about Iqsus and even less about the (political) state of hell and the demonic houses. But Cevyk seems to be a character biding his time, following a more complex plan about breaking the status quo and kindling a reorganization, perhaps plunging hell into a Destruction-like frenzy.

Rowan — The Swing, Fragonard

French, Rococo, painted 1767

Here, we have the women on the swing as a subject matter. She is depicted in a forward motion, one foot stretched out in front of her while she flings away her slipper, aiming it at what appears to be a statue of Cupid, the Roman God of love. 

In front of her, a young gentleman lies in the bushes, perhaps having fallen over. He looks up at her, catching a glimpse under her dress in the process because of her outstretched leg. 

Behind the woman, in the background to her right, an older man is sitting in the shadows on a bench, watching her swing and holding the rope attached to her seat. He is possibly unaware of the younger man eyeing up her dress. 

It is speculated that this older man would be her husband, while the younger one is her lover. The symbolism and the general subjects of infidelity and sexual desire seem to be expressed by the man glimpsing up her dress and her flinging her shoe at Cupid while also addressing the inhibition of her marriage by the ropes attached to her swing, in essence holding her back.

The most striking aspect of the painting — despite all of its quiet genius depicting such a dramatic scene so subtly and with such airiness — is the woman’s levity. She swings unbothered by it all, letting go as she is weightless, suspended in the air with happiness, and playful as she slips off her shoe. She does not behave according to societal norms; she is not ashamed of it either. She simply enjoys herself and life outside of the expectations placed upon her, this lightness further corroborated by the hazy, gentle background of the natural scenery around her.

Rowan — as short-lived of a character as he was and as difficult it is to understand his inner workings from the limited resources available — incorporates this levity. That is not to say he is not serious — because his love and affection for Honey run deep, and he tries his best to help them while taking their worries very seriously — nor are the negative aspects of infidelity and inhibition applicable to him.  It is simply about the core element of the painting: the woman’s weightlessness, her contentment on the swing, and the generally positive outlook on life she has despite the circumstances around her.

With Rowan, it is the letting go of expectations and societal obligations that work, since it seems to be exactly what he wishes Honey to do: follow their heart and dreams while slowly weathering away the pressure their family has put on their shoulders.

[belladonnadawn]

Happy Halloween!

Spending Halloween with Sakuverse men (Ft. Dontis, Kayson Mayer, Isaac Rhoades, Xanthus Claiborne, Andrew Marston, and Elias) Happy Halloween!

Dontis

Descending down the stairs, his black cape trailed softly. Along with his attire is a poet blouse and black slacks. To top it off, he wore fake plastic fangs. He was very proud of his chosen costume. Incredibly proud.

"What the fuck?" Xanthus looked at him up and down, recognizing his costume.

"What? Did you not like my costume?" Dontis grinned, posing for him.

"No, take it off." Xanthus replied sternly, crossing his arms as he continued to glare at him.

Dontis only smirked, enjoying the irritation in his face. "Straight to the point, I like it." His grin widened at his scoff and eye roll.

Xanthus held back a groan from his teasing, "You know what, just go. Your hunter needs you more than we do."

"Don't miss me!" Dontis chuckled as he heads towards the door.

New Orleans is as lively as ever, the streets were filled with people in costumes, decorations from different establishments, and confetti littered the floor. He made his way through the crowd, greeting "trick or treat" with a smile to others as he passed by. As he arrived at the destination, he made a beeline towards you.

"Happy Halloween!" Dontis greeted with a wide smile.

"Happy Halloween," You replied, raising a drink to him. It felt strange. The man– incubus– that you tied to your basement is now beside you, celebrating a holiday. It was a sudden twist of fate, but you wouldn't have it the other way.

"I'm glad you decided to celebrate this with me," His gaze soft as he turned to you.

You gave him a nod, not wanting to show how flustered and charmed you are towards him, but you know that he can see through you. "I should be the one thankful. I'm sure that you have plenty of ways to spend this occasion."

A hearty laugh escaped his lips, "Please, you're on top of my list when it comes to these occasions. I can't set you aside, especially when you made an effort to dress like a pirate."

You rolled your eyes, "It's nothing. I just put on whatever I can."

"Still, I appreciate your effort." Dontis spoke, planting a soft kiss on your knuckles. Holding his hand out, he looked at you with his charming gaze, "So, are you ready to go trick and treating?"

Kayson Mayer

"Babe, a little help please?" You called him out as you tried to reach the highest point of the wall so you can decorate it. Since it's Halloween, decorating the house became your hobbies whenever you both have spare time.

"Babe?" Your brows furrowed, it never took that long for Kayson to answer to your calls. With a sigh, you put the banner down to find Kayson yourself.

"Kayson, where are you?" You continued to call out.

As you arrived upstairs, you made a beeline to your shared room. Opening the door, you're welcomed with darkness, except for the faint light in the corner of the room.

"Kay—"

"My angel of music has arrived!" He exclaimed, raising the lantern that was hidden on his cape to his face, revealing a white mask that covered his face.

"Alright, Erik. Now let's go back to decorating or a disaster beyond your imagination will occur."

You turned the light on, causing him to let out a small 'aww'. A chuckle escaped your lips as you realized that he's only wearing the cape and the mask as his costume. No wonder why the lights are off.

"I was feeling it." He sighed.

"I can see that."

Kayson put the lamp down and removed the mask and the cape. "Did you like my costume?" He eagerly asked with a smile on his face.

"No."

His smile fell.

"I loved it."

Kayson grinned at your answer, "I knew it. I'm so excited to wear the full costume and give out candies!" He beamed.

"We will, but first, let's finish decorating. Okay?"

He nodded, kissing your cheek. "This is gonna be one of the best Halloween ever. I'll make sure of that, my angel of music."

Isaac Rhoades

Occasions like these are something that Isaac never bothered with. He lived like an island, isolated from others for his job and safety. Isaac only spent those holidays with himself and his job, he knew that these occasions does not stop other people from doing whatever what they want to others.

But now, he found himself focused in front of the pumpkin, not minding the mess from the carving.

"No peeking," Isaac caught your eyes towards his carvings.

"I wasn't." Returning to your work with a small huff as he caught you. It was your suggestion to have a little pumpkin carving competition with Isaac and you're glad he agreed.

You searched for the face your should do for the pumpkin, settling on the one where they have cresent eyes, triangular nose, and sharp grin. It was nerve-wracking since it's your first, but there's no way you're backing out.

As you secretly glanced at him, you can't help but wonder what his design was. Isaac looked relaxed as he continued to carve; from time to time he'd look at his phone for reference, then he'll continue his carving. You silently admired him, the way he's so concentrated towards his work stirred something in you.

"Tadaaa!" You presented the carved pumpkin in front of him with pride. There may be some rough edges, but the pumpkin looked better than you expected.

Isaac nodded at the reveal, "That's very good."

"Really? Are you conceding?"

"Not quite," Isaac finally presented his pumpkin. It had horn-like eyes, triangular nose, and stitches as a grin. It looked horrifying.

You stared at it for a while, speechless at his skill and the neatness of his design. Against your pride, you admit that he won the competition.

"Is this good?" Isaac asked. You don't know if he's boasting or he's genuinely asking.

"Good? That's scary."

Isaac chuckled, "So I won?"

You nodded, "I'm not even mad that you did."

He walked towards you, cupping your cheeks, "At least yours are still good. I like it."

"Really?"

"Yes, really."

"Maybe next year I'll beat you."

Isaac smiled, heart melting at the thought of another year with you, "Yes, maybe next year."

Xanthus Claiborne

"This recipe is passed down through generations."

"I believe you," You replied as you began preparing the ingredients.

To celebrate the Halloween, you both decided to bake some spooky themed cookies. The idea was exciting, especially when it's something that you wanted to try with him. Checking all the ingredients, you were now ready to bake with him.

Xanthus was hands on– very hands on. He'll guide your hand as you bake, teaching you how to do it just like what the recipe says. You didn't mind his clingy behavior towards you. In fact, you found his excuses to touch you hilarious.

"That smells delicious. I think you're a professional, love," He praised as you continued to mix the batter.

"It was your recipe. No wonder why it was passed down through generations."

As you finished, you gently put the batter on the tray on its mold. Xanthus helped preheat the oven, making sure it's on the right temperature. Finally, both of you popped the tray in the oven, waiting for it to cook.

You head snapped towards the oven as you heard the soft ring. Wearing your kitchen gloves, you opened the oven, grabbing the tray where the cookies are. "They look delicious," Excitement is evident in your voice as you placed the tray on the counter.

"Careful, love. You need to cool it down a bit before we decorate it."

You nodded, fanning the tray with your hands. After it cooled down, Xanthus brought the frosting as you both began decorating the cookies.

"I knew it, it's so delicious," You sighed in satisfaction as you took a bite of the cookies you both made.

"Not as delicious as you," He winked, kissing your cheek, causing your cheeks to heat up at the gesture. "This is the best Halloween ever," Xanthus added.

"Why?" You turned to him with brows furrowed.

"Because I get to spend it with you."

Andrew Marston

"I think that's all of it," He smiled as he poured all the candies to the jack-o-lantern container.

You let out a sigh of relief, ticking one task off the to do list. You and Andrew decided to celebrate Halloween by having a movie night with all the classic scary movies you can find. So far, the preparation is going as smooth as ever.

Andrew helped you prepare the snacks. Once you both finished, you flopped down the couch, letting his arms wrap around you as the movie began to play.

"I wonder what costumes we're going to see later," He hummed, tracing soft circles on your skin, eyes focused on the film.

"I'm so excited, I'm sure they're all adorable."

"Or scary."

You gasped as an idea came to your mind, "Maybe we should dress up next Halloween."

Andrew smiled, open to that thought, "Any characters you want?"

"Maybe we can try being the sun and moon? Angel and devil? Or thing 1 and thing 2!"

Andrew let out a chuckle at your enthusiasm, "Seems like you already have a list."

"I do and I'm very excited to try it with you."

"So am I," He leaned in, planting a soft kiss on your lips as he looked forward to another Halloween with you.

Elias

"I wish I was Dr. Doom," Elias sighed as he came out with a green plaid polo and green pants.

"You lost the game, it's all fair." You spoke, taking off the mask to properly look at him. "Now slowly turn around for me," You chuckled as you began filming him.

Elias slowly turned around, showing off his costume, "Thank god you didn't ask for a wig."

A gasp escaped your lips, "Oh my god, maybe we should get one!" You teased, trying to rile him up further. As his face contorted into horror, you can't help but laugh harder.

"No way! It wasn't part of the deal. You said dress– just dress! No wig or whatsoever," Elias protested.

"I know," You stopped the recording, walking towards him. "You're the most handsome Isabelle I've ever seen," A soft smile plastered on your lips as you pinched his cheek.

"Really?" He muttered, still wearing his small pout.

"Uh huh."

He finally smiled, holding your hips, "I'll be Isabelle as long as you're Dr. Doom."

Divider: kodaswrld and strangergraphics

[zsakuva]

~THE ZSAKUVA INBOX~

Welcome, my crumpets, to the ZSAKUVA inbox! This will be open for anyone who would like to submit any questions regarding the Sakuverse in general, characters, plots, and settings!

Alternatively, you can ask me about writing, my own opinions on certain topics, or simply send a message for me to read which doesn’t require a response!

NOTE: Responses will be posted on weekdays only.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Please read these rules before submitting, as I will not reply to any messages containing the following:

No personal questions regarding sensitive information (you can ask for my opinions about things outside the Sakuverse)

When the next audio of a Sakuverse character will be released

If there will be more audios of a Sakuverse character

Questions about all Sakuverse characters as a whole (what every Sakuverse character/Listener thinks about, reacts to, etc)

More rules may be added upon further use of the inbox.

Please bear in mind that I will not answer every message I receive for various reasons, including but not limited to:

Being too subjective

Being too vague

Something I’ve already answered

If I genuinely don’t know the answer

Topics that might be explored in future content

Too many similar questions (Ex. 'How would __ react if')

If you'd like me to answer several questions, please limit each message to three.

Here, I will update a list of Frequently Asked Questions:

Can I write fanfiction/create fanart about the Sakuverse?

Yes!

Writing, fanart, and any kind of transformative work is completely fine, and you don't need to ask for my permission! I love seeing your creations, and it encourages me to continue doing what I'm doing to provide y'all with more stories to write about. I think it's a nice little cycle, so by all means, go for it!

How tall are the Sakuverse characters?

These are the official and public heights in alphabetical order:

Andrew: 5'10"/5'11" Cevyk = 5'10" in human form Dontis = 6'3 Elias = 5'9" Isaac = 6'2" Kayson = 6'/6'1" Luca = 5'6" Matias = 5'7" Niall = 5'7" Rowan = 5'9" Xanthus = 5'8" Zaros: 6'/6'2"

What body types do the Sakuverse characters have?

In alphabetical order:

Alex = lean physique with muscles Andrew = slim physique, slightly muscled Asirel = average physique to height, slightly muscled Cevyk = thin physique Dontis: = bulkier physique, muscled Elias = bulkier physique, muscled Isaac = bulkier physique, muscled Jonah = average physique to height Kayson = bulkier physique, muscled Luca = slender physique Niall = slim physique, slightly muscled Xanthus = slim physique, slightly muscled Zaros = lean physique with muscles

What are the Sakuverse Listeners' nicknames?

In alphabetical order:

Alex = Gremlin Andrew = Darling Asirel = Pet Cevyk = Iqsus Dontis = Hunter Elias = Barista Isaac = Pickle Jonah = Bartender Kayson = Prefect Niall = Sussy Baka (SB) Rowan = Honey Xanthus = Love Zaros = Earis

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

I can't wait to read your messages!

Love, King Crumpet <3

[puxaagam]

I'm gonna explode so here are some sketches i made of Xanthus and Dontis, and love too (my Xanthus' listener) 💪 her name is Dahlia. Maybe one day I'll post all the drawings I've made of her over the past 2 years of her existence

[aestheticpearl]

— 𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐣𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐞

✧·˚what happens when xanthus turns you but you never wanted to be turned in the first place?

“what have you done to me?”

your eyes hurt with the bright lights that didn’t seem so bright moments ago, but then again you could barely feel your body moments ago, then all of a sudden you felt your once numb body feel so intensely that it was painful.

you lock your eyes with xanthus, his lips and fangs smeared with blood that you can tell if it’s yours or his, deep down you know it’s a mixture of both. you don’t want to accept that though, you don’t want to accept the reality of you being turned and now stuck as an immortal being.

“what did you do? what have i become?” you look down at your hands, they have a paler complexion that frightens you.

xanthus moves cautiously as if to not spook you, almost as if you’re a skittish baby deer that’ll bolt at any second.

“love, i had no choice—” his voice is soft as he cautiously reaches out to you, only for you to pull back almost immediately.

“how could you? you should’ve just let me die.”

“no!” he doesn’t mean to shout at you and he certainly doesn’t mean for you to flinch at his tone. “…no love please understand.”

“you’ve doomed me to an eternity of a life i do not want to live.”

“you don’t mean that, you’re confused.”

tears freely flow down your face as you come to terms with your situation. stuck as a vampire for the rest of your time on this earth, forced to drink the blood of the living, the thought of it almost makes you hurl.

you seek xanthus’ comfort but he was the cause of all this distress, but you feel beyond conflicted and these emotions are only intensified with this new you.

“i need you to be away from me.”

“i’m not leaving you love.” xanthus only backs away from you but his eyes never leave your figure.

it’s silent for undisclosed amount of time until you speak up.

“…i’m hungry.” you sniffle. “i don’t want to be hungry.” a hiccup. “i’m scared.”

xanthus moves close to you and gets down to your level.

“i’m right here love, i can find you something to eat okay?”

“i don’t want to drink blood.” you cry out through tears. “i’m not a vampire, i’m a human.”

xanthus’ crimson eyes are filled with empathy for you as he recalls feeling the same way when he was first turned. he does his best to comfort you by pulling you into an embrace.

“i know love, i’m sorry. i’m so so sorry.” he pets your hair as you cry into his arms.

you hate how comforting his embrace is and how it puts you at ease, like your body recognizes him. you want to be mad and scream and shout at him for doing this to you but you just can’t bring yourself to do so.

“you’re not going to go through this alone love, i will stay with you forever i promise.” he holds onto you tightly. “i love you, i don’t need a bond to tell me that.”

the bond. you had almost completely forgotten about the bond and then it suddenly hits you, xanthus had felt your death and had to push through the pain and emotions to turn you. he’s grieving you as much as you’re grieving yourself.

you look up at him and wrap your arms around his neck in a tight embrace that he returns with a passion.

“i’m sorry love, i understand if you don’t forgive me.” xanthus can feel his own tears prick his eyes, but he does his best to stay strong for you.

“if there was any other way i would’ve tried it i swear, i never wanted this for you my love. i just couldn’t let you slip through my fingers like this, i’m sorry.”

you’re scared and your whole body seems to be shaking with sobs or hunger, but you can’t really tell what it’s from and some how that scares you more.

“just please don’t leave me.”

your silence scares xanthus more than he’d care to admit.

“okay.”

i feel like i have too many xanthus posts but i just can’t help myself with vampire tropes man😔

.love always <3 pearl

.masterlist

[c-t-r-l14]

A Depressing Speculation

Content Warning: Talks of death

Ya’ll know how a single day or even week doesn’t go by where your mom doesn’t allude to her impending death?

Like, sometimes, you be having a conversation with her, and she’ll come and tell you, “You know one day I won’t be here…” and then she’ll go on a spiel about how she’s gonna die one day and stuff, and you feel this certain dread in your chest because you love your mom and don’t know what you’d do without her?

How would Xanthus react if Love did that to him? Like—let’s say they didn’t want to be turned into a vampire—and just wanted a normal lifespan of a human—ya’ll think that he’d feel that same crushing dread in his chest? The type of dread that makes your chest tighten and ache so bad that you feel like you can't breathe? The type of dread where you can feel your stomach drop to the floor—the type of dread that makes your heart beat so hard that you feel it pulsating from your chest all the way down to your fingertips? The type of dread that'll make you fall apart?

Xanthus was always a man who went off of facts—and never saw them more as the cruel reality to life. He wasn't like other people—living and frolicking in a little bubble of delusion. But that one fact—that one simple fact—that they won't be here forever is one thing that truly, truly scares him.

Because at least—when you die, you'll end up in the same place as your mother. Your suffering will eventually come to an end—and you won't feel anything anymore.

But Xanthus? Nah. He has to continue on in this mortal coil without the one person who's given his life purpose.

I don't know, I've been thinking about that a lot.

[peppymintdreams]

Sakuverse Masterlist

Every ZSakuVA fanfic i've written (except for Sakuverse Reimagined Twist of Fate and Headcanon) is here, NOTICE NON BLUE FIC TITLES WILL BE MOVED TO MASTER-LIST II

Angst: 🔥 Fluff: ☁️ NSFW: 🌶️ Yandere: 🔪 AU:🌎

Alex:

Andrew Marston:

Disobedient 🌶️

The First Morning After ☁️

A Resurfacing Nightmare 🔥

You Broke Me Now We Drift Away 🔥

Soft Keys ☁️

A Swan's Cry 🔥

Haunting Dreams 🔥

Shattered Reflections 🔥

The Breaking Point 🔥☁️

A Battle Of Wills 🔥🌶️

An Unwritten Chapter 🔥☁️

Winding Roads ☁️

Not In Love 🔥

A Waltz Under Glass and Stars ☁️

My Darling ☁️

After The Fight 🔥

Forever and Always 🔥☁️

Unyielding Obsession 🔪

I Want to Protect You 🔥

Whispers in The Highways 🔥

You're My Daydream ☁️

Show Me How ☁️

A Photograph Worth a Thousand Memories☁️

Twin Troubles 🔥

Asirel:

Cevyk:

Dontis:

Elias:

Eye Understand You ☁️

Secret Weapon☁️

Hey Sexy Boy ☁️

Hot and Sweaty.... Ramen ☁️🌶️

Sick and Tired of You ☁️

Shower With You ☁️

A Catty Man 🔥

You a Sickie Baby ☁️

Memories We Can't Recall 🔥

Gifts ☁️

Crumbling Dreams 🔥

Just Me and My Thoughts ☁️

A Quiet Moment

A Quiet Escape

Marked Territory

Caged Affection

Green-Eyed Trouble

Until You Wake

Caught In The Act

Close Enough

Unexpected Trouble

Beach Buddies

Wines Affect

Mario Party Madness

The Tears of a Grown Man

Sunset Moonrise

“[Secret Agent Barista]”

Bratty Behavior

Tears in the Storm

Portrait of Disaster

Namaste or Not

Riding Into The Sunset

Isaac Rhoades:

Sing Sweet Nightingale 🔪

Morning Love ☁️

Sick and Pickled ☁️

The Dawn in the First Light ☁️

Crime and Idiocracy ☁️

Broken Promises🔥☁️

Soft interruptions☁️

Lines Crossed🔥☁️

Movie Night☁️

Anxious🔥☁️

A Work of Art From God ☁️🌶️

Insomnia Who? ☁️

Burn It ☁️

Panik....Kalm....PANIK 🔥☁️

Begone Thot🔥🌶️

Trust 🔥☁️

I'm Tired of this Grandpa 🔥☁️

So Purty ☁️

Waiting for You 🔥

Who did This 🔥🔪

Forgotten Flames 🔥☁️

Thinking ☁️

Furry Little Friends ☁️

Dress Code 🔥🌶️

You Signed the Contract

Good morning to You too…

The Gifts of Orchids

Pieces of My Heart

Until I’m Home Again

Sweet Moments

Steps to the Heart

Blossoms in His Arms

Shadows of The Past

Jonah:

Kayson Mayer:

Luca Pearce:

Wicked 🌎🔥

Rainey Nights New Beginnings 🌎☁️

The Heart Knows no Boundaries🔥☁️

You Fit Perfectly With Me🔥☁️

Mentally Not There🔥

The Straw that Breaks the Bunny's back🔥

Trip Down Memory Lane☁️

I Don't Want you to Leave☁️

Everybody get in the fuckin holiday spirit☁️

Read 5:38 Pm☁️

You're My everything i'm Glad your here☁️

Wrong Side of Bed🔥☁️

Fading🌎🔥

Make a Wish with Me☁️

Obsessed ☁️

Late night Snack ☁️

Call Me ☁️

Obsessed with You Too ☁️

Sleepy Cuddles ☁️

Not Today ☁️

My Husband ☁️

A Cozy Night Out

Queen of Hearts

Tsundere Tendencies

Wisdom Tooth Woes

Daddy’s Little Princess

Home…

Wet Dreams

Matias:

Niall:

Rowan:

Xanthus Claiborne:

Periods ☁️

Time With You ☁️

Bound by Shadows

The Enchanted Night

The Moonlit Pact

Midnight Whispers

A Warm Embrace

The Eternal Gallery

Before the Dawn

A Vampire’s Veil of Shadows Ball

Feeding

A Gift in Ink

A Gem for Love

Eyes on Me

A Vampiric Makeover

Mortal Beauty

Immortal Beauty

Zaros Kymen Atha'lin:

[chilliesillie]

. ݁₊ ⊹ ranking sakuverse characters based on how chewable their arms are:

1- Isaac: 1000000/10 very juicy and nice, also nice to nibble on, maybe suck on them like chicken wing bones AND he would be amused

2- Zaros: 1000/10 UHFHHFHFH please have you seen the official art? BUFF, JUICY, BICEP THE SIZE OF MY HEAD

3- Elias: 10/10 and i bet he smells GOOD so the ambience would be nice, i made him BUFF in my fanart of him, so yea very nice arms to chew on

4- Dontis: 100/10 HAVE YOU SEENNNNN HIM???? BIG GUY, HUNKY MAN, though because he IS a demon i recon his arms are a little rubbery, idk.

5- Xanthus: 9.9/10 i feel like he has a nice build to nibble and gnaw on but maybe him being a vampire changes the consistency

6- Asirel: 9.98/10 i will gnaw and chew and bite him all ova just because, look at him, he deserves it, i love him

7-Kayson: 9.8/10 he IS an athlete but smoking bad, maybe it made his arms rubbery too, but oh GAWD he’s gorgeous, maybe i’d chew on his pecs.

8- Andrew: 8/10 idk if he’s well built but DAYUM i’d chew his arms like a pacifier MHMHMHMGMG i feel like he would stroke my hair in the meantime

9- Luca: 7.99/10 i feel like somehow his arms are sweet, just like him, AND SOFT very soft, overall a nice experience

10- Rowan: 10/10 MY SWEET BOY, underrated too, i’d love to nibble on him KISS KISS

11- Jonah: 100/10 you know what they say about gamers, i BET he has a sleeper build (and a sleep with me build) he would let me chew his arms while he plays

12- Cevyk: 3/10 i bet its… something…. i feel like its stringy like carnitas, but like in a bad way

13- Alex: 1/10 i would rip his arm off and shake it around until its a prune, in front of him

OH

14- Niall: 5/10 i havent listened to his audios but i feel like he wouldn’t let me but if i got a hold of him it would be kinda nice, i bet he also smells like cinnamon

15- Julian: 6/10 idk havent listened to his audios either, but i feel like he would do it for the butler-y duty

this is of most importance for the sakuverse

[elleneedsleep]

To celebrate mother's arrival into Britain [🇬🇧 ☕️ 💂‍♀️], I present the Sakuverse stories as Taylor Swift lyrics:

Zaros & Earis — "you dream of my mouth before it called you a lying traitor"

Andrew & Darling — "in a world of boys, he's a gentleman"

Elias & Barista — "baby boy, I think I've been too good"

Xanthus & Love — "we keep quiet, 'cause we're dead if they knew

Niall & Sussybaka — "cause shade never made any body less gay"

Luca & Fiancé — "I like shiny things, but I'd marry you with paper rings"

Cevyk & Iqsus — "knew he was a killer first time that I saw him"

Asirel & Pet — "you did some bad things but I'm the worst of them"

Isaac & Pickle — "I've loved you three summers now, honey, but I want 'em all"

Dontis & Hunter — "you drew stars, around my scars, and now I'm bleeding"

Kayson & Prefect — "you got that long hair, slicked back, white T-shirt"

Jonah & Baby — "I'm drunk in the back of the car, and I cried like a baby coming home from the bar"

Alex & Gremlin — "so I'll watch your life in pictures like I used to watch you sleep"

[literary-motif]

How Are You Feeling?

Xanthus Claiborne x Reader

warnings: references to depression

“Are you feeling alright?” Xanthus asked, putting down his book. The frown on his face was starkly apparent, even from your place curled up on the windowsill on the other end of the room. “The bond— you’re—”

“Fine, love,” you muttered, not turning around to look at him. Autumn leaves were swirling down the trees outside, fog creeping up to the edge of Dontis’ property. “A little melancholy, that’s all.”

He did not believe you, feeling a sharp sting of aching coming from your side of the bond. “My love, you can talk to me anytime.”

“I know.”

“Do you?”

[belladonnadawn]

Saku verse men reacting to those tiktok interviewers who run up to people and ask how much Thier outfit cost from head to toe!

Sakuverse men and fit checks interview

Them reacting to a street interview about their outfits! Ft. Isaac Rhoades, Dontis, Xanthus Claiborne, Andrew Marston, Kayson Mayer, and Luca (Thanks for the request!)

Isaac Rhoades

Chances of Isaac agreeing to a public interview that would be published on the internet is non existent.

There's no way that this man would let a stranger interview him. He's NOT taking a risk.

"Hey, Sir can we–"

Would walk past them as if they don't exist.

Dontis

He doesn’t mind interviews, some part of it loves it since he's able to share something about him with others.

Very stylish and knows how to blend his outfits.

"Wow, those clothes look vintage."

"Yeah? Well my grandfather gave it to me."

He is the grandfather.

"How much does your whole outfit cost?"

"Probably $455 without inflation."

"Huh?"

Xanthus Claiborne

Him going along depends on his mood to be honest.

Either he'd walk past them or answer properly.

"Hey, Sir. Can we have a fit check?"

"I am fit and healthy. Thanks."

"Oh, no I mean the outfit, how much is it?"

"Well, it's probably thousands. I don't know. I don't look at the price."

"Oh…"

Andrew Marston

He'd be confused at first but figured that it was one of the trends in social media.

"You have a specific aesthetic, how much did you spend on that?"

"Some of it was thrifted and some were given by my darling. So I guess just a hundred."

"You dress like an English teacher."

"… I was."

Kayson Mayer

"Hey, Sir, can we do a little fit check?"

Would definitely agree with a huge grin on his face.

Someone asking him that question probably translated to: 'Oh, so you like his style?'

"Sure: jeans from levi's, shirt from h&m, shoes from converse, and necklace from my baby. Shoutout to them."

Won't shut up about it once he's home.

Luca

He'd be taken aback if a stranger approached him with a microphone.

Quite shy, but would agree.

"You look nice today, how much is the outfit?"

"Oh, honestly I just bought these from fast fashion stores. I'm sure you can buy it down the street if you took a left turn and once you saw a–"

"We're not here for that…"

"Oh.."

Very sweet. Very mindful. Very demure.

Divider: Cafekitsune