if you're wondering why bob is here it's bc in the original villareal story there was a very minor background detail that diego lobo and bob pancakes dated in college and broke up tragically and that's where the story peaked. so i included him it's still canon
thank you for these it was so fun!!!!!!!!!!!!
i did these in my this is the fall sim style so i'm thinking. if they exist in this universe what's all their opinions on the 'did jacques do it' situation. let's take a look
don: saw a photo of jacques's wife on the news during the investigation. said "whoa mama that's a hot babe!" like johnny bravo and did not read the headline. does not know anything about it still.
vlad: well he's psychic he could figure out the truth if he actually cared. and he has!
olive: obviously respects it. except for the getting investigated part, would never happen to her.
diego: does not think jacques did it but enjoys the tabloids. knows other rich people personally who he thinks have killed their spouses
morgyn: will post things like "friendly reminder that j*cques v*llareal literally killed his wife and is a billionaire so maybe don't go to one of their hotels" on tumblr and will then do a call out post about like a fanfic writer who wrote an unhealthy relationship with more severity
pascal: knows conspiracy theories and this one is bullshit. or maybe it just doesn't interest him as much as aliens and that's why he thinks that
jeb: has a very "well of course he did. them rich folk can do whatever they want. there ain't no hope for the rest of us" while kicking a can down the road approach
bob: thinks he did it. is very alarmed that it was brushed off. eliza's like bob book the hotel and he's like am i going crazy. does anyone hear me.
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I think Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett must have planned originally for Aziraphale to be involved up in Heaven leading up to when the Second Coming starts, or whatever actually happens in s3. Gaiman’s said he wrote s2 as a bridge to get them to the events of the sequel they’d plotted — and he spends most of it showing us again how they love each other and the world, how close they are to a truly shared life. And then he splits them. It feels like such a shock.
And he said he and Finnemore didn’t know till quite late how to write that bit. So I think that that must have been the decades-old plan. And s6 must have been the only way he could imagine it happening — the only way Aziraphale would ever leave Crowley to rejoin Heaven after everything — only if they promised to welcome Crowley and to offer Aziraphale the power to preserve the world. (Lie that that was.)
So in the end I’m guessing that, since it’s only a second installment/interlude instead of the entire sequel Pratchett and Gaiman envisioned (which would end happily), that’s why they made Crowley confess at the end of this season — so we had one hopeful thing amid the shock. At least we could imagine the eventual happy ending, the finally-together-after-all. It would have been an entirely different kind of crushing if Crowley hadn’t spoken — if he’d broken his heart over Aziraphale leaving in utter silence. That would have done me in. As it is I’m only mostly dead.
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Linktober Day 9
Deity
*sneezes after downing coffee* Well irl stuff got in the way so I'm way behind my original schedule for these and for Linktober but here we go with another arguably short one, fuelled purely by self indulgence, headcanons, spite against my linguist essays that kept me from keeping to schedule, severe sleep deprivation, a shout out to the Ender Lilies soundtrack and Majora's Mask soundtrack, and Nintendo for not clarifying anything about the lore so I'm snatching what I can and making it my own lol. Look, when you fíxate so much on details the Zelda team doesn't elaborate on you have to fill in the gaps with what you can.
As always can be read as romantic or platonic, technically in a LU context but not explicitly in it by itself.
The Lord of the Mountain liked hearing people sing.
In a way, it wasn’t a surprise, Hylia and the Golden Three each had their ballads and symphonies and minuets, each splendid and with cuts of their divinity in it, Farore was fond of lightning and forest alive minuets, and you could swear Farosh sparked just a bit brighter when one would him the beginnings of the Minuet of the Forest near their spring, Din was fond of boleros, fiery and alive and howling with the echo of flame touching earth that made a shine run through Dinraal’s scales, Nayru, in contrast, was much fonder of blizzard and river quiet serenades, the songs of contemplation at first snow ringing clear when Naydra curled around it’s spring, content to be free of Malice.
And of course Hylia had her ballads and lullabies, perfectly fitting to her display of divinity, of honey days and vast bird like wings, of ambered summers to come and to pass and dazzling solar storms of starlight and sunlight sparking through the human form of her descendants and heroes. So in a way, you weren’t surprised at all that the Lord of the Mountain – Satori, with a familiar touch of londsleite divinity, the hunt of the woodland beasts and diamondscar adoration for the Hero of the Wilds, similar in glory to the Light Spirits petrichor and vermeil fondness for the Hero of the Twilight – liked to listen to people sing. What you were surprised was how it attempted to follow along, it’s head across your lap the second you sat down in the clearing, a gentle hum on back of it’s throat, an owl’s cry and a cicada’s humming and faintly, chirring purring as presses it’s faces into your hands, a gentle request for petting.
It was adorable, even with the faint notes of the chill of clear spring water on winter and the livewire feeling of magic, like holding your hand too close to a flame but not quite touching it.
A low chuckle brushes against the back of your mind, a feeling like biting on ice, the prowl of a wild beast and the build up of lightning and light used to create his blade, the amused affection of a warrior reconvening with their brother in arms, you think you see the bone ivory of the Deity’s hair on the side of your vision, though you know he’s not physically there, ‘He likes you.’
You hum, gently patting behind it’s ears, pushing through the chill, gracefully not mentioning the burning with a smile at the mythic being’s faint chirring, birdsong and the wind through cherry blossoms that sparkle like rose quartz, “Well I quite like him too, I can see where it’s gentleness comes from.”
The ghost of a touch over your hair, the caress of lightning striking over your skin and the hair on the back of your neck pricking up and the crisp cold of winter, the chill of the ending and the flame of a new dawn, of new days, the phantom of magnolias and spring water on your tongue. The fragrance of pine, daffodils and blood soaked lilies on ashen fields on your senses, gentle and careful, marking but not claiming, ‘Only because it’s you, beloved. It’s not something easily given.’
You sigh, shakily composing yourself, you let yourself relax into the phantom sensation. Of hopes and dreams and healed suffering, of the divinity of hunt turned into protection and lightning given form, of tangled timelines and crystalized memories, “I know. It does not change my opinion, either way.”
To be the subject of a god’s care and regard was dangerous, after all. For the human and the deity in question, you know the stories from your world well, of the effects of Hylia on First and Sky, of Twilight and the personification of the Twilight Realm and the spirits of his land, of Wild and clawing from death’s embrace into that of the wilderness.
Knew how the fact the Fierce Deity’s mere proximity causing pain on those who changed him into hunting for hunt’s sake into protection for the sake of someone else cut deeper than even the ever encroaching entropy all beings must one day face. It was no wonder the Song of Healing was his creation, to want to ease the burden.
You gladly grant him some peace, in turn, even if it wasn’t much. It’s the least you can do, for always having his ways of watching over your heroes.
“Join me? We can make a duet.”
You feel more than see him shift, ephemeral, fleeting, gentle against the edges of your existence, as foreign to Hyrule as your own, sparking over your spine as you feel ozone and rust on your teeth. Satori is humming again to match the rumble of thunder in the man’s voice, the heralding of songs of war and elegies for the dead, ‘Of course, though I’m afraid I do not know many songs, besides…’
“It’s alright,”, you smile faintly, there’s a white ocarina in his hands, as he leans, a spectre against your side, “I’ll teach you some of my own, though you’ll have to forgive me if I don’t remember all the lyrics.”
‘It would be my honor to learn.’
You think he smiles, from the fluttering of something ancient and long forgotten against your side.
You sing to Satori and the Chain, a small respite of familiar and forgotten tunes, the Lord of the Mountain hums along. The Fierce Deity’s song cutting through any nightmares that may ail your heroes for another night.
When the dawn of a new day comes, the feeling of divinity against your skin feels just a bit more obvious, sinking into every crack of your being like a shroud, falling over your boys like a veil, reflecting the breath of eternity over Hyrule.
(First gives you a look that’s half exasperation, half understanding. Sky pointedly sticks to your side as Time looks you over, markings deep with vibrant color. You shrug with a helpless smile as you feel the lightest brushes of Hylia’s fond days of gold and starlit summers days against the Lord of the Mountains warm, luminous affection and the Fierce Deity’s smug, but content lonsdaleite smile.)
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Richard,
I hope you don't mind, but I happened upon you deep in thought in the castle courtyard and...well, the sight took my breath away.
I used a Muggle contraption (I believe they call it a camera) to capture these still images. You look almost corporeal...
E 🖤
E, my dear,
I am most intrigued by this Muggle contraption, and even more so — by how well you were able to capture me and my heart with it. And what a coincidence! I must admit, I had no idea that anybody was there at the time as I was most likely preoccupied with matters regarding me... Well, you said it yourself, looking corporal. If you have the time, allow me to explain.
You see, for the past two weeks I have been experimenting with something known as ancient magic. I cannot really see it but I can feel it when I am somewhere near the source, and I can really feel it if I touch it. If I spend plenty of time doing just that and focusing on being corporal — I seem to become so! Well, whatever part of me is surrounded by magic anyway.
That photo you took — I believe it was the first time that I have attempted to fully step into the stream of magic a day or two ago. The reason I needed to conduct some experiments first is rather serious as well: when the magic starts sipping away (and it never holds for longer than one day) I... Well, I am yet to find a way to make the transition back to my ghostly form less painful. As much as I was craving to feel, I forgot that pain is an integral part of life as well.
Needless to say that as fun as being able to be me again was, by the time I walked all the way back to the castle in my human form (and I got lost so many times since I could not just fly above the land toward the castle, oops) I was so tired that I just fell asleep on a bench somewhere near that area your camera captured me. When I woke up — I was a ghost again. At the very least, whatever pain I might have gone through that night, I slept through it.
I do hope that you are doing well, my darling. The sight of me should not be taking your breath away but instead making your heart beat and your soul soar. I hope you continue working on those still images because I did not get a chance to look at myself in the mirror that night. You are my only witness and I am honoured to have you share that special moment with me.
Thinking of you, always,
Richard Jackdaw
P. S. May I hope that someday I would be granted permission to call you by your proper name, my lady E?
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