#addzant

Tagging: black-ink-wolf, meggtalgearsalad, baphomate, metalmancy, addzant, raaveh, skattered-sunshine, sail0rmoonmoon, dionysus-lion, and anyone else who sees this and wants to do it!

but then it seems like it’s treated in that post as an exclusively british practice and like “wow british people are so gross” (they are but still) as if baked beans and toast are obscure foods that anyone not exposed to them would find disgusting or something idk I just am so confused about all of this

what part of the castle would be my favourite: probably the kitchen hahaha (but I also love the slytherin common room esp. based on the pottermore art)

kissing is overrated I’d much rather bump noggins affectionately 

I generally manage to wash everything but the cutlery and just leave the cutlery for someone else to do (but they don’t, they just complain that all the cutlery is dirty)

i was surprised to see people i actually respect reblog it and i think i might have lost a mutual for speaking against it too idk. it’s disappointing 

I waited until I could post again and now I can sleep because I'm finally posting this knowing it WILL BE POSTED Anyway, this is a short fic based on the headcanons addzant sent me. Even though they were FLUFFY I made them become ANGSTY because I suck. So anyway, have fun, and enjoy this two evil gays ******************** Once more they had won, and once more they were tired. Ghirahim hated to admit, but it seemed like every battle they fought, every day that passed, every hour they lost recovering, the enemy got stronger. He knew it was mostly because of that stupid reincarnation of the sky child that they hadn’t crumbled yet, but it wasn’t so easy to defeat that boy. He had the triforce of courage, he was extremely skilled and he managed to piss off Ghirahim even more than the last time, because seriously? Where did all that power come from? He couldn’t even hold a sword right when Ghirahim first met him! Still. The only reason Ghirahim kept talking to himself on his thoughts was because they almost, almost lost. They were so close to failure, even Ganondorf was starting to retreat all the troops there, but Ghirahim couldn’t disappoint now, could he? No he couldn’t. Especially when his stupid Twili decided to be stubborn and not. Move. Away. Only the remind of the scene already made Ghirahim shiver. His long sword fell to the ground as soon as he arrived to their base, Ganondorf running off to deal with some other injured captains and soldiers. He supported his own weight on the wall, legs and arms trembling. He knew that by now Zant was already being taken care off, probably sedated due his previous visits to the nurses. Right now, Ghirahim was sure that he wasn’t worried about the Twili, even if that sounded selfish even for him. But no. He had to be honest. He was worried about himself. The demon sword looked around for a few seconds, watching as Lizalfos and Mogoblins ran around with bottles filled with potions and fairies to aid those who were hurt. He could see Ganondorf talking to his generals in loud, deadly tones that would leave everyone scared, and he knew that the gerudo would have the same talk to him and Zant when the king woke up. So that meant Ghirahim had a few hours to leave and be alone. The crystals appeared in the air when he teleported himself out of that place, to a far away mountain in the desert. He laid down on the sand, growling to himself and closing his white eyes in rage. He was furious with himself. He couldn’t believe he had to transform to his ultimate form once again to fight the rebellious. He was weak, so weak! He couldn’t control himself anymore, he couldn’t follow simple orders since that stupid usurper king had arrived! He had become weak, fragile! What would Ganondorf think about this misbehavior? What would his master think about this stupidity he was committing over that dumb, useless Twili that couldn’t control his nerves?! Why did he had this vicious feeling towards Zant?! He was a sword! A piece of metal! A weapon! He shouldn’t have feelings! Feelings meant mercy, they meant weakness! And still, Ghirahim couldn’t get rid of them. His chest seemed to get lighter when he thought about that dumb creature with bright orange eyes and weird shaped mouth. He shouldn’t feel like this. All he should feel was admiration and addiction, like he felt with Demise, his first master, and Ganondorf, his reincarnation. Not this! Not towards that creature! The demon sword could feel the magic slowly calming down on his body. He got up with the strength he had left, and slowly transformed back to his normal self, noticing how painful it really was. His light skin had bruises and cuts that looked way more severe than they really were, and his clothes looked ripped and dirty. With a click of his fingers, his clothes were new and his skin was flawless, but the pain around his body continued. Even though he was made of metal, he had scratches all over the surface of his original form, and they were much more painful for a sword than a cut for a human. Ghirahim ignored the pain and left the mountain. An hour had probably passed and he knew Ganondorf would be angry if Zant and he weren’t ready to hear his new plans and maybe get yelled at for their behavior in the battle field. The demon sword appeared in the exact spot where he had left before. Things were much calmer than then, with only a few guards passing by to check the rooms and everyone else. One of them stopped when they saw Ghirahim, telling him to meet Ganondorf at the main room as soon as possible. With a single nod, the sword disappeared again, only to arrive at the doors of the room and open them slowly, eyes paying attention to every movement in the room. Inside, Ganondorf sat on his chair as Zant sat next to him on his usual spot, holding a cup of tea with his weird hands and dressed up in a light robe. Ghirahim could see the bandages around the Twili’s wrist and arms, and how peaceful he seemes as he took sip after sip of his (probably) warm drink. “Finally you arrived” he heard, his eyes going back to the gerudo. He had his head low, but his eyes were burning Ghirahim’s soul as he sipped on his own goblet. The sword made his way inside the quiet and serious room, not expecting for Zant to drop his tea completely and squeal loudly as he stood up. “Ghirahim!” the Twili whined, running to the demon sword and hugging his waist tightly while nuzzling on his neck. Ghirahim looked at Ganondorf confused and probably scared because it all resulted in Ganondorf’s loud laugh. It made the spirit of the sword relax a bit, slowly wrapping his arms around Zant and letting his left hand tangle on his hair, gently brushing it as the Twili nuzzled even more on his neck contently. “I think that’s enough Zant” the sword spoke quietlyright into Zant’s ear, making the twili hug him tighter and started placing soft kisses to the fake skin over Ghirahim’s body. That almost made the demon sword blush since they were in front of their master and Ganondorf had that smirk on his face but his eyes were gentle and what was even going on? “Do not worry, Ghirahim. You two did bravely in battle today and I decided to let you relax for this night. If it weren’t for you two, we would have lost another fraction of our growing empire. I am, indeed, pleasured with your actions, even if their were quite childish and unprepared” the Gerudo said simply, taking another sip from his goblet before putting it down and standing up. Even after his words, Ghirahim felt uneasy. Sure, they had won, but Ghirahim still had disrespected Ganondorf’s straight orders only to save his companion. “I am sorry either way” he whispered once Ganondorf passed by them, Zant finally looking up and watching Ghirahim and Ganondorf with wide curious eyes. He knew the Twili probably didn’t understand what Ghirahim was sorry for, but with the look Ganondorf gave him, he was sure their master did. “You shall not worry sword. Rest. Tomorrow is a new day. You can redeem yourself then, if you need it. We will be attacking the rebel forces, and I don’t want anyone getting out alive” the Gerudo chuckled, before making his way out of the room. “See? Our master was pleased! There’s no need for you to be tense, [my sweet one]” Zant mumbled, nuzzling against his neck once more and gently squeezing Ghirahim with his long arms. The demon sword kept his eyes on the wall for a few moments before he growled and pushed Zant away hard enough so he had to move back a few steps. The twili’s eyes widened as Ghirahim just let out another growl. “Are you stupid?! Pleased?! He was pleased we won the battle! If we had lost, he wouldn’t be pleased! He would be cutting your head off your neck and would be melting me to do pots! This was not good Zant! We did not do good! And if you had a bit of self respect you would focus more on what our master says and then you would be good enough to fight by his side!” he groaned, curling his hands into fists while raising them in front of his face. “And besides all of that useless, childish display you had to offer today, you also dragged me down with you for this hellhole of embarrassment! The next time I won’t be there to save you Zant! Next time you’re alone! I don’t serve you! I don’t need to handle your unbalanced fury over our weak enemies! I don’t need to fall so you can stand up and say with all your might and glory that we did this together!” Ghirahim yelled, is aura getting red around his body as he talked. After he finished, he calmed down, turning his back to Zant so he wouldn’t regret his words. He couldn’t look the Twili in the face and he didn’t know why. “D-do you... Are you being... Honest?” he heard the usurper king mutter behind him, and Ghirahim knew by the tone of his voice that he was shaking, probably crying. That stupid Twili and his stupid feelings! Ghirahim was ready to say yes and leave him hanging like that, but suddenly the Twili started talking again, and his voice wasn’t sweet at all. “Fine then. I do not need you anyway, demon lord” Zant said coldly, and Ghirahim actually shivered. That was his battle voice, his commander voice. It would even scare Ganondorf probably (or he was just making up an excuse to be scared of a creature from another world). “Let me remind you, though, that I did not request your help at any time during this mission. I had everything under my control. We would have lost, but I-” “You were going to die out there you idiot!” Ghirahim yelled, turning back around to see Zant with his eyes narrowed. The demon sword himself looked distressed. “How can you be so stupid Zant? Fighting three divisions at once? Did you think you were going to win alone? Did it even go through your crazy mind that, I don’t know, you could be killed? Or captured? Or anything to be honest? You didn’t even have backup! You were completely alone! You don’t do that on a war Zant, unless you want to lose!” Ghirahim yelled, completely exasperated. His eyes were wide as he talked, but he didn’t realize how desperate he sounded. Zant’s face relaxed again and his eyes got big, staring at Ghirahim with curiosity and something else. “You were worried” he said quietly, his head tilting to the side slightly. “You were worried about me and my well being.” Ghirahim wondered how many time he had to hit his head against the wall for it to break in pieces. Of course he was worried! He had never been more worried on his entire life! Not even when Demise was defeated and he was left alone to perish in the past of that stupid world where the hero was victorious, not even then he had been so worried. He had heard his master’s last words. His hate would never perish. He would be reborn again. But the owner of his affections, the one he adored in secret as if he was a sinner adoring another god, the one that had taken away everything he ever knew and taught him things he never wished to learn, Zant... He didn’t have that promise made. He didn’t have the curse. If he died, he would be gone. There would be no other one hundred years to wait for his return. And that was a pain that even the demon lord Ghirahim, the sword of the biggest evil that ever wondered that land, wasn’t sure he would be able to handle. That was worse than being left alone to rot for hundreds of years. That was worse than being forgotten. That was worse than losing a battle of thousands of reincarnations. So of course he was worried. But he wasn’t allowed to say it out loud. “I was not worried. Don’t be stupid Twili” Ghirahim said, but it came out on a mumble that even himself didn’t believe on. He the growled deeply, waving his hair back and lifting his head to face the king, but suddenly Zant was right in front of him. How hadn’t he heard him moving? Ghirahim swallowed thick but kept his stare fixed on the Twili’s eyes, even though he frustrated and embarrassed with his terrible lying attempt. “Look, what I meant was that...” “Don’t talk” Zant whispered, placing his finger over Ghirahim’s mouth. The demon shut up immediately, since he felt lost and talking was tiring his mind. The Twili smiled once he saw Ghirahim wouldn’t try to interrupt him anymore and let his hand slid down to the sword’s neck, resting it there gently while placing his forehead against Ghirahim’s and closing his eyes. The demon lord followed his quiet invitation and closed his own eyes, letting himself relax with the soft movements on the back of his head. “I understand. You don’t have to explain. I am okay. I am right here in front of you. I won’t be leaving for a long time honestly” he said with a small chuckle, and Ghirahim couldn’t help but smile himself. “Is this a promise?” he asked quietly, opening his brown eyes once more when he sensed Zant was doing the same. The Twili leaned down, placing a soft kiss to Ghirahim’s lips and nodding slowly. “My biggest promise to you, Ghirahim”