Belos' Va Has That Very Nice Vocal Tone That Makes My Brain Go Brr, It Matches The Easy Condescending

he would sacrifice himself for them. listen to me. listen to me, he would, he did, and even still he would give everything. he would choose to give everything.

do you understand what i'm saying? he would choose.

everything he has ever lived for has been chosen for him. a guiding light to live by, a glowing halo of rightness that was always out of reach. never crowned, but close. always having to earn and work and prove to be there. to have the the right to it.

with the others? he's - he doesn't have to. for the first time, he doesn't have to work for their care, their attention. he can just be. he can be whatever he wants. do you realize how insane that must feel for him.

what do you mean you don't want me as a tool. i can do things, i can give you things, i have worked my whole life to be the sharp edge of a blade and you want me to be soft? you want me to be whatever i am, however i come? how does that make any sense?

to never have that, and now do, so fast and so decisive it must feel like leaving something integral behind you for it? here, in it, almost a near-thing, like dusk, like dawn, the cusp of everything new?

of course he'd give them everything he has. they'd do the same for him. and what do you do, with that, other than do it first? to grasp the chance with both hands and say thank you for finding me?

never in my life did i think i could be so into the vibes of and arc of and writing for some colonial ass white boy named hunter, of all things, but alas. here we are, loving and thriving

because you're a weapon and weapons don't weep / what is a lineage if not a gold thread of pride and guilt / if i let him do this to me, what else will i allow? anything, anything, anything / nothing else matters when he loves me and nothing else matters when he doesn't / i know i should go but i follow you like a man possessed / i am the sword (if i'm not the sword, who am i?) / i will wait for the next time you want me like a dog with a bird outside your door / i am dirty, infinitely dirty, this is why i scream so much about purity / grief taught me inhumane things / if you're raised with an angry man in your house, there will always be an angry man in your house / but you have to satisfy the monster. the monster has loved you for longer than anyone else / anything i've ever let go of has had claw marks on it / if you killed me, would you make it good? would you make it holy? / god loves you but not enough to save you.

the nocedas have a peanut butter jar that is just hunter's because he constantly eats out of it with a spoon. it's his. he's marking his territory with germs. he's got an eating disorder and he's doing his best to just eat something sometimes so they're happy with it.

luz pranks him by bedazzling his name on the side of one of the jars in bright pink and he may, accidentally, be very careful when washing it out when he's finished with it, keeping it with his things afterwards. it's fine, it's just not necessary to trash something she worked hard on, is all. he totally doesn't like it, or anything

hello! i'm fable, they/them, twenty-six, and this account is all about the owl house interpretations & talk, with some edits and fics sprinkled in there as well.

most of the stuff here is going to be hunter focused, but general owl house vibes are absolutely around as well. always open for questions and talk! enjoy your stay <3

my posted fics are on ao3 as testdrive, for that httyd lore.

Here is the problem: Hunter doesn’t know what to do with his hands.

He wouldn’t even know what to do with his hands.

that first & last line parallel ... i feel it in my blood like caffeine.

it's that good ouroboros lore, it's the feeling that your decisions have already been pre-made, far before you, beyond you? how the story is already set, long before you'd ever even taken a breath?

if your narrative isn't an endless loop, doing spirals around spirals until the entire thing a a parallel of itself, a parable of it's own telling, what're you even doing, u know?

whyyyyyyy would it be flesh. why would it be flesh!!

like i get it, all magic comes from the titan and everything is bodily and physical and real in that way. but belos' kind of magic is artificial. it's mechanical, all pipes and metallic and machinery.

so if it's flesh, it has to be a kind of artificial magic that uses real magic, but - falsifies it. uses it to create a kind of mockery of itself. something tinged red, made wrong. powerful in execution but not quite right.

i do love the idea that anything his artificial staff magic creates is golden (aesthetic themes bc belos is just Like That, it's good vibes) but why must it be flesh. is it an intimidation tactic? is that just what magic is like? could he do something else and just decided hey, this one is gonna be flesh for funsies! he would do that, wouldn't he.

u ever think about how hunter would learn about wolves in the human realm and then have the windows open, hear a familiar, distant sound and go oh! oh! wolves in connecticut! wolves in connecticut! and it's just the siren of an ambulance

I don't think I've ever posted this, but this comic I've been commissioned rotates in my head every so often

could i actually write my fics w/ all this energy after wad? yes. am i going to just brush off this cute lil url and think ab opening a lil blog for all my lil snippets n thoughts ?