#with her horns and high-collared cape

[cartoonnonsensegirl]

I don't know if it's just me, but one of my favorite things about Fire Emblem fanart is people drawing Edelgard in her Disney Villain™ timeskip outfit but having the sweetest, bubbliest, most cheerful smiles ever imaginable. Probably even cuddling a teddy bear (though fanart I've come across with her holding a stuffed bear tends to be set during the Academy phase).

Of course, Edie looking high and mighty and having that "commanding" presence to her is good stuff too.

[mothpawbs]

three queens who blister, blaze, and burn

i needed designs of the sisters for a thing i'm going to draw, here they are! design notes under the cut :)

NOTES: all three have two hair swoops in the front, dark markings around their eyes, and some kind of dark striping on their neck scales. the number of lower lashes they have denotes their birth order: burn has 0, blister has 1, blaze has 2. BURN: head shape and colors based on a lioness. has very heavy horns, a short-shorn crest like a high-and-tight cut, and rough, poorly healed scars. same colors as Oasis, with Char's build. wears a chestplate, as well as heavy, crushing plates on her stinger, and a lion's pelt around her shoulders as a cape. no jewelry. heavily inspired by the AnimatedWings design. BLISTER: narrow and snakelike, similar build to Oasis with Char's colors (opposite of Burn). has slim, sharp horns, an ashen palette, a tall crest, and black markings down her neck. is practically twins with Smolder. wears a black metal snake twisted along one ear, and a cape patterned with stars (inspired by @dragonskulls check out their blister design). also wears a replica Eye of Onyx, but made with black metal instead of gold and smaller. string of black pearls were a gift from Coral. BLAZE: pretty, round, and soft. she has a rosy tint, a long, luxurious crest, and all horns and claws are blunt and harmless. LOTS of jewelry. she likes gold, delicate chains and charms, and aquamarine. also wears a heavy, lined cloak with an enormous fur collar gifted to her by Glacier.

[dapper-nahrwhale]

[ID digital drawing of redesigns of the VKs from Disney descendants, years Evie, Mal, Jay, and Carlos. Evie has the front of her hair braided back with a little crown, a white princess shirt, and a blue cape with gold and red details and a high collar. She has a blue skirt with a heart belt and red panels stitched on the sides and a ruffle white skirt under. She has black tights, white ruffle socks, and red Mary Jane heels, and red and blue fingerless gloves. Above her is the symbol of a heart shaped mirror with a crown on top of it.

Mal has big horns, pointed ears with many piercings, messy purple and green hair, and is holding a knife. She is wearing a fishnet shirt with a purple crop top and a ripped jacket. She has low rise very wide leg pants with green flames on the end, and big spiky boots. She has mismatched gloves and a couple belts. Her symbol is a broken heart with horns and wings and is on fire.

Jay has an orange beanie and a ripped vest with a belt across it. He has cargo pants and tall sneakers, a few belts and fingerless gloves. His symbol above him is an orange toothy cobra snake coiled up.

Carlos has stripy black and white hair and goggles and glasses. He wears a stripy shirt and has a fluffy collar coat that's patchwork of black and white polka dots, and patchwork shorts and mismatched loafers. His symbol is a black and white crossbones. End ID]

👑😈🐍☠️

This from like... May? I think? It got lost in the 1k of my drafts (a lot I know) But I was thinking about redesigning them yet again! so expect that at some point too lmao.

[linkedspirit-fanartfunart]

[Image Description: A character lineup of the Zeldas of the Linked Spirit AU, each labeled. Lady, Hero's Zelda, she/they/he: She is tan with a blond braid and the hair in front of her ears is wrapped in a dark purple ribbon. She wears purple pants and fingerless gloves. He wears a blue corset and a pink dress with ruffled sleeves and a split skirt. He wears dark blue boots with gold diamond patterns on the side. Zelda, Skyward Sword, she/her: She's tan with blond hair with straight bangs, her side bangs tied with ribbon and a red and blue feather. She has a teal beret and vest. She wears a white shirt, and magenta skirt. On one wrist, she wears a goddess bracket. She wears a wrap under her belt that has a light purple bird symbol. Princess, The Legend of Zelda, LoZ Cartoon, she/her: Dark skinned with curly red hair in a large bun. She wears a gold tiara and pink bow in her hair. She wears a purple shirt with princess sleeves and pink pants, with a light blue vest-skirt. She wears brown boots that go above her knee. Briar, Adventure of Link, she/her: She has a warm-light skintone, with red hair and a silver tiara. She wears a red puff-sleeve bodice and a red-orange bell skirt. Twilight, Twilight Princess, she/her: She is pale, with brown hair tied in a bun and ponytail. She wears a dark purple dress with a pale purple bodice. She wears long white gloves, and golden shoulder armor. The skirt banner has the triforce, the Hylian symbol, and simplified shapes of the light spirits. She wields her sword in front of her. Bloom, Breath of the Wild, they/them: They are pale with chin-length blond hair. They wear a white shirt and blue vest, with a thin ribbon tie. They have black pants, brown boots and a wide decorated belt. Lantern, CDi: Wand of Gamelon, she/her. She is tan with light blond hair and blue eyes. She has her arms folded, wearing a purple cloak and light purple dress. She wears a blue vest over her dress. She has a magic lantern on her hip attached to her belt.

Sheik, Ocarina of Time, she/he: The adult Sheik matches Sheik from Ocarina of Time, holding a golden lyre. Next to him is Kid Zelda, who is tanner, and her dress is collared, with pink lines in the skirt, otherwise, she matches Kid Zelda from Ocarina of Time. Tetra, Wind Waker, Phantom Hourglass, she/her: Tetra has dark skin, and light blond hair in a bun. She has a roc and a white feather in her hair. She wears a blue vest with gold trim, a red scarf and sash, and her light purple tunic-shirt has a long end with the triforce symbol and blue wind waker spiral patterns. Her shorts are white and baggy, and she wears sandals with straps up her calf. She has a tattoo on her bicep of crossed swords. Phantom, Spirit Tracks, she/her: A dark skinned 12 year old, with long curly blond hair with a white streak of hair. She wears a crown with horn-like spikes and white feathers behind her ears. She wears a pink dress with a purple bodice with pink spiral patterns. She wears gold jewelry on her belt and neckline with dark purple shoulder pads. Her hands are covered with long white gloves. Her dress banner is dark blue with a gold wing design and triforce. Sunflower, A Link to the Past, Oracle of Ages, Oracle of Seasons, she/they: She is tan skinned with blond hair. She wears a light purple dress with gold shoulder pads and bracers. Their apron is a deep pink with a red triforce and triangle patterns, and her belt holds two golden tassels. She wears a white cape. Art, Link Between Worlds, she/her: She is light-skinned and she has blond hair with center parted bangs. She wears a white dress with blue trim and a white cape. Her pink apron is decorated with gold patterns and triforce. She has golden shoulder pads and bracers, and gold tassels hang off her belt. Mini, Minish Cap, Four Swords, Four Swords Adventures, she/her: She has tan skin and red hair in a high ponytail framed with white feathers. She wears a light pink dress with a white cape clasped with gold. She wears pink gloves and tan boots. She wears a pink bodice with white trim, and a banner is attached to her belt. The banner has the trifoce symbol and a gold kin-stone like symbol surrounded with the Minish Cap Element symbols. End ID]

Zeldas!! I lowkey needed a reference for myself. SO, here's the girls! And yes I did name TP Zelda Twilight to be confusing :P (But mostly because I think the one who got called The Twilight Princess by Midna deserves to have the name Twilight)

Link to the Links

[quil12]

Uh I don't know if you still have the requests open but can you do souyo + Halloween costumes/day? I got sad that they never gave us more interaction from it except in the dungeons and they look so good on it

I hope that this is to your liking! There's also some background Yukichie as well as implied Kannao in this one too. For a content warning, there's drinking in it as well, but it's taking place post-canon when they're in college.

I actually really like how this one turned out - it's one of the longer ones that I've done for these

“Yosuke, are you almost ready to go?” Yu called from the bedroom where he was just finishing putting on his costume. It was Halloween and they were about to head out to a party that Rise was throwing. It was going to be a fairly small gathering, but it would be fun.

“Yeah, give me one more minute,” Yosuke called back.

Yu hummed, adjusting the top hat on his head. He was dressing up as a vampire, so was wearing a cape over the top of a puffy white shirt. He had the top of it unbuttoned so that his collar bone was just visible. He didn’t think that it looked bad at all. He had forgone getting any teeth for it, but that was mostly because he didn’t want to deal with talking while wearing them. That sounded like too much of a hassle.

He was done with his costume, so he walked out into the living room where Yosuke was sitting on the couch, struggling with something around his neck. He frowned, walking over. 

He was dressing as a werewolf, saying that it was to contrast Yu’s vampire, and, he had to admit that the costume looked nice on him. The only thing was that he was now struggling to get a collar around his neck. It looked to be an actual dog collar, red and with a small chain attached to it.

He was just finishing buckling it when Yu walked up to him.

“A collar?” Yu asked.

“Yeah, I think that it looks good, don’t you?”

He hummed, reaching over, and grabbing hold of it, spinning it on his neck. “I didn’t know you were into that kind of thing.”

Yosuke let out a choking noise, his face turning red. “Yu!”

“What? You’re the one wearing a dog collar. Maybe I should get a leash for it.”

Yosuke glared at him, crossing his arms over his chest.

Yu smiled, leaning over, and pressing a light and chaste kiss against his lips. “It does look good though, you’re right. We should probably be going now though.”

Yosuke pursed his lips. “All right. I guess.”

He let out a small laugh, heading toward the door. Despite everything, Yosuke followed close behind him as they left their apartment, going to the nearest subway stop. Because of the holiday, the two weren’t alone in their costumes, the majority of the people that they saw were dressed up. 

After a few transfers, they were getting off the train nearest to Rise’s place. She lived in a high-rise apartment building up in the penthouse suite. It was always kind of a culture shock whenever they went over there, but she was one of the top idols in Japan, so it made sense that she lived like that. 

This was going to be a pretty small party - it always was if they were going over seeing as she had a public reputation to maintain. It would still be fun though. 

They had to call Rise to confirm for the doorman that they were coming there at her invitation, but they were let up, taking the elevator to the top floor. They walked up to the familiar apartment, knocking on the door.

Almost immediately, it swung open, Rise smiling widely at them. She was wearing what appeared to be a devil costume, complete with a pointed tail and horned headband.

“Yu-senpai, Yosuke-senpai, you’re here!” There was a slight lilt to her voice that indicated that she had been drinking.

“Hey, Rise,” Yu said back.

She looked at the two of them. “Aww, you’re a vampire and a werewolf. That’s cute!”

She invited them in after that. It seemed like they were the last to arrive, everyone else already milling around, looking up as they came in. It was just everyone that had been on the Investigation Team back in High School, minus Teddie, who apparently had to work and was very upset about it. 

Yukiko was dressed as a witch, Chie standing next to her as a pumpkin. Kanji was Frankenstein’s Monster, and Naoto was a cat. 

They exchanged greetings with everyone before Rise announced that they needed to play a game now that everyone was there. Both he and Yosuke grabbed a drink, then they all sat down on the couches in the living room. 

“What game are we playing?” Yosuke asked.

Rise thought for a few seconds. “Ooh, how about ‘Never Have I Ever.’”

She briefly explained the rules, going to grab a bottle of vodka and pre-pouring a shot for everyone, then they got started playing. Chie was up first.

She hesitated. “Uh, never have I ever kissed a boy.”

Yu reached for the shot glass in front of him before Rise stopped him.

“No, no, no, Senpai, it’s if you have done the thing that you take a shot.”

“I know.” He downed the shot, grimacing at the taste of straight alcohol.

Rise was looking at him in apparent shock, only looking away, toward Yosuke, when he also grabbed the shot glass in front of him, refusing to meet anyone’s eye as he drank it.

“Yosuke-senpai?” Her voice was pitched higher than normal.

She looked between the two of them as she also took a shot. Naoto did as well, leaving the only ones who didn’t take one as Yukiko, Chie, and Kanji.

“All right, so, uh, Yu-senpai, you’re up next then,” Rise said.

She seemed so confused at that, it might be fun to mess with her a little bit more. Of course, it wouldn’t be a lie, but it would probably shock her a bit. “Never have I ever kissed a girl.”

“What?” Rise said loudly. 

Beside him, both Chie and Yukiko took a shot, as did Kanji and Yosuke. Rise and Naoto were the only two that didn’t.

Rise looked between Chie and Yukiko. “Okay, I have so many questions now. Yu-senpai, what boy did you kiss?”

“I don’t kiss and tell,” Yu said.

She grumbled, crossing her arms. He wasn’t sure what everyone’s reactions would be if they knew that he and Yosuke were a couple, but he didn’t really want to risk it. 

They continued on with the game for a while until all of them had had a decent amount to drink - between them all, they had finished the entire bottle of vodka. 

Chie and Yosuke had started lightheartedly arguing about something while he hadn’t been paying attention and now she was dragging him into the kitchen.

Yukiko walked up to him while he was deciding whether or not to follow them.

“I was thinking about going out and getting some fresh air if you want to come, Yu-kun.”

That actually sounded nice. It was starting to get kind of hot in there. He nodded. “Okay.”

They walked together in a comfortable silence out of the apartment and down the elevator, stepping outside onto the street. It was very loud and lively out, everyone drinking and celebrating halloween. Even still, it was nice to be outside.

They walked for a bit before Yukiko started speaking. “So, I’m sorry if this is assuming anything, but are you and Yosuke-kun together?”

His first instinct was to deny that, but he thought back to how both her and Chie and said they’d never kissed a boy, but both of them had kissed a girl. He hesitated. “I think that our relationship is probably similar to yours and Chie’s.”

She turned to him, giving him a small smile. “That’s good to know. I hope that the two of you are very happy.”

He smiled back at her. “You too.”

It made his chest light to have that out in the open - at least around one other person. 

They continued walking, talking, and catching up on what the other had been doing. He hadn’t talked with her in a while, so it was nice to do this. 

He got very absorbed in their conversation and before he knew it, close to an hour must have passed.

“We should probably get heading back pretty soon,” he said.

Yukiko nodded and they started heading in the direction of Rise’s apartment.

He took his phone out as they were walking to check the time, blinking in surprise. He must have left his phone on silent after he had finished doing some homework earlier because he had twelve missed calls from Yosuke along with a handful of texts. He couldn’t quite make out what any of the texts were trying to say - Yosuke didn’t type well on his best days, but it was almost totally illegible when he was drunk.

Had something happened? Why had he called him so many times? Was he okay?

He pressed the button to call him back, putting the phone up to his ear. It rang a few times before he picked up.

“Partner,” he slurred through tears.

His blood went cold. “Yosuke, are you okay? Did something happen?”

He started speaking, but he couldn’t make out what he was saying. All of a sudden, he made a distressed sounding noise and then Naoto’s voice came through the phone.

“Chie-senpai and Yosuke-senpai decided to have a drinking contest and when he couldn’t find you afterward, Yosuke-senpai got very distressed and hasn’t calmed down since.”

He blinked. He was crying because he missed him? Despite himself, that made something warm form in his chest. “Can you tell him that I’ll be there in just a few minutes?”

“Of course. I’ll see you in a bit.”

“See you.” He hung up the call. Yukiko was giving him a questioning look.

“I had a whole bunch of missed calls from Yosuke and so I called him back in case something had happened, but it turned out he just got really drunk and couldn’t find me.”

Her expression turned warm. “That’s really sweet.”

He couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips. “Yeah.”

They hurried back to the apartment, going back upstairs. As soon as the door opened, Yosuke was right there, his face flushed as tears ran down his cheeks. 

“Yu!” He slammed into him, wrapping his arms around him, burying his face against his collar bone.

He hugged him back. “It’s okay. I’m right here.”

“You’re not allowed to leave again.” It was still hard to make out his words.

“All right. I won’t.”

“Maybe you should get a leash so that you remember to take me with you.”

He couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips. “Okay, maybe I will.”

He just nodded.

He was really drunk though. It was probably about time to get him to bed. He turned to where Rise was.

“Hey, Rise, is it okay if we stay here tonight? I don’t think I’m getting Yosuke home like this.”

She nodded. “Yeah, of course. You can have the spare room.”

He thanked her, then started dragging Yosuke up the stairs to where he knew the spare bedroom was, opening the door, and heading inside.

Once they were there, he made him sit on the bed where he started getting him as ready for bed as he could with what he was wearing. 

He hiccuped. “Sorry.”

“What are you apologizing for?”

“For making you take care of me.”

He gave him a soft smile, leaning in, and pressing his lips gently onto his forehead. “You’re not making me do anything. I like taking care of you. I like knowing that you’re happy and that you’re doing okay.”

He just nodded, looking down.

Yu reached over, starting to undo the buckle on the collar.

“I thought you said it was good on.”

“It is, but it won’t be comfortable to sleep with it on. Besides, I love you. I don’t need to keep you on a leash to know that you’ll stay with me.”

He looked down again, tears forming in his eyes. “I love you too.”

He smiled as he finished undoing the collar. “Let’s go to bed.”

He nodded. “Okay.”

Yu wrapped his arms around his waist, pulling him down with him, making him lay on his side with his back to him. 

He buried his face against the side of his neck, enjoying the warmth and closeness. All in all, he didn’t think it was too bad of a Halloween. 

[mando-of-esverr]

Tycho blinked up at the man towering over him. He drew himself up and folded his hands behind his back, expression carefully bland as the other man's extreme emotions washed over him.

"...If this has nothing to do with the recent trial, or my history before the Rebellion, then this must be a personal issue and I am at a loss as to what that could possibly be."

Darius had been jubilant! Tycho had been acquitted of all charges and made famous as bait for real Imperial spies. Though the Mandalorian wanted to string up the intelligence head who came up with this idea, it was still a relief to know Tycho was, for the moment, out of harms way. Though he knew he might not be remembered, he'd hoped to perhaps catch Tycho in passing, make his greeting and introduction. He’d even thought about asking if Commander Antilles would be willing to arrange it.

But it seemed Lavinia had beaten him to the punch. She’d been all smiles when she’d given him his own invitation to the Rogues’ private celebration of Horn & Celchu’s acquittal and return. He could’ve been walking on the cloud cities of Bespin for how light he felt! He’d even brought his friend and pilot, Theo, as his plus-one!

More importantly… he’d come without his armor. Well, most of it. He didn’t exactly have dress clothes, as his wardrobe was mostly casual clothes, his flight suits, and his armor. With very little in the ways of nice clothing in his closet, he had intended on wearing the nicest thing he had that wasn’t armor, but the sight of him had made his pilot balk. Theo had insisted on making him wear something nicer, and though he could appreciate some of the pilot’s choices, most of them left Darius looking less like a Mandalorian and more like a Corellian spacer!

As much as he appreciated Theo’s efforts, playing doll for the pilot was not on his itinerary for the night. Still, he utilized a few of his style suggestions, with only a few modifications. Dark boots and pants were easily accepted, but he was determined to wear something of his Mandalorian heritage. So he’d managed to commission a unique vest with which to wear his chest armor; a valid compromise to avoid having to wear the whole flight suit.

When he came to the party, he wore dark dress pants with polished brown dress boots, matching gloves, and a dark shirt and vest with his bronze chest plate half hidden beneath a short shoulder cape in the same style worn by Lando Calrisian. He felt… awkward, almost naked without the rest of his armor, but at least with his chestplate he could breathe easy. And he could justify leaving his helmet as he was meeting with family. Sort of. However, all thoughts of awkwardness vanished when he saw Tycho Celchu enter the party with Lavinia Heraldy.

She was beautiful.... Her warm, brunette curls had been done up just for the party, their ends resting elegantly on the high collar of dress. It was a two part gown, a dark undergown with a high collar with in a long, elegant, white wrap-around dress that fanned at her shoulders. A vivid red sash wrapped around her waist, accented by a white headband in her hair. Small rubies trimmed with silver hung from her ears and ornamental necklace, while her wrists jingled lightly with silver bracelets. She was a vision of beauty and high society, vibrant and assertive... And she was on Tycho Celchu’s arm.

Beside her, Tycho’s dress uniform shone as well as hers. He wore a brilliant white blazer over black dress pants and boots, the collar of his black body stocking reaching nearly halfway up his neck. Slanted down across the front of his blazer was his own red sash with a golden pin or buckle, and across his waist was a smooth, white belt. 

Darius’s jaw and fist clenched. Where he could have forgiven them simply showing up together, clearly only as friends. But the cut of their clothes, the matching of their styles, how Tycho held her arm with the firm gentleness of his own… It was enough to make his blood boil.

So setting his glass down, Darius fixed a hard expression on his face as he approached the pair.

Unfortunately, his helmet didn’t hide his expression and Lavinia was quick to catch on and deftly moved to intervene by greeting him with a warm, open smile.

“Darius! There you are! I was wondering if you’d made it.” She grinned up at Tycho, tightening her grip on his arm. “Tycho, this is Darius, an old friend of mine from Esverr before the war. He’s the one who arrived with you after your time on Akk’ritar. Darius, this is Tycho, RA fighter pilot, hero, and my beau of five years.”

Darius had opened his mouth to tell her that they’d met before, but hearing her last words left him stunned. He blinked, his expression that of someone who’d just been slapped. “Five years?” he asked, bewildered. “You’ve known him for five years?”

“Yep, five years,” Lavinia replied, her smile becoming a little more firm. “We met met not long after Alderaan. I was one of the Y-wing pilots at the time and was the one who welcomed him after his defection.”

Darius looked from Tycho to Lavinia with disbelief on his face before he narrowed his gold-green eyes. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Not only had she met him before Darius even knew she was alive but had been an item with him since??? 

“And you know who he was, right?” Darius asked, “What he did to us and your brothers?”

Lavinia’s back straightened and she fixed Darius with a firm, diplomatic gaze. “Yes,” she said firmly. “I know exactly who he was and what he did, and he’s not the first defector I forgave for what happened on Esverr, and he won’t be the last.” She fixed Darius with a hard look and he turned his gaze to Tycho.

Several emotions flashed across Darius' face as he looked between the two; Shock, outrage, betrayal, and uncertainty. She had known him–of course, she’d known him! He’d seen her on the Mercy when he’d still been there, even before he was cleared to go home with Tajur and Mathafew. He’d learned she was one of Tycho’s emergency contacts. Her own videre even admitted that she had come for Tycho and had only learned that he, Darius, was still alive when he’d turned up with the pilot. 

Finally, he straightened, took a breath, and swallowed. It was a hard pill to swallow… jealousy over a first love… but even as his jealousy burned, Lavinia smothered it with her cool gaze. Darius composed himself and tried to put on at least a mask of civility. 

“I see,” Darius murmured, glancing around as if to look for an escape. “Well, I’m glad you made it, I hope you… enjoy the party.” With a curt nod, the dark-haired Mandalorian turned on his heel and strode away. He didn’t see the hand Lavinia extended to stall him, or the look of utter confusion on the other man’s face. He didn’t see the confusion or concern on Theo’s face. All he saw was the small crowd part for him and the door he took on his way out.

[puppyluver256]

[Image Description: Clair, the Gym Leader of Blackthorn City in the Johto games, with her Kingdra. Clair is a woman with light skin, blue hair in a ponytail, and blue eyes. She is wearing a blue one-piece suit, a black cape with maroon lining and gold claw-like shoulder accessories, gold claw-like earrings, a black choker collar with a large pearl attachment, blue high-heeled boots with black cuffs, and blue gloves with black cuffs. She is holding a red and white Pokeball in one hand, grinning confidently, and her free hand is motioning to her Kingdra. Kingdra resembles a large blue seahorse with a yellow belly, a long fin on its back, two horn-like growths, and red eyes. The background is the back room of Blackthorn City Gym, featuring black walls with grey designwork and a black floor with a red and teal rug. End ID.]

-----

“I am Clair. The world's best Dragon-type master. I can hold my own against even the Pokémon League's Elite Four. Do you still want to take me on? ...Fine. Let's do this! As a Gym Leader, I will use my full power against any opponent!”

More Johto stuff! Look, say what you will about Clair's personality, but I think we can all agree that her design is top tier >:3

💖🐶 Check out my pinned post for ways to support my artwork, among other things! 🐶💖

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Clair, Kingdra, and other Pokemon concepts © Nintendo/GameFreak Artwork © PuppyLuver Studios

[fizzingwizard]

The wonderful thing about synonyms is how the thesaurus will tell you two words share a meaning, but not the nuances.

So you get "The dreadful empress gazed on her cowering subjects calmly," or

"The dreadful empress gazed on her cowering subjects as cool as a cucumber"

I imagine twin empress sisters, one with huge Maleficent horns and a long cape with high pointed collar, the other dressed much the same but also wearing sunglasses and a SWAG necklace, striding in to a hip hop track while sipping a smoothie

[etruatcaelum]

CINDER FALL

PHYSICAL

Only average height, carries herself like she's taller. Lithe. Light olive complexion. Hair pitch-black, thick, slightly wavy, hacked to chin length—or grown long when she's trying to stay incognito. High cheekbones; narrow, fine lips. Eyes hooded, lacking a visible crease. Strong brows. Faint reddish burn scar encircling her neck, always covered.

STYLE

High collars, long sleeves. Black and red trimmed with gold or, when she's feeling extravagant, violet. Enjoys capes and cloaks and other long trailing adornments.

Her emblem is the silhouette of two heeled shoes, pressed sole-to-sole to frame a heart shape in the negative space.

MIDNIGHT, NOCTURNE, & GLOAM

In order: a recurved bow, a cusped falchion, and a dirk. Once mundane, made of horn and steel—old-fashioned. After claiming the first portion of the fall maiden, Cinder incinerated the original weapons so as to create what might be called semblances of them. Just as a person's semblance is an outward manifestation of their true self, these are outward manifestations of the idea of them and what they mean to Cinder.

These weapons are distinct from the ad-hoc glass constructs she frequently makes of other weapons, which are brittle and tend to crumble or shatter within a few blows. With Midnight, Nocturne, and Gloam, she's summoning the ideal form of the weapons.

AURA

The color of a candle flame. Cinder, having been trained in auralerie by both Summer Rose (who drove efficiency and recovery into her head very effectively) and Salem (who, by virtue of having had hundreds of millions of years to practice, is without question the most skilled auralerist in the world), is skilled well beyond her years and would be a formidable opponent even without dust or magic. In particular, Cinder excels in offensive uses of aura—that's partly Salem's influence coming through, and partly down to Cinder's own preference for a best-defense-is-a-good-offense approach to aura.

SEMBLANCE

She calls it Scorching Caress. Cinder can press her aura outward to surround anything she's touching, then exert intense pressure and heat within the enclosure of her aura. (If she does this to a person, it doesn't just burn—she can crush bone if she exerts herself.) Though notionally restricted to direct physical contact, she can do this at range—albeit in a weaker and less precisely-controlled form—by attaching "bubbles" of aura to arrowheads or other projectiles.

Super-heated liquids explode when disturbed. That's just physics, not a direct effect of Cinder's semblance, but she's aware of this fact and uses it ruthlessly to her advantage.

Before she claimed the fall maiden, her natural heat ceiling was around 750°C, but she could reach much higher temperatures by augmenting her semblance with dust. Contrary to what one might expect, her preference for this purpose was gravity dust, not any form of burn dust; her semblance generates heat through a combination of friction and pressure, rather than combustion.

Now that she is the fall maiden, she no longer needs dust.

In ambient temperatures exceeding about 40°C, if Cinder's aura is engaged, it will absorb the thermal energy of the air and convert that heat into aura, very rapidly replenishing her reserves. (This also has the effect of making her something of a walking air conditioner, in hot climates.)

When she's hit, rather than reflecting that kinetic energy as most defensive auras do, hers burns—absorbing the force of the blow and spitting most of it back out as heat, spiking the ambient temperature. Because of this, to an outside observer, her defensive aura appears very weak: she can be bruised or even cut through her aura, even when she's in the green, something normally seen only in novices.

Opponents who notice this often underestimate her, assuming that she's either poorly-trained or reckless; in actuality, once Cinder learnt that her aura works this way, she adapted her technique to take advantage of the trade-off—she's more likely to suffer minor injuries, but getting hit effectively strengthens her aura instead of wearing her down.

The way Salem trained her to use magic is starkly different from the instruction other maidens receive from Ozma. Rather than sling pure magic around, Cinder is nearly always channeling the magic through her semblance; while this makes it more challenging for her to use aspects of the magic that don't pair well with her semblance, the benefit of doing so far outweighs the downsides. It attunes the maiden to her in a way that would not otherwise be possible to achieve; the magic empowers her semblance, and her semblance empowers the magic.

That is how Cinder can, for example, melt a hole large enough to admit an airship through four layers of reinforced steel in the blink of an eye with a single fireball. She's a specialist perfectly in tune with the magic she wields.

MAJOR HEADCANONS

On Cinder's Gender Identity –> & Addendum: Dysphoria On Her Near-Death on Amity

PRINCIPAL ALLUSIONS

Cinderella –> Guess! (For interested parties: see this post on my personal for a close reading of 8.06 Midnight. It is very long and not required reading whatsoever, but if you want a comprehensive breakdown of my foundational thoughts on Cinder, her relationship with Salem, and why I handle her grimmness the way I do, this is the post to read.)

Maiden-in-the-Tower Stories –> Cinder is Petrosinella's lion, the second beast she conjures to fend off the ogress. She's also,

The Chess Motif –> The Dragon Variation. (Elaboration.)

The Snow Queen –> Gerda. But in an enemies to lovers way. (Distant screaming: WHY DOES IT WORK)

OTHER NOTES

Cinder is a social chameleon. Underneath all the masks, she is a very scared and very angry young woman who believes she's destined to be subjugated and treated like nothing. She intends to defy her fate by any means necessary, whatever the cost, but that is not a face she willingly shows to anyone. Instead, she mirrors other people's behavior and expectations back to them, and mimics those she fears, admires, or envies.

Her grimm arm is not only something she agreed to but asked for, instead of the options Salem gave her—namely, learning to conjure an arm with magic or having Watts build a prosthetic for her. It isn't a grafted-on limb. Salem grew it from her by drawing upon the shared nature between the grimm and humanity: hunger, emotion, will to survive. The growth up to her shoulder followed Cinder's growing comfort with it, as she thinks of it more and more as her arm, and is under her (subconscious) control.

Salem does have a lingering connection to the arm, which she can abuse to inflict pain. However, she cannot take control over it or force it to do anything against Cinder's will. This connection also flows in both directions—meaning Cinder could hurt Salem through it, too.

While she's more loyal to Salem than she cares to admit—and certainly far more loyal than she presents herself to be—Cinder hates being in a subordinate position to anyone and loathes taking orders. She desperately wants Salem to respect her, treat her like an equal; she doesn't have any idea how to articulate that feeling, even to herself, and it erupts in spiteful, defiant power struggles. Her interest in the maidens is secondary to her determination to force Salem to play on her terms.

Salem doesn't recognize that until after Atlas falls.

Watts is the one who found her and pointed her toward Salem.

She's transfem.

[phoenixduelist]

Some timeline & history cleaning, clarifying regarding

mostly for my sanity.

1711: Rozália's adoptive father after the failed Kuruc War is Charles VI Holy Roman Emperor

Charles VI had a son named Joseph III who succeeded him after his death in 1729. (Real history without my meddling: Charles VI never had a son, reigned till 1740, and after due to his law Pragmatica Sanctio which ensured female inheritance, his heir was Maria Theresa. Maria married Francis I)

1733: Rozália returned to the Monarchy and murdered Emperor and King Joseph III

1733-1736: She no other choice but lead the uprising, battled for almost three years and eventually managed to corner the Habsburg forces into a negotiation process. It went relatively smoothly, mostly thanks to her adoptive younger sister, Maria Theresa who realized which none of the men could see; she will not stop and this fierce rebellion might cost the Empire even more than Hungary.

26th July 1736: at the age of 39, crowned Queen Rozália Klára Véghváry of Hungary in Székesfehérvár with the Holy Crown of Hungary

She immediately started rebuilding her country, earning the nickname Queen of Roses and Swords; in a few years the wartorn land started to prosper, with one eye always on the Austo-Hungarian border, she brought peace, safety and freedom. Her three main problems were:

Maria's....ambitious husband Francis I Holy Roman Emperor, he remained a threat till the end, and invaded three months after her death in 1763.

Hungarian nobility more concerned about having overflowing pockets than ensuring freedom and valuing loyalty.

The Ottoman threat at the southern borders, at the véghvárs.

She didn't count assassins sent by many nations, all of them ended up buried in her rose garden.

Despite knowing she was both saving and dooming her nation with her decision to not remain dead or live her life in peace far away, she refused to change the trajectory where her reign was going. Of course she knew, the master chess player, the fearsome negotiator who predicted everyone's moves before the thought even formed in their heads; while she was alive she protected her kingdom and people with everything she had left.

Not the traditional Queen by any means: History has proven with Queen Elizabeth I that a woman can be the sole ruler, successful and reforming the kingdom during her reign. Rozália was vastly different from Elizabeth I regarding appearances and behavior. She mostly dressed as a man, wearing her father's clothes, her family's sword, instead of a dress, rich burgundy cape flowed after her with a wolf fur collar. No delicate clicks of dainty heels, but thunder of boots. She kept her hair shoulder length, refused to wear wigs or allow any hairstyle abomination on her head, save for a few rare occasions. Her most worn crown was relatively simple, dark silver with straight, sharp arches, two of them at the sides of her forehead slightly longer than the rest, purposely giving the illusion of horns. Decorated with emeralds, the 'horns' studded with rubies. Rozália also refused to do anything to hide her gold fangs, the proof of her pirate era, most importantly the proof of attempted Habsburg disfigurement. Her presence commanded respect, radiated strength and a sense of danger. Stronger than any possible male contender could've been.

Foreign policy: A disaster. Aggressive and assertive, tolerating no disrespect. Frequent skirmishes at the Austro-Hungarian borders she personally partook. Ferdinand I stepped foot once in the Buda Castle during her reign, when he was told if he does again while she's still alive, she will personally ensure a long lasting death and to get the fuck out of her kingdom. Her essentially cutting off both Galician territories from the Monarchy worked as she predicted, due to high taxes of crossing borders, strict inspections, frequent robberies resulted them asking to join as part of Hungary in 1745. Regarding the southern border fortress fights, Rozália continued where her ancestors left off, in the frontline against Ottomans when the situation called for a demonic intervention. Her trade connections strong and favoring Hungary, well aware of the fertile land, silver, gold, coal mines. In the heart of Europe laid a treasure chest guarded by a vengeful jaguar of a woman. She knew which kingdom, Empire lacked what she seamlessly could provide and priced the goods accordingly. After all, sea trade proved to be quite dangerous with all the pirate activities, privateers taking their own unofficial profits, long voyages, treacherous waters.

Domestic policy: Rozália didn't rule as an autocrat, she established a mixed class council with an elected member from every significant province, territory. Although she had the final say in every decision, she was willing to listen and in some cases make alterations accordingly. The people felt seen, heard by their ruler for the first time in centuries. She awarded the vassals remaining loyal to the Véghváry house (Vihar crew & their families included) more than graciously while executing the ones who betrayed either her or her father. She kept a vice grip on the upper class, not permitting any kind of abuse towards the lower class, gaining many enemies in the process but she could care less. Fixed wages and working hours were ratified, school was mandatory till grade 6 for boys and girls, women were also allowed, encouraged to study further and take part in 'manly' activities such as racing and fencing. Reduced the role of Church, religion shouldn't be intertwined with ruling. Officiated same sex marriages whenever she could with the chuckle and a wink “What Rome doesn't know, won't cause heart attacks.” Discrimination regarding religion, sexuality, race was a punishable offense, if 'only' denying work and discrimination happened, the offender was fined, half of the sum going to the hurt party. If a hate crime happened the punishment varied from imprisonment to execution based on severity. Rape and any similar sexual crimes automatically carried a death sentence. Often carried out by her personally. The Freedom stone Bridge connecting Buda with Pest was officiated in 1750, which was destroyed after her death.

Marriage: Absolutely not. Rozália refused to give up her autonomy, authority to some inbred idiot. This was her soil, her home and most importantly, her body which no one had control over anymore. Most were rightfully terrified of her anyway, fathers mostly from Russia, France, Italy forced their unruly sons to propose to the Queen of Roses and Swords, although there were some true brave ones who were optimistic and willing. Hoping overwhelming wealth would sway her, their fake charm would have an impact on the wartorn woman. They sometimes left gravely disappointed. After a not so few dead nobles Queen Rozália announced she will only marry the man or woman who can defeat or at least a end in tie with her in fencing. This offer was open to all social classes; once her old fencing instructor and faithful friend during piracy managed to score a tie. While Jácint loved her, he knew she wouldn't be happy by his side, nor anyone's, that's why she chose a sure method to successfully fend off future spouses. Despite he could've by her rules and she wasn't indifferent towards him either, they never married nor had an affair. Instead remained very close friends until the end.

Hobbies, activities, love life: Fencing never stopped being a crucial part of her life, remaining undefeated. She took part in tournaments, encouraging her opponents to look at her as a challenger instead of their queen, many did, many perished and unsurprisingly she always emerged victorious, but didn't kill all of her opponents. Rozália also took up the habit of sneaking out of her castle, sometimes leaving important guests behind to be with the people. She danced legényes with the brave, talented lads, accompanied Romani musicians, listened to old women's woes; commoners adored her. They didn't see the monster she was, they saw a goddess descending to simple humans out of the kindness of her heart. That...made her feel the happiest only bested by fencing. She courted both men and women alike, anyone who piqued her interest and wanted to pursue something as well. They came and went, treated well, left before she would get bored and her natural cruelty would poison the relationship. She was never whole nor truly happy. Rozália never had any children. In her remaining free time she studied languages, history both ancient and present to stay on top of her game, three steps ahead as always.

Death, legacy: At the age of 69 she woke before the sun had risen on a warm spring day. She knew, she felt her ill heart beating its last hours. Now alone, all of her faithful crew buried with a ceremony worthy of a king, she had no one to live for. She fulfilled her promise, her destiny, her vengeance, she was not tasked with the future. Queen Rozália passed after 27 years of prosperous reign, in the peace of her rose garden in the rays of dawn. When it comes to Queen Rozália, you will hear three opinions based on who you ask about her:

The foreigners will scoff “Shame such a lowly barbarian could trick the Monarchy and run a part of it for decades.”

The Hungarian nobility she was rightfully didn't favor will snarl “Hungary has never seen a more vicious bitch.”

The commoners & loyal aristocracy under her rule will smile “We haven't had a ruler this fair since King Matthias.” & recite their favorite tale about her.

All three of them are true.

The nation was crushed, devastated after she passed. They mourned yet got ready for the invasion she foretold. The Pope after looking into her life, achievements despite all odds stacked against her gave into the request and canonized her as Patron Saint of Independence. Three months after Ferdinand I came. Destroyed her legacy, her infrastructure, killed her followers, burned history books, pictures of her in a frenzy to erase every trace of her. He was sure the bloodline ended with her. Nobody, not even her knew that she had a twin brother, András who had five kids. One of his sons will eventually become the father of @infernal-general ; named after the lost Queen, no one will be prepared for the Hussar General with war in her veins.

[dishtothedeath]

Send In the Clowns [CH 3 Execution]

From behind you all, two of your judges interrupt the farewells. Skull-kun shoots what seems to be a sympathetic look towards Inigo, while Biscuit Beastie looms over Skull’s shoulder. 

“What a shame… Our once beloved clown now receives the coldest of farewells. But… you did hack off the head of our innocent little scientist friend for the name of love, if you could call it that, hm? It’s all a bit ironic. Next time, just try therapy.”

Skull-kun turns to the rest of the cast, pixel brows raised. “Anyone else got any scathing remarks to throw Bonb- I mean, Inigo’s way? No? Good. It’s time to get on with the finale of this little chapter. Considering Inigo’s theatrics, it’s going to be a fantastic show, hm?” 

“Now, take a seat, and enjoy.”

Whether you take a seat or not is up to you. The lights cut out and Inigo is whisked away without a sound. The screen flickers back on and… [♫♫♫]

Suppose it was only a matter of time until the sins of the father collected in the son.

From above the watching contestants rain down a bevy of fluttering papers as the sound of a great crowd filing in roars to life like rushing water after the floodgates. Playbills, the lot of them, fall into their hands, as do the crowd on the screen who casually snag them from the air. Inside the front cover is tonight’s show:

SWAN LAKE

colombina … ODETTE

pierrot … SIEGFRIED

malacoda … ROTHBART

scaramuccia … DON QUIXOTE

hellequin … ODILE

Quiet hush eventually falls over the audience as the grand curtains draw into view, brimstone red. The great velvet sea slowly parts on the stage of the world’s last fine commedia. One by one, like drumroll, the lights strike to life.

In the center, flat like cutouts, dark like silhouettes, is a faceless woman and her faceless man held in a tight embrace. Great white feathers across her hips meet the fine jewels of his shirt’s trim, the dark brown of her hair and shine of her winged headpiece nestled into the small of his high collared neck, above the puff of his sleeve, but below the line of his jaw, the smear of the left half of his face and his golden curls. They here are still, fixed in front of a great lake, framed not by trees, but of high rising tents and colossal rides, ferris wheels, coasters, dotted and broken up by small booths and stands of garish colors. A swan and a prince in their sea of yesteryear.

The music starts.

[♫♫♫]

As the sun climbs to day, away he spins the ballerina in white, sweet Colombina Odette, who falls into her feathers and flies away in buckling spins and leaps. Princely Pierrot, tearful with no face, sinks to his knees and reaches out to the space where she once was. His hands trace the line of the mirror water where the light dapples it. Night again they shall meet, and so he shall rise to meet her at dusk’s fall, sweeping from his low position to bound away.

From the corner of the scene moves a grand man with great wingspan, cape like thistle and brush and chewn feather striding out to pluck a white feather from where the couple once stood. He holds it up to the light as it shines pearlescent. No good— a threat to his kingdom for the rightful princess to fall in love. Away the feather falls into the water with a flick of Rothbart’s wrist, silhouette’s smile dark like the devil’s as he flourishes his cape and outreaches a hand to stage left in a sickly cloying motion. For a moment, no one comes, to which he stamps his great clawed foot, the rage of the motion nearly dislodging his grand sequined crown from the bearings of his horns. One kick of the foot shakes the whole stage, and, at last, dances out the bright primaries of your dear killer, Bonbon Bourbon.

His face, full and flat like muddy stones, holds no joy, no fear, and no great sadness. It holds, as always, the intense focus of a performer, returning with each piqué turn his eyes only to the wicked forest king, as is so demanded. Up Rothbart’s hand snatches when Bonbon stands but a few inches away, frozen en pointe. That same hand gently smooths over the length of Bonbon’s neck with a single finger, around from the clavicle, over the hills of muscle, tracing the line and gently pressing on his Adam’s apple, then cupping, so sweetly, Bonbon’s chin. Stoic as his face may be, the quick rise and fall of his chest betrays his trepidation.

Rothbart looks to where the feather fell in the water. Ponders a moment.

In a motion, Bonbon is pulled in whatever direction the devil king’s hand decrees, left hooking under Bonbon’s own left arm, right pulling up his own right left by the knee, posing him on one leg stood, one leg bowed, arms forced into third position. Clawed hands flex each of Bonbon’s fingers and run down the length of his forearm to the elbow. The other straightens out Bonbon’s leg running down the calf, slightly digging into the flesh of his ankle. He’s forcibly spun around with little resistance, once, twice, nary an inch of movement until, suddenly, Rothbart clamps a hand around his neck as Bonbon’s face is flatly visible to the audience, struggling to breathe. Rothbart looks on straight, unsympathetic to the barely held back wheezes for air.

Rothbart releases Bonbon.

Bonbon gasps as much as his lungs can fill.

Luchino Ricci snatches him back and shoves him into the lake ground.

Instinctual thrashing is held down by Bonbon’s own performer’s resolve, brutally thrust into the water deeper and deeper, hacking up algae and spitting out dark mirror phlegm, baptized in its murky waters. A bit more of Bonbon descends with each Achillean dip, more and more of his colors fading into the swamp of it. Eventually, he is all submerged. The water’s surface goes still.

A swell of the music and Rothbart fetches him back up by the length of his hair. Neither wet nor dry, Bonbon is instead soaked in rich blacks, reds, golds, dotted ornately like the prized tool he is, a king’s scabbard to his beloved loyal sword. Life struggles to claw back into his lungs, but Bonbon, decorated in night-dark feathers, clings on so long as he is needed, moving only when moved, speaking only when spoken to, clad in his mask as the shadow of Odette. As the fingers of his father bird release him, his hair ties up immaculately, a headpiece in mimicry of the true princess from dregs and twiggery, and one hand goes to hold Bonbon by the waist.

The last flourish of Rothbart’s wing towards the sky gently frames the light hanging in its center. Slowly, deliciously, those gnarled fingers wrap their way around it, coddling it like bramblethorn until they snap, snare, snuff the sun itself. An eternal kingdom for the lord of the night. Its silhouette face looks over to Bonbon, and he does not have to hear its voice to know what it says. Once again, a clown, the next executor of the old blood curse.

Bonbon bows, graceful as a diving swan, and his old haunt receives it. Two birds in dark dance together off stage right, flying in the pair of swallow and raptor, as day gives way to night over the last circus.

Stars billow in and get reflected by the water in the pale moonlight. Fair Prince Siegfried slowly returns to stage center, his steps nervous, not-eyes wantonly searching for the first wingbeats of flight. He waits, and he waits, but no accursed princess accompanies him, no pearlescents that he may see and know all is right. Over his heart, his hands clutch, Pierrot’s head dipping in sadness.

But alas, alas, who is this?

Neither Bonbon nor Harlequin takes the stage. These are the graceful flutters of Odile, stolen Odette’s place like a cuckoo nest, arriving with the rest of the court to offer his hand to the wayward good soul. Up rises the tearful dancer, bouncing now oh so lightly to meet Bonbon’s strong step, descending to his knees to kiss a string up the length of his arm from finger to shoulder. Bonbon’s eyes feign fondness for the ghost of this man, a mist of lovely duplicity to cool the coals inside, and he lets himself be gently held, fawned over, in every way sweetly adored. This stolen love will be his, as it was taken from him and will be again, whether by another or his own hand. But the time to consider that is up and the night of the dance is young.

The two dancers move to their respective halves of the stage as the faux kindly king descends upon the lake’s midway. Air in this scene quiets, the circus as their witness, the water as their stage. Ghosts of performers dot the periphery in tartans and diamond checkerboard. Rothbart’s hands control everything at play. They swell up with his cape.

The music begins to play.

[♫♫♫]

Bonbon from the left, Siegfried from the right, an illusion of a pure performer and the ghost of someone who once was dear to him and the caged bird of their last third dropping from above to witness what cannot be stopped. Bonbon moves enticingly, always sharp, always flawless, execution and heart and emotion of a true blue performer, magnetic and real among all these flat memories, outlines of their true selves, but for Bonbon, that is more than enough. Among the fake, he can be the most real, be the one to show the whole watching world and all his former contestants all the grueling, long years of hard work that’s made him. Natural, a swan to the water.

Each movement captures the beauty of a blooming love, each lift, each posed turn, Odile and Siegfried moving as one, a prince strung along. Bonbon’s exhaustion from all the proceedings does not betray his performance, which reaches out to transfix the eye on him. In the world of the lovers there is only theme, but Bonbon, or even the man underneath, wants it to be known that he has stolen Siegfried’s heart, he is the bewitcher, the evil, the tantalizing lure, that the world may see him dance and through it see Him. This is the talent that transfixed every crowd, what was built out of the boy that had to break.

Through leaps and lifts and one foot to land on two and air light moves, Bonbon and the ghost kick up water from the lake that shimmers with the low light of their dancing. Here and there Bonbon spins away for Siegfried to chase after when Rothbart beckons him. Each direction that not-Ricci makes, Bonbon follows precisely, falls into his arms with a lost face and a fearful tremble at what Rothbart’s face must be, then spins back with a bright smile, world class marionetting. Pretty and posable with strong perfect wings, this is a performer meant to be consumable, taken and used up by those who seek claim to him, the princes, the kings, the loves, the audience, a man meant to be eaten into moth holes until the holes are all that’s left. 

Above them the cage dangles helplessly, the captive cannot be heard. Robbed of the love that was hers, the jealous bird, fading.

Siegfried leads him in each precision pivot, spinning like he has no substance at all, only what is asked of him, only where hands lead, pulling, pressing, picking at him, sweet or demanding, no difference is made in the burns on his skin after each touch, rebuking both but smiling through it. One last great turn to the crowd, hand in hand. The prince falls to his knees and beckons. What can Bonbon do but oblige his enemy? Those hands, or hers, one or both were responsible. The same sort which once supported him, which once were kind, capable of such great evils— well, he supposes his own have grown to be like that. A triplicate of traitors in the shapes of real people.

Bonbon and his target take their last grand pose, swan in flight. From down on the floor, Siegfried rises. Bonbon, en pointe, looks up to his taller partner, and knowing what comes next, puts a finger in front of his lips. Steal his love as he may, he could never embrace a traitor like this. Here, Odette’s curse seals, no longer able to court her first love, and the woman in the cage weeps her silhouette apart, fading into the moonlight, tinting it with absence. One done, though, too beautiful for how he would’ve liked it. Bonbon looks over to the side, but finds no Rothbart.

That’s fine. This plan was never his dear Ringmaster’s— it was always, from the start, his vision of revenge, the heaven over the rampart. Came all this way hungry, and now, at last, his reward.

Bonbon so daintily spins over to embrace his prince from behind, two clowns, sad and happy, Pierrot and Harlequin, hugging him sweetly, hugging him close, drawing his hand down and up his side. His masked face nuzzles into the spot at the base of his old friend’s neck, sighs so comfortably.

And drives Siegfried’s sword straight through his chest.

Blood-as-rose-petals seep from where the blade exits the silhouette’s chest as its knees buckle from the shock. Bonbon’s smothering, loving weight is crushing, folding his prince down to the low of the ground, twisting the metal in. Siegfried has no voice, but his hollow face is gasping as he’s pressed low, Odile at last surpassing him. Red leaks into the lake as the circus denizens on the sides begin to scream and scatter, the audience off the stage in sharp shock. An off-script detail. But in Bonbon’s story, how it should’ve gone.

When the sword is removed, Siegfried is nothing but a pile of clothes, and Odette is nothing but low light. No one around is left to watch. It is only Odile— not Bonbon, but Odile, but Him.

Where is his approval, the smile and nod and thank you, all he’s ever wanted, from his commander? From his teacher, from his father, from Luchino Ricci? No clowns populate the premises. No circus-goers bring this place to life. This is the ruin of the Brimstone and Barley, the death of their kingdom-lake, its eternity guaranteed in stillness and quiet. Odile dances across the lake’s surface as a testament to the bloody monument he’s created as he goes to search. The movements, at last wild, at last happy, so unburdened and above it all, pirouettes and turns for a madman, a child, an untethered beast. Water and blood and memories all kicked up. Soon, soon, they can all wash away.

But the search comes up empty at every torn tent corner. Not in the wicker of the forest nor the highs of the stage. Not along the borders of the curtains nor the sea of eyeing patrons can he see the tips of Rothbart’s cape. Nothing stirs and the orchestra does not play. Inigo’s hair blows in the gentle night breeze until at last, a gust blows the baubles of his costume and nearly chokes his breath away. Up atop the show tents the tethers and stakes rip from the ground, swirling and spinning like writhing snakes, and Inigo drops to the ground and rolls within a second of one of them driving straight through his head.

When he looks up, they’ve tied themselves into the lace lattice of a bridge, up to a ferris wheel’s very top where the crest of the ride kisses the face of the moon in the sky. Inigo wipes sweat off his brow, stands back up. Of course he’s waiting up there. Odile moves to greet his not-father and walk up its steps, but as his first move goes to meet the first knot—

[♫♫♫]

A quake on the stage with the stampede of string and brass, enough to knock Inigo off his feet! A rough fall, his only one out of place so far, right into the muck and water of where the fairgrounds seeps like bruising from the lake. Ballets are efforts in speaking without words, poetic silence, and so sudden jubilant shouting from up top breaks the illusion of the performance, and it’s Inigo, wide eyes scanning, who traces the leaps of a gilded figure around each suspended carriage. Left, right, middle, gone in the flash and here in the next, the visage of bold armor and bolder exultation. Inigo’s heart runs at a hundred paces.

He knows that dumb laughter, the same one shooting between each of his ears, and he knows, distinctly, that man should not be here. Up where the Brimstone and Barley kisses the stars’ cheek is one final grand huzzah and the leap of a riding knight unto its peak.

“Brother!” the figure that is not Marco Griebling shouts, still as flat and carved as the rest of the ghosts here. “Brother swan, dance no more! The shackles on your feet are no longer needed! I have saved you and us all, at last, for I, Don Quixote, have slain the evil demon, it and its thousand eyes, which gouges this land with its tyranny! Is that not right, Rocinante?”

Of course, the horse does not speak, and Inigo would not have wanted it to, and he’s aghast at what the hell this sudden rescript means, chewing the inside of his cheek.

“This show should’ve ended,” Inigo bites back. “It’s done! I did it, and I’m dying, so! Why are you here?!”

“Aha! He does not believe me, fair steed! Who could find fault in him, who swam in a lake and mistook it for the sea? Fret not! I would never come without proof for my charge of a slain king! Behold, the truth of the matter! This death which begat everything!”

Thrust up with a lance, piercing to heaven, is the bloody weapon which holds the corpse of Ricci, Rothbart, the demon and wild-king.

Inigo’s hand goes tight on the hilt of the sword.

His brother’s shadow talks, nonsense, mostly, it’s Don Quixote, and Inigo does not listen, and Inigo does not want to listen. Those dull stone eyes fixate on the junction where the steel has punctured fake flesh and jumps between it and the silhouette’s face, staggered, lurching. Why this, why now, why show him this charade, why not just kill him? He knows who did it and those people are dead, and all Inigo’s time had been building up to this, all the work, all the effort, Emil’s severed head, all for the want of waking from this dream and living life again, so why?

And then it hits him.

He had thought for so long that only two others knew Inigo’s schedule, when he’d be barking in town and the Ringmaster would be tabulating in his grand office seat. That they had been close enough to figure Inigo’s trick to getting in and out of that area without being seen when he wanted to surprise his mentor-not-father. That those two who skipped town would do so only out of guilt if they did not come to greet Inigo once he was released, and not because they were running from the place that had taken their lives as it had drained him of his. That a lover’s pair of performers forbidden under Ricci’s rule would have plenty of reason to bleed him and leave.

It had never occurred to him that a brother might’ve seen that bruise on his face and decided enough was enough, nor had it reasoned that he would’ve know Inigo’s schedule every day, nor had it become clear that the reluctance to talk about it after attempts to convince Inigo he had been wronged were ushers to put down his grief over what he had done and at last move along. A man who could slink at fit into any space, who had the chance to read what would kill Ricci with all the ways death could not, who was waiting to pick him up after Inigo had been left behind with the circus to rot.

For years, a dedication to vengeance for the man he owed everything, money, time, his own soul and grace. It never occurred to him that the murderer could be one room over, setting up breakfast, greeting him with a smile on his face.

All this time, it had been for naught, nurtured by the same hands who ruined him. Again, and again, hurt out of love.

“Brother!” the ghost extends his hand. “Come with me! At last, we can leave this place, let this pain only live in memory! Your Dulcinea awaits!”

A hollowness, an ache, deeper than a sinkhole, brittle like a gutted tree, shattered like glass, empty like a dream. To say there was nothing in Inigo or Bonbon was never quite right, because there, on the borderline of comedy and tragedy, was a space in between where the weft and weave said they were once one. He had galvanized, solidified, covered up his tender threads connected to things like love and loyalty and longing, discarded them, but never managed to toss them away. Caught in his own web and ignorant of how to untie himself, Inigo lied himself content in his own suspension, helpless and restrained. A pinned butterfly until the end.

The truth of the Brimstone and Barley pierces the romantic orchestra with a howled laugh of poisoned, percussive, rage.

[♫♫♫]

A glint of a sword and the ropes of the bridge are cut, the last load-bearing wait of the circus severed and done. Everything, the set, the scene, the stage itself begins to fall apart. The knight and the corpse are there no longer, debris crushed the audience as they stumble to get away, every tree, every stand, every last buckle of metal and wood and all that was in his preserved perception bends, bends, and finally breaks. Slashing, stabbing, a sword falling every which way, brutishly slamming as he storms in his rampage, alight, agonized, unstoppable and unreasonable and tearing apart his cage.

A trapeze falls and he hacks it apart. A stage light falls and he hacks it apart. The thin shadows of clowns and their bodies and he hacks it apart. He hacks it apart, he hacks it apart, whatever’s in his way, he hacks it apart. Tears stream down the long of his face and he rips off his mask and he hacks it apart, and there, haunting, aghast, was every wrought up, impassioned, convulsed and burning feeling that could be called rage, but now, certainly, as infernal laughter gives to screams, is the red shade of madness.

All of Inigo shakes like his body only exists to contain the outrage, a volatile puppet moved solely by his hate. A one man blaze, his destruction absolute and bombastic, leaving no scene and nothing standing as it all drowns in Swan Lake. Soon there is nothing left for him to break. His sword drives into the water of it, heaped like sluice, and he grabs at his hair, rips off feathers, jewels, ornamented pieces, strips himself of everything passive and pretty. Pulls and his own hair, smacks at his own head, sobs, strikes the lake’s surface with his forearms, scrapes and scratches it, throws whatever broken bits he can to skip across the black of his fate.

Music and people and his world have all been devastated or departed. Inigo lays alone, hands and knees, hair dangling, crying. His feathers can’t fly him and nobody in this world can take him. Too much, always and forever, too much. The stars alone reflect the mirror of the lake, his own image the only thing to be seen despite him. A world below, and a world above, solely populated by him.

A hand reaches up to gently take Inigo’s chin.

What he sees as his eyeline rises under his life’s last caring touch is the silhouette of a face cast in yellows, whites, and purples. It reaches up to wipe away his tears and handle him so delicately. At the end of it all there would be one last ghost, and it’s the one he had let willingly possess him, wear him as a second skin, because only he Inigo could trust to relinquish control and puppet him.

On the stage stands Inigo and Bonbon, the lingering cavaliers, and Inigo knows that it’s not death that will take him. The sick fulfillment of his true one wish— for Bonbon, his oldest friend, lover, doppelganger, foe and confidant, his only able traitor, to kill Inigo and utterly replace him.

Bonbon is not cruel and Bonbon does not shout. Bonbon smiles as he meets him and Bonbon never lashes out. Bonbon holds him sweetly as he lifts him and lives to be laughed at. Bonbon fixes his hair and outfit and adjusts his own hat. Bonbon handles what is hard and protects him from all danger, Bonbon loves people and loves life and never is a stranger, Bonbon never staggers and never frowns and never makes a mistake, Bonbon bends, and bends, and bends, but Bonbon never breaks.

Inigo can’t help but smile. Oh, Bonbon, all the ways he loves you. All the things he never said. Maybe they can at last reach you, across this divide, and the halves don’t have to be so disparate. A man split in two so he could always have a friend.

Hand in hand, Harlequin and his shadow, all his black and all his white, at last see each other, and, at last, make things right.

[♫♫♫]

This dance is like none of the others. Particularly special technique and exceptional skill is all but absent, much more weak, much more hapless, but that doesn’t matter and perhaps it never did. Where they touch is the reunion of two old friends in springtime, easy in their leaving, fairies in a daydream, moving together as simple as breathing. Sometimes Inigo leads, sometimes he follows Bonbon, but there’s never a hitch or a hesitation, only implicit understanding. It holds its own beauty in the knowing of people, of a dance only for themselves, a celebration of them and their meeting.

Around their steps, the stars spin, up above and underneath their gliding and their sweeping, a world that exists and moves entirely for them and them only. Inigo’s face melts into a familiar comfort, a subtle and tired peace, and Bonbon’s has no expression, and yet, you know he’s smiling, that’s just what Bonbon does, simply! Worry cannot hurt them and they have nothing that can be hurt any further. This is their celebration, their testament, in every jump and leap and paralleled lovely motion. Flutter, fluctuation, and absolute devotion.

Bonbon, who only wanted to make you all laugh, he moves so lively, so sprightly, an herald of all good things and their warm acting, and he spins away in his own coda to bounce and bobble and do all his slapstick, and Inigo covers his mouth, hiding a snort of his own at each tumbling.

Inigo, who only wanted to be understood and knew he never could be, dances with power, with intrigue, his movements as sharp as they are defending, warm to his dearest and cold stabs to the offending, a fire that keeps you alive and a fire that’s overwhelming.

They meet again and go about, and time melts away. There, where the piano retires, the two of them are left standing, one hand from each side connecting. Petals of roses blister by the lake’s surface. No need for words, no need for commanding. Inigo comes close to Bonbon, and there they embrace, eye to no-eye, in the quiet of the curtain call. In their reflection on the lake’s surface is a solitary figure, looking up towards the dappled sky, clapping.

Bonbon removes the sword from Inigo’s hilt. He leans forth, kisses Inigo’s forehead, and runs the blade through them. In Inigo’s back, out Bonbon’s.

There they stand for quite a time. Blood dribbles from Inigo’s wound, petals from Bonbon’s. Inigo’s knees begin to buckle, blood wells up in his throat, but he does not cough and he does not stagger. As long as he can, he holds this, even when the cold begins to nip at his fingers, even when his breathing becomes haggard and labored, he preserves this moment, and his calves begin to scream at him, and his shoulder start to quake, and his chest is heaving, and he, and Bonbon, and, bend, but never—

When his body gives out, Inigo falls forward on top of Bonbon in one great splash. Bonbon melts into flowers and fabric and sea foam, and Inigo is pinned there, red encroaching on black as he’s bleeding. He, too, remembers to go out smiling.

In death, the two halves find their healing.

INIGO LITO BAUTISTA HAS BEEN EXECUTED.

[dapper-nahrwhale]

[ID digital drawings of redesigns of Mal and Evie from Disney descendants and collages of their outfits from the movies and dolls of them.

In the redesign drawing Mal has pale skin, horns, pointy ears with many piercings, green eyes and spikey teeth. Her hair is a short purple and green mullet with green flames on the ends. Her outfit has many shades of purple, magenta, green, and bronze accents. There are several color block paneling elements with different textures such as dragon scales, spikes, zippers, chains, and fishnet to them. She has a cropped long coat with dragon scales and flames on the ends, with one sleeve a dragon wing and the other shredded. She has enough belts for them to look like a shirt skirt, and a torn crop top over fishnet, a pair of patchwork ripped patterned pants and platform boots with horns and dragon wings and flames and chains. Her look has many asymmetrical elements to it. She is clutching a green flame.

Evie has a shoulder length blue bob with the front braided back and a small crown and she has crown earrings. She has a simple dot face. Her look has a lot of shades of blue, red, and gold. It is much more symmetrical then Mal's. She has a high light yellow collar that leads into a blue cape with yellow paint splatters on the ends. She has snow white's poof sleeves. The collar of her dress is a crown over a heart, she has a corset over it and a gold belt with a heart buckle over that, and the skirt has the same red apple seed details as the sleeves. She has blue and gold splattered tights and dark boots with crowns over the foot and hearts on the back and apples for heels. She has a poison apple with a crown bag, and fingerless gloves with crown cuffs. End ID]

I think the other redesigns I posted are their more casual looks, and these are the over detailed themed ones. I took a lot of inspiration for Mal from a mix of her 1 and 2 fits and Evie from some of the doll outfits and her 1 and 3 looks. And their parents designs, and with evie a lot of snow white. My favorite thing Abt her 1 fit is the forest tights but I couldn't get them to work in this, I'll try later tho. Next redesigns are Jay and Carlos! Wish me luck lol

[lightvsdark18]

I'm bored, I'll talk about Alice's overblot design.

So, the outfit is a black pointed crown, a off-the-shoulder gown with the skirt ripped mainly on the front, ripped cape, corset, veil covering the face, high-heels, and blot covering the arms to the wrist/hand and legs to top of the feet. The colors are blue and black. The accessories are items from the overblot group.

Riddle's spike collar, Azul's necklace

Leona's wrist and ankle banglets

Jamil's chest jewelry, Vil's claws

Idia's fire on the ends of the skirt, Malleus's (cyberpunk) horns.

The items are symbolizing the fear and anxiety she faced with every blot. The veil symbolizing her past of not feeling important, not being seen. The crown is from she wanting to be something strong and powerful to protect her friends, having the appearance of a queen.

(the real reason is I wanted to add a crown, thought the boys' accessories would be cool, and the veil was just "eh, why not." But it works with the design and has meaning, so it was totally on purpose, it was planned from the start.)

[stone-stars]

[ID: A collection of illustrations of Callie in her new autumn eladrin form, wearing various outfits, on an orange background. She has dark blue skin, ears like bat wings, vampire fangs, and greenish blue watery hair that, while being styled differently in each outfit, is full of small plants and flowers in all of them. She wears a pair of teardrop shaped orange sea-glass sunglasses, and her skin is freckled with raindrops. Her outfits are described top to bottom, left to right.

The first illustration has Callie sitting and reclining, winking towards the camera with one leg bent. Text next to her reads "been imagining her in marcelines the star fit(?)". Her hair is shoulder-length and siwept over to one side. She's wearing an orange blouse, high waisted dark blue pants with orange trip, and brown boots with gold buckles. She has fishnet gloves on, a choker, gold bracelets, and a half-skirt of autumn leaves. The second has her standing, holding a broom in one hand as she smiles and waves. She's wearing a ruffled button up cream shirt, brown pinstripe shorts with suspenders, dark blue leggings with a diamond pattern, and gold boots. She has the same autumn leaf half skirt. There are blue accents across her outfit, and her hair is in twin braids. The third has her floating, with one hand raised and glowing. She smiles wickedly towards the viewer. Her hair is in one long braid with an orange bow on it, and she has a white ruffled button down with a cravat, dark blue striped pants, and brown boots. There's an orange chain hanging from her waist, and her shirt has orange accents. The fourth has her standing and holding her saber, which is opalescent and rainbow colored. She's rubbing the back of her neck and looking up with a slight blush. There's a crown of autumn leaves in her hair. She has a light orange shirt and dark blue pants, with a corset belt. A cape with a horned hood and a train like bat wings hangs from her back. The fifth has her in a dark orange dress with stripes, the hem of which is ruffled like rushing water. She's wearing an apron with a pumpkin on it, and is holding Foster tucked under one arm. She has a dark blue cape and witch's hat, the inside of which has an orange brim. Her tongue is poking out and her hair is pulled back. The sixth has her in a dark blue evening gown, speckled with light blue. A slit goes up to her hip on one leg, revealing thigh high boots. The drooping sleeves of her dress are shaped like bat wings, and the dress has a low v-neck. She's wearing a choker, and has a belt of blue gems. She holds her clawed hands forward and grins, showing her vampire teeth. Her hair is down, cascading over one of her eyes. The seventh has her smiling towards the viewer, her arms resting at her sides. She's wearing a dark purple witch's hat decorated with mushrooms, and her hair is braided back. She wears a high-collared cream dress with light purple patterns along the hem. On top of it is a bat-like dark purple waistcoat, cinched at the waist by an orange belt. The eighth has her with a mischievous grin and looking to the side, her hands tucked into the pocket of an oversized dark blue hoodie with Jack Skellington on it. She's wearing striped dark and light blue tights. Her hair is down. It's labeled "callie in the hot topic jack skellington hoodie..." The ninth has her grinning wickedly, holding up the brim of her witch's hat, which is decorated with autumn leaves, with one hand. Her hair is in twin braids. She's wearing a cream button down, with a leafy bow, and ruffles around the neck. She has on brown fingerless gloves. Her skirt is dark blue, striped in orange, with the spaces filled in with constellations and stars. It's cinched at the waist with an orange corset belt. She's holding her saber in her other hand.]

callies before i listen to new naddpod ep... ultimately calliope petrichor is like cat nip for artists who like drawing characters in outfits

[puppyluver256]

[Image Description: Three characters resembling younger feminine versions of three different characters deemed “Tumblr Sexymen”, from left to right based on Dr. Habit from Smile For Me, Ingo from Pokemon Black and White/Pokemon Legends Arceus, and Troupe Master Grimm from Hollow Knight.

The first character is a teenage girl loosely resembling Dr. Habit from Smile For Me. She has green skin, long curly red hair in a ponytail, and red eyes with orange sclera. She is wearing a blue coat with turquoise accents and a pink flowery collar, a turquoise belt with a silver buckle, a small dark blue hat, a yellow lily flower in her hair, dark blue tights, and blue high-heeled boots with turquoise accents. She is smiling, revealing a missing tooth. The text on the image is transcribed as a bulleted list after the “keep reading” break, along with a paragraph that is not featured in the image.

The second character is a teenage girl loosely resembling Ingo from both Pokemon Black and White and Pokemon Legends Arceus. She has light skin, short silver hair, and silver eyes. She is wearing a lavender sweater with the circular Pearl Clan insignia on the front, a grey conductor’s hat with a blue and white circular logo on the front, a grey jacket with brown stripes and silver accents resembling train tracks, a brown skirt with silver accents to match the train track design elements of the jacket, lavender leggings, lavender socks, and brown shoes with silver soles. Beside her is a Litwick, a small candle-like ghost Pokemon. It has a white waxy body, a blue flame on top of its head, and green eyes partially hidden by dripping wax resembling “emo” bangs. The text on the image is transcribed as a bulleted list after the “keep reading” break, along with a paragraph that is not featured in the image.

The third character is a teenager resembling a humanoid version of the Grimmchild from Hollow Knight. They have pale grey skin, long red nails, light red eyes with black sclera, and short black hair styled to resemble horns. They are wearing a red sleeveless puffy jacket-style top, a short black cape, a black ribbon accessory that trails down their back, black shorts with black leggings, and black slip-on shoes. On the collar of their cape is a pin resembling the final state of the Grimmchild charm. The text on the image is transcribed as a bulleted list after the “keep reading” break, along with a paragraph that is not featured in the image.

End ID.]

---

okay guys i caved and joined in the sexyman descendants trend despite having never payed attention to the sexyman trend overall, i literally only know that two of the guys these kids are based on were on the poll and grimm has a sexypedia page that i only checked to confirm its mere existence and that + “fashion doll line” was all i was working on, yes i know other people have at least done kids based on habit and grimm but in my defense this has been sitting in my drafts for a while okay i was nervous and also too lazy to write up the text under the readmore for the longest time leave me alone /j

Lilya Habit (she/her), daughter of Dr. Boris Habit

always trying to make people smile

loves flowers and puppets, has a lookalike one called “Miss Habby”

has a passing interest in dentistry from other dad

big sis to Putunia

lost tooth in a model train incident

Of course I had to do one based on the teeth man, even if he apparently didn’t do nearly as well in the tournament as he did in last year’s and losing to someone who shouldn’t be considered a sexy-man at that, Nagito is a minor so if he has to be included it should be as a sexy-boy for the teens to latch onto, but I digress hehe. I realize I coulda gone with a Carla for this, but the joke is kinda to make these kids resemble their sexyman dads, so she’s Lilya instead! Even with a biological daughter in this weird universe I figured Boris and Kamal would still adopt Putunia, and she is the best big sister to the little hero, even if it leads to some punched shins sometimes. ...man, I realized I missed a fun opportunity there in not also drawing Miss Habby XD

Stacey Anville (she/her), daughter of Subway Boss/Warden Ingo

always seems bored

not nearly as loud as her dad and uncle

loves trains just as much tho

loves battling too

feels bad for Lilya’s tooth despite it being an accident

shiny Litwick was bred from Ingo’s Chandelure

Ingo wears black, Emmet wears white, so of course I’d go for grey for Ingo’s kid. Originally I was gonna name her “Donna” as in “downline”, but then I figured “Stacey” would be a better neutral-ish train pun hehe. And of course “Anville” comes from Anville Town, idk what sort of pun that is but iirc that’s one of the places connected to the trains hehe. As for her design, I wanted the outfit to combine both of Ingo’s “homes” so to speak, his original home of Unova and his new home of Hisui. And, of course, the daughter of one of the strongest trainers in both Unova and Hisui is going to have Pokemon of her own, hence the Litwick! I mostly picked Litwick because I like Chandelure most out of Ingo’s team, and because it could cause some silly shenanigans with the third descendent I’m sharing.

Nikki Grimm (they/them), child of Troupe Master Grimm

troublemaker

loves scaring people

sometimes can’t tell when they might be going overboard

tried to eat the flame on Stacey’s Litwick once

very acrobatic

caused Lilya’s “train incident” by sneaking up on Stacey at a bad moment

will hiss at people they don’t like

If you were thinking that this was basically just the Grimmchild (even without reading that image description up there), you’d be right! I figured if anyone was gonna make one of these based on Grimm, that’d be the best direction to go in since he already has a kid of sorts. The fandom generally refers to the Grimmchild as they/them or it/its, right? Someone please, correct me if I’m wrong, I haven’t been able to access the meat of the Grimm Troupe dlc yet in my own playthrough due to not having knowing I didn’t have to have the dream nail powered up enough quite yet. I mean, I might, but I haven’t gone back to the Resting Grounds since I got more essence in order to check. (see if you can guess why I named them “Nikki”, you guys are smart so you’ve got a real good shot at piecing my punnage together ;3 )

Soooo...yeah, that’s my offering to this nonsense, idk if it’s even still a Thing but whatever, sometimes an idea grabs you and you take forever to share the results. If I were drawing these three normally and not with the “fashion doll line” idea in mind, they’d prolly have more varied body shapes. I know Lilya would be much taller than the other two and Nikki prolly wouldn’t have anything resembling boob curvature, but I copy-pasted the body structure and posing to give this thing the exact amount of effort it deserved /j

[a-edgar-allan-hoe]

The Last Chthonian

Bucky x Reader, Sam x Reader, Zemo x Reader

Part 6

A/N: Part 6 is here lovelies! I honestly wish it didn’t take me forever to write just one chapter 😭

Summary: Imagine being Hekate, the Greek goddess of magic and witchcraft, the night and the moon, doorways and crossroads, creatures of the night, and ghosts and necromancy. You stumbled upon Earth many centuries ago and since then have resided on the foreign planet. During the recent years you created an alias for yourself to hide your true identity, and after the war against Thanos you chose to live out your days in the Scottish countryside, until a certain trio appear at your doorstep one day.

Warnings: language, some implications of sex because it’s Lucifer we’re talking about here

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3 , Part 4 , Part 5

“Lucifer.” You stood there by the bar trying to get the man’s attention.

The tall man in the suit straightened up once he heard your voice, a glass of alcohol was in his hands as he slowly turning around to face you.

“Well well, if it isn’t my favorite Chthonian, Hekate.” A sly smile broke out on the man’s face. “Surprised to see you here princess, I haven’t seen you in decades.” His dark eyes roamed your frame and the simple clothes you wore while you squinted your eyes at him. “My, you look ravishing as always.”

“Hello Lucifer.” Your voice was firm.

Sam, Bucky, and Zemo had just caught up with you after having to squeeze through everyone, their eyes darting between you and the mysterious, tall, expensive looking man in front of you. Who was this guy and why were you talking to him? And from the way he was looking at you, they began to think he was a previous fling of yours, and though they did not want to admit it, I dare say they were beginning to feel a bit green.

“Well, tell me.” The man finished his drink before pouring himself another glass. “What brings you all the way over here to my little dominion? I’d offer you a drink but I know how much you despise it.”

“I don’t despise it.” You rolled your eyes. “Your liquor collection tastes like piss anyways.”

“I beg your pardon, I always choose the best. You insulting my taste buds now? Truth is, you just can’t get drunk.” He scoffed, turning to you again, swirling the contents of his glass around before taking a sip. “You and your intolerably high tolerance, must be miserable. So tell me, why are you here? Not that I don’t enjoy your company darling.”

“I’m here to collect up on a favor.”

“Oh? Are you now?” The same sly smile retuned to his face as he took a step closer to you. “Does it involve a little you and me? A bit of the ole snog and shag? I’ve always heard how electrifying and intoxicating of an experience it is to be with a Greek deity.”

“Keep that up and I’ll recreate my moment with Julius Caesar.” Your smiled sarcastically, clenching your jaw as you felt your cheeks heat up in embarrassment. Oh how you hated his smug ass sometimes.

“Well I’d certainly love to tangle with you darling. Oh wait....you meant the stabbing didn’t you. Of course you would.”

Sam stepped up in front of you with his fists clenched, glaring at Lucifer once he heard the little exchange. “Hey man, I don’t like you talking to her like that.”

“Yeah. Neither do I.” Bucky stepped up in front of you as well, squaring up against Lucifer. Even Zemo stood close behind, making you look up at him as he was now right beside you, ready to fight the man if need be. If there was one thing he didn’t like, it was definitely vulgarity.

Lucifer smiled in surprise, scoffing at the three men who had now shielded you behind them. It was now your turn to scoff, rolling your eyes at their defensive behavior before pulling them apart so you can get through. “Chill out you three, for fucks sake, I’m not in danger.”

“But-“ Sam tried to argue but you cut him off.

“Trust me, he’s not a threat. And if he was, you don’t want to fight him.”

“Well who are these three dashing gentlemen?” Lucifer quirked a brow as he eyed them all. “Ohh, what’s this? Terminator, Amenadiel 2.0, and Viktor Krum? Are they your little boy toys Hekate?”

Bucky, Zemo, and Sam were fuming as they all tried to charge again, but you held your arms out, smacking them aside. “Watch your mouth Lucifer. They’re my colleagues.”

“That’s never stopped anyone.” He took another sip.

“What’s your deal man?” Sam scowled.

“Well don’t be rude Hekate. Where’s the proper introduction?” Lucifer gestured as his eyes roamed over them.

You sighed before you started to introduce them to each other. “This is Sam, Bucky, and Zemo. Guys, this is-“

“Lucifer Morningstar.” He boasted, slightly bowing. “Pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“Lucifer Morningstar?” Bucky cocked his head back as he did a double take.

“Yes, well I said that just now didn’t I.”

“As in the devil?” Sam smirked as if this was a joke. “Horns, tail, pitchfork, half goat devil?”

“You missed out the red cape and tights, but yes, I am the devil, the one and only, yours truly.” Lucifer replied with sarcasm as he was getting annoyed. “But seriously, what is it with the half goat thing. Is this in your realm as well?”

“Yeah.” You replied blandly.

“Ugh, fuck me. I’m never going to escape it.” He rolled his eyes as he chugged the glass down.

“Wait is he for real or is he just a screw loose?” Sam turned to you.

“Yes.”

“Which one is it?”

“Both.”

“She’s kidding right.” Sam muttered to Bucky.

“Don’t ask me Sam. I don’t have a clue about anything at this point.” Bucky shook his head.

“Don’t look at me like that Sam.” You rolled your eyes as Sam glared at you, upset about not knowing firsthand that you were taking them to the damn devil himself. “This isn’t some kind of college lecture where I write things on the board and you just take notes.”

“Well then.” Lucifer turned to you, giving you his full attention. “What exactly is this favor?”

“I need Mazekeen.”

“Desperate now are we?”

You rolled your eyes yet again, you were sure you’d end up cross eyed by the end of the day due to his antics. “I need her to watch over Athena for a while.”

“Ah yes. I forgot you had a little miscreant of your own. But why Maze? Can’t you use one of your own minions?”

“Well I can’t exactly have the empusas or harpies take care of her. Besides, Athena likes Maze.”

“Right. Wouldn’t want a blood sucking demon or a torturous she-bird near your little delinquent.” He turned to the other side of the bar. “Maze! Mazikeen!”

“I heard you once you know.” A dark haired woman stepped up to the bar, glaring at Lucifer before turning to you with surprise. “Hekate? Well hello gorgeous. I didn’t expect you.”

“Hi Maze.” You smiled at her. “How have you been?”

“Unbelievable.” Lucifer muttered. “She scowls at me but smiles at her.”

“Well I’m stuck with this guy so what do you think?” Maze leaned over the counter with a playful roll of her eyes before they landed on the men behind you as she licked her lips. “Ooh. I see you’ve brought dessert.”

Bucky, Sam, and Zemo looked at each other uneasily. Where the hell did you drag them to? Were you literally going to sell them off to Satan himself and leave them there? Was that your master plan all along?

“Uhhh they’re not on the menu. Sorry Maze, they’re my colleagues.”

“Boring isn’t she? Hekate needs you to take care of her little miscreant.” Lucifer interrupted.

“Athena? Really?” Maze’s eyes lit up.

“Just for some time Maze while I go take care of some things.”

“Hell yeah. I’m down. Anything to get away from this place and this asshole.” Maze jumped over the counter with a grin as Lucifer gave her an offended look. “Let me get my things.” You watched as she hurried up the stairs, leaving you and the rest with Lucifer.

“Sooo.” You heard Lucifer speak up, making you groan in annoyance. What now?

“Since we have some lovely time on your hands.” Lucifer slid up to Bucky, Sam, and Zemo with a sly smile and a dark, mischievous glint in his eyes. “Tell me, what is it you truly desire?”

You watched as the men became trapped in his gaze, their stern facial expressions falling as they became vulnerable, opening their mouths to speak of their deepest secret.

“Oh hell no. None of that shit.” You rolled your eyes as you snapped your fingers in their faces, breaking off Lucifer’s spell. Sam, Bucky, and Zemo shook their heads in confusion as they tried to process what the hell just happened.

“Ugh. You are no fun you know that.” Lucifer rolled his eyes at you. “You’re completely and utterly dull. I thought the detective was boring, then there’s you.”

“Hey, what the hell was that?” Sam raised his voice, upset about the weird hypnosis he just experienced.

“Just one of his stupid hoodoo voodoo staring bullshit.” You muttered.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Bucky asked, getting more confused by the minute.

“Well it’s when I ask you what you desire and you tell me your answer willingly.” Lucifer explained the process before make a snide remark about you. “It’s worked wonders until she ruined my mojo.”

“Bold of you to assume you even had any mojo to begin with.” You snapped back.

“You know, I tried my mojo on her once. Do you know what her answer was?” Lucifer brought up.

“I’m guessing her answer was to your disappointment. Was it ‘go away’?” Zemo answered with a sarcastic tone, which made you look up at him, smirking at his comment.

“Close.” Lucifer grinned at Zemo. “It was actually, in her exact words ‘for you to go play a nice game of hide-and-go-fuck-yourself’. How delightful. We became best friends ever since.”

“How unfortunate.” You mumbled with your arms crossed.

“Now I must say.” Lucifer stepped up to Zemo as he touched the fur collar of his coat. “I’m loving this coat. Are you part of the Russian mafia?”

“Please don’t touch me.” Zemo moved Lucifer’s hand away with his gloved one. “I’d rather not have your hands near me, considering the....places they have been.”

“Oh.” Lucifer turned to you with amusement. “I like this one. Now really, what is he, hm?”

“I don’t know. Looks human to me.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“He’s the baron of Sokovia. Lay off will ya?”

“Sokovia? Never heard of it. But a baron? How exciting, looks like we have two royals in the building, including me of course. Now, since we have some time to spare, how about we go upstairs and make it a royal three-“

You scowled at Lucifer, stepping on his foot before he could finish his sentence. This motherfucker.

“Ow! Those are Pradas!”

“Next time it’s your family jewels.”

“Alright then, you win. I’ll keep my mouth shut if that keeps you from tyrannizing me. My word you hit hard.”

You rolled your eyes yet again, praying for Maze to hurry up. You were feeling extremely sorry that the three had to put up with his foolish behavior. You couldn’t help the breath of relief once you saw Maze approaching you with her bag.

“Thank the gods.” You sighed before speaking to Maze. “You ready?”

“Let’s go.” She smiled.

“Well I’ll see you later then Maze, have fun with the little miscreant.” Lucifer commented. “And I hope you’ll return soon Hekate? I always do enjoy your company, no matter how cruel and dreary you are.”

“I wouldn’t count on it.” You waved Lucifer goodbye as you made your way towards the exit. “Say hi to Amenadiel and Chloe for me! I prefer their company any day over yours! Oh also! You better ask Chloe out or I will take her out myself!”

Once you had left the stuffy building, you were able to breathe better as you took in a big breath of the night air, feeling a little more at peace.

“Finally.” Sam spoke up with an irritated scowl on his face. “He was getting on my damn nerves. What a guy.”

“You’re telling me.” Bucky uttered, his posture was more relaxed now, now that he was away from the large crowd and away from Lucifer.

“Did you expect anything different?” Zemo tilted his head. “He is the devil, as y/n briefly mentioned.”

“About that.” Sam turned to you with a scolding look. “We need to talk.”

“Not now Sam.” You silenced him before turning to Maze. “Okay there’s going to be some ground rules. First off, no parties.”

“Yeah I know.” Maze rolled her eyes.

“Hang on. I’m not finished. No drinking, Athena does not need to be seeing that. Absolutely no men over of any kind, because that’s just gross. I have plenty of food in the fridge and in my garden. Also here’s some money for takeout if you want it. And-“

“Hekate, I got it.” Maze stopped you, putting a hand on your shoulder. “Chloe lectured the same thing to me when I had to babysit Trixie. I know how this all works. I promise I’ll take good care of her.”

“I know. This is just my first time.” You sighed.

“She’ll be safe with me I promise.”

“I trust you Maze. Oh also, if anyone threatening decides to stop by-“

“Slice em up.”

“Yes.....but no.”

“Awww. That’s no fun.” Maze slumped her shoulders.

“Life is full of disappointments. Just give them a good scare. You know what to do.” You told her as you opened up a portal for her that led to your home. “You got everything?”

“Yup. See you later Hekate.” She gave you one last smile before disappearing into the portal. You watched as it closed behind her, trying your best to wash away all the doubts. You knew Maze would take good care of Athena, that was certain. But life hasn’t been very kind to you lately. And you’ve only been more on edge ever since you lost your planet. But you had hope, because Athena was the last favor of kindness that was offered to you, and you weren’t going to let her go. So with the little bit of faith in you, you sent over a protective spell on Maze, just for the extra precaution, a part of you knowing everything would turn out just fine.

“So.” You spoke up. “Where do we start?”

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