#the reddish sash around the waist

[arisenreborn]

In-game the size difference between them never quite looks this pronounced somehow but my god seeing them side-by-side like this I Am Looking

[thesilliestrovingalive]

Updated: September 19, 2024

Reworked Character #3: Eri Kasamoto

POTENTIAL TRIGGER WARNING: Viewer discretion is advised due to references to abandonment, abuse, underage drinking, crime, an unhealthy romance, death, and SA.

Real name: Chizuko Kawaguchi

Alias: Memphis Bomb Princess

Occupation: Staff Sergeant of the S.P.A.R.R.O.W.S., Ptolemaios’ second-in-command (formerly), and the leader of a street gang (formerly)

Retirement plans: Open up an inclusive orphanage in Hiroshima

Special skills: Orchestrating stealth missions and suppression operations, proficiency in explosives, survival techniques, lock picking, and brainwashing

Hobbies: Swimming, kickboxing, building explosive gadgets, thinking about her past mistakes and what she could have done better during her solitary nature walks, and playing card games with her friends that include some sort of money-related bet

Likes: Fio, pyrotechnics, aimless walks, vintage religious memorabilia, and a keychain that was gifted to her by her late girlfriend

Dislikes: Blissful ignorance, overly mischievous and lazy people, being touched without permission, remembering the worst parts of her past, and Tarma

Favourite drink: Vodka

Sexuality: Homoflexible sapiosexual

Gender: Female

Age: 16 (in 2022), 22 (in 2028), 24 (in 2030), 26 (in 2032), 28 (in 2034), 35 (in 2041), 37 (in 2043), 38 (in 2044), and 41 (in 2047)

Blood type: B-

Weight: 126 lbs. (57 kg)

Design: She’s a 5’ 6” (167.64 cm) Japanese ectomorph with an athletic, sylph-like build, broad shoulders, sand-hued skin, a black mole under her right eye, and top scars. She has dark brown eyes with visible bags beneath them and fingernails that are painted a metallic green. She has jet black hair with choppy bangs that has been bleached dirty blonde and is styled in a mid-back shaggy wolf cut, often worn up in a ponytail. Eri has a jarring diagonal scar that runs from the left side of her temple, across the bridge of her nose, to her right levator scapulae muscle. She also has stab scars on the palm of her right hand, cut marks on her right forearm, the skin on her arms and shoulders have been picked at, and her legs are riddled with scrapes. She lost her left forearm in a traumatic incident, later receiving a metallic silver prosthetic replacement from Ptolemaios during her training. She dons green gold snake bite and silver jestrum piercings, and her makeup features a glittery artichoke green smoky eyeliner, light brown mascara, and coral pink lips.

Eri’s military gear consists of an olive green bandana on her head, a metal dog tag necklace with her name, and a black headset for communication with her snipers. She wears a black bra, myrtle-hued sleeveless button midriff, and a satin crimson sash. She wears a purplish-grey unbuttoned coat with ripped sleeves, four pockets, and a hidden strap compartment that holds her electrical baton. On the back of her jacket is the logo of the S.P.A.R.R.O.W.S., which Fio kindly embroidered for her. Her purplish-grey army cargo pants were tucked into black combat boots and held up by a silver-buckled dark teal belt around her waist. She has a sheath for her combat knife and a drop leg holster for her handgun with a silencer.

She wears a black gas mask with red-tinted lenses, olive green gloves, black knee and elbow pads, and sage-streaked silver tassel earrings. She wears a keychain necklace, a gift from her late girlfriend Emily, featuring a fiery comet encircling a reddish-purple amethyst stone carved into the shape of a human heart. Eri is adorned with two black steel armlets, one on each arm: the right armlet has a circular green crystal at its centre, while the left armlet has a red one. The green crystal grants her the power to unleash grey lightning, while the red crystal, forged from a fragment of Sol Dae Rokker, can summon deadly, wolf-shaped spirits that dive-bomb enemies.

Over her midriff, she dons a Soldier Plate Carrier System (SPCS) with a MultiCam pattern, which carries around her walkie-talkie and ammo for other firearms. She carries around a sage green load-bearing backpack that contains camping equipment, grenades, fire bombs, mines, hand-crafted explosive gadgets, portable ammo boxes, a canteen full of water, three canisters of gasoline, a rocket launcher, and a bottle of vodka. Her olive green waist pack, secured at the back of her belt, holds a silvery flask of vodka, a matchbox, and a compact makeup kit containing her eyeliner, mascara, and lip gloss. The pockets of her coat contain a pack of fruity bubblegum, a navy blue lighter, a rainbow-coloured bouncy ball, a deck of playing cards, and her lucky gold Kaiki Shoho coin. Meanwhile, her cargo pants hold lockpicking tools and three boxes of cigarettes. She has worn gauze wrapped around her right forearm, a gun holster for her handgun, and a sheath for her machete. She's still in possession of a Ptolemaic Army-commissioned scoped bolt-action rifle, which is often draped over her left shoulder.

Personality: She's a vengeful, sarcastic, cynical, and tomboyish leader who will stop at nothing to brutally hurt anyone she perceives as a threat to her comrades and friends or have caused them genuine harm. She has a sadistic streak, evident in her peculiar habit of smearing her enemies' blood on herself to intimidate others. When focused on her military duties and protecting those she respects and cares about, she tends to neglect her own needs. Eri's outspoken and crass demeanour shows no fear in speaking her mind, telling others off, and using profanities. As a self-reliant and lonesome individual, she’s bitter and aloof towards those she dislikes and strangers. She has a tendency to engage in dishonest behaviour and manipulate situations to her advantage. When confronted about these actions, she often responds with aggressive language and contradictory arguments. She holds immense respect for the deities, particularly Sol Dae Rokker, and will go to great lengths to worship and make sacrifices to them, often ritually sacrificing the remains of her enemies and indulging in orgies with her team of Ptolemaic rebels.

She fearlessly rebels against anything she deems morally wrong or a life-threatening risk. She shows no mercy towards her enemies, and her military missions showcase her exceptional resourcefulness, cunning, and tactical prowess. She's capable of sympathy and offering wise advice, but her willingness to do so greatly depends on the situation and her personal connection with the individual. She has immense compassion for those who endured a difficult childhood and does her best to offer comfort and support.

Eri regards her team of Ptolemaic deserters, Fio of the S.P.A.R.R.O.W.S., Marco and Trevor of the P.F. Squad, Ralf and Clark, the top dogs of the Ikari Warriors, Tequila, Red Eye, and Hyakutaro, Tyra, and Walter of Division 6 as family. She’s overprotective of Fio, whom she regards with sisterly affection, and Marco, whom she views as a courageous leader who deserves comfort and sympathy. She harbours significant animosity towards Tarma, seeing him as a hot-headed idiot who only causes trouble and can't take things seriously. Despite her best efforts to tolerate him, she can't help but snap at him when his silly antics go too far, he inadvertently ruins a plan or he gets too flirtatious and physically close to Fio.

She lives with claustrophobia, mild social anxiety, insomnia, atypical depression, and borderline personality disorder. To cope with her mental health struggles, she often presents herself as highly intelligent, serious-minded, and seductive. However, when anger takes hold, her emotions can be difficult to contain, although she strives to maintain some self-control. Notably, Eri prefers not to be called by her old name as it evokes memories of her past trauma, which she’s trying to desperately forget. She's a hardened pessimist, often appearing mentally exhausted and emotionally unfazed, yet she consistently demonstrates resilience and stubborn determination. She can't help but feel jealous towards those who have loving parents and weren't abandoned by them. When she's had too much to drink, she becomes prone to argumentativeness, physical aggression, and melancholy, and often sleepwalks.

She has a deep-seated distrust of Christianity, believing that many people hypocritically exploit God and Jesus' teachings to conceal their true intentions. She also thinks that certain Christian teachings clash with the harsh realities of life. Furthermore, she believes that God seems apathetic to humanity's well-being, watching them suffer endlessly, letting evil to continuously flourish, and restricting the potential for salvation. She holds that morality is culturally relative, and therefore, there are no universal moral laws, making it challenging to distinguish right from wrong.

In her view, human societies construct their values based on their distinct beliefs, customs, and practices, which are also influenced by social and emotional pressures. She believes that individuals have a moral obligation to protect innocent lives and uphold the goodness inherent in justice. Regarding war, she thinks it can be justified if it meets certain criteria: it’s openly declared by a governing authority, has a just cause, and aims to establish a lasting peace. She acknowledges the coexistence of life and death but does not see a clear connection between the two.

Backstory: Chizuko Kawaguchi was born on June 6, 2006 in Hiroshima, Japan. She was abandoned as an infant at the entrance of a Christian church by her parents, who had wanted a son instead of a baby girl. Her name was discovered on a piece of paper tucked inside her baby carriage. She was raised by the Christian church where she was sent to live, an institution with a strict religious environment. There, children who misbehaved were subjected to psychological reprimands. During Chizuko’s younger years, she acted out as an attention-seeking troublemaker, but was frequently punished through humiliation and isolation in a dark closet.

She would be frequently bullied by children who were considered to be well-behaved and good in the eyes of the church staff. They targeted her for her perceived sinfulness by spreading false rumours about her, belittling her, and vandalising her toys. She endured occasional physical abuse and emotional manipulation by the church orphanage staff who used the threat of eternal damnation to control her behaviour. This treatment had a profound effect on her, making her quiet, nervous, and obedient. As a result, she grew to resent the church, finding its teachings to be at odds with the harsh realities of her own life. She eventually lost faith in God, feeling that He seemed indifferent to human suffering, allowing it to persist without genuine intervention or care.

At the age of 6, Chizuko met Tarma and quickly befriended him after building a sandcastle and searching for worms under a heavy rock. This chance encounter taught her that there were kind people outside of her church community, and she had opportunities to form new connections and discover herself. She met up with Tarma a few more times until he stopped visiting Hiroshima, leaving her feeling alone and sorrowful.

Once she figured out the ways of the world, she escaped from the sanctuary of the church at the age of 12, alongside a small group of friends, eager to taste the forbidden fruit of the world. Seeking vengeance, she and her friends burned down the church orphanage in retaliation for the abuse they had endured. Most of her early life remains private. However, her invigorating and tomboyish nature lended her as a capable leader, founding a gang of street kids. They engaged in criminal activities, primarily petty theft, drug sales, weapon trafficking, and murder.

Details about this period are scarce, but it's known that Chizuko developed a fondness for vodka during this time. She narrowly escaped being taken into custody by the police through financial bribes, avoiding a potential juvenile detention. She would also go through a couple of romantic relationships with girls. Her first relationship was short-lived after she quickly discovered that her girlfriend was using her for financial gain. Her second relationship seemed to be going well, but it ended when her girlfriend's parents found out about her being a delinquent and forbade their daughter from seeing her again.

At 15, she reunited with Tarma after he ran away from home, inviting him to hang out and drink beer and vodka. As they caught up on each other's lives, she began to flirt and get physically close, seeing him as someone she could trust. However, Chizuko’s desire to escape the past and run away from her problems clouded her judgement. They spent many nights together, engaging in erotic activities, and she even convinced him to participate in a few crimes. But everything changed when Tarma abruptly ended things and returned home to Hokkaido. Devastated, she felt betrayed, despite having used him to fulfill her own desires and advance her gang interests. This experience explains her lingering animosity towards Tarma.

Her leadership skills and her gang had continued to grow successfully, but that success was short-lived. Two months before she turned 18, Hiroshima was suddenly attacked by multiple bombings from a mysterious group, resulting in the loss of thousands of lives, including her entire gang—her first true friends. This incident sent the Japanese populace into a deep state of panic and uncertainty. In the chaos, she also suffered a devastating injury, losing her left forearm. With quick thinking, she managed to improvise a tourniquet by tearing the sleeves of her medium-sleeved shirt and stemming the bleeding.

While treating her injury, she was approached by a brown-haired, grey-eyed woman wearing the attire of a Ptolemaic guerilla. This guerrilla fighter didn't want to leave Chizuko behind, knowing she would feel terrible if left alone. So, she convinced Chizuko to come with her to meet up with Ptolemaios. Chizuko was hesitant at first, but with no other options, she took the opportunity. The guerrilla introduced herself as Emily Kuznetsova, and Chizuko decided to adopt a new name: Eri Kasamoto.

Unbeknownst to her, Ptolemaios had been observing Eri for some time, recognizing her potential as a valuable asset for his army. She was first showered with excessive attention and affection by Ptolemaios' most devoted followers. Afterwards, they subjected her to an initiation ritual where she was forced to consume the heart of a deceased baby goat in the name of the Dark Lord and drink Ptolemaios' blood. He took steps to provide her with specialised training to enhance her skills in espionage and further develop her militant abilities. Once she received a sufficient amount of training, he wasn't hesitant to make her his second-in-command, which stirred some jealousy amongst the commanding officers of the Ptolemaic Army. On his behalf, she was responsible for multiple stealth missions to further the technological advancement and tactical plans of the Ptolemaic Army.

During this time, Emily's compassionate and courageous nature won Eri over, and she developed a strong romantic attraction towards her, which would eventually blossom into a full-blown relationship. Ptolemaios viewed Emily as a potential obstacle to his objectives and sought to eliminate her, motivated in part by his suppressed and secret sexual attraction to Eri. Emily's death was staged to appear as a suicide, with the circumstances surrounding it unclear. Eri was even sexually assaulted by a few commanding officers as Ptolemaios hoped that this would instill more fear in her and deter her from leaving.

However, these two events had a profound impact on Eri, leading to feelings of grief and anger, and prompting her to re-evaluate her involvement with the Ptolemaic Army. She assembled a group of individuals who shared her desire to challenge Ptolemaios' authority. The group consisted of six guerrilla troops: Mikuláš, Ji-Yeong, Konrad, Dezső, Sipho, and Harvie; four snipers: Amilcare, Diomedes, Souma, and Manouel; and eight special forces operatives: Kemalettin, Jaroslavas, Dermot, Agenor, Shelomit, Franjo, Prabhakar, and Radovan.

During their fight against the Ptolemaic Army, they caused major setbacks and killed off many soldiers and cultists. As Eri fought against Ptolemaios, she learned that he was responsible for conducting the terrorist bombings in Hiroshima. She tried to end his life, but felt a malevolent presence stopping her from doing so, forcing her and her rebel Ptolemaic soldiers out of Ptolemaios' compound in Osaka, Japan. Shortly after this time, she ripped off the sleeves of her purplish-grey coat to use as tourniquets for a couple of her men. She also chose to acquire her top scars, her way of trying to forget the past, reject social norms placed on women and girls, and embrace her true identity.

At the age of 20, she and her team decided to apply for military service, working under the Intelligence Agency as a formidable group of agents. Eri made a name for herself in numerous missions, earning a reputation as a vengeful leader amongst the Regular Army. She was known for eliminating numerous individuals, including treacherous soldiers and corrupt politicians with some of her most notable assignments involving strategic seduction that lured her targets into vulnerable positions. However, she began to feel increasingly disillusioned by the constant assassinations and conspiracies that weighed on her conscience, reminding her of her time with the Ptolemaic Army. She applied for a transfer to S.P.A.R.R.O.W.S., which was specially approved due to her exceptional record, indispensable skills, and intimate knowledge of the Ptolemaic Army's inner workings.

As the demolition and stealth expert of S.P.A.R.R.O.W.S., Eri led her rebel Ptolemaic soldiers with immense success. She befriended Fio and felt an instant, deep connection after a few interactions, viewing Fio as the younger sister she never had and vowing to protect her at all costs. She played a crucial role in the Great Morden War by providing Marco's team with explosives, emergency rations, and valuable intel on Rebel Army positions through stealthy infiltration. Eri showcased her advanced combat and leadership skills by helping to thwart Morden's second coup, which was aided by her team, Fio, Tarma, and Marco.

[rennsdeaddoves]

sneek peek at the fic for theweirdhybrids wukongverse

@theweirdhybrid has given me permission to write a fic for their wonderful au where five different Wukong's end up in lmk. here is a sneak peek of said fic!! (hope you like it btw hybrid)

When Wukong awoke the next morning surrounded by many of his little monkeys in a cuddle pile he almost missed the sensations, opting instead to try and catch some more sleep before Mk would come and they would talk a lot of things out. However, in those moments when the sleep he was enjoying so much evaded him that the sensation of power really hit him causing his eyes to shoot open. Panicked he went straight for the relic room where the source of so much power was coming from. 

For a moment Wukong thought it was the relic, that it had somehow activated and now the inhabitants of the mountain would be in trouble. But when the monkey king actually saw what was causing such a spike his train of thought stopped completely, body frozen in place, and mouth agape with something akin to shock and horror painted on his face. Honestly, Wukong had to slap himself just to see if he was still dreaming because on the floor of his relic room were nine figures, five of which were monkeys… 

The first one his eyes scanned over was small, 4’ if that, brown fur covered him, and instantly he noticed that the same clothing that he was given by Guianyin and his master at the beginning of his journey were on him, the yellow tunic, blue tippet, tiger skin wrap that was around his waist, blue pants, and worst of all the fillet around his head. Seeing that thing practically made him sick to his stomach. 

The second was just as short, fur a much lighter almost yellowish colour, he seemed to have on a more armour-oriented garb with the phoenix plums on his head, red-yellow shoulder and thigh guards, an orange tunic, brown pangs, black boots and a green tippet. His appearance greatly reminded him of when he had just received his new wardrobe from the dragon kings after getting his staff. 

The third was tall, like really tall, his fur was a dark reddish-brown and he also wore journey clothing but much fancier, he had on a red kuapao that ended just before his knees it had gold trim and jade green shoulder embroidery, keeping the kuapao closed was the tiger skin wrap and a piece of black fabric tied as a sort of guodu belt, he had a black tunic, black pants and red wrappings around his shins as well as a fillet of his own. Again it made him sick, the memories trying to claw their way up from the depths of his head. 

The fourth one looked Lanky, with long arms, shortish legs, and red fur, honestly his proportions kinda through wukong for a loop. His clothing was ragged at best with a yellow tunic untucked and ripped at the bottom and sleeves, a grey sash keeping it shut, light blue pants, and leather shin guards. The chains around his wrists didn’t escape Wukongs eyes or the bags under his eyes. 

The fifth and final one looked the wildest out of them all, he was likely as tall as the third if not taller, with wild white fur on his head which kinda reminded wukong of a main, and the rest of the fur on his body was a light brown. Though it was kinda hard to see under his hot pink fitted suit, brown dress shoes, bangles, chains, and mask. Honestly, Wukong was kinda doubting this one was even a monkey until he sturred slightly (scaring the shit out of him) and his mask fell from his face revealing it slightly. 

Looking the five over both with and without the golden eyes Wukong was faced with an impossible situation… they were all him. Well definitely different versions of him if it wasn’t apartment by clothing (why would any version of him wear pink??), fur colour, and size. Trying not to have a crisis he turned his attention to the other four bodies in the room. 

One was definitely Liuer Minhuo, from the silver-white fur to the bloody SIX EARS! It was plain as day to see that this one was Mac. it unnerved him slightly, made his heart race and mind cloud with guilt some but he shoved those feelings off as he examined the child next to the lanky him. 

Instantly he could see that the kid was mortal and not that old so he made sure to check for injuries without waking the boy and when he made sure that he had none then Wukong allowed himself to take in his appearance. He had a shaved head, dull, dirty clothing, and seemed to be grasping for lanky him… Wukong moved him closer and watched as the kid curled into the lanky him sighing comfortably and the monkey visibly relaxed as soon as the child felt on him. 

Knowing the boy was taken care of Wukong turned to the young man in red. He could distinctly feel the presence of Nezha on him, he had spiky black hair, a dark red leather jacket, black jeans, brown shin-high boots, and he could even make out the sky ribbon around his arm underneath the jacket sleeve. Clearly, this was a version of Nezha from another world who came with a version of him. That would be interesting… 

Finally, there was the-

“Monkey!!” 

“HOLY FUC-” 

Appearing right in front of his face was the last one, it seemed to be some kind of spirit with immense power. It took the form of what almost seemed to be a peach (yes like the fruit) kinda humanoid being. It had a leaf cape and was actually really cute with its high-pitched voice and wide brown eyes.

Raising his hands he let the little one land on them, “you gave me a real good scare there!” that caused them to laugh at him, once they were calmed down again Wukong asked them; “what's your name?” 

Surprisingly they gave him an answer, “Fruity!” 

(this is a part of chapter one! please feel free to comment and interact! )

[beevean]

I just. The parallels in Hector and Isaac’s designs are so good.

I love the angel/devil motif they have going on. Hector is conventionally pretty, with a soft face, long wavy silver hair, baby blue eyes, and is dressed in blue (and black, to symbolize his dark past). Isaac has stronger features (which is a godsend among the plethora of “same faced long haired pretty boys” drawn by Kojima), slick red hair that covers half of his face, grey/yellow eyes, and is dressed in reddish black. He even wears red makeup and has black tattoos all over his body.

The angel/devil motif is blazoned in the Devil Forgemaster crest as well, as they’re not one thing or the other, but in between. Not angels nor devils, not fully human nor fully otherworldly, always on the edge: from there, they choose their own paths. And I adore when in fanart their positions are reversed compared to the placement of the wings on the crest <3

https://at.tumblr.com/whitecatarts/hector-and-isaac-castlevania-has-always-been-one/2clhzacnuoqj

Speaking of Isaac in particular, red hair and yellow eyes hint at some kind of demonic nature. In the franchise, only two other characters have flaming red hair: the vampire Walter, and the Succubus in SoTN (and Simon in Chronicles, but I don’t understand why). Red hair has been historically associated with witchcraft and vampirism, and Isaac descends from a formidable family of dark sorcerers and is the loyal servant of a vampire. As for the yellow eyes, the only other character in the series with the same color is Alucard, a half-vampire. There is enough evidence to theorize that Isaac could be a cambion, or a changeling. After all, he and his sister Julia look absolutely nothing alike... Too bad that it would ruin the overall theme of “humans who don’t belong to the human world” :\ it’d make for an interesting AU, I think.

And yet, and yet. They still have part of each other in their design. Hector has a red sash wrapped around his waist; Isaac’s armor includes a little blue crystal. They also carry the pain caused by the other: Rosaly’s black headband is wrapped around Hector’s sash, as her tragic fate was caused by Isaac and Hector’s past; Isaac’s outfit is what’s left of his Devil Forgemaster uniform after Hector slashed and broke it, much like Hector’s actions indirectly broke Isaac. They’re intertwined to the core.

Isaac having the Devil Forgemaster’s crest tattooed on his back says a lot about him. Unlike Hector, who could take off his vest and stop being recognizeable as a Forgemaster, Isaac chose to be branded for life. This might also be why he stayed away from human civilization during those three fateful years: he really couldn’t have shown his face, or better his body, anywhere. It speaks about his loyalty, running much deeper than Hector’s, but also of his insecurity, so eager he was to show his commitment to his Lord. Hector didn’t need to be tattooed: his proficiency was more than enough.

Even their own names are parallels of each other! Hector is Greek in origin (most famous example being General Hector of the Trojan War) and it means “to hold fast” or “restrain”, hinting at his strong will that allows him to break free from Dracula’s Curse. Isaac is Biblical in origin and refers to the son of Abraham, who was nearly sacrificed in the name of God to prove Abraham’s loyalty: Isaac, loyal to Dracula beyond reason, also get sacrificed to his “God”, but unlike his namesake, he was not saved in time. It also means “he will laugh”, which Isaac does... a lot... not for good reasons...

Honestly at this point my only problem is with the details of Hector’s design. I have no clue of what’s going on with his arms, or if he has holes in his pants and how he covers them. But otherwise I really appreciate how much thought was put into both of them. And this is not even getting into the parallels of their personalities.

[karolzupa]

The Crew Redesign Describtion

I transcripted the crew’s new look describtions since we don’t have Chip’s and Gillion’s offcial art (yet....? hopefully). I also added the rest of the crew so anyone can give it their own spin. Grizlly’s description is word for word, but with the rest of the boys I just wrote down the pointers. English is not my native tounge so be kind with my spelling!

Chip Redesign

Hair shoulder length, more tamed and fluffed out. You can see the earring poking out. Has chin stubble (a lil bit). On top of the head he’s got a red pirate hat with brown on the inside and some gold accents on it. He has a pirate coat, matches the hat. Mainly red but has gold and silver, brown on it, with belts and buttons on it. No shirt. Flame tattoos coming up his chest and up onto his neck. The coat goes all the way down, unbuttoned. Brown sash around it at the waist. A whole bunch of belts, knives and this type beat bullshit. Two short swords sheathed. Design is overall cluttered, with accents. Pants are black with gold trinkets coming off them, chains. Scars from “his trauma” are visible. “He wears it proudly”

Jay Ferin Redesign

White, cotton, square neckline top, with very short sleeves. On the back is clearly visible the feather tattoo from Alport. On the neck she has a double-layered, golden necklace. Has a leather, brown, below bust corset. It leads to her old jacket that is now tied around her waist. Underneath it is a little belt that is attached to the thigh pouch, that is also wrapped around her left thigh. She has black leather knee-highs that fit loosely around her upper calf, with black cotton going up. Ha fingerless gloves that buckle around and reach around her wrist a little bit. Her hair is down, no ponytail. Still has Ferin pin in her hair, but it's pushing her bangs of to the sides so they don't cover her face at all. 

Gillion Tidestrider Redesign

Layered armor, ridiculous shoulder pauldrons. Hair tied up in a manbun. He ditched the shell like armor and is opting for a more traditional fantasy armor look. More spiked, the shoulder pads are very exaggerated. Blue, black and gold, matching with the Destiny's Blade. The gauntlets are larger and chunkier and have a worrying energy (the helping hands flavor). The Destiny's Blade has side sheath attached to his armor, this gold and black, pretty but minimalistic sheath. The pearl fragment is sitting in the base into the swords, where the crescent moon symbol was. On the bottom of helping hands you can see shower heads spray nozzles. You see creeping out of the neck piece reddish lighting scarring. 

Ollie redesign

Ollie’s brown hair has come to grow quite long and untamed, and he now has it braided on both sides, intertwined with two red streaks. He’s wearing the eyepatch [...], flipping it up and down over his bright green eyes.His outfit is comfortable but fit for a young pirate. A black wool shirt with Chip’s old bandana tied around his arm and gold plated leather belt of Mount Giant Strength wrapped around his waist. He is wearing a red furline sleeveless vest, some dark striped pants and brown leather boots. He’s fucking adorable.

Alphonse redesign

Alphonse originally was made from some brass metal, but has received some nice chrome plating all around with gold accents. His face has been molded to resemble a skull, but he still sports that black handlebar mustache under those glowing yellow eyes. He wears a small white cowboy hat with the Riptide jolly roger on the front with goggles and gears resting on the brim. He wears a white collared shirt and black striped vest and a red bowtie with a clock as the brooch. The sleeves roll up to reveal black steel anchors affixed to both forearms, connected by a long chain that wraps around him through the leather harness around his chest. To finish it off, he is in some black leather chaps with a cog for the belt buckle and tall chrome cowboy boots with cogs as the spears. And if you look closely you can see, engraved on his forearm are the letters ALF-0NZ3.

Gryphon redesign

Gryphon has got some warrior braids in his swept back black and white hair. He’s wearing an open chest black blazer with green accents and a Riptide jolly roger printed on the side. He wears a few wire necklaces lined with bullet casing as well as two cross belts in the shape of an X with all of his specialized ammunition. This ends with another belt of bullets wrapped around the thigh over black cargo pants, ending in leather buckle combat boots. Over his shoulder there is a forest green cape with a little bit of fluff on the top, giving him the option to cover the massive six-barrel gun that replaces his left arm.

Drey Ferin redesign

He’s wearing all black, with a deep v neck pirate shirt and a long pirate captain’s coat with golden filigree and an accentuated collar. He’s wearing this deep blue scarf that's pinned by his old Ferin emblem. Matching that same color sash around his waist, just below an oversized belt. [...] custom-made arm slings and restrictors that function both as leather armor and a way to keep his arms from flopping all over the place.

[aidanchaser]

Boulangérella: A Miraculous Fairy Tale AU - Chapter 3

Table of Contents Read on Ao3

beta’d by @7wizardsshallanswerthecall, @mothmanhamlet, @ccboomer and @aubsenroute​

Chapter Three Monsieur Pigeon

Ladybug was not entirely sure how she and Chat Noir would be able to successfully free Monsieur Ramier from Hawk Moth’s control. When Monsieur Ramier had been transformed by Hawk Moth in the past, he was given the power to control pigeons. Tonight, however, Hawk Moth had granted him an ability to get revenge on those teenagers who had harassed his pigeons by transforming them into the very pigeons they had come for. Now no one in the city was safe; merely the brush of a cursed pigeon’s wing would transform them into another bird in Monsieur Pigeon’s flock.

Ladybug and Chat Noir ducked behind a chimney and pressed themselves flat against the wall, hoping to hide from Monsieur Ramier—or, rather, they ought to call him Monsieur Pigeon while Hawk Moth had control of him.

“My lady—” Chat Noir pinched his nose between his thumb and forefinger. In a nasally whisper, he continued, “I think he’s got us pinioned down.”

She ignored the terrible pun. This was hardly the time. “This power of his is new…” She tried not to sound too doubtful as she unclipped her magical bandalore from her waist, but she couldn’t see a solution yet. “How can we possibly get close enough to find the cursed object?”

“I can distract him,” Chat Noir suggested. “My sneezes will make it easy for him to find me, and you can find the object Hawk Moth has cursed.”

“He doesn’t need to find us. Any of his pigeons can touch us and that’s it…”

“Hawk Moth won’t want our miraculous gifts to transform with us,” Chat Noir pointed out. “Maybe we can use that to our advantage—”

He stopped as a flash of orange on a nearby rooftop caught his eye. It stood out strangely in the dark night, especially when most of the movement in the sky was made of gray and black pigeon feathers. But before he could mention it to Ladybug, Chat Noir sneezed.

A nearby pigeon called in response, and Ladybug and Chat Noir ran. He pulled Ladybug in the direction of the orange blur, unsure where else they ought to go. He hoped that, just maybe, it was a stroke of luck, the sort that Ladybug could turn into a victory.

Ladybug and Chat Noir slid over a roof top and down to the street level, just in time to see something orange and white slip into one of the many tunnels that ran under the city. Underground certainly seemed safer than the skies, so they both followed.

Chat Noir dropped down beside her and rubbed his nose. “It might smell down here,” he said, “but it’s easier to breathe than among all those feathers.”

“What was that orange… thing?” she asked.

Chat Noir glanced around, but he saw no sign of the orange blur that had led them here. “I hope it’s help.”

Ladybug cupped her hands around her mouth. “Hello?” she called, and her voice echoed down the tunnel walls. She hoped that the birds would not have bothered to explore the tight, underground maze that ran beneath the city. Of course, they would eventually get to her and Chat Noir, but she should have enough time to make a plan.

“Ladybug?” a soft, feminine voice called back. “Is that really you?”

“Who’s asking?” Chat Noir’s voice echoed in the tunnel. He leaned casually against his baton, but his senses were fully alert. His ears twitched with the magic that pulsed through his veins and his green, cat-like eyes shimmered in the dim light of the underground sewers as they searched for movement.

A girl stepped out from an alcove, and Chat Noir’s shoulders twitched with the urge to pounce. She had long, dark hair with a reddish tint to it. In the front, her hair had been pulled into two red tails with white tips, reminiscent of a fox. She wore white trousers tucked into black boots, and a bright, orange sash wrapped around her waist and trailed off into a sort of tail, white-tipped like her hair. She wore a tight orange bodice edged with black lace and black gloves that ran the length of her arms. Her shoulders and neck were bare, decked only in a gold chain from which hung a curved orange pendant. A pair of tall orange ears sat on her head, not unlike Chat Noir’s own leather cat ears, and her face was covered by a mask in the shape of a fox’s head.

The part of her that drew Chat Noir’s attention, however, was the large bamboo stick in her hand. He kept his brilliant green eyes trained on it, waiting for her to lift it into an attack position.

“Ladybug, I was so hoping I would find you,” the girl said effusively. “Those pigeons—they attacked my family.”

“I think we’re safe here for the moment,” Ladybug said, but Chat Noir was still hesitant to relax his guard.

“How did you get away from the pigeons?” he asked.

The girl touched the pendant at her neck. “This is the gift of illusion. I was able to hide myself. It did not last for long, though…”

“You’re all right now,” Ladybug promised. She held out her hand to the girl. “We’ll help you, and we’ll save your family.”

“Thank you! I know if anyone can help, you can, Ladybug.” She took Ladybug’s hand and squeezed it.

Chat Noir eyed Ladybug and decided he ought to trust her judgment. They were a partnership, but they were not exactly equals. She was the captain and he was more like her first mate who supported her decisions. If she thought they ought to help this girl, he would go along with her plan.

He re-clipped his baton to his belt and gave their new friend a dramatic, sweeping bow. “It’s a pleasure to make your cat-quaintance.”

Ladybug and this new friend were equally unimpressed with his chivalry and humor.

“You said you had the magic of illusion?” Ladybug asked, as if Chat Noir had done no more than clear his throat.

The girl nodded.

Ladybug smiled. “Illusion just might be the distraction we need without risking turning Chat Noir into a pigeon.”

Ladybug tossed her bandalore into the air and called for her Lucky Charm. There was a bright rose-colored light from her bandalore. Her spots flashed and the magic of creation flowed from the bandalore until it had finished constructing the lucky item that she needed. The object that fell out of the light and into her hands was warm and buzzed with magic. She examined the curved reed, red and decked in black spots like her dress. She pursed her lips, unsure exactly what she needed to do with it.

“Do you think you're supposed to hit Monsieur Pigeon with it?” Chat Noir asked.

Ladybug glanced over at their new friend and the bamboo reed in her hand. “Can you make both sound and images with your gift?”

The girl nodded, and Ladybug laid out their plan.

Chat Noir didn’t like it, but Ladybug was in charge, and so he did as Ladybug asked. He stood on the fifth bridge from the palace and stared at the dark water below. It looked cold. At least his allergies would probably be unaffected while he was in the water.

With a sigh, Chat Noir put the hooked end of the reed in his mouth and jumped into the river.

He could not see well in the water, but the dark itself was not much of a problem for him. The city was well-lit at night, which left her alleyways and the depths of her river dim to the average person, but for Chat Noir it was easy for his cat-like eyes to adjust. He stayed below the surface, careful to keep the top of the reed above the water so that he could breathe, and waited for Ladybug’s signal.

It was not long before he saw what he was waiting for. Ladybug and Chat Noir approached the river bank, pursued by a flock of dark pigeons, whose wings reflected iridescent purple in the city’s many lights.

The illusions of Ladybug and Chat Noir hesitated at the water’s edge, apparently cornered. Monsieur Pigeon, in his dark pink and purple suit approached.

“Which will it be?” the man asked with dark glee in his voice. “Join my pigeon army or hand over your miraculous gifts?”

Chat Noir watched Monsieur Pigeon closely in search of the object Hawk Moth had infected in order to amplify Monsieur Ramier’s anger. In the past, it had been Monsieur Ramier’s pigeon call whistle, but Ladybug had warned Chat Noir to be careful and sure before he made his move. They would not get two attempts with Ladybug’s magic of creation, nor Chat Noir’s magic of destruction.

Monsieur Pigeon lifted the whistle to his lips. It was as black as ink, and Chat Noir was certain that he was using it to control the monstrous pigeons. It must be the object they needed. Around the reed in his mouth, Chat Noir muttered, “Cataclysm.”

His ring burned and dark energy gathered in his palm. It may not have hurt, but it required a lot of focus to hold onto.

The first time Chat Noir had summoned his power, he had hastily grabbed a lamp post to keep from losing control and shattering a building; the lamp post had crumbled to dust beneath his hand. After that first night testing his new powers, his fay had warned him that the stronger his emotions, the stronger his Cataclysm would be. In those early days of grieving his mother, it had been almost impossible for him to use it effectively.

But he had learned to control it, and the freedom of being Chat Noir combined with working alongside Ladybug had given him hope in a future again. His Cataclysm had become manageable from not only use and practice, but thanks to a quelling of his grief.

Now, it was a tool he could manage as easily as Ladybug used her Lucky Charm. It cracked and popped in his hand, eager to destroy the first thing it touched, but he held back and waited. He watched as the illusions of Ladybug and Chat Noir removed their illusory miraculous gifts and dropped them into the river.

Chat Noir’s mouth quirked into a small smile. Their new friend had no idea what he and Ladybug looked like underneath their masks, and he thought the tall, plain looking man that took Chat Noir’s place an odd choice. Whoever that man was, though, Chat Noir figured his life was probably easier than Chat Noir’s true identity.

Monsieur Pigeon, as Ladybug had predicted, dove into the river after the miraculous gifts. Chat Noir made his move.

He shot forward in the water and grabbed the whistle out of Monsieur Pigeon’s hand. It crumbled to dust in his grasp. Like ink dripping off of a quill, the suit Monsieur Pigeon had been wearing fell away, and Monsieur Ramier reappeared. He swam up to the surface hastily for air. Chat Noir did the same, careful not to lose sight of the dark iridescent butterfly that flitted through the water.

As Chat Noir broke the surface, Ladybug extended a hand to help him up. Chat Noir reached for her hand and was shocked as his hand passed through hers. Ladybug vanished, and nearby, their new fox-like friend laughed.

Chat Noir climbed out of the river and turned to help Monsieur Ramier. “Ladybug?” he called, annoyed with both himself and their new friend. Carefully, he shook the water from his arms. He hated the way it clung to him. It made him feel sticky, unable to slip easily and invisibly through the night.

Ladybug—the real Ladybug—hurried across the bridge. The large pigeons that had surrounded the illusions returned to their normal size and color, and Ladybug no longer had to avoid them as she chased down the dark butterfly that was struggling to fly away with wings weighed down by water. She unleashed her bandalore on it. The circular clay on the end of the string slid open and captured the butterfly within it. There was a flash of white light as the butterfly was sealed inside, and the bandalore returned to Ladybug’s hand.

Once she had whispered the incantation to purify the cursed creature, Ladybug opened her bandalore and released the butterfly. The butterfly, now as white as snow, flitted off into the night. Ladybug wished it well on its journey, as she always did. And as he watched, Chat Noir’s heart fluttered as it always did; he loved her for her confidence, determination and intelligence, but her kindness, more than anything else, left him full of adoration. His love never waned, no matter how many times he watched her wish a future of hope onto a creature that had been turned into an agent of destruction.

Their new fox-like friend stepped out of the shadows beside Chat Noir and watched as Ladybug threw her bandalore into the air and her Lucky Charm undid all the damage to the city and its citizens that Hawk Moth had wrought through Monsieur Pigeon. There was a sweep of red, flitting ladybugs that swarmed the pigeons, the streets, and then hurried down the alley, finishing their work throughout the city.

All was as it had been when Ladybug and Chat Noir had first transformed and slipped off into the night, except for the whistle. Ladybug’s magic was powerful, but the object that Hawk Moth infected with his curse remained damaged in whatever way Ladybug and Chat Noir chose to free the curse. It was the one thing Ladybug did not have the magic to fix.

But Monsieur Ramier had grown quite used to replacing his pigeon call whistles in the past year.

“Are you all right, Monsieur Ramier?” Ladybug asked.

Monsieur Ramier wrung out his dripping cap. “Did it happen again, Ladybug?”

“I’m afraid so,” she smiled. “But everything’s been set right.”

“I am so sorry,” he said. “But thank you for saving me. I know I can count on you each time.”

“Of course you can,” Ladybug promised. “And Chat Noir and our new friend, of course.” She gestured to Chat Noir and the girl in orange.

The girl in orange grinned and rested her flute-like reed over her shoulder. “You can call me Volpina,” she said.

“You have my gratitude,” Monsieur Ramier said with a bow.

Chat Noir wrinkled his nose in an attempt to stall a sneeze, but he was unable to stop himself. The group of pigeons lifted into the air in surprise, then followed Monsieur Ramier along the river’s edge, back towards his home.

“We really couldn’t have done this without you, Volpina,” Ladybug said, and held out her hand to the girl in orange. “I hope we’ll have your help in the future.”

Volpina took Ladybug’s hand and even managed a small curtsy. “Any time, Ladybug. I think I’ll be in the city for a while longer.”

“You’re not from here?” Chat Noir asked curiously.

Volpina’s mouth twitched into a crooked smile. “I thought you heroes liked secret identities.”

“We do,” Ladybug said quickly, “but it is surprising that you just showed up suddenly.”

The smile on Volpina’s face faded. Though her eyes were hidden behind an orange and black mask, complete with the snout of a fox, she looked sad. “My grandmother passed away recently. This pendant was hers. I didn’t know it was a miraculous gift until I put it on. I was afraid to use it, unsure that I could uphold the legacy she left behind, but when my family was hurt in Monsieur Pigeon’s attack, I called upon the power of illusion to escape and find you.”

All of Chat Noir’s wariness melted away in an instant. He knew grief. It cloaked him as thoroughly as the masks he put on for each of his identities.

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” he said. “You were a great help today.”

The green emeralds on his ring flickered and the magic in one of the stones of the cat’s paw dimmed.

Volpina eyed it curiously, then said, “I think I need to take my leave.”

“Of course,” Ladybug said.

And as Volpina disappeared into the night, Ladybug’s earrings flickered.

“We ought to go too, chaton,” she said with a smile.

But he was loathe to leave his lady after their time together had been so brief. He looked down at the five glowing green emeralds set into his ring. Only one had flickered out. “I have a bit longer.”

Ladybug shook her head, but she was smiling. “It’s a good thing we met Volpina tonight.”

“Oh?” He quirked an eyebrow.

Her smile faded ever so slightly. “Well… I might not be around very much over the next month. It’ll be good to know there’s someone else here to help the city.”

Chat Noir’s heart sank. But he swallowed down his own hurt and focused on her. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she said quickly, but Chat Noir did not believe her. Ladybug was many things, but chiefly she was a hero, and a hero did not show her weak spots, not even to her partner.

“It’s just…” She struggled to find the words then finally managed, “In my other identity, I’m about to be very busy. I have a lot of people that I’m responsible to, and they’re all going to need my attention. I’ll still be around, and if Hawk Moth attacks I’ll be there, but these nights where we patrol… I don’t know how many of those we’ll have for a while.”

“Oh,” he said. He did not know how to put words to his heartbreak. Nights with Ladybug were the best part of his life. He wasn’t sure what he would do without them, and he wasn’t sure how to tell her about his own looming deadline.

Her earrings flickered again. Another emerald on his ring went out.

“Promise me something?” she asked.

“Anything,” he said readily.

“Try not to steal anything, please? I don’t want to come after you because Audrey Bourgeois can’t find her pearls.”

Chat Noir flicked at the silver bell that rested at his collar. It jingled softly. “I wear this bell for you,” he grinned. “Can’t get past any hunting dogs with this on.”

It was not entirely true. Chat Noir was good at sneaking around even with the bell around his neck, but it symbolized his loyalty to Ladybug more than anything. It had become an addition to his outfit only after he had fallen for her.

It had not taken him long. The very same night that she had first dragged him from the Bourgeois's manor only to send him right back in to return the rings he had taken, one of Hawk Moth’s monsters had attacked.

Chat Noir had readily run to help, and though he would never know it, it was his confidence that had encouraged Ladybug to join him. She might never have dared to use her magic to face the monster if he had never asked her to help protect the city.

Together, they had learned that they could defeat the monsters in a way that the castle’s soldiers could not, and that the gifts they bore from the Forest of Fay were gifts that could be used not simply for their own benefit, but to help and protect the kingdom. And, more than that, Ladybug could undo in a moment whatever damage had been wrought by Hawk Moth’s attack.

It was during that first fight that Ladybug had learned that Chat Noir was a better friend than he was thief, and it was during that first fight that Chat Noir had fallen in love.

So he had worn a bell, ever since that first fight. A faux-deterrent from stealing, because his lady had asked him to.

“Thank you, chaton,” she said, and smiled.

Chat Noir cherished her smiles as much as he cherished her laughter, but he could not bring himself to match her smile.

“I also have some bad news,” he said. The third emerald on his ring flickered out as her earrings flashed.

Ladybug’s smile faded and she tipped her head. “What’s wrong?”

He liked that she had echoed his question. He wished that he could, like she had, assure her that it was nothing.

“After this month, I don’t know that I’ll still be around.”

She frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I have one more month before… well, before I assume some new responsibilities in my other life. I think they’ll make it harder to spend my evenings with you, Ladybug.”

It was not often that Chat Noir used her name properly. Ladybug knew that he was being serious, and not just trying to tease her or make her feel guilty for leaving him alone for a month.

She wanted to press him for details, but it would not be appropriate. She was the one who had set the boundaries between their daily lives and their lives as heroes, and it had been for a good reason. She was protecting him and his loved ones as much as she was protecting herself.

“Are you… sure?” she asked, unsure herself what she ought to say.

“I wish I wasn’t.”

It struck them both that from now on, then, any moment might be their last night together. And though it broke Ladybug’s heart to know there was a chance she might lose her best friend for good, she said, “You should go.”

The fourth emerald on his ring flickered out, and her earrings flashed.

“What if I didn’t?” he asked.

“Chaton…”

“Just kidding, of course.” But he had not been kidding, and he and Ladybug both knew it.

She kissed his cheek, then said, “This isn’t good-bye yet.”

“Not yet,” he agreed, and disappeared the way Volpina had gone, but whoever she was, she had already vanished

The final emerald on Chat Noir’s ring flashed and flickered out as Chat Noir murmured, “Plagg, claws in,” and his dark disguise vanished. The black suit fell from him and gathered in his ring, revealing a set of clothing that was just as dark but of much finer and more delicate cloth. The black wisps emerged from his ring and solidified into the form of the tiny black creature he had found in the forest almost a year earlier.

Prince Adrien Agreste leaned against the brick wall that formed half of the alley way and looked up at the sliver of stars visible above the close rooftops while the black cat-like fay dug through a nearby pile of garbage for some discarded cheese. They would need Chat Noir’s disguise to return home, but first the fay creature Plagg would need an offering of cheese to complete their initial bargain before he could give Adrien another turn with the magic of chaos and destruction.

Adrien considered, not for the first time, what might happen if he simply strolled up to the palace gates, and how his father might punish him for sneaking away. On his darker days, Adrien almost dared to do it. What was left for his father to take away from him? He had no control over whom he spoke to nor how he spent his time. Did he even really have control over whom he would marry, or would he just accept whatever his father asked of him? Shy of locking him in a dungeon, there were few ways for his father to restrict his freedoms much further.

But those were only on Adrien’s dark days. He knew that his father only wanted to protect him. He could not imagine how even his aunt might react, knowing the crown prince put himself in the path of danger almost nightly to protect the palace and the city from Hawk Moth’s attacks. He didn’t think she’d be any happier about it than his father. His mother might have understood, though. She’d have been upset, he thought, and worry, but he liked to think that she’d have understood.

“We need to do something about our new fox friend,” Plagg said as he dug through the piles of garbage.

Adrien tore his eyes away from the stars. “What’s wrong with Volpina?” She had helped them, despite his initial suspicions, and her grief had seemed genuine.

“Weren’t you listening?” Plagg disappeared into an old wooden box and re-emerged with a wedge of pungent, mold-covered cheese. “It’s not camembert, but it’s aged alright.”

Adrien wrinkled his nose in disgust as Plagg swallowed the cheese whole. He was not sure how Plagg managed it, considering the wedge itself was about twice Plagg’s size, but the fay creature seemed to stretch around the cheese, then compress back into his fay form.

“What do you mean about Volpina?” Adrien asked, when it was clear that Plagg was too interested in digesting his meal to return the conversation on his own.

“Did you notice how her pendant didn’t flicker with magic after she used her gift? That’s not a normal bargain. That’s a lifetime debt. Those trades don’t come cheap. Sounds like she may have stolen it from her grandmother.”

“Weren’t you listening? Her grandmother died. Surely Volpina just wanted something to remember her grandmother by.”

Plagg, however, was concerned for Trixx, who was his best friend in as far as fay creatures had best friends. Trickery and chaos went hand in hand. But he paused his concern for Trixx and took a moment to gauge the grief in Adrien’s eyes.

Plagg was not a sensitive creature by definition. He was born of chaos and destruction. His power was a curse, meant to inflict harm on others. And even then, it was mostly targeted at those who would hurt Tikki and her bondsman—or bondswoman, as was more often the case.

As a rule, Plagg did not express fondness for his bondsmen—or bondswomen, as it had been on several occasions—but Adrien was an exception. Plagg had observed many things in his year at the palace, but he had observed very little fondness. Adrien deserved a bit of care.

So Plagg shifted into his preferred form, a scrawny black cat, and threaded himself around Adrien’s feet. He nuzzled his whiskers and cheeks against Adrien’s ankles in a rare show of affection. It earned him a small smile from Adrien. It was still a sad smile, but most of Adrien’s smiles were sad. Someday Plagg would get a real smile from this boy. Something absolutely feral. It was what the boy deserved, especially after all he had been through, and especially given what was to come.

Plagg could not see the future—that was a different fay’s gift—but Plagg knew a few things about what went on in the palace that Adrien did not know. He chose to keep them to himself for now. Adrien would find out in time, and hopefully he would be ready to face those secrets when they eventually unraveled, as secrets always did.

Adrien knelt beside Plagg and stroked his spine. “We can’t do much more to investigate Volpina tonight. I suppose we ought to go home.”

Plagg tilted his head. “I bet we could still snag one of those pendants you were thinking about. Ladybug doesn’t have to know.”

The sad smile twitched ever so slightly. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Something smaller then,” Plagg wheedled. “Something that really won’t be missed. Oh, we could stop by that boulangerie! It isn’t far. They’re the only place I’ve seen in this half of the continent that sells those fluffy cheese-filled pastries.”

“I can just order a bunch to be delivered to the palace,” Adrien said, but they both knew it would not be the same. There was something thrilling about slipping in and out of somewhere unseen, of having power and control over one little thing in his life when he was denied that power in so many other places.

When Plagg made no additional argument except to stare up at Adrien with pleading green eyes, the prince sighed. “Plagg, that’s a business, and the shop owners are very kind. I don’t want to steal from them.”

“Take the old stuff. It tastes just as good. We can leave something in exchange. Please,” he drew out his plea with a long whine. “We haven’t stolen anything in over a week, and you just promised Ladybug that we’d be good for another month. Can’t we have one last teeny-tiny hurrah?”

Plagg was Adrien’s closest friend and confidant while simultaneously being Adrien’s worst influence.

“Plagg, claws out,” he whispered, and the black cat at his feet stretched around him, spreading out from his ring, and cloaking him once more in the disguise of Chat Noir.

So when Marinette Dupain-Cheng finally returned home, well after her parents had retreated upstairs to bed, she found that three of their popular deep-fried, cheese-filled pastries were missing, and in place of the pastries, someone had left behind a small bouquet of budding hellebore.

[finrays]

It’s PEBBLE TIME

-

She’s tracking a Stalker when the ruckus attracts her attention.

On her shoulder, Streak tenses, clacking his beak anxiously. His golden-white eyes roll toward her, as if asking what he should be doing next.

Talanah isn’t sure what to tell him; they’ve been tracing the Houndoom-like machine for the better part of the day, and, with the sun beginning to dip toward the horizon, they’re losing the light; the machine will be that much harder to track in the dark, and harder to fight without the telltale glimmer of light off of the armor plates that allow it to melt away into thin air.

The throaty warbles and stuttering growls wafting through the brush are also familiar; ones she’s heard many a time out here among the wilds of the Jewel.

“Couple of Liepards found something to scavenge, probably,” she murmurs, more to herself than to Streak, reaching up to give his head a reassuring stroke, “not like we can do much about that.”

As if the Sun itself is challenging her assessment, a pathetic little peeping noise starts up from the direction of the fracas, and the Liepards, excited by the prospect of fight in their prey, answer anew with a fresh round of battle cries.

It makes up Talanah’s mind in an instant.

“Streak,” she commands, and the Talonflame straightens automatically at the tone of her voice, “Aerial Ace.”

The Scorching Pokemon launches itself from her shoulder in a flurry of wings, and, snatching up her spear, she follows, crashing heedlessly though the brush.

The Stalker trophy will have to wait for another time.

One of the Liepards lets out a yowl from somewhere ahead as Streak’s attack connects, and, dodging past a low-hanging branch, Talanah lets out a smug little chuckle.

Never misses.

With Streak raising hell, the fight is easy to track; bursting through a thicket of whippy branches, she emerges into a clearing, taking a minute to get her bearings. Streak has one of the pair of Liepards backed against the trunk of a massive tree, swooping incessantly at its head as it snaps and snarls, leaping after him, always just a moment too slow.

The second one, this one an unfamiliar reddish-brown in color, is crouched over its hapless victim, something huddled in a shaking, green heap at its feet. As it raises a paw to strike, claws extended to their fullest and wreathed in shadowy flame, Talanah moves, throwing herself across the clearing and slamming the haft of her spear between the Leopard and its prey.

The Cruel Pokemon’s attack gouges deep, night-colored slices into the wood, and it snarls its fury, reaching over the spear shaft to slash at her arm. Undeterred by the threat of claws, Talanah puts her full weight behind her weapon and heaves, sending her opponent flying across the clearing and into its purple-coated fellow.

As the pair of them disentangle themselves, Streak lands on her shoulder, spreading his wings behind her head like a crown of sunbeams, embers scattering from between his feathers.

“Get out of here,” Talanah growls, brandishing the spear, “unless you want more.”

The Liepards consider it for a moment, the brown-coated one flexing its claws into the damp earth. But, finally, they think better of it; with a final ripping snarl, the pair turns, and vanishes into the brush. Neither of the hunters dares to move until the sound of their footsteps fades, and the ambient noise of the jungle picks back up again.

As Streak flutters into the branches above, keeping a stern eye on their surroundings, Talanah stows her spear, crouching beside the shivering heap on the ground. The little Pokemon flinches as her touch meets soft green feathers. Her fingers come away sticky with blood.

“Hey, hey,” she soothes, “you’re all right. Come here.”

Unwrapping the sash from around her waist, she scoops the little Pokemon into it, carefully swaddling it in the silk.

“Ligan will know what you are and how to help you. Just hang on until we get back to the Lodge.”

—

She returns from a contract three days later to find the little Pokemon staring at her intently from the little nest of rags she’s put together for it on the windowsill, in full sunlight, as Ligan had instructed.

“Natu like sunlight,” he’d said, when she’d brought the poor little creature into his quarters for advice, “and they’re shy around predators… you might want to have Streak keep his distance.”

Streak doesn’t need to be told that today; tired as he is, he flaps straight to his perch, beginning to preen the dust of the fight out of his feathers as she makes her way to the windowsill. This time, the TIny Bird Pokemon doesn’t flinch when she approaches.

“Hey. Glad to see you awake and feeling better.”

Crouching and extending a hand, she keeps her movements slow and measured. The Natu studies the offering for a moment, before carefully putting its tiny, bandaged wings out to clasp her finger between them. Its glimmering feathers are soft and sun-warmed, and Talanah can’t help but smile at the touch, and at its big, round, earnest eyes, staring up at her unblinkingly.

“Sorry. I just took you with me without thinking about it. But it’s better than being someone’s evening meal, right? I’ll take you back home to the Jewel once you’ve healed up.”

To her surprise, the little Natu climbs unsteadily onto her hand, clinging on with a weak, wobbly grip. Instinctively, Talanah cups her hands around the little Pokemon, and it nestles down into them as though perfectly at home. Raising a thumb, she gives the shimmering, downy feathers a stroke, and the Tiny Bird Pokemon leans into the touch with pleasure.

“You’re round and smooth… like a pebble. That’s what we’ll call you, until you’re ready to go home. Pebble.”

If Pebble likes the name, he doesn’t give her any indication, continuing to watch her from his position puddled in her palms. Streak casts them a curious look from beneath his wing as she stands and turns from the windowsill, but thinks better of it, ruffling his feathers and settling back down for a nap. Pebble gives him an intense stare as they pass, but quickly turns his eyes back to Talanah’s face as she carries him over the threshold.

“Ligan will want to have a look at you. And you should meet him, anyway, if you’re going to be staying at the Lodge for a while. You’ll need to know who you can trust. And who you should avoid.”

[amodernfae]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Late 60s-Early 70s Vintage Mock-neck Floral Pattern Sash Dress.

[sweetness-pop]

Hiya! 💗💋🍓🌸Sweetness*POP🌈🍭💀🌟 here!

Imagine someday for season 3, VivziePop will show us a very unexpected GIF as a sneak peak for a future ep:

(Warning: Contains such magical and elegant beauty from a certain hellhound)

Loona dressed in a lovely and beautiful formal fashion:

·A long hi-low strapless Japanese kimono-style dress that is midnight blue sparkled like a starry night sky. Has a sweetheart neckline that gives out a lovely appeal of her revealed heaving *C-cups* cleavage. A golden sash around the waist with a bow (also golden) behind. Pale blue diamond-like accents on the bottom of her pleated skirt. And silver crescent moons and blood red rose prints on the dress.

·Long black satin fingerless gloves with an upside down glowing white pentagram print on the front.

·Black dress sandals with straps, low block heels, and rainbow-reflected white rhinestones.

·Black choker with the full strawberry moon (June, is the month of the 🍓🌕) gem that is in a reddish pink color.

·Ruby red heart and rose gold crescent moon dangle earrings.

·Wavy half up/half down bun hairstyle with an Asian deep dark blue hair stick that has a silver crescent moon and pink sakura (obviously cherry blossom).

·And finally for makeup, Loona is not wearing her usual gothic makeup. In fact, she's not wearing a lot of makeup with the exception of sparkling red nail polish, a colorless eyeshadow with rainbow sparks and she's wearing cherry red lipstick. Loona actually being extremely beautiful without her gothic makeup. Like a hellhound revealed to be blessed with hidden natural beauty.

In the sneak peak GIF, Loona is seen at what looks like a formal gathering(like a party or an event) with rainbow-reflected diamond accents floating around the dark scenery. And Loona is seen giving out her beautiful genuine smile and sweet blush to a tall unseen figure(face not shown) who walked to her as she greets him by unexpectedly doing a........CURTSY. Could this be an "about-to-be dance moment" for our beautiful moon hellhound?

Would your comment be if you see this upcoming sneak peak GIF for a future Helluva Boss episode for either season 2 or 3?

🌌💎💅🌹🌙🐺💋👗👠🌸👘

[danicadenniss]

Leonard Diego, Marco Pedro, Megan Paola and Antonio Pablo Garcia-Clark

Home: Titan City, United Republic of Nations

Alias: Lee, Marc and Tony

Nickname: Sweetheart/Sweetie by their parents

Date of Births: September 8th 2018

Species: Human

Ethnicity: Multiple (Afro-Dominican, from their mother, French-Mexican American from their father)

Gender: 3 Males, 1 Female

Hair Colors: (Lee and Marc) Burgundy, (Megan) Natural Light Auburn Brown, (Tony) Natural Brown with Light Burgundy Highlights

Eyes Colors: (Lee and Marc) Hazel, (Megan and Tony) Amber

Skin Color: (Lee and Marc), Dark Brown (Megan) Warm Ivory, (Tony) Light Brownish Tan

Types of Skin: (Lee and Marc) Light Freckles, (Megan and Tony) Medium Brown Freckles,

Family Members: Mother-Karen Sara Garcia-Clark, Father-Cal Clark, Partial Aunt-Stella Mia Garcia-Naruto, Partial Uncle-Na’ Coda Naruto, Partial Cousin-Na’ Luzia Rio Garcia-Naruto, Partial Grandmothers-Savannah and Gloria Garcia, Material Grandparents-Mr. & Mrs. Clark

Appearance:

Leonard Diego Clark is a half black Dominican and half French-Mexican American baby boy with short curly burgundy hair with short bangs, sideburns reddish brown eyebrows, hazel eyes, dark brown skin, light brown freckles on his cheeks and a thin figure. He wears a red t-shirt with pale red short sleeves, and orange t-rex prints on it’s front, orange shorts with a white diaper on it, reddish-orange socks and red and white sneakers.

Marco Pedro Clark is a half black Dominican and half French-Mexican American baby boy with short wavy/curly burgundy hair with short bangs, thin reddish brown eyebrows, hazel eyes, dark brown skin light brown freckles on his cheeks and a thin figure. He wears a blue t-shirt with sea foam green turtle on it front, navy blue short with a white diaper on it blue graphic dolphin socks and black sandals

Megan Paola Clark is a half black Dominican and half French-Mexican American baby girl with short curly/straight natural light auburn brown hair with short bangs, amber eyes, warm ivory skin, medium brown freckles on her cheeks and a thin figure.

She wears a bubblegum pink mid calf length dress with cap sleeves, magenta ruffle collar, light pink sash around her waist and white cat and a small hot pink butterfly prints on it’s left side front, a white diaper, white ruffle socks and magenta and white small floral petals strapped Mary Jane’s flats.

Antonio Pablo Clark is a half black Dominican and half French-Mexican American baby boy with short straight/wavy natural brown hair with light burgundy highlights, sideburns light reddish brown eyebrows, amber eyes, light brownish tan skin, medium brown freckles on his cheeks and a thin figure.

He wears a graphic yellow tank top with Water Guppies prints on it front (parody of Bubble Guppies) a orange shorts with a reddish orange the Amazing Pets logo on it right side front (parody of Wonder Pets), a white diaper, white socks and yellow and black checkered slips on the sneakers. They also wear a red, bubblegum pink, light blue and golden yellow pacifiers on their mouths.

Personality:

Lee, Marc, Megan and Tony are so cute, adorable and cuddly babies.

[copepods]

quick osmp techno design. bnuuy

[id: a colored sketch of technoblade from the origins smp as an anthropormorphic rabbit. he has mottled reddish-brown fur, and is wearing a white shirt, brown pants, light brown bandages around his wrists and ankles, a blue and purple cloak with fur lining, and a red sash and yellow blanket around his waist. end id]

[bm-islamic-art]

Man Holding a Pomegranate, AH 1028 / 1618 C.E., Brooklyn Museum: Arts of the Islamic World

Card Catalogue: This drawing consists of the most popular formula in the single-male figure category: the isolated image of a middle-aged man seated in a contemplative mood in an outdoor setting. (Swietochowskhi, Cat. no. 30). The formula includes the offering of a fruit, a cup, a book, or other objects. Here the bearded man is holding a pomagranate in his left hand. His right hand rests on the ankle of his left leg. He sits on what appears to be a large scarf or cloak and wears a turban on his head. Next to him is a waterpipe, to his left is a rock projection from which a bush extends. Behind him and to his left is a tree, which stretches upwards to the top right corner of the drawing. The tree is flowering with yellow leaves. I nthe topoe left corner are swirling Chinese type clouds. The lsight color in the dreawing is a reddish pink: in part of the man's robe, around the rocks and base of the tree; the pomegranate; and what is either a book or a letter at the bottom of the drawing near the folded legs of the seated figure. His turban is painted white, the sash around his waist is blue and the cloak on which he sits is yellow like the leaves on the tree. The drawing is framed with a border of gold and set onto a gold specked blue paper. The blue paper is framed with gold lines which is set on a lighter blue paper with a gold leaf design. It is possible that the drawing belonged to an album. The drawing itself might have been cut down and it seems to have been varnished. There is a signature and date in the lower left corner, signed "Reza Abbasi" and dated 1028 A.H. / 1618 C.E. Size: 12 5/8 x 8 1/4in. (32.1 x 21cm) Medium: Ink, watercolor, and gold on paper

https://www.brooklynmuseum.org/opencollection/objects/5076

[lorelylantana]

Savageries of the Heart Chapter 1: Courtship

SFW

Next

Zelda always hesitated outside of the King Daphnes’ door. Bracing herself for the twinge of disappointment that always came when she entered the room to find her father’s chair occupied by her uncle, she straightened her spine and stepped into the room with a schooled expression and a head held high.

“You called for me, your Majesty?” she asked, folding her hands in front of her abdomen as she stood in front of his desk. He didn’t acknowledge her for a moment, signing off one last document before looking up at her with a radiant smile that sent a chill down Zelda’s spine.

“Excellent news, my darling Zelda, I’ve found a husband for you.”

She sucked in a breath, “My husband?”

“Yes, my dear, at long last you're getting married! It was a challenge, mind you, but I’ve arranged for you to marry quite the accomplished Zonai warrior.”

She was speechless. As the first born of the royal family, Zelda harbored no false hopes of marrying for love, but she had at least hoped to stay within Hyrule’s borders, where she could at the very least continue her research. 

“The temple will never allow it,” she insisted with a voice that shook in tandem with her beating heart. The smile on his face spread wider, though his eyes grew colder.

“The temple has always put too much stock on a bloodline bedtime story. Your mother was a gifted mage, but if present company is anything to go by,” he stood to walk around his desk and loom over her, “it was hardly a divine inheritance.”

“Zonai authority is established through combat prowess,” Zelda pointed out, “I fail to see why they would be interested in marrying me for my blood.”

“It doesn’t matter why they want you!” he snapped, the pleasant veneer of politeness cracking. He took a breath before placing heavy hands on Zelda’s shoulders, forcing them down into a slouch.

“What you don’t understand, Zelda dearest,” the King pushed through his teeth, “Is that we are vulnerable. Our military has been in shambles for an age, and ever since that wretched coup we have been surrounded by factions that refuse to fall in line. With the Zonai on our side, those other races will think twice before moving against us.”

In the ten thousand years since the continent was fractured there was never one incident that pointed to ambitions of conquest from any of the other five nations, but that didn’t matter to Zelda’s uncle, who had moved to a map of the continent. He stood in front of the east portion of the map, where the Akkala, Faron, and Necluda regions were painted Zonai green. 

“My fool of a brother didn’t see the threats, but I do,” he whispered, frowning. He spun around to face her once again, “All you need to know, sweet Zelda, is that in a month’s time you will cross the Bridge of Hylia and make your home in the quaint woodlands that were once a part of our great nation.”

Zelda opened her mouth to protest, but he cut her off.

“Everyone wins!” he proclaimed, “We get the support of the largest nation on the continent, and at long last you can finally do something to help your country. As princess.”

Zelda sighed at her defeat, “I don’t know their language.”

“A month should give you a decent enough head start,” he insisted, sweeping a hand towards the door, “I suggest you get started.”

Zelda rushed out the door, desperate for a moment to process. Her plan was momentarily foiled by the arrival of Nohansen. The young prince was an unfortunate reflection of his father made all the clearer by his sinister smile.

“Ah! Have you heard the news, dear cousin? You must be ecstatic! The biggest day in any young woman’s life is her wedding day, and yours is a mere thirty days away!” 

“I fail to see how we’re to organize a royal wedding in one month,” Zelda muttered. Nohansen’s smile sank into a smirk. He ruffled her hair, knocking her tiara off in the process. 

“Oh, the wedding won’t be held here” he laughed, twirling the gold in his hands, “Of course not, we can’t have those barbarians running around our castle now, can we?”

Zelda took a breath to speak-

“No,” he said, holding up a finger to stifle whatever she was about to say, “We will be taking you to them. Your glorious wedding shall take place deep in the savage Zonai wilds. They even have a little spring said to be protected by a goddess. Does that not please you, O Daughter of Hylia?” he ended with a sneer.

Zelda snatched her crown back, the gold biting against her grip as she pushed passed him to rush through hallways stained burgundy with banners bearing her uncle’s crest to climb her tower, rushing up stairs and crossing the bridge to her study, the most remote room in the entirety of Hyrule Castle. She slammed the door and locked it before kicking off her shoes and climbing her desk to open the window high above it. She lifted her face to the breeze that rushed in. It was here, away from prying eyes, that she could truly relish in fresh air. She stood there a moment to relish the stillness before lowering herself to the floor and taking a seat in front of her carefully cultivated collection of samples of Hyrule’s most elusive flower, the Silent Princess. Despite her best efforts, she couldn’t get one to sprout within the confines of her study. 

Her study was cluttered with several clay pots hosting their own samples. Stalks of Saffline and flowering Blue Nightshade gently glowing against the shadows. She also had several vials full of elixirs her uncle refused to consider implementing into the kingdom’s resources, citing a lack of reports backing her claims. Of course, any reports written by Zelda herself were disqualified because of a conflict of interest.

That didn’t mean her work went unnoticed. Zelda had built quite a rapport with servants and soldiers alike when she managed to concoct a working contraceptive elixir with ingredients common enough to distribute. From that point on Zelda became an unofficial medic to the people of Castle Town. Those employed at the castle had full access to the infirmary, but the same could not be said for their families. Since her activity outside the castle was heavily restricted most of her specimens were given to her by grateful family members who consulted her.

She was reviewing her notes on the Silent Princess when a knock at the door brought tension to her shoulders.

“What is it?” she asked, wary of her cousin coming in to gloat once again.

“You’ve been invited to dinner by his Majesty King Daphnes, he requests you come down immediately.”

“I’ll be right there,” she huffed, fixing the golden band on her head and straightened her hair before making her way down to the dining hall. To her aggravation, everyone had already been seated and turned to look at her as she walked in. Another one of her uncle’s tricks.

She sat at the last open seat at the head of the table. Her uncle intended to make a spectacle of her in some way, but she didn’t find out exactly how until dessert was served and the King knocked a spoon against his glass to call for the attention of the other nobles in attendance.

“It is my tremendous pleasure to inform you all as of today that our lovely Crown Princess,” he waved to a servant, who brought over a package “is officially engaged to be married!”

There was a round of polite applause before King Daphnes cleared his throat, continuing after they quieted down. The attendant placed a solid wooden box in front of Zelda after a maid cleared her unfinished cake away.

“In honor of this momentous agreement the groom in question was so kind as to send a gift to his beautiful bride to be and I thought it only right to share this celebration with you all by letting you bear witness to the first gift between our dear Zelda and her fiance!” the King turned to her then, laying another heavy hand on her shoulder.

“Don’t be shy now. Open it.”

At first glance Zelda thought the box itself was the gift. It was finely crafted, polished wood with a reddish tinge that she hadn’t seen before, and the various symbols and runes carved into it had her itching to go to the library. Zelda lifted the lid and reached in, pulling out a knife crafted by some creature’s polished jaw bone.

The room burst out in raucous laughter.

“My word!” a woman’s voice yelled, “I knew they were backwards, but to think they would present a young lady with the remains of some animal!”

“Well of course,” cried another, “If they couldn’t fashion a proper metal blade, what hope could they have of crafting jewelry?”

Zelda fingered the spiral carved into the lid’s center as she considered pointing out that the handle was made from silver wrapped in silk, but she doubted it would make a difference.

“Well she can always wear it about her neck if she wants to show off her engagement!” Prince Nohansen laughed.

Zelda did not wear the knife around her neck, but she did take to wearing it on a sash tied at her waist. The morning after the engagement was announced Zelda descended to the lower floors of the castle to reach the laboratory. Diplomatic relations between Hyrule and Zonai were nonexistent, but there was one researcher that spent a fair amount of time in Faron to study some of the plants there, and Zelda had gotten quite acquainted with him upon his return to the castle.

“Owlan!” she called, a smile growing on her face as the old man came into view, working diligently on documenting the fruits of his research.

“Come to glean Zonai secrets, your Highness?” he asked with a raised brow and his ever present gentle smile.

“You’ve heard the news then?” she asked. 

“There’s not a soul in this castle who hasn’t. It’s the talk of the town,” he closed the book he was writing in and turned to face her, “Would you like a tutor in their language?”

“I would, but that’s not the only reason I’m here,” Zelda set the box she’d received the night before on his workspace, “What do you make of this?”

He took the box in his hand, giving the intricately carved lid, “If nothing else, you know that he’s a gifted carpenter.”

“You think he made the box himself?”

“Rather than a ring, Zonai engagements are marked with a dagger. Typically the suitor in question will present said blade with a personal touch. A seamstress would wrap it in a sash for her beloved, a gardener might send flowers along with the blade itself, and your betrothed,” he tapped the box lid, “sent a carved box. Would you mind terribly if I took a look at the knife in question?”

“Go ahead,” she said, taking an empty seat beside him. She turned back to him holding the knife in question with a frown.

“What is it?” she asked.

“It’s common for particularly capable warriors in the Zonai nation to slay a beast and have a bone fashioned into the blade. It’s a way of showing off, you see,” Owlan said with a mischievous smile, “but I can’t tell what creature it’s from.”

Zelda took the dagger in her own hands, running a ringer across the large fang at the point. Now that she had a closer look, she could see etchings on the bone as well, depicting a long horned serpent curling under the teeth.

“What should I send back?”

“I’m sure a reciprocal blade would be appreciated,” he said, a twinkle in his eye.

Zelda left shortly after to visit the blacksmith to have a dagger commissioned before heading to the library. After consulting a librarian she had several books on the Zonai language sent to her room while she perused the shelves until she came across the tome she was looking for.

The Hylian Bestiary was one of the oldest books in the castle’s collection, the original copy was written back when the kingdom encompassed the entire continent. She hefted the book onto one of the empty tables and flipped through the illustrations of beasts both alive and of their remains. She rested her head on her fist, nearing the end of the section and still at a loss. She turned a page, a little discouraged until she scanned it’s contents.

There wasn’t much information on this beast, apart from reports of different colors and different regions it had been spotted in. There wasn’t a live illustration either, but there was a careful sketch of a skull. Zelda opened her box and took out the dagger just to be sure. She held it up to the page.

Her fiance had sent her a Lynel’s jaw.

If his intent was to impress, he’d certainly succeeded. She had never seen one herself, but there had been occasions where her uncle had dispatched knights to slay one that had wandered a bit too close to hylian villages. It was one of the few times the King would approve of Zelda’s assistance of the medical staff, because they always needed extra hands afterwards. Zelda returned the book to its shelf and entered her study. The books she’d asked for were stacked on her desk, but she bypassed them for her cabinet of finished elixirs. She opened the doors and considered, wondering which one she should send to her betrothed. She considered a poison she’d extracted to coat the dagger in, but decided against it. With the language barrier as high as it was, she didn’t want to risk him drinking it. She ended up making a defensive concoction that would give him an extra layer of protection, which he might need if he made a habit of facing Lynels. 

She was called down to the blacksmith’s a few hours later to approve of their handiwork. The blade was serrated, as she’s requested, and a fair bit longer than the knife around her waist, but she gave her approval and had it shipped off with her elixir to her fiance before returning to her study and reading through the basics of the Zonai language.  

A week after she sent her own engagement dagger she had received another gift from her fiance. Unlike the first, this gift was contained within a basket. Zelda had the good fortune to intercept the servant on the way to deliver her gift to her uncle. The maid in question was a regular consumer of one of her contraceptives, so it didn’t take much convincing before she was walking back to her room with the basket tucked under one arm. She sat on her bed, and somewhat excitedly opened the lid of the basket-

And slammed it back down again. She stared at the basket as though it might combust for a moment, heart slamming against her ribcage. Not wanting to jump to any conclusions, Zelda gingerly picked up the basket and placed it on her desk, ond once she put a few paper weights over the lid, paid Owlan a visit.

“Good afternoon your Highness! Are your studies going well?” he asked, looking up from the medication he was crafting.

“How do the Zonai feel about snakes?” she asked by way of greeting.

“Well I would say they’re quite fond of the little creatures,” Owlan explained, “Snakes in general are held in high regard due to their resemblance to one of their guardian deities. The Faron Python in particular is a common pet.”

“A snake is a common pet?”

“Contrary to popular belief, they can be quite friendly. The Faron Python is known for being affectionate and gentle, that coupled with their penchant to hunt pests earned them a spot in many a Zonai household.”

Zelda found herself in the library once again looking for answers regarding the nature of an engagement, and returned to her room with an illustrated guide to Faron Pythons and their care. Once she was once again seated on her bed with the basket placed in front of her. She made sure to turn to the page to a diagram of the snake’s physical characteristics to make sure she could verify her suspicion. Not wanting to spook the creature, she took the lid off slowly, giving the snake a moment to adjust to the light of her room before taking a closer look.

The serpent itself was shockingly beautiful, bright white scales with splashes of blue along its body that looked almost translucent reflecting the light filtering through her windows. After a few tense moments, Zelda carefully reached in the basket. The serpent didn’t shy away, so she felt secure enough to tuck her hand underneath a section of its body to gently lift it. First it was only a few inches, giving the sweet creature a chance to escape, but it only curled around her hand in an embrace that felt softer then it looked. The snake slowly turned to look at her. A tongue flicked out of an upturned mouth, and Zelda was lost.

From that day forward, it was common to see the Crown Princess of Hyrule walking through the castle with a serpent coiled around her neck. She liked the reaction her new friend had on those around her, even her uncle and cousin seemed to give her a wide berth whenever they caught sight of the python leisurely draped around her shoulders. She never mentioned the snake’s name because she liked the watchful respect she acquired and refused to undermine it by advertising that the intimidating serpent’s name was Noodle. 

With this new edge to her authority Zelda made doubly sure that any gifts from her mysterious groom came directly to her hands. The benefits to this policy were two fold, the first being insurance that her uncle wouldn’t make a further mockery of her engagement or perhaps keep the gift if he took a liking to it. The second was the prevention of any diplomatic incidents. As much as she loved Noodle, Zelda was well aware that a snake in a basket could be interpreted as an assassination attempt. 

As thanks for her new friend, Zelda sent one of her old journals she thought had a thorough description of how she made some of her earlier, more basic elixirs. She knew there was a chance he might not understand Hylian, but she thought it would be a good way to get to know her. She had tried translating the recipes, but gave up after the first few and sent the incomplete list rather than spend her remaining month translating a single journal. Her Zonai vocabulary was primarily conversational and sadly didn’t include scientific vernacular.

She must have gotten her point across, however, as just a week later she was delighted to find a few vials full of her fiance’s attempts to recreate her recipes. 

Zelda was also surprised, quite a feat after Noodle’s auspicious arrival, to find a Silent Princess pressed into glass. At first she was perplexed, wondering if her fiance had simply ventured a lucky guess, but then she recalled the day she began researching the flower and attempting to foster it on her own was also the day she filled that journal, suggesting her fiance had read to the last page of her journal before preparing his third gift.

Her elation at this discovery was fueled by a torrent of relief. She had heard the stories of arranged marriages gone wrong. She had considered countless times in the past weeks that the gifts sent could be a ploy to gain her affections only to have such generosity evaporate as soon as the final wedding vow was spoken. Yet the Silent Princess in her hands whispered tales of a considerate husband, who took the time to read through all she had written and took the time to learn her interests. Deep in Zelda’s chest, she felt hope flicker, foolish as it might have been.

[fallout-fallen-knight]

Caroline Keene and her family

[image ID: a screenshot from HeroForge of a black ghoul woman with short braids. She is wearing a cowboy hat, long duster, cowboy boots, and a shirt and pants that are all brown with tan accents. She has a metal prosthetic hand on her left hand. She has a revolver and a knife strapped to her hip and a repeater on her back. She is holding a hammered tin cup. End ID]

Caroline Keene is a ghoul and former ranger - both of the Mojave and National Park variety - who lives at and runs Black Meadow Ranch in 2289. She, along with her three wives, raise brahmin, bighorners, and other animals, as well as disaffected youths who find their way to the ranch.

More under cut. CW: contains content related to domestic abuse.

Caroline first came to Black Meadow Ranch in 2272, shortly after the passage of the Ranger Unification Treaty, at which point it was owned by the Buckner family, a family of pre-war ghouls. She first came on as a hired hand, guarding the ranch from bandits, and saw firsthand the cruelty of the Buckner’s patriarch, Samuel. There she also met her first wife, Madison Buckner.

[image ID: a screenshot from HeroForge of a ghoul woman with reddish pink skin and long blonde hair. She is wearing a white top with golden cuffs on her arms and blue shorts, and is holding a banjo. She is smiling at the camera. End ID]

Madison and Caroline became close, and Madison began to share with Caroline her dreams of going to New Vegas to become a musician. However, her father forbade her from leaving, using her brother to keep her in line. One night, when Caroline found Madison bruised and bloody, she had had enough, and put both Samuel and her brother in the grave.

After inheriting the farm, Madison wed Caroline shortly thereafter, and Madison began recording her songs on holotape.

[image ID: a large super mutant woman with green skin and brown hair that is tied back in a bun. She is wearing a white shirt with blue jeans and a brown sash tied around her waist, and brown boots wrapped in similar brown cloth. She holds a frying pan, which she extends towards the camera, and an open book with some text and an illustration of some plants inside. There is a campfire behind her and a baseball bat strapped to her back. End ID]

Caroline and Mary met some time after the former took over the ranch, while on a supply run to nearby Jacobstown, where Mary was working at a restaurant in the ski resort. Instantly enamored with each other, Mary did not make contact with Caroline due to her own insecurities, especially after Caroline began bringing Madison to the restaurant. Nonetheless, they soon became acquainted, getting to know one another over dinners, and eventually Mary moved down to Black Meadow Ranch.

[image ID: a screenshot from HeroForge of a tanned woman with short blond hair. She is wearing a black leather jacket over a blue jumpsuit and has a necklace around her neck. She is carrying a shotgun, which is pointed to the left, a sniper rifle on her back, and a pistol holstered on her hip. She has two tattoos on her neck - two black horizontal lines that extend below her collar. End ID]

Beth and Caroline first encountered one another when the latter was still a Ranger, while establishing contact (or lack thereof) with the Boomers. Though Caroline and the other Rangers would stay well outside of the Boomers’ bombardment range, Beth would sneak to the roof of the hangers to watch them through binoculars. After Ace established contact with the Boomers and they opened borders to visitors, Caroline traveled there to search for hired hands willing to help out at the ranch. Recognizing the ghoul ranger she had seen as a teenager, Beth immediately asked Caroline for a job, and returned with her to Black Meadow Ranch to work as a guard and handyman. Usually a woman of few words, she confessed her feelings for Caroline one night, and found that she reciprocated.

[ananas-pineapple-thing]

for day 3 of @heaptober-2020 pls pretend i didn’t do this a day late 😌

jenna nicko and septimus after being reunited in queste uwu

[image description: a digital drawing of Jenna, Nicko, and Septimus Heap from the Septimus Heap series. Jenna has her arms thrown around Nicko’s waist and she is grinning with her eyes shut. she is wearing a dark red dress with gold accents on the sleeves and a golden sash. Nicko is in the middle and has one arm around Jenna’s shoulders and the other around Septimus’s. he is grinning and wearing a light blue tunic with a dark brown belt. there are colorful bracelets on the wrist of his right hand. Septimus is to the right of Nicko and has his left hand on his brother’s shoulder. he is smiling and wearing a light green tunic with a reddish brown belt and a dark green cape. the background is a muted pink with a darker rectangle of pink around the siblings. there are two white hearts to the left of Jenna’s head, three white lines to indicate excitement to the left of Nicko’s head, and two white stars to the right of Septimus’s head. end of description.]

[extremelyblackandwhite]

the unseen one - 18

Pairing: Hades!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: none

A/N: (fun fact i wrote this listening to beautiful ghosts which i have now formally induced into the fanfic’s playlist bc im a nerd who rly likes soft music) this is probably my longest chapter, yay me for writing a long one. hope you guys enjoy it xx

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Y/N looked at her reflection on the golden mirror standing in front of her. She studied the features she always saw in her own mirrors, the same face, the same eyes, same nose and same lips, however the reflection staring back at her was somehow different, similar to those renaissance paintings of mythical female sirens, goddesses, princesses and other deities. She had her once free flowing hair in a hellenic up-do filled with various flowers and a gold like chain intertwined with one of her brains. A few perfectly curled ringlets fell to frame her face which was still makeup free from last night, with a blossoming red tint on her upper cheeks. 

She was dressed in a garment made of two parts, a linen white tunic and a clock held together by an ornamental claps with Hecate’s torch insignia at the shoulders and a light pink sash at the waist. Y/N couldn’t help but wonder what her mother would think of her clothing. When she was younger, she would religiously dress as a Greek Goddess for Halloween yet nothing she’d worn compared to what she looked right now. 

Minthe had been silent throughout most of it, sometimes even giving her judgmental looks whenever she questioned about the fabrics and flowers being used to adorn her. She didn’t completely blame her for doing such things, deities were only found of mortals for two things: war and procreation. It didn’t take long for her to return to the gardens, being placed in front of Hecate who was commanding her maidens like a captain on a ship. 

      - Do you know anything about gardening? - she looked down on the mortal dressed in deity clothing, which she had to admit, seemed to fit her better than the cheap satin piece she was wearing. 

       - I can manage. - Y/N rubbed her hands out of anxiety when talking to one of the goddesses of the Underworld. 

       - Well, pick something and get to work. - Hecate pointed aimlessly towards the groves and their dying flora. Y/N heart tightened at seeing the muddy green colour that the plants had beginning to take, a stark contrast to the lively, colourful flora of its surroundings. Her eyes locked on a particular rose bush whose roses were brownish white, some of its petals constantly falling to the ground whenever the slight summer breeze hit it. She took it upon herself to tend to it, walking over the to wilting bush and sitting gracefully on the grace, hands softly touching the dead flowers which she once imagined to have been the most beautiful flowers.

Y/N decided to take care of the flowers the way she took care of her little plants back in her flat. She started by getting rid of the dead leaves, carefully pulling them from the branches and onto the floor, trimming it to the best she could possible manage. Y/N kept on trimming, eventually reading the thorny white roses, some which were just in desperate need of water and others which were past the point of no return. She directed her attention to those, pulling a few out and onto her robes until a specific one found itself a challenge. The young girl extended her hand deeper into the rose bush, pulling the flower at its base, finding it rather hard to pull it from the branch. She kept on pulling and the flower eventually gave up, detaching from its base and sticking one of its thrones deep into her thumb. She let go of a tiny wince, not wanting to bother the other maidens. 

Carefully, Y/N removed the thorn from the flower, throwing it forcefully on the ground before turning her thumb so she could face it. It had a tiny wound, so tiny that if she hadn’t known it was there, she would’ve never realised it was there. However, it was bleeding heavily, the scarlet liquid dripping and running from her skin to the green grass nearby the bush, staining it the same colour as the liquid. 

She sucked on her thumb, mindlessly dabbing it against her clothing and returning to get rid of everything that did not belong to a healthy plant. Y/N was so into her craft she didn’t notice James returning to the Elysium. He watched her from afar, her lips and nose crunched as she inspected the rose bush with a might which in his mind was the most adorable thing he’d ever seen. 

      - Did you discover anything? - Hecate walked up to the God of the Underworld, curious for any developments. 

      - We are not entirely sure of who stole the pomegranate but we did discover her friend is an oracle. - Hecate rolled her eyes, if there was any type of witchcraft she hated the most it was prophecy telling. The prophecies were always unnecessarily over-detailed and more like riddles than actual pieces of helpful information. She already couldn’t stand the Fates and their seeing eye, but mortal oracles? They were the worse. 

      - Tell me you turned her into a fish ... or a plant. - Hecate was particularly found of permanent punishments. She thought curses and death were much too simple, however James was one to dabble in cursing rather than metamorphism. 

       - Y/N wouldn’t be very happy with that.

       - Y/N is not the Goddess of the Underworld is she? 

       - You have absolutely no reason to despise her that much, Hecate. It is out of character for you to judge before meeting. 

       - I know how this ends, Hades. You are not the first god to take liking to a mortal and trust me it never ends well. - she sighed, arms crossed in front of her white gown. James had to agree with her, he knew way too many myths of when a mortal relationship went wrong but he couldn’t help it, she was just so magnetic and entrancing. Besides, part of him wanted to be next to her all the time and make sure no harm came to her which harshly differed from other deity/mortal relationships which were normally based on lust or petty jealousy between other deities. - You’re a King before you are a man. Remember that. 

Y/N got up from her crutching state, standing on her legs as she patted the dirt and petals off her garments and onto the floor, a proud look on her face as she looked at the relatively healthy looking plant. She let out a little happy sound, hands clasped in front of her collarbones as she turned on her heel to go and find something else to do. Instead, her eye caught James’ figure who was standing next to Hecate in what looked like a innocent conversation. 

She wanted to wave at him, maybe even give him an innocent kiss but Hecates’ words were still very much present in her mind “You are not to be intimate with the god of the Underworld” so were Minthe’s remarks about how he was expected to be seen with someone of higher blood. She wouldn’t want to get him in trouble and perhaps they could speak some other time when they weren’t surrounded by other people. 

      - What are you doing standing up there? - Minthe came up from behind her, a condescending tone present. - Ogling the god of the Underworld?

      - What? No. - her cheeks turned into a colour that matched her pink sash, as she tried to hide her face in her hands. Somehow, the fact that he was, well, he was who he was, made her feel like she needed to keep everything shrouded in secrecy. - Is there something else needed?

     - You know what? - her face contorted into a calm expression she couldn’t really figure out. - We could use some help from some new maidens.

     - New maidens? - Y/N felt like a child, questioning everything and everyone around her. 

     - Yes, you see if you go straight ahead until you reach the river and ask the Charon to take you South you’ll be able to find them. Tell him it’s for Hecate.

     - Oh, alright. - she nodded her head and wandered off into the groves, looking around at the decay. It looked like that particular piece of land of the Elysium was doomed to disappear. She kept on walking as instructed by Minthe until she reached the river where a boat was awaiting her with the same faceless figure. She had to admit that it freaked her out that someone without a face could speak but she tried her best to stay climb as she climbed on the boat, putting on her best courageous face. - Hecate asked for you to take me to the South. 

     - The South? - his voice was rather warm for such a menacing figure. - Are you sure?

     - Yes. 

She couldn’t see him do anything, however, she understood he had accepted her request once the boat started to move. Y/N remained silent, repeating Minthe’s words in her mind. How hard could it possibly be to lead a few maidens back to the Elysium? It was easy, she kept telling that to herself even as the boat reached shore. The sky had turned into a dark scarlet and the chirping of birdies could be heard no more. She looked around but all she could see was darkness.

    - Are you sure about this, miss? - the Charon questioned, noticing the uneasiness of her step as she disembarked. - I’m sure Hecate can arrange for someone else.

    - No. - she shook a forced smile out of her worried expression. - It’s fine. Thank you.

    - Of course, m’am. 

You can do this, she told herself as she stepped onto the darkness. There was no sound, the once dark scarlet sky had faded into pure darkness and it was cold, so cold. Her hands went to her own arms, rubbing them in order to keep warm as she dwelled deeper into the unknown, the only sound heard being that of her shoes clicking against the pavement. 

    - Hmm ... Hello? - she spoke up, gathering every bit of courage. She was in the Underworld after all and this was no longer the Elysium.

She kept on walking until she hit something, a blue and reddish tint coloured the dark room but once she saw what she had hit, her heart stopped beating for a second. She was standing in front of a skeleton. As she place her hand over her chest to regain her breathe the bony arm grabbed her cloth, forcefully pushing her and ripping her tunic. 

    - STOP! - she pushed her hand against the skull, trying to get away from the grasp, eventually gathering enough force to walk back. Screw this task. However, once she tried to find her way back she found herself surrounded by more skeletons and translucent figures all coming towards her. - HELP!

James and Hecate were still in their friendly debate with the goddess being of the opinion that all of this was madness and mainly caused by both of them being ignorants, something he had already heard before. As he was about to shut her to go and tell Y/N of the developments, a bunch of water nymphs came running their way with worry written all over their faces. 

    - My Lady, there’s been a security breach in the Tartarus. - they all said at different speeds and different pitches, which made James’ head hurt at all of that. Hecate took a defensive stand, turning to look at James who just moved his head is disbelief. 

    - How is that even possible? It’s probably just a false ala ... - he was about to dismiss their claims until he noticed a very missing Y/N from her once beloved spot. His eyes scanned the crowd of maidens looking anywhere for her but she was nowhere to be found. - Y/N!

Once he heard no one calling back, his mind immediately rushed to the Tartarus. She couldn’t be there, she had barely been in the Underworld besides no one would take her there, she was a mortal. However, in a snap of his figure he’d been transported to the Tartarus, staff in hand as he strutted down the halls of the Tartarus. He hit one of the walls with his staff, which turned dark blue, giving light to the constantly dark Tartarus. With the new founded light, he could see a bunch of condemned souls surrounding a particular spot. 

    - THAT’S ENOUGH!  - he screamed in a tone that could scare even the biggest of deities, even Gaia herself. The souls, noticing their leader was amongst them, broke their surrounding, returning all to him. - NOW DON’T MOVE IF YOU KNOW WHAT’S GOOD FOR YOU. 

James strutted further into the Tartarus, finding bits and pieces of white linen which could belong to her along with several fresh white roses. Maybe she had been picking them prior, he did not know. His heart clenched as he called out for her name but heard no answer, maybe it wasn’t her, maybe she wasn’t ...

    - B...Bucky? - James heard her faint voice and as fast as he could followed it until he found one of the souls pressing her against one of the walls, boney hands around her neck. He hit the staff against the ground, the once pressure around her neck vanishing as she slide to the ground, hand coming to touch what he guessed was a very sore spot now. She lifted her head to stare at him, a look of regret and fear in her beautiful eyes. - Bucky, I’m so sorry.

    - Y/N. - he rushed over to her side, leaning so he was standing at the same height as her, hands coming to hold her jaw. - Are you hurt? 

    - I’m okay, I’m okay. - she leaned her head onto his shoulder. It didn’t take long for him to feel his clothes had begun to dampen. - I messed up ... I messed up. 

    - Hey, look at me. - he tried to move his shoulder so that she would look at him, but she refused, maintaining her face buried them. - Y/N, c’mon, sweetness.

    - I don’t want you to see me cry. - she sobbed through her speech, arms coming to wrap around his body. Bucky pulled the pin that was barely keeping the now very messy hairstyle up, throwing it onto the floor as her hair descended from the once tight hellenic hairstyle before proceeded to card his fingers through it, every once in a while kissing the top of her head. Y/N eventually stopped her crying, removing her head from his shoulder to stare at him, the look of uttermost regret slowly breaking his heart even more as he saw it on her expression. - I’m so sorry.

   - This is not your fault. - he helped her get up, holding her hands in his as if something returned to dare and harm her. Not that they would, they’d have to be crazy to mess with the King of the Underworld. - I should’ve never taken my eyes off you. 

   - Bucky. - she wrapped her arms around him and for a second it felt like things were back to normal. It felt like things were normal again that she didn’t know he was the God of the Underworld and that she wasn’t doomed to remain in the Underworld. He melted and relished into her hug but couldn’t help but feel how cold she was. She was still a mortal and remaining in the Tartarus would do her no good.

   - Let’s go before you freeze to death. - he joked, not expecting to get a laugh out of her after the current events, however she showed him a small smile. 

He held her hand as he guided her through the Tartarus, her eyes scanning the souls that once were harming her now stood without moving, not even daring to make a sound in front of their King. Something in that made her courage swell up, seeing them helpless standing around her without being able to touch her again. Her head held up high however once she noticed the fresh white roses on the ground, she couldn’t help but stop her step. 

   - They’re beautiful. - she mumbled under her breathe.

   - Are they not yours? - he questioned at her astonishment with the flowers. 

   - No, I wish I could have such beautiful roses. I thought flowers only grew within the Elysium. 

    - Don’t bother your head with it. - he reassured her, although the question was still very much puzzling to him. - C’mon, let’s go. 

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