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chihoshisai · 15 days

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Begrudgingly Yours

Smoker x Reader

cw : set in post timeskip, friendship to lovers, reader has a bit of an attitude, Smoker looks out for reader, denial of feelings until they explode // wc : 3, 188K BUT the following will be around 1,8K as a preview. Link to ao3 will be provided at the end of the preview or you can click here to directly read it there

“You swindler! What’s with these prices, huh?!” The frustration of your voice echoed through the market, only to seamlessly blend with the cacophony of conversations that buzzed daily in the diverse pathways. Before you sat a grumpy fruit stall vendor, who seemingly just as tired of your tactics at negotiation had his arms crossed with a look of annoyance trying to pierce through that fierce skin of yours.

“If you’re not going to buy anything, get lost,” he sighed, pointing his head towards the other stands in a rude manner.

However, haggling had been a regular occurrence for you regardless of your skills. “They’re way too out of range for what you’re selling!” you breathed in the hope that the vendor would eventually fold. With a steady grip, you grabbed the nearest apple and tried to vouch for a lower price, bickering in an endless back and forth until a gloved hand appeared in your field of vision, handing dollar bills to the vendor.

“Is this enough?” The familiar voice rang, causing your shoulders to momentarily tense whilst you forbid every part of your being from looking up at the towering figure that stood behind you — the smell of multiple cigars enveloping you in a familiar embrace, as you secretly breathed in the toxic nectar of the fumes.

Seeing the nod of the vendor, along with the swift way in which he packed you the desired amount of fruits, handing them in a surprisingly polite manner to your extended hand, you couldn’t help but feel slightly annoyed at the uncalled help. Placing the fruits in your shopping bag, you rolled your eyes at the additional words of the individual.

“You suck at negotiating prices, so don’t bother wasting your time like that,” the words pointed out, causing the increase of the bitter feeling that boiled in your chest, much in contrast to the sizzling sensation that threatened to char your heart.

“Smoker,” you perked your head to gaze into the usual frown of your friend — not without stealing a glance towards the parted lips that holded an unusual number of cigars — before making your way towards the bustling streets. “That’s quite a heroic way to let me know you’re back,” you flatly remarked, letting your eyes wander throughout the different stalls and boutiques.

“There’s no need to thank me,” his low voice floated through your ears, as he walked by your side. His presence had both been a blessing and a curse — ever since he had been appointed as the leader of the G-5 unit one, he had frequently been visiting your island during his time off. And with the twisted passing of time the two of you had enough encounters to pass from acquaintances to friends — and lately with the uninvited butterflies and churning that found refuge in your body, it left you fearful as to what the future may hold.

“I never knew marines handed out money to the poor,” you sarcastically scoffed at the thought of how these so called protectors of justice often seemed like ruffians. With few exceptions like Smoker, who secured his place in your life by that simple difference.

Ignoring your remark, Smoker studied your unnoticing self — who purposefully prevented any form of eye contact — until his eyes landed on the grocery filled bag that wobbled in your arms. With adept hands, he successfully grabbed the content of your arms as you absent-mindedly persisted to keep your attention elsewhere.

Having no choice but to peer over at him in these circumstances, a sigh escaped your lips, before they formed an angry pout. “You don’t have to do that,” you told him with a slap on the shoulder which in all honestly probably didn’t amount to much on his far too toned body.

Though, knowing Smoker’s nature, you knew it was useless to try and convince him to do otherwise. “Oh whatever, suit yourself,” you quickly added with a side glance to his exposed skin. No matter how much time passed, such features would never fail to make a rush of heat run throughout your body. And you blamed him for making such a bold decision upon his fashion style. What good is there in exposing one’s chest either way?

“Where are you going?” he asked after resuming course along the market, his eyes eyeing you still, in the hopes of finding an answer.

“Home,” you flatly answered. “I’m assuming you’re here to get some of your clothes mended too aren’t you?” Never in your seamstress career had you ever thought to have a marine as one of your customers, but Smoker insisted he’d rather have his clothes done by you under the excuse of trust in your skills. In all honesty you knew it was most likely his way of supporting your business and an excuse to crash at your place as he waited for his clothes to be as good as new.

“I don’t have anything that needs to be fixed,” Smoker pointed out, lowering his gaze to meet the expected frown you latched at him.

“Then why are you here?” Your brain raced trying to find other reasons as to his visit, “then is it Tashigi? Is she too self conscious to ask me a favor or something?” you blurted out.

“No. Do I need a reason to come visit you on my day off?” He somewhat innocently asked, making guilt creep in the nook of your conscience.

“I guess not,” the words trailed, with your head lowering to the ground. If you weren’t about to busy yourself with sewing while Smoker was here, then what would the two of you do? The thought of a foreign future somehow worried you, as the sincere feelings that coursed through your body came to a high.

When your feet had finally led the both of you to your place, you begrudgingly opened the door to the boutique, which buzzed with a few customers along with the bright grin of your mother greeting you in.

“Smoker, you’re here too. Is there anything you’d like us to fix for you today?” the honeyed voice of your mother asked, whilst you somewhat sourly made your way backstore — your mind still racing to find a way to entertain the unforeseen guest.

“No, I’m simply here to hangout,” he replied to the overly compliant mother who urged him to make himself at home, before shortly following your tracks that led to the home hidden behind the store and into the kitchen.

“Help me with the groceries,” you instructed, a hand extended towards the bag he effortlessly holded.

“Are you that eager to get started?” He skirted over you with the hint of a smile, to place the bag on the table.

“I just want to get done with this chore,” you grunted, grabbing the bag of fruit Smoker had previously paid from his gloved hands. Sometimes your mood was even more gruff than his whenever he was near, providing for a clear contrast to the chirp and easygoing attitude you had while working — courtesy of the strange phenomena that seized every inch of your body at the slight mention, thought or dream of him.

Now that the man in question stood in your kitchen, placing ingredients here and there as he was familiar with the place, you striked fierce glares whenever his back was turned — blaming him for the feelings he caused you to foster. And no matter how hard you tried to suppress them, the wretched thing seemed to nurture itself on its own, until you were left with no choice but to accept that you were in too deep to back down. In spite of that, chickens would have more chance of flying before you allowed yourself to act on the sensations.

Plus, with a man like Smoker, chances were he valued his work more than anything else — and with the passionate way in which he spoke of his encounter with the Straw Hats and how many times he vowed to catch them, you lost count of how many times you jokingly told him to marry the crew if he was so obsessed with them.

“It’s raining,” the serious voice of Smoker snapped you from your train of thought, your head perking towards the window to see the gray filter casted by the rain on the outside. You grumbled some incomprehensible words that sounded like ‘My laundry’ before bolting out of the room with a frustrated grunt, leaving Smoker with free reign in your home. Used to your antics, he simply resumed his task, as he assumed you would certainly snap had he followed you. With a puff of his cigars, he sighed, his head dropping at the thought that you had been more and more grumpy towards him as of late, failing to understand what he had done wrong.

***

“Sorry I took so long, I had to fold clothes,” you began before entering the kitchen, only to find it empty. The grocery bag already having been disposed of and the splatter of the rain echoed through the dimly lit room, as though to provide an additional presence.

“Where did he go?” Frowning at the absence of Smoker, you went on to search various room of the house, knocking on the bathroom door, taking a peek at the living room, and even reluctantly bursting through your sibling’s room and leaving without a word after having scanned the place without seeing the fairly noticeable size of Smoker.

As the idea that he might have already left formed in your mind like salvation, you went to the boutique with the intention of confirming his disappearance. “Mom, did Smoker pass through here?” you asked, seeing her pack already made clothes for the lady that stood next to the counter.

“No, but while you’re here could you quickly mend these for me?” She asked, giving you a simple pleading glance which you happily replied with a nod and without complaint went on to aid around the shop, while the thought of not having to entertain Smoker danced in your mind. But with a start came an end, and you found yourself faced with no choice but to return to the silent home with only the rhythmic disturbance of the rain as company.

Being faced with your previous dilemma, a tired sigh escaped your lips as you dragged your body through the residence, visiting each room once more in the hope Smoker might have resurfaced. “I give up!” The frustrated words escaped your lips while your feet led you back to the kitchen to grab a pack of cookies before climbing the stairs and for them to unceremoniously open the door to your room.

Unexpected phenomena kept appearing today, as though each were trying to test your patience, as you walked in to find the relaxed form of your friend in a deep slumber on your bed, eyeing him with a gaping mouth. He truly had made himself at home. The faint smell of smoke still floated around, filling your nose in its familiar smell, with your eyes daring to take a proper look at Smoker since the settling of your feelings.

Continue on ao3 !

#one piece #one piece fanfic #one piece fanfiction #one piece smoker #smoker one piece #smoker x reader #smoker x you #smoker fanfic #smoker fanfiction #smoker op #one piece smoker x reader #one piece x reader #one piece x you #one piece x y/n

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icyblogs · 21 days

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flesh and bone

Winter represents many things. The start of a new season. The beginnings to an end. Or the beginnings of a new start. Years finally caught up to you, finally knowing enough to summon a creature able to fulfill things beyond your wildest imagination. So why is it that you're now finding out that everything was orchestrated from the very start? Or: A DND au where a human falls into the clutches of a fiend and his guard dog. Patron!Ghost x Fem!Reader x Warlock!Soap WC: 6.8K Based off of this thought ! [AO3] -> Next Chapter Warnings: Start of a dark fic!! Mentions of death, depression, dubcon touching, semi-graphic description of violence, paranoia, manipulation, reader has a backstory to make sense for plot! A/N: i've never written for cod before so i'm sorry if characterizations are wonky okay ty

Winter represents many things. The start of a new season. The beginnings to an end. Or the beginnings of a new start. Most often in literature they can be associated with the circle of life- many animals lay dormant in this time of year. But even still, it goes to show the fragility of life; some creatures thriving in the atmosphere while others retreat back to their homes and really remember just what they’re living for- waiting it out until the leaves sprout anew. Just as the waters of puddles and lakes crystalize into ice or the roads start to slowly become less traveled– many things come into association with this time of year.

Death, mourning, skiing- sledding. The dichotomy of moseying along something in nature that could so easily kill you. Just for a bit of adrenaline. For some thrill or interesting experiences to tell at the next person you see at a tavern, drinking and chortling over a tankard of ale. Albeit most races aren’t built to survive freezing temperatures, they sure act like they are. But some actually are of course. Goliaths with their adeptness of surviving in the mountains- up to twenty thousand feet in altitude. Some dragonborn depending on their ancestry, hailing from ancient beings that simply thrive in some of the most subzero of places in the lands. But of course.. most are not. Putting on layer upon layer to just merely survive in these conditions- unable to even thrive unless the circumstances deem worthy enough.

It is seldom worth the consequences.

The winters were frigid as always, sharp pin pricks of frost seeping into through your stagecoach’s insulation even though the artificer claimed they infused the interior with a heating cantrip. Damn swindler- “100 gold for a safe and warm journey!” It unfortunately was the price of discreteness.. but maybe if you wished hard enough the air coming through would be enough to keep you from turning into an icicle- but it provided almost an almost numbing sensation to temporarily soothe the anxiety pricking at the recesses of your mind.

Just a few more hours, just a bit more time, and everything will be perfect.

Regardless, it was a fitting evening, all things considered. The mountainous path was characteristically barren- as to be expected being so close to Midwinter. Dense fog drifts further obscuring your vision as you stare out the semi-opaque glass into the no man’s land. Trembling fingers smooth out your cloak as you straighten in your seat, the temperatures seeping through and nipping at your skin despite the warm wool gloves that cover the appendages. Your breath was a foggy mist as you breathe, leaning back as the air swirls around and encapsulates the interior of the.. Let’s call it a cozy vehicle.

It was easy to notice the slow pace that the coach was going: after all you can only be lost in your thoughts for so long. Going out of the city during this time of year was always a toss up on how navigable things would be.. But given the surge in technology with these infused machines and .. these wizards and such- theoretically it should be a breeze.

A gilded bag sits beside you on the worn leather seats, the contents packed with purpose- containing the bare essentials, among other things. It was silent besides your ragged breath, gripping the fabric of your cloak in a white-knuckled grip, lips pursed as you glanced through the fogged glass once more as if something would change in the scenery. The engrained tick made it a habit hard to shake off; eyes flickering back and forth repetitively either side of dark path on the left of you to the dark path to the right of you, almost compulsively like it was an itch needed to be scratched despite there being no one there the last ten times you checked. It was a simple inkling that needed to be constantly taken care of- as if the moment your head was turned, you could almost swear that something was looking back at you.

A face? Ah, it was just some branches-

The stagecoach swerves and it makes you jolt out of your thoughts, eyes glancing behind you towards the front of the carriage, absentmindedly chewing on your tongue and a grimace immediately crosses your features, not even registering the pinprick of pain in your mouth.

Seeing the horses rearing their hooves, stopping in their tracks, the horse’s squeals were loud even over the sound of the biting wind. All of it felt too familiar; it’s been years and yet.. It’s almost too easy to fall into the abyss of your mind, your breathing slowing. The slow and steady stream coming to a halt as if the crimson in your veins were mere molasses- stopping the flow to what allowed you to properly breathe, feeling as though your chest was being crushed. Pressing down, ripping the air out of my lungs– peine forte et dure.

It was almost mocking in a sense, the stagecoach seems to disappear and you’re planted firmly back in the painful memories that dance around your skull like a rattle, the taunts and phantom pains drifting over the side of your face. Remembering the curve of a dagger sinking into your skin and through tissue, choking on blood- a sense of blind panic seeping its way into the air that your lungs struggle to remember how to be of use. You recall smoke- thick and permeating down your trachea, choking- gagging for some sort of reprieve, your hands outreached to grab their hand if only you could stretch just a little further-

A bang startles you out of your stupor as you gasp, head whipping to the side- cold sweat dripping down your temples. Your left hand feels unnaturally heavy as you take a deep breath to steady your haggard breathing, trembling as you stare at the coachman- a harengon- you hadn’t recalled his name. He hops into the interior, shooting you a look of concern. You gulp a few times to soothe your dry throat, the taste of iron bittersweet, coating your tongue as if a rich cabernet- thick and heavy. Familiar.

“Ma’am- I’m so sorry. The path is too treacherous I can only take you this far-”

It takes you longer than you would have liked to collect yourself-, licking your dry lips, the cracks from the dry weather causing the simple motion to sting. “And- And I do believe I paid you for a full express ride through the Surykyk Range and to the top of Mt. Akka. Did I not?” Your voice is firm, albeit a little shaky as you cock your head looking at the rabbit with pursed lips.

He looks apologetic, wringing his hat between his two paws, his ears drooping. “Ma’am, really, you have to understand-”

“Understand?”

“Yes, I know you prepaid but the road after this gets too perilous and..” His voice becomes a sort of background noise, an ugly feeling festering as you blink slowly. There was that sensation again you’ve felt a few times over the past few years; a little tingle on the hairs of your neck as they raised, along with the incessant buzz that completely sounds out the haregon’s voice. His lips move- words that seem to go in one ear and out the other, as if making fun of you. His droopy ears, his expression of sympathy- no pity. Looking at you like you’re some sort of wounded animal– no- he was mocking you. Of course he was.

Your hands tremble as they tighten into fists, mouth opening and then closing and you let out a heavy sigh. It was irritating- how could a simple job such as this could not be? Pay some gold to get to the top of a mountain- why was everyone around you acting so completely incompetent? Why are they acting as if you were asking them to do the impossible? In this day and age a small trip of this magnitude should be nothing. A walk in a park. If they weren’t going to be of any use then.. Why are they even in front of you at all? Do they seriously not know how long you’ve waited for this and they’re just denying you access? Over a petty blizzard? No.

Beneath your gloves the skin was taut as you tighten your hands into fists as if it would help ground yourself but to no avail. The low buzzing grows louder; like bees humming around your brain like the ridges and valleys were honey- drowning out the pounding of your heartbeat. Louder and louder, reaching deep into the grooves and making their place known, feeding on your festering distress. On your negative emotions. The sense of trepidation melds back into being wound up like a tight spring as you continue to stare hard at the rabbit; your body acting as if on auto-pilot. His whiskers twitch. And you? Well you just go through the movements and zone out once more, falling into a welcoming void of darkness, surrounding you- comforting you.

The blood rushes to your head as your heart pounds, the buzzing ceasing to a low hum. When you come back to, you are still in the stagecoach, however, you are the only living being in it. It wasn’t necessarily a surprise really, these recent bursts of blackouts are more common as of late, happening more often than not. They happen at the most random of times and always seem to exemplify death- oddly enough it only started happening after the incident. Only after you found out you could summon a greater being to give you power.

Your eyes flicker down to the white boots you were wearing and click your tongue, seeing the sprinkle of red bleed into them as if the blood were a brush and the leather it’s canvas. You try to rub out the stain but to no avail, only smearing it into a sort of pinkish hue. Your eyes then move upwards towards the wooden ceiling and then fall unceremoniously towards the corpse, wiping your forehead with the back of your glove, face losing color. Your hands felt almost achy, the muscles strained and well.. Seeing the way his neck was bent ninety degrees, it was understandable. The aftermath of these blackouts were never easy. Fighting down the growing nausea, you stumble out of the stagecoach, clutching your bag firmly to your chest as you pass the horses- trudging through the rough terrain.

—

The hours feel longer now, the evening turning into twilight, as you take the trek by foot. Sheer cliffs drop sharply into the abyss below as you continue to climb further and further from mass-population; rising steadily in elevation as you take in the sights all around as far as the eye can see. The thick blanket of fog really did make it hard to see everything clearly but what of the forest around you that you could see was big. It was vast, the barren trees with a light coat of fresh snow brushing along their branches. Grand normally in nature, but even more so as they seem to tower over the road: the branches sticking out like gnarled fingers, hanging over the cliffside as if trying to beckon you off the beaten path. The snow covered ground is uneven, the shadows cast by the moon creating disfigured shadows and shapes that play tricks on your eyes.

It honestly didn’t help the anxiety whatsoever; the fog, the falling snow— the overall just sensation of being watched. You blame the paranoia and lack of sleep at the time, but it was impossible to resist the urge to look behind you to see if something appeared in the last two seconds you weren’t looking.

Maybe the Haregon was.. right. It was, for lack of a better term, hell. Auril’s reach was deep- as to be expected being so deep into her territory, but it was terrible. The snow piled up to be knee deep, having to pay close attention and really watch where there was the slightest indentation in the snow- if only to figure out where the fissures were so you don’t fall to an unseemly death. It was nearly impossible to do this with just the moonlight to light your way: wishing that you didn’t care so much in case something went wrong. You should’ve just gone through with all this in the comforts of your home.

After all.. It would surely be a shame if you got so close to your goal and yet never reached it. Would truly be such a pity.

The area was honestly reminiscent of what you might conjure up Stygia being like; how you might imagine that part of the hells being in terms of barely being traversable- snow as far as the eye could see. It wouldn’t be a surprise if you saw a gaggle of frost giants or the start of the Styx the next time you turned a corner as you continued to steadily rise in elevation.

The snow crunches beneath your feet, creating a rhythmic cadence. Every step is a genuine, calculated effort to not slip and fall on the surface- gripping the mountain side tightly as to not fall. And well, in addition to yet everything else the frigid and occasional gusts of wind that sends plumes of snow swirling around you, only adding to the overwhelming sense of sheer isolation in this desolate landscape. The further in elevation you get the more that feeling grows on you. It doesn’t help that you can barely see ten feet in front of you either. However.. At some point you realize you may or may not be lost. It was.. Well, it was hard not to get lost.

Yeah, you were definitely lost.

It was easy to look up at the sky and huff, taking a few deep breaths to calm your nerves, but it was certainly a difficult task. Back in the city when you initially planned out this whole grand scheme, it was theoretically supposed to be an easy trip. Go out to Mt. Akka- far away from civilization in case you mess up the ritual, and then summon the all knowing being and make a pact. It was supposed to be easy. Three easy steps. After all that’s what he said all those years ago. The man that started all this.

—

Days after the incident had time crawling to a standstill- the hours feeling like weeks. Funeral arrangements made and gone through with. Sympathies and gifts sent to your temporary place of residence as if they were truly sorry for you. ‘Sorry for your loss.’ ‘She was a wonderful mother, a great friend.’ If they truly felt that way, then why was it just you looking down at the casket as it got covered with soil? Why were you the only person who seemed to be grieving for this loss? Why did nobody else come to pay their respects as you stayed for days, finding solace in the overturned soil? As if you could claw your way through the ground and climb inside with her, hugging the charred corpse and burrowing between her ribs. Aching for the sensation of a hug, of an embrace.

It really was no surprise when you’re found spending your nights in a shady tavern. Tucked away deep in the city- in alleyways, far away from the upper levels. It really was the best place to drink away your sorrows. It was the perfect place to become a nobody.

Huddled into a corner of a grimey back alley place, the wood sticky and stained with what, you weren’t sure. It was loud that night; and yet there you were: alone with nothing but a tankard of ale to drown out anything else. Just wanting to get numb. Just wanting to .. stop everything. Patrons come in and out, and yet there you stay even as dawn begins to rise. Sticking out like a sore thumb despite the best efforts to blend in. Too rigid to count as a regular, too downtrodden to appear lighthearted enough to familiarize yourself with the other joyous people. Just a meager human in a hodgepodge of species.

That’s where he found you. Sitting on a stool on the end of the bar; staring down at the amber liquid, gently nursing the liquid- too many drinks in to necessarily turn your nose up at the far too bitter and pungent cheap ale. It was now a more comforting taste, dulling the senses, muffling the loud noise, turning it into a vice.

A hand brushes along the curve of your ass- quickly making its way up and settles over the nape of your neck- squeezing absentmindedly, and you’re brought back to the present. Head lolling to the side slightly as your gaze travels upwards. Bright blue eyes stare back at you, resembling a kaleidoscope of precious gems- sapphire, larimar, kyanite- swirling and sparkling with mischief, his gaze adorned with an impish grin. His dark hair was ruffled up in a sort of weird style, long on the top, short on the sides. He was a peasant, it was easy to assume but if you were more coherent, it was easy to tell that he was anything but, despite how he presented himself to you. Back a little too straight, nails clipped and short, no signs of dirt underneath them. The stranger’s fingers dig into your flesh and you frown, squinting up at his sheer audacity.

It was then you noticed his ears- ah. That’s why he looked so .. ethereal. His skin was perfect. But he had facial hair.. A half elf? Regardless, you stick your nose up at him as you scowl, perfectly content to wallow in grief in peace. Trying to twist your head out of his gentle, but firm grip. Mouth opening to tell him off- to leave you the hell alone–

“Ah’ll buy ye a drink bonnie.” His low purr cuts off your starting protests, hovering over you, blocking your view from the rest of the tavern- hand squeezing you once more before falling and taking their place across your lower back as if it belonged there. The warmth of his skin follows your movements as you press against the bar in a sluggish attempt to get some space. The man tilts his head down at you, giving a toothy smile when your frown deepens, looking at him with clear apprehension- “Dinnae ken, i’ll buy ye something strong. You look like ye need it, hm?”

It was easy to squirm under his insistent gaze, nodding. Eyes half-lidded as you blink slowly, the pads of his fingers absentmindedly tapping into your back when you didn’t answer verbally. “Yeah.. I guess so.”

Never realizing that you never had a choice; it truly was never an offer.

Regardless, this stranger- Johnny you later found out his name was- listened to your tales and woes as you blubber over the ‘top’ shelf liquor. Slurring your words incomprehensibly as he sat on the stool next to you, large hand now finding its home in holding the flesh of your thigh far too high up to be considered respectable. It was easy to take the information given to you at heart as he even gave such great life advice. Describing wonderful tales of protection- of something to work for- a goal to try and get to. It was hard to remember at the time why his words seemed to cut through the fog of the alcohol, and why it stuck with you.

“And he’d make sure ye’d never have te worry about nothin’ again. Set up for life, able to get easy protection for yerself. Sounds like a dream, and it’d only be a few small things tae do.” Poisonous words seeping into your ears paired a saccharine sweet smile hiding the maws of a dog ready to bite down at a moment’s notice. Holding himself back, playing nice for you. For him. “I mean yer a wee bonnie thing, drinkin’ your life away. Shh.. shh I ken, I ken- I know it’s hard.” Wiping your tears away as they start to overflow again, hiccuping as you take another large swig of your drink.

John was just one of those people that it was easy to talk to- maybe it was how long you’ve been in this place, or maybe it was the fact that he was buying your drinks, who knows. Just a charming gentleman, knowing all the right things to say, and so what if he was a little touchy? Maybe he just needed a little bit of comfort too, surely you could understand that, right? He was so nice in fact that he walked you back to your temporary residence- silly, you must’ve forgotten you told him where you were staying- and when you woke up the next morning there was a concisely written note with everything you needed to do. The smell of sulfur stuck to the parchment as if burned into the grooves of it.

What a nice guy.

—

Yeah, looking back though it certainly wasn’t the brightest idea to go this far away from civilization. But you heard it was a scary ritual! That there might be a lot of consequences to it! But as you looked around the snowy scene with a huff it was clear that you were more than likely not going to make it any further than this without just flat out dying. So.. you pause in your steps. The situation was just so absurd, that you were risking your life for something that might not even happen. But what else is there for you to do at this point? It sparks a bubble of bittersweet laughter in your chest as you wipe away some flurries on your nose- maybe you can just wish to make it out of here alive and well instead.

You crouch down, awkwardly trying to clear away the snow to reveal the hard ground- your hands freezing wet by this point- the wool gloves feeling as though it was becoming brittle and stiff. It takes a few minutes but you were able to eventually clear a decently sized space around you. The ritual should’ve been performed at a higher elevation, for your sake of mind over anything else- but at this point it was quite literally probably either do or die. So might as well try to give it a last ditch effort, right? And with how the snow continued to descend thick and fast, like a relentless onslaught with no regards towards your personal quest, it was only a matter of time. So you continue to awkwardly carve out a space around you, grimacing at how your hard work was by the minute getting covered up by the steadily growing blizzard around you. The line of sight diminished drastically as the snowstorm swept through the landscape like a ghostly specter, cloaking the world in a shroud of swirling white and obscuring all signs of life or landscape.

Clutching the bag so the contents don’t get blown away, you procure a small glass jar of a fiend’s blood- trembling hands starting to pour it on the ground in an attempt to recreate the shape you recall tracing so many times before. It certainly felt different using blood as paint rather than graphite; practically speeding through the process as by the second, snow was landing on your now coagulating hard work. The symbol was lopsided, the intricate circles and lines definitely asymmetrical and not fully correct- A gust of wind shoots through the gorge, the force nearly strong enough to make you crash into the ground. You stumble as the sound of glass shattering resonates, the sound echoing even above the roaring sound of the wind rushing past you. You gulp hard, shaking like a leaf in a raging storm- when another gust, almost like a predator sinking its claws into your skin; forcing you down into the ground, as if you didn’t have permission to stand. Your body hoists itself up for but a brief moment and then unceremoniously falls, and you scowl as your body is forced into a makeshift kneeling position, the cold tendrils blowing past you as if in the imitation of a bone chilling hug.

Well.. a pact summoning could be done standing or sitting down, you suppose.

Somewhere along the way your demands and wishes for this pact- for this all giving wish might have gotten a little.. skewed. It had been a whole process to get to this point after the accident- years dedicated to sneaking about the forbidden areas of libraries- going from nation to nation, paying hefty amounts of gold for mere names that might aid you on your quest for the power to protect yourself. The power to protect what once had long been past, like a memory fleeting in the wind. Faceless people crying out for you to run, for you to stay- for you to save them– for you to save yourself. The power to reach your hands further out and save your loved ones.

So .. when did that start to twist into the wish to live. To simply survive the circumstances you’ve thrust yourself into?

The blizzard seems to rain even worse as you sort of tussle down a gem in the ground of one of the circles- some emerald pendant your family has had in their lineage for centuries. It was an attachment that felt sort of poignant, one of the only few things that’s survived that is of their memory– blinking away the forming tears as you watch the snow slowly fall over the item. You then proceed to pull out a singed book of spells- one you’ve tried to use a countless number of times, but the weave never seemed to allow you to tap into the energy; and you’ve had to hold onto it for the ritual as it was a magical item, no matter how much it was just a blatant form of mockery. As if saying ‘wizards and sorcerers can use me and yield results, so why can’t you?’ You set the heavy leather book on the other circle.

You crawl against the force of the wind awkwardly to the middle of the practically ruined ritual circle, trying not to ruin your already stained clothing- but at this point did it even matter anymore? A small vial is procured- this blood visibly lighter than the fiend’s- this being one of a fellow human; the blood of a friend. You haul yourself to your feet, digging into the hard dirt to keep yourself stabilized, despite how badly the world was trying to send you crashing down to the floor. Clearly unable to keep yourself steady, you hastily drip the liquid beneath you, already starting the incantations that you know oh so well, spreading the liquid in a smear with your heel, praying and hoping this would work. Watching as each drop sinks into the sleet, the macabre tapestry that spirals out– as if the very land itself was painting a picture; weeping for the fallen, mourning their passing in silent reverence. It was for a good cause- you told yourself.

Years of letting your feelings fester, dedicating years of studying and researching towards this moment, your palms becoming doused in red and the darkening of your soul- all towards changing your fate- though you had hoped this moment would end up being done in a well.. more covered environment, however it was no matter. This was the better alternative- getting power for free. Not having to train and be proficient in magic and study all those years. Your mind sort of just latched onto the idea of working smarter- not harder. To get a shortcut in the way of life.

Infernal spills from your tongue- accented and choppy despite your best recreation of it- clearly not of your mother tongue despite the fact you could practically recite it in your sleep by this point. The incantation was slowly spoken, like a low rumble- reaching the far back of your throat, the cadence deliberate and guttural as that small hum of a buzz begins to slowly begin in the deep recess of your mind. A small pocket knife is procured from your bag, flipping it open as you urge your voice to be louder than the howling wind as the snow swirls around you like a vortex. The blade presses against the palm of your hand.

The pain lasted for but a brief moment, small bubbles of blood starting to dribble out of the wound, falling at a faster rate as it dripped onto the circle beneath you, combining with the scarlet already split. The cold wind continues to swish around you, your clothing providing little to no protection as the incantation becomes louder, the words becoming choppy– more frantic. The shadows grow longer, the trees groan as if bearing the weight of something heavy. And then your voice comes to a stop, panting as you wait for something to happen, smiling as you look around with wide eyes, a numbness starting to make its way through your limbs.

Silence.

And more silence.

It was painstakingly easy to panic, hastily repeating the incantation as loud as you can- something setting in. A realization of what you were doing? Yeah that wasn't working.

“No- Nono.” Tears make it harder to see, blinking them away as another cut was made, adding more blood to the middle of the circle as if that would solve all the problems in the world- “Why- Why isn’t it working? I did everything right-” The pitch rises in your growing hysteria, looking around at the partially covered symbol to see if something went wrong. An exasperated sigh leaves your lips and it turns into a chuckle and then into a full on fit of laughter, your cracked lips forming a larger grin. There’s no way right? That this was actually happening. Years of your time- nearly five god forsaken years. If you ever saw that blue eyed elf you’d kill him. Fucking hell-

“Please-” Your head tilts back as you glance up at the stormy sky, pinpricks of fear running down your spine as the expression simmers into a more somber one. It all comes crashing down as a jarring realization that all this time- you didn’t even know exactly who it was you were trying to summon. That elf and all those people telling the stories of tales across the land, talking of a being to grant power. To grant wealth. To provide enough strength to save the people around you. To take a nobody and turn them into a somebody. To give reason to actually keep living instead of joining your mother six feet under. Buried back under the burnt down remains of your estate.

It was described as simple. Summoning the being in a circle of a fiend’s blood- establishing a connection to the outer realms. That part was simple enough, though it took trading with some shady people but eventually you got what you needed; some mercenary you had to pay off to look the other way as you essentially go through the process of bloodletting an imp. Then draw out the symbol- provide the items of a precious gem and a magical artifact. Easy enough. Provide the blood of a friend- showing how willing you are to cut ties your former life to just to establish the connection, and finish it with a drop of your own blood to finish the connection, all while chanting some very specific incantations.

You did all that. So.. why wasn’t it working?

You performed it perfectly.

The hard ground felt like nothing to your numb body as you sank into the snow once more. Glass glitters in the snow as it presses into the side of your face, but you barely register the pain. It was supposed to work. All those scrolls- all those people, all that time. And for what? A useless invocation. Something that didn’t even work. Taking the time and energy, going out of the way of civilization in case something went wrong and.. Yet. And yet- It was silly. It was so freezing out here, the air thin and hard to breathe, but for some reason it felt warm.

You weren’t anything special, a mere human in the world of dragons. In a world of krakens and beholders and all these amazing things. And yet at the end of the day.. you were just a regular old nobody. Sure, you were of a sort of nobility status- though not anymore– but you were trying to change your past; trying to make yourself better. To change what has already been predetermined- to reach up and touch the stars, not realizing that you were tethered to the realm. Trying to rewrite predetermined fate, as if you actually had a chance at being anything more than being completely useless-

It was easy to lose your train of thought, head swimming as an unsettling terror seizes your chest- everything begins to fracture and break. The sounds around you start to become distant echoes, muffled and indistinct, as if you’re listening from the bottom of a deep well. There's a strange detachment, as if you’re floating on the edge of reality, holding on only by the thinnest of threads. The cliffs around you seem like they’re combining overtop, as if you’re looking through a fishbowl lens: the shadows seem darker, twisting and turning under the moonlight’s glow. Your thoughts slow to a crawl, each one a struggle to grasp onto before slipping away like sand through an hourglass, fighting a losing bottle to have any idea be coherent enough to pass through the filter. Accompanied by a tingling sensation that spreads from the tips of your fingers to the crown of your head, as if your body is disconnecting from itself, each limb growing heavier and more distant with every passing moment.

Why did this happen? Why.. did it not work?

Why did you even try? You just wanted to be more. You just wanted to survive. To live.

Black dots fly in your field of view; dancing around like fairies in the wind, mocking as they flutter across your vision with no rhyme or reason. Your vision blurs- the unsaturated colors of the snowscape soften into monochromatic tones of gray; the moonlight seems to go further and further away as your head sinks into the snow; the dots growing larger as if obscuring your vision.

You’d do anything.

You blink slowly as the buzzing creeps up louder, wrapping around your brain and clinging to the nerves. And then all at once dissipates, leaving an eerie silence in its wake. The feeling of being watched seeps into your conscious state of mind but at this point it was a mere afterthought, feeling hollow as your eyes fall half lidded.

“Anything?” A low timbre resonates around you, emanating from no discernable source. The disembodied voice seems to drift around your fallen form, as if hovering- waiting.

The realization has a little chuckle ripping its way out of your throat. Oh, you were hearing things now. Lovely. You were discombobulated clearly, eyes closing as you breathe slowly, your heart seeming to calm down. The voice- you weren’t exactly sure if there was someone around you or if you were genuinely going crazy, like it was some angel above speaking to you on death’s door.

Right. Keep your eyes open- it’s not time to sleep yet. Right? But honestly it wasn’t even that cold anymore. Rather warm actually- like you were being coddled in an embrace- why would you want to move? Your eyes squint open against the snowstorm, looking around blearily at your limited scope of sight. Your limbs feel not only heavy but numb, and you knew moving them would be a chore and so you simply stay put laying down. There was a brief moment of nothing and then- Ah, right. There was someone speaking to you.

“Uh huh.” That sufficed right? There was an unnecessarily long pause, prompting you to continue talking- after all, what harm would it do? “Wanna live.” Your tongue felt heavy, as if speaking required some sort of insurmountable effort. You shift- pressing your face further against the dirt, lacking the energy to try and do anything else, little pricks of blood starting to stain the fresh snow.

“You’d do anything?” The gruff voice rings out once more and you almost groan, eyes fluttering around uselessly, vision blurring and becoming unfocused. Why was it–he?- asking you that? Aren’t your last moments supposed to be in peace, not filled with conversation?

“Anythin’.” You slur, gasping for breath as soon as the last sound finishes your chest suddenly tightens, constricting your breath, as if the air around you stills. You don’t notice the change in atmosphere, the magic sprinkling around your body- floating and pulling at unseen chains tethered deep in your heart- too hyper focused on the sudden searing pain on the back of your neck; akin to a branding iron.

“Silly girl.”

You writhe at the sensation, whining, feeling the individual lines of runes being carved deep into your skin. The pain was unlike you’d felt before, even from the pain all those years ago. No- this– this was agony. This was being trapped in a whirlpool, dragged under the depths by the relentless force of pain, unable to find solid ground. This was thousands of needles piercing your skin, pulsing through you like a constant drumbeat- each throb, each line being carved only sending waves of agony. Like a black hole, taking you deep into the Shadowfell, into the Nine Hells- being torn apart- each limb being torn. No- not torn. This was more precise, being carved like a butcher- no like a surgeon, meticulously taking their time to dissect you. To pull back your skin and peer at everything that makes you, you. Each individual nerve and muscle laid bare as they are probed and examined, delving into the very essence of your being. Seeing what makes you tick, what makes you smile- your worst thoughts- your deepest desires.

This feeling wasn’t.. unfamiliar oddly enough- in fact the opposite, as if you’ve felt it before, except this time it was a more obvious invasion, a violation of your innermost sanction as it digs deep into your body and pushing past your ribs and settling into its new home, wrapping an icy claw around your heart and constricting–

Then all at once the torment ceases, the pain being replaced with almost a sense of reprieve. You feel the phantom of a hand brushing over the now raised skin, causing your sweat-ridden body to jerk away frivolously, before settling, letting out a soft sigh. The sudden relief was like stepping into a new realm of freedom and tranquility; as if all the burdens you previously had were released. Like gentle relief that calmed the raging of your mind- calming the storm of anguish and bringing a moment of clarity and peace. The fear that once consumed you, the sense of hopelessness that weighed heavy on your heart, the loneliness that haunted you for years—all of it now seemed fleeting, like passing thoughts. As transient as the wind sweeping through the sky, soon forgotten. Those years of all that struggle; all those years of searching and praying for some sort of help. Like a weight lifted off your chest. You could reach above; no longer being bound to the realm: you could do anything. Be anything- Your eyes had closed, when did they close? You open them- seeing nothing but the darkness of the mountains, but it was so weird, as you could feel it- him- hovering around your form like a lingering shadow. A man? A monster- you weren’t sure. It was hard to tell.

And so, when your eyelids inevitably fell closed once more, it only made sense you were too far gone to even notice the skull-faced monstrosity standing over you, his head tilted as he looked down at his newly anointed warlock with an inscrutable expression. Rich amber eyes looking down at you and then- a pleased hum resonates through the air.

Mere minutes later the spot where you once laid was coated with a fresh coat of snow, looking like a pristine blank page, as if nothing had even transpired there in the first place. As though you never existed in that space to begin with.

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singingcicadas · 6 months

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Why are Autobots just as bad as the Decepticons?

Why? Some people seem to be under this impression that the Autobots have some kind of original sin that makes their cause morally inferior to that of the Decepticon 'revolutionists', for Reasons:

1. Autobots are bad because they were part of the old oppressive government.

Okay but it was literally Optimus who came up with the name, when he stormed the Senate demanding for autonomy? Sentinel took it for his own use. Optimus was a fugitive under Sentinel. He was doing vigilante work against the government.

2. But Optimus was a cop and served Zeta. Cops are bad and Zeta was bad so Optimus was just as bad.

Well Optimus only worked with Zeta because Zeta hid his true colours at first and seemed a decent progressive guy. He and Megatron killed Zeta when that turned out not to be the case, thus ending the oppression of the old government.

What did he do as a cop that’s so unforgivable, besides the occupation itself? He wasn’t making political arrests for the government (he treated Megatron with respect and lauded his polemics, he sided with rebel bomb planter Hot Rod) or persecuting people based on their class or function. He threw the cops who did that in jail (sorry Whirl), he got help for the people on the streets instead of arresting them as per government protocol (Drift). The only arrests he was shown to make were either thugs harassing defenceless citizens (the guys beating up Drift), illegal drug and arms dealers (Swindle), murderers, and terrorists. Notice how they’re all Decepticons. Because that’s what the Decepticons were to Cybertron’s society.

— Like it's important to note that there's never been a sweet point in Decepticon history where they were true upright freedom fighters, dedicated to nothing but emancipation of the people. That idealized version only ever existed in Megatron's writings. The Decepticons didn't start out well-meaning and turned bad somewhere along the way, they've always been a ragtag gathering of degenerates from the dregs of society looking for a venue to excerise violence and embrace their pursuit for chaos and power. They were warmongers. Terrorists. Thugs. Weapons traffickers. Opportunists. Sadists. Bloodsport enjoyers/profiteers. It’s those people who were the targets of Megatron's recruitment speeches when he promised them that he'd turn the planet into their gladiatorial arena. It’s those traits that were coveted, sought, valued by the Decepticon ranks. Revolution of the oppressed lmao, aside from Megatron himself, there's not one honest-to-god true proletariat or bottom class in the Decepticons' upper echelons. Soundwave, Ratbat’s lackey. Starscream, criminal tax swindler. Shockwave, mad scientist (with a specialization in body experimentation) and former sketchy Senator. Honest work got you as nowhere in the Decepticons as in the Cybertron social ladder.

This is an example of political persecution. By a team of sanctioned torture police created for this explicit purpose. For literally every bad thing the government did, the Decepticons have done something to one-up them. Think functionalism is bad? How about let's conscript everyone into a combatant and if you don't want to fight you can die. Painfully. Social stratification? How about a military hierarchy for the entire society based purely on might makes right. Empurata and shadowplay? Forced frame alteration and body experimentation. Lobotomy. Grooming. Vamparc ribbon that sucks the life out of an entire city's worth of people? Burn up the planet and massacre half its population. Unlawful treatment of prisoners? Pick from the menu of anti-personal bombs, live incineration chambers, multi-year torture marathons, or a DJD custom treatment. Persecution/neglect of the unfortuate mechs who ended up on the streets? Just throw them straight into the smelting pool to make into something useful instead. Expansion and colonism? Imperalism and genocide ftw. The Decepticons were worse than the old government in practically every concievable way.

3. But Optimus was violent as a cop.

Yes he was violent towards the Decepticons, a Decepticon specifically, Swindle, an unrepentant repeat offender, because they were using innocents to bomb cities and conquering citystates and Megatron must be stopped before the situation got any worse but Swindle just won’t spit any info. Like obviously his actions were wrong but they weren’t completely unfounded considering the circumstances, certainly not comparable to an equal level with the Decepticons who regularly torture prisoners for the entertainment. The most he's guilty of is paying evil unto evil and meeting violence with violence.

4. Autobots were perpetrators of the injustices of the society because they didn’t actively fight against it.

That’s not true, Optimus fought against it by using his position to help people as much as he possibly could; a lot of his work went against government orders. Rachet fought against it by running his clinic at Dead End. Impactor fought against it when he stood up for Rung. The outlier vigilante team fought against it, they risked their lives to help the Decepticons with Optimus when they stole the fake matrix bomb. Hot Rod fought for Nyon. They all fought by allowing themselves to grow beyond the societally imposed prejudices, by focusing past the rightful anger at being born into such a cruel world, by trying to become the best people they could under the circumstances and extending kindness to others no matter how difficult their own struggles. It's the entire society that's dysfunctional and has been dysfunctional since the beginning of history, individuals should not be held responsible when they're just trying to make the best out of the life they'd been given and not maliciously harming anyone along the way.

5. But that doesn’t count as actually fighting if they didn't get engaged in outright war.

Uhhh I’m sure that’s the justification Decepticons used when they were doing join or die massacres but okay I guess.

And then there’s the grand finale：

6. “Autobots are bad because wars are bad and they fought a war.”

The Autobots didn't want to fight. It was the Decepticons who declared war on them. They were literally forced into it. It was either that or accept Megatron’s peace through tyranny. And there is a massive difference between deaths/violence/destruction/resource appropriation that’s justified by military necessity and the excessive use of force like killing and torture for the funsies only the latter would be considered a war crime omgggg people please stop spamming the word war crime

Anyways this line of reasoning need to go and duel it out with the previous one because they are contradictory.

The Autobots are by no means perfect but to make them comparable to the Decepticons is just. I dont even know. It's like putting a piece of white paper with a black dot on it beside a piece of black paper and saying they're the same colour. No. The black paper didn't even start out white. Of course not everything is going to be that clear cut in war but acknowledging the presence of those grey areas doesn't mean you can equate the values of right and wrong.

And also associating the Decepticon movement with freedom fighters is buying into their propaganda. Megatron never gave a shit about anyone's freedom other than his own.

'Peace through tyranny' is a pretty self-explanatory phrase come on

#transformers #idw transformers #maccadam #optimus prime #Megatron #The black dot is Prowl-shaped

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mushiemellows · 30 days

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Okay so I don’t know if I’ll fully flush it out but I DO want to one day write a full cowboy/western au with my own spin on things. I think the main character would actually be Koby sent from the local Militia General to give a letter to Jinbei. Jinbei’s the appointed sheriff of Mil Solada, a flamboyant little town that’s a bit off the grid. So young Koby comes to town and is introduced one instance at a time to its residents. But he starts to realize slowly that it’s not quite the town the Militia thinks it is because, in fact, it’s entirely occupied by the Strawhat Gang. Jinbei’s not actually the law here, because he serves under the boss Luffy. And the letter Koby’s delivering is the summons to Ace’s hanging.

Nami- owns the bar/inn. Big time swindler, gambling queen, certified weighted dice and trick card champion. Will kill a bandit for $5.

Sanji- bar’s chef (but mostly the bartender). Wears the silliest little suits and everyone calls him a city boy.

Brook- bar’s musician at the piano, LOVES to score a fist fight. Also hangs out at the ends of town scaring off rogues that try to come for the boss’s bounty.

Zoro- a full, classic ass Kurosawa samurai.

Usopp- traveling storyteller/toy maker/puppeteer with the caravan and everything, but don’t think he’s a weak mark because he’s a wicked fuckin shot when push comes to shove. (The caravan has a beautiful carving of a ram along the top)

Robin- FIRST OF ALL Native Robin. second of all? Book collector, printing press star. She’s distributing pamphlets. And she’s snapping necks.

Franky- is totally into the big technological boom. The photograph. The telegram. He’s trying to get wires out to Mil Solada but they’re so far from the train line (train accident took an arm, mine explosion took a leg). Also someone need to help Robin with her Grasshopper press when it needs maintenance ohhh nooo. General town handyman BUT he’s working on a wagon that’ll totally kick Usopp’s caravan’s ass in a race.

Jinbei- like I said. Sheriff. Assumed law but he’s actually just using his placement as cover for everyone else to do as they will. Has a significantly different view of justice than the bastards at the Militia, so he’s letting Luffy and the gang act on that justice while turning a blind eye.

Luffy- simply wants to build a town where EVERYONE can be free.

And as he gets adjusted to this strange place, maybe Koby’s realizing just how wrong he’s been about how the world works.

Jinbei gets the letter about Ace and is planning on protesting by not going, but Luffy sees it and starts to plan the Cowboy Raid Of the Century. Full guns blazing. And the plan goes perfectly to save Ace with not a single hiccup, no sir 🙃

#headcanon #au #one piece #one day I may flush this out but there’s a few spots where I’d need to tread carefully

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vaniloqu3nce · 11 months

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Vittoria is a dove. She often has visions that predict something good happening to her or those around her. She is known as the swindler of the family. By the age of three she learned Gomez would do anything for her, and thats how she ended up with a designer wardrobe for Christmas. She learned the “Enid Face” from Leo, which is a very secret pout that Wednesday cannot refuse. Leo only did this once in his life, he finds it demeaning to stoop to begging. She is a very talented pick pocketer, it seems to come naturally to her to find and sniff out a credit card with the highest limit as Gomez would come to find out. He’s always amused though.

Vittoria loves Disney movies, she will never grow out of it. Tangled is her favorite and she often asks Wednesday to style her hair in one long braid like Rapunzel in the movies.

Naenia is a raven, and her visions are physically exhausting. They’re usually of something dangerous or bad happening, which is why she’s the braincell. Often times she’ll have a vision and save Vittoria or Leonidas from themselves. Her visions cause her physical pain like headaches and are extremely vivid, often times she needs to rest afterwards somewhere quiet. Usually her family will tend to her while she’s recovering.

Naenia moves uncannily quietly, she has a habit of just popping up behind people, even as a toddler. She’d crawl around silently and scare Enid to death by just appearing somewhere she hadn’t been before.

As Naenia grows up she uses sign language to communicate with people outside of family, she finds it much easier than speaking and quicker than writing. She learned from Thing, and her siblings were quick to follow along because helping Naenia find more ways to communicate that she’s comfortable with is important to them. She’s comfortable around her family, but not other people. She’s not a fan of people. Mostly animals. She’d save a spider over a person.

When the girls first went to school, they were mostly excited to see Leonidas, they would always wait for him to come home from school so they could play with him. They would come with Wednesday to pick him up from the bus stop as often as they could. Vittoria is especially excited to make friends and Naenia is excited for the library.

Naenia is nervous about the loud crowds so Leonidas walks them to class (not like he wouldn’t do that anyway) on their first day. They soon find out everyone is afraid if Leonidas (he has a bit of a reputation, nothing that can be legally proven but a reputation) and that makes it easier for Naenia to handle so many people, since the whole hall will clear not to touch Leonidas. So, Leonidas walks them to class every day. He calls them blood sucking parasites while silently daring anyone to come within six feet of them.

Compared to the twins, who barely scrape past three feet, Leonidas grows rapidly. He is the tallest kid in his grade at 5’3. He sort of looks like a giant following them around the halls scowling at everyone.

Vittoria loves school, she makes friends very easily and becomes very popular within the school. Mostly because she rides in a limo and brings candy for everyone in her class, Vittoria likes spending money on others too. Sharing wealth with people is something Gomez taught her, so she often uses her allowance (and her pout) to get things for her class. She’s the reason the school’s playground got upgraded (she called Gomez at three am). She traded Morticia’s spot as favorite grandparent. Even though she’s one of the youngest kids, she’s still extremely popular. She talks to everyone, is very friendly to everyone, and loves participating in class. She struggles with the academic portion, Vittoria doesn’t really enjoy math or writing or history. She likes drawing and gossiping, and pretending to act out scenes of Tangled where she duels kids with frying pans. Often, Naenia will steer her back to working when she gets distracted being chatty or social.

Naenia doesn’t make friends quite as easily as her twin, her limited speaking is a factor but Naenia had never been a social person outside of her family regardless. Aside from the loud noises, the memes she doesn’t understand, and the cafeteria food, Naenia loves learning and school is something she excels in at an early age. She especially likes that her teacher lets her go to the library if shes feeling overwhelmed, and even lets Vittoria go. She usually stays close to Vittoria and by proxy, makes friends because of her sister. Most people are nice to her because of Vittoria, but she’s fine with that because it means she doesn’t have to explain herself to anyone. The other kids are usually very nice to her though, some even try to learn sign language and she held little sessions after school with Vittoria. It’s one of few times she didn’t want to leave a social setting after an hour.

Because of her crippling side effects of her visions, Naenia wears gloves everywhere outside to refrain from touching something directly. She also does not touch people or like people touching her. If she has visions in school, Wednesday comes to pick her up without fail.

Vittoria: This is my twin Nia! She likes to be called Naenia, she doesn’t talk much but she writes super spooky stories. Okay she doesn’t like a lot of people crowding her so let her read, shoo! Lets go play ninjas, warlocks, and princesses!

Leonidas is fairly infamous in the school for getting expelled from four others, there are plenty of rumors about it and despite being outwardly inviting, Leonidas is not friendly to most. Most of the rumors floating around are exaggerated, but he doesn’t correct them. After getting into one altercation with a boy who tried to touch him and ending up suspended for punching him as hard as he could, most people don’t speak to Leonidas and avoid directly touching him. He finds school to be a waste of his time, and hard to sit through. Though he gets good grades, Leonidas will often finish work early and get bored. Sitting still is not his strong suit, and especially in school it leads to trouble. His patience starts with Naenia and ends with Vittoria, so he has trouble getting along with other students. People outside of his family often annoy him.

Vittoria teases him because he “doesn’t know how to make friends”.

Leonidas does eventually make one friend, a human boy he defends from bullies named Adisa. Leonidas just thought they were loud and now this boy with a tuba too big for him sits next to him and talks to him about things he doesn’t understand every time they have music, or lunch, or PE. Like “texting” and “sleepovers” and “video games”

Leonidas denies the fact that they’re friends but never tells him to sit somewhere else because “everyone else is a worse option.”

#wenclair #eniday #wenid #enid sinclair #wednesday addams #enid x wednesday #wednesday x enid #wenclair kids au #wenclair parent au #wenclair future au #Naenia glaring at everyone even though shes not even mad thats just her resting face ☠️#everyone thinks Leonidas has killed some kids and his parents got him off #Vittoria is out here bribing the entire school in kindergarten and buying her way to popularity #If anyone invades Naenia’s personal space Vittoria and Leonidas plan their demise #naenia is the baby ❤️#she does not like being treated like the baby ☠️#if you squint you can see leo denying the fact that having someone to talk to about music theory is nice

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landofzero-archive · 7 months

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Ibara Saegusa - Private Room Chapter 1

Writer: Nishioka Maiko

Season: Autumn

(Location: CosPro Conference Area)

Ibara: ………

This is probably the best time to contact the other party. Even though the other person is of higher rank, I don’t like humbling myself too much and being criticized.

Now, what’s the next matter I have to work on? Oh? What on Earth is this stack of paper?

…… Ah, is that the photogravure gallery of Eden I took the other day? Hmm…… At first glance it looks like there’s no issues. (1)

Well, I think it’d be better to check in with each person.

His Highness is particularly sensitive about his appearance, especially when it comes to visuals. I’ll check with him to be sure—

Hm? An electronic sound coming from my tablet……?

(Ah. Is it that alarm that sounds when the stock price fluctuates?)

Uum……?

Huh? What on Earth is this……?

(The price of the stock I bought the other day plummeted……?

It’s common for stocks to fluctuate when investing, but I had read that this stock was pretty solid……)

…… Did I read it completely wrong? What a shame…… I ended up paying for an expensive life lesson.

(Location: Starmony Dorms (Exterior - Night))

Ibara: Fuu…… (Turning his head to relieve his stiffness)

(I’m tired…… No matter how many things I settle and finish, the work just keeps coming one after another. Today was a really busy day.

I found out I double-booked a shoot, was unable to get a hold of the other party, and was told they lost the documents I had gone through great lengths to create.

To top it all off, how on Earth did I only discover this evening that there was an unprocessed matter due today……!

Even though things went well in the morning without any major trouble……

—That’s right. It was around the time the stock price fell. Problems kept occurring in tandem.)

Haah. I’m not lucky at all…… Oh?

Natsume: Hm?

Ibara: Ah, hello. Are you heading out at this hour? Thank you for your hard work.

Natsume: I was just trying to go to the nearby convenience stoRE— More importantly. Fuuun…… HeEH?

Ibara: …… What is it? I’d like you to stop staring at me so intensely.

Natsume: I sense you weren't feeling very ambitious toDAY. What's wrong with your conditiON?

Ibara: Huh……?

Natsume: It feels like you’ve been constantly exposed to the negative energy of a malevolent stAR. You’re down on your luCK. It’s a pretty rare conditiON, Ibara-kun.

Ibara: What? It’s true that there were quite a few incidents today but I didn’t think there were that many.

Well, I suppose today just happened to be that kind of day. Statistically speaking, it’s normal to have bad days even if you’re lucky.

Natsume: That’s riGHT. It’s normal to have good days and bad dAYS. But your situation is differeNT. As I saID, you’ve faltered.

Sometimes it’s no exaggeration to say that there are people possessed by malevolent spirITS. That’s exactly what your condition is nOW.

It’s rare to come across such a caSE. How about it? I’ll tell you your fortUNE.

Honestly, I don’t care about you, but your condition is interesting because of your jOB.

Ibara: No, that’s quite fine. I don’t wish to hear such troublesome talk. I don’t believe in any of that spiritual stuff.

To begin with, if all fortune-telling was correct, then no gambling would take place and no one would fail in their investments.

Natsume: You don’t understAND. Fortune telling is not predictiON. General fortune telling is based on “observation” and “deductION.”

There are fortune tellers who claim to be 100% accurate, but they’re not fortune tellERS. They’re swindlERS.

Well, think about what I’m about to say as just small tALK. All I'm saying is that you can make the ingredients into whatever dish you want them to BE.

Ibara: Good grief. Well, I’m fine. I’m not interested at all, but I decided that it would be more reasonable to just listen rather than have a debate here.

So could you please hurry up and finish your fortune telling quickly?

Natsume: AlriGHT. I sometimes get asked to read fortunes by people I meet for work, so I usually keep this with ME. It all worked oUT.

Ibara: What did you just pull out? A pendant?

Natsume: No. This is a penduLUM—Hmhmmm…… I see. As expected, the rotation of the stars has worseNED.

Ibara: Even though you were talking to me in an insinuating manner, you were being very casual. What could you possibly understand about me at that level?

Natsume: I’m not trying to get into technical matters here, but taking more time doesn’t necessarily improve accurACY.

That’s right…… Maybe you could turn your luck around by reclaiming something familIAR.

Ibara: What? Even if you say that……

Natsume: Whether or not you believe it is up to you, Ibara-KUN. Like I said, just think of it as small tALK. Well, keep it in the back of your mIND. Then, I’ll be OFF.

Ibara: …… Good grief. I would like you to say what you want to say and not leave immediately……

---

TL NOTES:

1. A photogravure is an intaglio print process that was sometimes used to produce high-quality reproductions of photographs in ink. Traditionally it involves a copper plate being etched and then coated with light-sensitive gelatin that was exposed to a film positive. Fancy black and white photos. This instance was more than likely the digital version of the technique, which involves the masking and printing of various light values that have been etched, building up its values over time.

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#ensemble stars #enstars #enstars translation #ibara saegusa #natsume sakasaki #era: !!#type: scout #tl note: (Natsume voice) Mercury is in retrograde Ibara-kun

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dathen · 1 year

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Even the triumphant issue of his labours could not save him from reaction after so terrible an exertion, and at a time when Europe was ringing with his name and when his room was literally ankle-deep with congratulatory telegrams I found him a prey to the blackest depression. Even the knowledge that he had succeeded where the police of three countries had failed, and that he had outmanoeuvred at every point the most accomplished swindler in Europe, was insufficient to rouse him from his nervous prostration.

I love how realistic the depictions of Holmes’ depressions are. They aren’t tied in with whether people would expect him to be happy or sad; in Study in Scarlet they’re just moods that hit him without warning, and here his ‘blackest depression’ is a contrast to the celebration and praise his success earned.

#letters from watson #the reigate squires

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midnightlee25 · 10 months

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Random Yandere Headcanons: Akudamas all sharing a darling

This is with all 7 Akudama.

It’s going to be a mess from the beginning to the end.

It is kind of a weird stand still only barely held together by their darling. Each one is biting their time until the chance arises when they can take their darling away from the others.

As time goes on there’s at least four of them that accept sharing a darling but they’re still going to be two that will still try to take them away from the others.

Since they are all a force to be reckoned with, their darling never has to worry about being attacked because they are always going to have bodyguards around somewhere.

Their darling will also always be smothered by someone.

Punishments are not out of the picture however they can be lighter depending on what happened and who’s around.

They have absolutely no chance of escaping the akudama.

Swindler, Courier, Hacker, Brawler & Hoodlum have collectively decided to not leave their darling alone with Doctor and Cutthroat nor let them do punishments.

#yandere #yandere headcanons #akudama drive x reader #yandere akudama drive #akudama drive

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teddybearty · 7 days

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Hey hey I haven’t been posting any art but I have been watching a few shows!! Spoilers below for the following:

Bucchigiri?! and Akudama Drive

I binged Bucchigiri in like two days and I love it but there’s some obvious gripes I have with it.

The main character Arajin is so god damn shallow it’s hard to root for him. He’s so so girl obsessed it’s infuriating!!! Matakara deserves so much better than that sad sack of bull!

Not to mention him becoming a Honki Person and “redeeming” himself was really fucking fast. It doesn’t really feel earned in my eyes and again I only really cared about Matakara at the end of it all.

Besides Arajin and Mahoro (who despite having a cute design annoys me to no end), I love LITERALLY EVERY OTHER CHARACTER! KAMAO I ADORE WITH MY WHOLE HEART!!! 💕

I literally JUST finished Akudama Drive and it had been on my radar since I heard Kodaka had a hand in it (and the designs caught my eye too). I hate that it took me so long to get into it and now that I’ve had…

I’m just so empty.

Going in, I adore the setup. Some random girl joins a villain heist it’s AWESOME. I love all of the characters and their interactions, mostly when they aren’t on a mission. It’s really something.

I’m not the biggest cyberpunk fan and I didn’t fully realize it was a part of that genre til episode 10 (I don’t really look at genres and whatnot before going into most shows). I kind of understood what they were trying to saw with Kanto and the people becoming this super computer but…I wouldn’t understand WHY they would want to do that.

Honestly I think the aspect of Kanto is the only thing I have issue with. That and the Bunny and Shark videos.

Their designs are silly or whatever but I hated that their videos are in every episode. And I know it’s for the brainwashing aspect but do we as the audience need to watch it??? I dunno.

That aside the characters are what make this series great to me. They’re all very interesting and different from one another even if they are all thrown under the same label. I…can’t think of a character I avidly disliked apart from like the Executioners as a whole (minus Master and Pupil bc they’re pretty good)

Brawler, Hoodlum, Swindler, and Cutthroat are my biggest faves tho! 💜

Definitely expect art from both shows in the near future!!

#bucchigiri?!#akudama drive #teddy talks #teddy talks about anime #I might make more posts like this in the future #this is kinda fun ngl #y’all are free to recommend shows to me if you want #just nothing longer than like 100 eps for now #thanks in advance

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sidestepping · 10 months

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More Light and Light it Grows

DISCLAIMER: Everything below belongs to Malin Rydén, of course. CONTEXT: Trying my hand at something a little longer that’s been knocking at my writing door for a while; the short introduction to a multi-chapter fic taking place pre-HB. SUMMARY: It's 2011; after the Nanosurge and in the golden years pre-Heartbreak, Sidestep's collaboration with the Rangers is full of exhilarated joy and also, tangentially, fraught with secrets, distrust, and lies. The Void's influence is rising. Hollow Ground's turf is expanding. The Mayor's position is hardening. Secret files are disappearing, and suspicions of intelligence gathering grow sharper every day. As allegiances and theories collide, Ricardo and Una attempt to shed light on what the fuck is going on at the heart of the team, and shed light on each other too. Now, if that means fucking each other over instead of fucking each other silly, if that means lying until their tongues fall off instead of lying tenderly together, then REALLY who's to judge? WHAT TO EXPECT: Chen’s being suspicious, and very dry, and very salty, and kicking off what will hopefully become more interesting down the line (I discovered halfway through that Chen might not be the BEST to start a story dynamically, but here we are).

0. Surveillance

2011. (Wei)

That’s enough. You’ve heard enough.

“Stop.”

When your hand slams on the table all eyes turn to you; but your own are trained on Sidestep alone:

“Just stop lying, you little shit.”

“What did you just call me?” she says, as if you she hasn’t called you worse.

“You let The Swindler go. Not Armada, not their crew—“

“Oh, did I? And you have proof, I bet?”

“Just admit it! You think I’m blind?”

“Maybe stop ogling me for two minutes, Stalker McCreep, and you won’t dream awa—”

“Hey, hey—”

“No!” you cut him off, hissing. Not today. You’ve had enough of this, of this chaos, of his favoritism, of his sweeping it all under the rug, laughing the filth away. “You know she’s lying. We all know she’s lying. How are we supposed to prepare for the Void when we’re not sure we can trust those in our midst? For all we know—”

“What the fuck are you insinuating?” Her voice is raised now, and plucks at you like the wrong chords of a violin.

“Come on, Steel,” Anathema starts, but they’re cut off before you brush their pleading aside:

“He’s right.”

That’s Sentinel. You don’t mistake it for clean allyship, exactly; this is a blow against Ortega as much as it is support to you.

“He’s right,” he repeats. “We all know what happened. It’s not the first time.”

“Exactly. How many times are we going to let criminals go because they’re chummy with—”

“Criminals? Criminals?”

“—with collaborators we’re not even all willing to work with?” You continue, doggedly.

“Have you seen yourself, Tin-Man? Do you think the hundreds of corpses you left in your wake god-knows-where would call YOU a crim—”

“Sidestep!” Anathema cuts her off, aware of the line crossed, too close, blurring.

You—you don’t blink. You don’t let those words seep into you. You can just close the door, gently. In their disappearing wake your own voice falls like a guillotine:

“I told you to shut your mouth.”

(Continued here)

#fhr #fallen hero: rebirth #charge #steel #chargestep #una #notebooks #more light and light it grows

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scarletlizzard · 1 month

Note

Needy little things. I suspect that a couple of anons are also commenting on their mains, but I’ll simply rank them based on their emoji interactions. Here’s your list, starting with the nethermost submissive bottoms and working upward:

- Sweet Koala🐨, you are such an ardently willing bottom that you’re practically burrowing underground at this point. Adorable.

- Little Bow🎀, you are very much Pillow Princess energy and I refuse to put you higher out of principle. Despite your recently exercised brattitude, you couldn’t top a pizza.

- Bolty⚡️, whilst your interactions have been few, each has been wildly submissive and well-behaved.

- Pup🐶, a simple thing with simple thoughts: ‘someone put a leash on me’. Very good pet, even if you require a little correction spray first.

- Mousey🐁, again, few interactions to base this off but approximately zero top energy has been exhibited. Pleading for a brat tamer screams bottom.

- Icicle🧊, it is a testament to the bottom energy of this blog that you’re as high up as you are. A bit of bite, but respectful energy, all in all a good, submissive ice cube.

- Lippy🫦, this nickname is half emoji-based term of endearment, half a nod toward your impertinence. Teasing energy, would eagerly bottom, but also I personally believe could top anyone prior on the list. Also could very much power bottom, whereas I’m convinced the rest are submissive.

- Pilferer🦝! (I’m afraid I cannot see raccoons as anything other than swindlers and highwaymen, ready to steal your loose change) - switch energy. A hufflepuff that’s duly respectful to me, but quick to patronise dear Rose. I’m also getting service top vibes (I think a power bottom femme could have you crumbling).

- This bacchanalian bitch🥃 (fondly), honestly you exist in another plane to this list because you are just here for the vibes. Having said that, I’m going for switch vibes again, for no reason other than the excessive use of exclamation marks.

- Quavers🎵, I think that you predominantly top, though I’m unsure as to how you’d fare with some of the more dominant anons on this list. You openly admit that you’re into sharing, and I would imagine you quite like the fact that you don’t have to be the most dominant person in the room. Dom-leaning switch vibes.

- Dolphin🐬, you’re up! The softest of dom vibes, I’m thinking golden retriever aura, lots of check-ins and also potentially younger (solely going off the fratboy energy of starting sentences with ‘bro’). Clearly had a risqué photo but waited for consent, very wholesome, thumbs up to you, my young, toppy friend.

- Pussycat🐈 by name, pussycat by nature. A gentle soft dom, I think actually a stone top, but also a service top with the right person, based on how eager they are to worship.

- Pirate🏴‍☠️, technically speaking I’d say that they’re the most ‘dominant top’. Undecided as to whether they’re the maturest or healthiest, but there we have it. Stop drinking and driving.

And there we have it. All said tongue-in-cheek and very much subjective based off a handful of vicarious interactions, so nothing serious here, sweet anons.

-🫖

For everyone I suppose

#scarletlizzard asks #🫖 anon

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purple-petrichor · 9 months

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MarriageToxin Profiles Vol.1

Haven’t seen these in English yet, so I’m posting them! Taken from the Japanese manga releases. Translated by myself. Sorry for the image quality;;

Gero Hikaru

DOB: November 24th Blood Type: A

Heir to the "poison user" Gero family. The type to have many copies of the same clothes. Keeps a large number of work tools under his coat. If the room he lives in isn’t constantly clean, he feels unsettled. On nights after something rough happened, he cleans public toilets and other places until they’re better than new. Due to that, rumors of an urban legend “the Midnight Cleaner” have begun to spread throughout one portion of the city.

Amount of money spent on DIY candy kits per month: approx. 200,000 yen *(approx. $1,500 USD )

–

＊TL Notes: Here’s Gero! Starting off strong with the main character.

Blood types are included in almost every profile in this series. In Japan, blood types are actually considered pretty important for determining one’s personality and romantic compatibility. It’s similar to Western astrology with star signs. For more detailed information, search google or read here. In Gero’s case, Blood Type A is actually the most statistically common in Japan (40% of the population) so that makes him a relatively normal guy. According to one article, “people with blood type A are known to be highly-organized, particularly precise, and pay much attention to details. They are diplomatic and friendly in nature, so you won’t have a hard time approaching them. They seek harmony among other people, but they sometimes prefer to be alone because of their sensitive nature.” Checks out overall.

The DIY candy kits money is…far too much. Gero please what are you doing. Upon searching, a single package is like, $3.90 USD. So, $1500/$4 = 375 kits per month. That’s 93 per week. That’s 13 per day. Gero is the personification of that one dril “spend less on candles. no.” tweet. --

Kinosaki Mei

DOB: May 18th Blood Type: AB

A marriage swindler. Capable of winning-over any partner within 30 seconds. The possessor of an outstanding "mix-and-match" fashion coordination technique. On days off, ends up lounging around inside the house all day. After a long life in abject poverty, will eat anything. Once survived for 3 weeks based only off of gorging food on dates. Living space is small, and strewn with clutter. Is hiding a big secret. –

＊TL Notes: The original text actually manages to avoid using any pronouns for Kinosaki. Given how Japanese is structured, it’s possible to sometimes drop a subject/object/pronoun entirely, without compromising the sentence. Unfortunately in English that’s much harder to manage, and often ends up sounding like you’re suspiciously trying to avoid the words. I tried to compromise here by arranging the text around. Just know that in the official text, they avoid giving any specific he/she gender markers for Kinosaki as of current.

For Blood Type: “This blood type is the combination of the precise qualities of A types and the free-spiritedness of B types. Given that it’s a rare blood type, people with this type are often perceived as geniuses or [eccentric]. They can be unpredictable and curious. People who belong to the AB type usually jump around from one activity to another, depending on their mood and situation. They chase ideal dreams and pursue learning and knowledge in a wide range of fields. They are calm and rational but have a complicated personality.” Again, checks out for a swindler known for changing to handle any situation.

…Yes the final line does say “a big secret”. Uh. EDIT: Chapter 54 sheds new light on this line! Perhaps it’s not a dirty joke after all, but something far more tragic. 👀

More coming soon!

#marriagetoxin #gero hikaru #kinosaki mei #mei kinosaki #marriage toxin #MT profiles #lmao official Protagonist Syndrome multiple sets of the same clothes #congrats to Gero on becoming an official Cryptid #also November is uhhhh 9 months after Valentine’s Day #does the Gero family celebrate that or…#yknow at the start of the series I wondered if he ate candy kits and nothing else #we’ve seen him eat real food since #but given that budget I Wonder #Gero does the family have a special medicine to control your blood sugar or something #also I want to see Kinosaki eating chips and binging TV on his days off #love how the second line in Kino's could mean win someone in love or topple an opponent #the fashion term specifically refers to re-using the same item in different ways btw #must be that scarf he always wears #Gero’s clean room requirement is rly unfortunate given uh Kinosaki’s profile info #them living together would be a DISASTER

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princejackal · 2 months

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The RO List

This is a long time coming.

This is a list of confirmed ROs in the game. So far I’ve focused on love interests who your MC will meet early on in the game. Love interests from other kingdoms like Assyria, Babylon and one of the Aramean states have yet to be included.

In the game, marriage is about political gain. So your MC is suppose to marry for an alliance and not because they simply love the other person. While most love interests can be romanced by both male and female MCs, a marriage will only be recognised between heterosexual couples. But gay couples can have a private ceremony to affirm their relationship.

DISCLAIMER! Your MC can choose not to marry and be single. They can choose to monogamous to one person. Or they can decide to have numerous nameless concubines to bear children for them. It’s really up to you.

Now on to the list.

The Companions:

The first group of ROs are your three companions you’ll meet shortly after getting out of prison.

Name: Najim/Najima [M/F]

Race: Ghoul

Magic Type: Blood Manipulation, Shapeshifting

Description: Your friendly neighbourhood ghoul. N is the one who helps you out after you escape from prison. He/She sees your potential and is willing to go the extra mile for you. N doesn’t mind cracking a few skulls or eggs in order to secure back your throne. But don’t expect them to open up to you in the beginning. N has a past that they’d like to keep hidden.

Political Power: N doesn’t have a family to help you. In fact, N would be reluctant to marry your MC because it would cause a scandal. Even though N is a jinn, they are a wrong type of jinn. Ghouls are not seen in the best of light in the kingdom. Their shapeshifting ability has given them a bad reputation because shapeshifting is mostly used for espionage and assassination jobs.

Name: Leila [F]

Race: Qarin

Magic: Earth Manipulation

Description: Leila comes from a merchant family. But times have been hard for her family as trade routes have been monopolised in the kingdom and only those politically connected to the elites get good trade routes.

Leila is an excellent negotiator and can sell anything to anyone. Like any good merchant she has detractors who accuse her of being a charlatan and swindler who sells fake jewelry at highly inflated prices. But she never let’s criticism get in her way of securing the bag.

Political Power: Leila has contacts around the kingdom. Even though her family isn’t super rich, their wealthy enough and well-connected enough to assist you in reclaiming your throne. They won’t help you out for free but they expect the MC to pay them back.

Name: Zaki [M]

Race: Marid

Magic: Water Manipulation

Description: Zaki is currently a fisherman. He comes from a family of mercenaries. He spent years fighting for others in foreign lands. But he got sick and tired of the bloodshed. After the death of his younger brother, he decided to return to Jinnestan and live a simple life. But his simple life will become complicated when he helps the MC out and gets embroiled in the conflict between the MC and the vizier.

Political Power: Zaki comes from a good family. His family knows how to fight and can help the MC out in a war situation. The tribe Zaki comes from is known for their bravery. That’s why in the kingdom they’re hired to protect caravan routes from bandits.

The Betrothed:

You’ll first meet these two ROs during your twelfth birthday party. Your father wants to solidify your right to the throne. And has decided a good betrothal will put you in a good position.

The player is not forced to marry the person they’re betrothed to. After the incident that occurred in MC’s birthday party, the player is free to choose whoever they feel will secure them the throne.

Name: Raita [F]

Race: [Depends on MC’s Race Choice]

Magic: [Depends on MC’s First Elemental Power]

Description: Raita is your cousin from your father’s side. She’s known to be reserved and mostly keeps to herself. Raita is an excellent gardener and spends her free time tending to the plants in the palace. Surprisingly, your uncle finds Raita to be so non-threatening that she can go in and out of the royal palace without first seeking permission . But even though she’s quiet, she’s aware of her precarious position in court and tries hard to not arouse attention to herself. Raita however makes sure to keep notes on what goes on in the palace.

Political Power: Raita comes from the MC’s family tribe but is from a different clan than the MC. She’s your second cousin to be specific. A marriage with her would solidify your family’s support of you and de-legitimise the vizier.

Name: Qaus [M] (*NB: I’ve yet to change his name currently in demo)

Race: Half-Jinn, Half-Nephilim

Magic: Levitation

Description: Qaus is the second eldest son of the king of Edom. He believes he’s better than his brother and therefore should rule Edom. But his father has other plans. So most of the time his bored and spends reading scrolls from scholars. He longs for adventure and a chance to prove himself to his father.

Political Power: Qaus is a prince. A marriage with him would create an alliance between two kingdoms. Such an alliance would be beneficial for the MC. But it also poses a risk as Edom frequently comes into conflict with Israel and could drag Jinnestan into it if the MC is not careful.

High Risk, High Reward:

So this marriage would be very controversial and has many pitfalls for the MC. But if MC plays their cards right, you can end up on top. So here are two siblings from the second powerful tribe in the kingdom.

Name: Suhail [M]

Race: Hinn

Magic: Wind Manipulation

Description: Suhail is known to be carefree. He loves going out and partying hard. Coming from a very rich and powerful family, he organises a party every week in his house. Most people don’t take him seriously. He’s seen as a goofball, a guy who likes cracking jokes at inappropriate times. And Suhail prefers having people think he’s not a serious threat.

Political Power: Suhail belongs to the second most powerful tribe in the kingdom. During the war of unification, Suhail’s tribe opposed MC’s father and allied themselves with other tribes who didn’t want Arabia to be united. But at the final battle against your father, Suhail’s tribe switched sides in the middle of fighting. They betrayed their allies and launched a surprise attack from the rear against their former allies.

This would hand a total victory to your father. And MC’s father decided to reward Suhail’s tribe for switching sides. Over time, the tribe became more powerful and richer. They’re pretty much distrusted by most people in the kingdom for their dishonorable act. But a marriage with them will give you a powerful ally. So powerful that they could consume the MC in their web if the player is not careful.

Name: Samar [F]

Race: Hinn

Magic: Wind Manipulation

Description: Unlike her brother, Suhail, who enjoys partying all the time, Samar tries to get people to take her seriously. She spends her free time writing and publishing poems and stories. She organises poetry competitions at her home and provides financial support for young artists in the capital. Samar uses most of her income for charitable ventures like building orphanages and giving aid to poor widows.

She’s trying hard to repair her family reputation the best she can. But she can be vindictive. She’ll use her power and influence to crush anyone who mocks or speaks ill of her family.

Political Power: Again just like her brother, she belongs to a powerful tribe. A tribe that could help MC instead of supporting the vizier.

And that's it for now. The re-write is chugging along well

#love interests #RO list #worldbuilding #jinn of arabia

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