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scuttlingcrab · 16 days

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Fiendish Rewards

Summary: Raphael appears at Withers' party, hoping to finally collect the Crown of Karsus from Tav. However, an unexpected turn of events causes Raphael to re-think his plans.

Notes: Featuring growing tensions and light angst. I always wondered what would happen when Raphael wore the Crown for the first time. This might be a wee bit too long but I initially intended this to be another submission for @dmagedgoods Raphael romance collection.

Link to my other work in the Devil's Archive.

(Image via raphael-ancunin)

Raphael knew he was intruding. He had no business attending Withers' party, yet he arrived fashionably late all the same. He would never show his face, grace the companions with his presence, merely to exchange pleasantries. As tempting as their tadpole-free souls were, the simple minded mortals had no meaning to him now that the Elder Brain was defeated. That evening Raphael’s only desire was to collect the Crown of Karsus. And perhaps, converse with that little mouse, if time allowed.

Thus, the Devil did what he knew best: lurked from the shadows of the wings and listened for his cue.

Raphael had abided for over a millennium after he lost the Crown to Mephistopheles, lashing out with such violent anger in the first century that he nearly eradicated an entire plane. That initial taste of defeat never left his memory; the bitterness, that rotting feeling he felt deep within his core still haunted him. It was his first introduction to failure and the last.

He eventually learned how to forge that frothing hatred for his father, his revulsion at the cursed cards he had been dealt with, into a far more superior weapon: knowledge, his greatest strength. Raphael researched, manipulated, and opened up the recesses of his mind to devour the ins-and-outs of the Hells. He painstakingly plotted, weaving his schemes into the very fabric of fate itself, planting the seeds of prosperity for what he hoped would eventually gain him a win.

Despite all Raphael had endured since the collapse of Netheril, the last 6 months had been the most excruciating. Waiting. Watching. Hoping. There was no longer an Archdevil in his path, but a mere mortal. His hunger for power grew rampant as he watched Tav continue to elude him, to harbour the final piece of his victory as she tried to reclaim what was left of her old life. That selfish creature.

To Tav’s credit, she had been quite remarkable on the battlefield, showcasing her strength and resolve as she smited enemies and climbed through the carnage to her destiny. She left a sea of corpses in her wake, the mortal rubble alone was unlike anything Raphael had ever seen. Out of all the calamities he had been fortunate enough to craft and witness, being a spectator during the fight against the Netherbrain would forever be a highlight.

When the Crown fell into the River Chionthar, Raphael eagerly watched as Tav spent weeks fishing it out, taking her precious time as she retrieved each broken piece of his future. He restlessly stormed the halls of his domain, cursing the woman for attempting such an arduous task alone. He could have aided her, sent in Korrilla as a last resort, but he refused. He would not give Tav the satisfaction, she would have to work just a little more to complete her end of the bargain. Besides, there was something endearing about watching Tav work so diligently, the determination in those eyes reminded Raphael of himself.

The little mouse was Raphael’s greatest investment and he’d be damned if she failed him now, or if he let his sudden affinity for her overtake his true purpose. Raphael’s ambitions for the Crown had somehow intertwined with his infatuation for the woman, and he was just as much to blame.

He had let this farce go on for long enough. Raphael would not stoop so low in his final moments before he rose to glory. Once Tav crowned him, these foolish emotions would cease and he would continue with his grand plan. He was a Devil and he would not let these cursed mortal emotions falter his intentions any longer; he would never allow anything, anyone, to destroy his work. Raphael’s blood, sweat, and tears would not be in vain.

Cheering suddenly came from the camp as Tav and her companions raised their chalices in celebration. Withers' speech had finally ended, much to Raphael’s delight. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could’ve listened to the monotonous dribble. The monologue was indeed rousing, but Raphael could’ve done better, if given the opportunity.

One by one, the group of heroes slowly disbanded, until only Tav remained. She made her way around the camp, stopping by each empty tent. It was as if the little mouse was paying her respects, bidding farewell to the ghosts of her past.

When Tav was done she wandered to the lakefront and sat down on a mossy rock, staring into the sparkling evening sky. The light in her own eyes vanished, leaving a dark cloud looming above her.

Raphael took that as his signal. He quietly removed himself from the cover of the treeline and began his entrance, approaching Tav with a swagger.

“If it isn’t the hero of Baldur’s Gate. My, how far we’ve come! It feels like only yesterday you fell from the skies, tadpole and all, and began your little adventure; slowly scurrying your way to triumph.”

Tav smiled at the sound of Raphael’s voice, turning to greet him. They locked eyes, her expression brightening. That look pierced through Raphael’s defences with such ease, a slight chill crawling up from the base of his spine. He stopped in his tracks, quickly recovering by placing a hand on his hip. It had been too long since they were alone, when he had last gazed into those cursed eyes. Careful now.

“Raphael, always the poet.”

“The little mouse is no longer, but now a ferocious lion. Congratulations are in order.”

Raphael gifted Tav with his most flourishing bow, hoping the gesture would distract from his earlier misstep.

“Now do tell, how does it feel to be the victor? To have saved the world? Is it as the bards have sung?” Raphael rose, taking another step towards Tav.

Tav merely shrugged, her lips quickly returning to a frown.

“Dunno.”

“I would have thought a hero to be more eloquent.”

“I'm still waiting for that ‘ah-ha!’ moment, but if we’re being honest tonight, I’m not really sure what it means to be a hero.”

“You will come to understand eventually. It’s the very nature of your existence.”

Tav remained silent, pulling her eyes away from Raphael. She stared down at her hands, studying her scarred palms.

“May I?” Raphael inquired, gesturing towards the available space on the rock.

Tav nodded and Raphael sat himself beside her, intentionally leaving a minimal amount of space between them.

“You have something that belongs to me.”

“There it is,” Tav said, through a faint laugh, “You know, I was expecting you to come sooner.”

“I’ve often found the best persuasions are the ones that aren't forced.”

Tav looked up at Raphael, her eyes moving over every inch of his guise, stopping briefly near his lips. He was close now, so close. To the Crown. To his objectives. And to that damned woman.

“May I see the Crown, please?”

Tav smiled, moving towards Raphael. For a split second, Raphael expected a kiss. It was only natural for mortals to attempt such a distraction in times of distress. Infuriating as it was, he wouldn’t have been opposed to such a notion. Tav instead reached down for her backpack lying in the sand, placing it on her lap.

She pulled open the straps and yanked out the Crown, handling it as if it was but a petty trinket. Raphael suppressed a sigh, he would not let the significance of this moment be soiled due to the mortal’s lack of formality.

“I managed to reforge it, to the best of my abilities, thanks to the Annals of Karsus. Though I haven't tried it on yet to see if it worked.”

“A wise choice.”

Tav held the Crown out towards Raphael, but he raised his hand. With a flick of his wrist, the Crown floated out of Tav’s grasp, slowly moving towards him. It was just as beautiful as he remembered, if not more so. It glistened under the moonlight, calling to him. Soon. Very soon. He let the Crown hover, spinning delicately, for a few more seconds.

“Do you need me to remind you of our terms? The deal was that you are to crown me. I would’ve come to you long ago if I could simply put it on myself.”

“Gods. Really, Raphael?”

“Truly.” Raphael donned his notorious smirk in response.

“Fine, are we to do this here then?”

“I couldn't think of a more fitting location.”

Raphael rose, walking towards the middle of the lakefront. He snapped his fingers, and a luscious red silk pillow appeared. He shifted it slightly in the sand and bent a knee, preparing himself for the crowning.

“Come, it is time.”

Tav stood intending to grab the Crown, but before she could reach it, Raphael beckoned it towards him. Tav quickly followed, positioning herself above Raphael. He raised his head to gaze at the magnificent sight in front of him. The moonlight framed Tav perfectly, she was silhouetted against the dark sky, glowing. The Crown and the little mouse, side-by-side, as it was always destined to be.

Raphael took a deep breath, closing his eyes. He absorbed the scents and sounds around him; earthy tones, a hint of wetness, mixed with the fresh woodland air. Faint chirping from various insects called out to him, the leaves rustled slightly against the warm summer wind. His heartbeat intensified, growing more rapid, adding an extra drum beat to the night’s symphony.

“Let’s get on with it then.” Tav spoke.

Raphael opened his eyes and watched Tav grab the Crown, lowering it on top of his head.

When the Crown touched his forehead, it reformed itself to accommodate his size, shrinking to provide a snugger fit. It hissed into place and then in an instant, everything changed.

Pain, pleasure, fear, anger, confusion; every possible emotion tore through his very being. He was ripped in two, three, four… millions of tiny little pieces. His head throbbed with information, so many secrets, so much… he saw and felt everything, what could’ve been, what might come to pass… it was too much. Too much! Too fast!

He fell forwards, his hands digging, ripping through sand. He was alone, always alone, darkness surrounded him. No. There was light, light flooded in from the top of his skull, projecting into every possible direction. He was the light. He was the dark. He was all-encompassing.

Raphael screamed, his voice echoing into the abyss around him. He had never read about such a reaction, in all his years of researching, how could he have missed… could it be because… NO. He will tame this. He will persist. He will…

The sand beneath Raphael turned to liquid as the newfound power continued to surge through his limbs, burning his veins. He tore at his own flesh and bones to rid himself of the agony, but it wouldn’t come to an end.

“Raphael!” He heard a voice shout, such a familiar tune. But who? He couldn’t quite place it.

Raphael erupted, his devilish wings tearing through the skin in his back. There were flames all around him, growing hotter, thicker. His chest melted, his ears ached from the thunderous explosions. Whispers, whispers everywhere. He heard so many, and the cries, the screams. Would they never cease?

Something tore at his head, pulling the Crown away from him. The Crown. NO! He cannot lose it again. Raphael raised his hands attempting to fight back, but he was grasping at nothing. It was over as fast as it had begun. There was now silence.

Raphael’s vision cleared. He was on his back, looking up at the stars. Tav stood over him, holding the Crown in her hands. She eyed him with concern, tears flooding down her cheeks. He raised his own hands, his claws trembling. Raphael tried to think but his mind was vacant, every thought achingly bounced back. His skin burned, bones ached. There were deep lacerations all over his body, his own hands were covered in blood. He gasped, looking at Tav’s body but found no abrasions. He let out a disgruntled sigh. If he had harmed her in his rage, in those brief seconds of failure… would he ever forgive himself?

Tav threw the Crown aside and helped Raphael to his feet. His eyes followed the artefact as it landed on top of the sand, taunting him still. How?

As if reading Raphael’s mind, Withers' voice cut through the silence as he appeared before them.

“Thou hast succeeded but are not yet ready. Take care that thou are not too hasty, thine pursuits will lead to plights.” There was a long pause as Withers continued staring at Raphael, looking straight through him. He met Withers’ expressionless gaze, waiting for him to continue. “The pattern has been woven and all circumstances interlaced are as fate decided.”

Raphael never imagined the consequences of his premature investiture. He was always going to reforge the Crown himself, in his own image. How could he possibly trust a mortal to handle such a relic successfully? But in the heat of the moment, and in the fine print of the very deal he crafted, he had opened himself up to carelessness, becoming the very thing he despised.

His eyes darted to Tav, searching the woman for any excuse against his actions but he could only look at her with veneration. He would not blame her for everything. His vanity, eagerness… his obsession for the Crown and that cursed woman nearly brought him to his untimely demise. Let this be a lesson to Raphael to heed his own warnings. The Devil would need to cool his heels in preparation for the battles looming ahead.

Raphael turned to face Withers, but the curious being had vanished. Instead he hummed thoughtfully, looking at Tav.

She stood next to him, her body trembling. Tav's eyes were fixed on Raphael, still full of worry but there was something else present, another emotion he thought he’d never see from a mortal again.

Tav’s expression sent a sudden stabbing pain through his chest as a wave of nostalgia washed over him. There was another mortal who had once looked at him with the same kindness and understanding. He had buried it deep within his subconscious, but it was rising back to the surface, like a blooming flower. He would NOT allow himself anymore turmoil this evening.

“I owe you my thanks.” Raphael whispered, his voice on the verge of cracking.

“Raphael, I don’t understand, you were nea…”

“If you value your life, you will hold your tongue. There will be no talk of this moment again. Ever. Have I made myself clear?”

Tav’s eyes widened at his sudden change of tone, but she nodded nonetheless.

“I must return to my House of Hope. For healing and reflection. There is work yet to be done, as you have borne witness to this evening.” Raphael snapped his fingers, a raging portal materialised behind him. “You may join me, if you so wish.”

Raphael extended his arm, welcoming her acceptance.

“Would you consider our deal completed then?” Tav asked, apprehensively.

“You have upheld your end of the agreement, exceptionally well, might I add, bar this evening's hiccup. Now please, let me show you my appreciation.”

A dash of colour appeared on Tav’s cheeks as she wiped away the remaining tears. She grabbed her backpack, placing the Crown inside. She swiftly reached for Raphael’s hand, squeezing it tightly. Raphael nodded in acknowledgment and led Tav through the portal.

Indeed, their deal was complete, but Raphael wasn’t done with Tav yet. She would continue to prove a valuable ally and more in the months to come.

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yujo-nishimura · 6 months

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The Escape - Working title

Warning: A little bit of angst and sadness, female reader, One Piece based storyline mixed with my own weird creativity. This will be my personal Nanowrimo project I want to share with all of you. Hope you can enjoy reading as much as I enjoy writing.

Content notes: Small buggy turning into big Buggy later during the story, love, romance, female reader who will experience a strong character development, SFW for now, might add NSFW later.

Word count: 778

You had felt tired and hopeless for a while now. The once captivating sunsets had lost their enchanting glow, and the islands you encountered appeared indistinguishable from one another, as if you were trapped in a recurring loop. Nobody in the crew had realized how you felt, but there was no one to talk to anyway - everyone had their own dreams and goals, their hopes and their desires.

Surrounded by individuals brimming with enthusiasm, their eyes shining with purpose and ambitions, you couldn't help but feel a sense of emptiness within yourself. Unlike those driven pirates who embarked on their journeys to fulfill their dreams, you found yourself adrift without any grand aspirations to chase. Gold? Fame? Wealth? Power? Nothing seemed appealing to you.

One day, under the silvery glow of a full moon, a decision took hold within you. The ship belonging to the Snowland pirates, to which you had reluctantly become a part, had worn on your patience for far too long. The crew showed little interest in forging genuine connections, the laborious tasks assigned to you felt utterly purposeless. It had become abundantly clear that this was not where you belonged.

You had stumbled upon this crew while seeking refuge on the wintry shores of the island called Klaki, your own vessel in need of repair. The charismatic captain of the Snowland pirates had enticed you with promises of camaraderie and acceptance, and initially, you had felt a glimmer of hope as you seamlessly integrated into their ranks. But as the weeks turned into months, the allure had faded into disillusionment.

Now, a full year had passed, and the once captivating glamour had completely faded away. All you desired was to escape this stifling environment as swiftly as possible. You untied one of the smaller lifeboats while everyone was asleep after a full night of partying and alcohol - you chose to escape during full moon, knowing the danger of the light giving away your escape. But it was seldom that everyone was so drunk that they wouldn't realize a missing crew member. You had packed your bag and took a deep breath as you finally started rowing into the night and into freedom and liberation.

As consciousness returned, you were greeted by an overwhelming sensation of thirst. Your dry throat pleaded for relief, while a throbbing ache pulsed through your head. The wet fabric of your clothes clung stubbornly to your skin, as if fused together, and even your hair felt matted and sticky. The scorching rays of the sun beat down upon your scalp, intensifying the discomfort.

Blinking repeatedly, you struggled to focus your weary eyes, attempting to find out about your surroundings and piece together the events that had led you to this disorienting state. Your boat is gone. So was your bag and your shoes. You were laying on the shore, with your face and your belly in the sand, the pain from your head reaching down to your arms and legs. The realization washed over you like a crashing wave - you had become the aftermath of a shipwreck.

"What is this?"

"Rather - who is this? I can clearly see she is a girl and not a thing!"

"Maybe she is a pirate. Then she is dangerous and we should not touch her!"

"Hahaha! I am a pirate myself, dear friend, I do not fear anybody, especially not a small hurt girl like her."

"Is she maybe.. dead?"

With all your might you force yourself to look up, ignoring the pain in your neck, trying to figure out who the voices belong to, which seem to talk about you and your desolated condition.

As your gaze lifted, you beheld the peculiar sight of two small, otherworldly creatures. One stood before you—a man with disproportionately short arms and legs. His moss-green hair framed a face adorned with dark eyes and a beard. Strangely, his body seemed to meld seamlessly with a wooden treasure box. He had no torso, but was stuck in a box.

Beside the moss-haired man, another diminutive figure emerged—a clown who appeared similarly downsized, with short arms and feet attached directly to his neck. Adorned with a hat unmistakably bearing the emblem of the notorious Buggy pirates, this peculiar duo stood before you, their appearances both strange and comical.

The moss-haired man offered a warm smile, his eyes twinkling with an unspoken understanding. Meanwhile, the clown dwarf took a tentative step closer, his eyes reflecting a mix of caution and intrigue.

"Are you dead?" the box man asked.

"I wish I was!" you moan and let your head fall back into the warm sand.

#one piece #buggytheclown #one piece buggy #buggy the clown x reader #buggy x reader #buggy x you #nanowrimo #short story #onepiece anime #creative writing #fanfic

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scientia-rex · 1 year

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It’s a very weird feeling to finally, after literal decades of working towards becoming an unstoppable juggernaut, finally find myself at a point where other people are also realizing that I’m becoming an unstoppable juggernaut. But they never see the potential still remaining! They look at me where I am at now, a rural doc who can change clinic policies that affect thousands of patients by virtue of being one of a handful of docs willing to work out here, and they say, wow, it’s so great that you’re using your influence like this! And I’m sitting here going you think this is IT? You think I’m going to stop here? You really think, after all that very literal blood and sweat and tears, I’m going to say, well, that’s enough. I got one clinic to do a training. I wrote a couple of articles. I got a few doctors to reconsider their approaches. Hell no! I’m still climbing. I’m still pushing. I’m consolidating my solid ground. Rome wasn’t built in a day, and the short-sightedness of so much ambition—do you have any idea how much you hamstring yourself by it? Give yourself time! Give yourself ten years, twenty years, thirty years. Build something massive. Build a fortress that a few weak slings and arrows can’t take down. I put in the work every day since I started med school right and a half years ago, I’ve made myself virtually unfireable, and I’m still at the beginning of my career. It isn’t sexy to show up every day and do the petty and menial tasks as well as the grand ones, to eat shit from smug old white straight cis men who think having a cardiologist AND an orthopedist on a committee counts as “diversity,” to have to plan when you can cry and when you can poop to avoid making your team angry—but now I’m the fucking attending. Now I get to say, “I want it like this,” and people listen. I get to start righting some of these massive systemic wrongs—just little ones, tiny ones. But if I start working on the pipelines for rural docs, for people of color who want to be doctors, on opinion pieces that a small handful of people read, on textbook chapters used to train a new generation how to think, on residency policies, I can start chipping away at this huge edifice of Modern Medicine that once seemed impenetrably white and male and straight and cis. I trained with a trans woman who’s a doctor now. I trained with a non-binary doctor in residency. My residency class had more doctors of color than white doctors. Things ARE changing and they are changing because we MAKE them change. Because we show up every day with a ball peen hammer, like Andy Dufresne at Shawshank, and we are chiseling our way to toppling this edifice. The more I work, the longer I build up this social capital, the more people in the community I make nice with, the more I network, the bigger the changes I can make.

Years ago in residency I wrote a poem and I said “I am throwing my whole life against the glass to see it shake”—we worked on the ninth floor, with huge windows, in an oddly squalid wing—and I am still doing that. It’s wild and joyful. See what change I can make. Fling myself at it. Throw myself at the ground and miss.

#the attending dr. kristophine

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bumblesimagines · 4 months

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Imagine:

Meeting Alina

Request: Yes or No

Revamped version of this! I don't know why I felt so strongly about revamping it but maybe its cause I've started reading the first book

~~~

Not many ventured into the library willingly. There'd been Genya, until she read nearly every book and grew bored, and Zoya but it'd been back in the day when she thought (Y/N) would pay her a piece of mind if she showed interest in his hobbies before she moved on to trying to charm the General. (Y/N) couldn't fault her ambition. It was what drove Grishas.

But (Y/N) never ventured into the libraries for grand tales or recountings of past war heroes. No, he searched high and low for more information on the very man he was connected to by blood. The Darkling, the creator of the Fold and someone he once trusted and loved wholeheartedly.

Until the Sun Summoner arrived and with her, the potential to destroy the Fold. He should've been relieved at the news of someone with the potential to overthrow General Kirigan, he should've. But the girl was clumsy, stubborn, awkward...

Loud.

He heard her every day when she had free time away from Genya and whatever other practice had been thrusted upon her. Her footsteps were obnoxiously loud, her breathing even louder. She made flimsy attempts at hiding herself, choosing the most obvious of spots where she was still visible even if she ducked behind a shelf. Sure, she'd been a mapmaker before her discovery and all her training was for being a proper Grisha, but he'd seen children more sneakier than her.

(Y/N) could feel her gaze stabbing into his back, distracting him from his reading. He'd changed reading spots six times since her arrival just days prior. Zoya had taken the hint after the third time, though of course, not after one last attempt at flirting that'd been promptly ignored. Stubbornness was a decent thing, especially for someone with her abilities. He preferred she wasted her stubbornness on someone else. But, he knew one way to frighten people.

His hand dipped into his coat, fingers tracing the loops keeping his favorite throwing knife buckled to his waist. His fingers slipped around the cool handle, movements slow to not draw attention until he pulled it free of the loop and swiftly threw it in her direction. He heard it embed itself into the wood of the bookshelf, her surprised squeak, and the thud of a book falling onto the floor followed by a sharp curse.

(Y/N) closed the book he'd been trying to read and turned around to face the Sun Summoner, watching her scramble to pick up the book she'd dropped on her foot. "I don't enjoy being watched." His sharp voice made her head raise and she clutched the book tight to her chest, clinging onto it like a child would to a toy. He cut the distance and tugged the knife out of the shelf, just mere inches from where her head had been.

"I-I'm Alina." She finally spoke, slightly widened eyes glancing between his face and the blade.

"Everyone knows who you are, Sun Summoner." He responded and stepped away, returning to the table. He resisted the urge to sigh when he heard her follow. "I don't particularly care."

Her features seemed to brighten at that. "I've... I've noticed you spend quite a bit of time here." She said and placed her own book down on the table. Grisha Theory and Practice. A classic, if it weren't a bit boring. Alina traced the title over the book with her fingertip, her eyes darting between the book and his features.

"Do you need something, Sun Summoner? Or are you feeling bored? I could ask Botkin to extend your lessons. I hear you're quite good." She was horrible but progress had been made, or so he heard.

"No!" She answered quickly and he nearly smirked at the terror in her voice. "I-I was just curious about you. And- please, just call me Alina. The Sun Summoner is quite a mouthful-"

"I'll call you whatever I like." (Y/N) had never been known for his sweetness and yet, she remained by the table. Her brows lifted slightly, taken aback by his sharp words again, and her eyes dropped back down to the table, just briefly.

"What will..." She trailed off and swallowed, swiping her tongue over her lips and tilting her head up to meet his eyes. "What will you call me?"

"A bother." The answer came easily but she'd managed to make his brows furrow in perplexion. She was an odd little thing.

"That's quite enough, (Y/N)." General Kirigan's voice sliced through the air and (Y/N) spared the man a glance before turning his back to him and arranging the books on the table into a neat pile. "We don't treat our fellow Grisha in such a manner."

"Zoya's done worse." It felt childish, muttering like that.

"But you are not Zoya, are you?" General Kirigan stared into the back of his head before turning his attention to Alina. "I apologize for my brother's... attitude. He can be quite rude to those he doesn't know well."

"Brother?" Alina breathlessly repeated but before she could prod more, Genya's voice called for her from the doors. She bowed her head and stumbled over her feet before hurrying in the direction of Genya's voice. It wouldn't matter. Genya would tell her enough to quench her curiosity and leave the more important parts out.

"It wouldn't kill you to be kind to her. At least pretend to care for her wellbeing." General Kirigan sighed. "We need her. She's important."

"You have Genya spying on her for you. You've spent the past few days trying to get her to fall for you. You'll have better luck finding the stag before that happens."

"And you wish to know why that is? Why she won't ever see me in such a light?" General Kirigan leaned against the table, his dark eyes watching him intently.

"Because she's in love with the tracker? The one she writes letters to? Genya's shown me some of the letters. I'm surprised he's a tracker. One would think he's as blind as an old lady if he can't see her feelings for-"

"She may harbor feelings for him, yes." He nodded and (Y/N) clamped his mouth shut, the look swirling in his eyes making him feel nervous. "But I'm afraid she doesn't speak of him as much as she does you. She asks about you often. I believe you've caught her eye instead, and for our plan to work, I need her completely and utterly on our side. Your new task is to ensure those feelings grow into genuine love. If you grow to care for her, you may keep her afterward."

"Aleksander-"

"I'm sure you'll carry out this task dutifully as always. Don't disappoint me."

#x reader #x you #x y/n #x male reader #x male!reader #shadow and bone #shadow and bone x reader #shadow and bone x male reader #shadow and bone x you #shadow and bone x y/n #alina starkov #alina starkov x reader #alina starkov x male reader #alina starkov x you #aleksander morozova #general kirigan #the darkling

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chaosverseline · 6 months

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Imu sama as monkey d luffy great grandmother

I had a crazy idea

It a mixture of a lot of one piece theories regarding luffy’s family.

First off , Instead of imu sama being luffy’s mom.I am making imu sama as luffy’s great grand “mother”.

Why?

Because here is how it works,

Imu sama is the immortal ruler of the world government (pronouns are them and they. despite this they prefer female fashion),But secretly yearns for freedom , but can’t because of the responsibility of running the government.

Quoting from a Reddit post, “To make it simple: Imu ……..related to ya boi Joy Boi and because she is a a ruler she Needs to act like one in front of everyone….”

Imu sama may not be able to experience “full freedom”. however ,when they did have free time ,they would traveled around the world and go sightseeing in a disguise.

During this they met a young man named……….

……..xebec d rocks.

Yes that rocks.

But during this time ,rocks isn’t a pirate yet.

Or maybe he was just starting out .

What happens between imu and rocks was what started out as a friendship ,Then to lovers and yeah they banged.

Resulting a adorable baby girl ,The princess of Mary geoise. For now, we call her “Yriaf” for simplicity sake.

After Yriaf birth, rocks loves his daughter but still left to continue his pirate career.Which made imu bitter and harbor a grudge against pirates.

Imu and xebec broke up and went on to their separate ways,Imu takes Yriaf with them,But allows xebec to call from den den mushi ,writes letters and sent presents to their daughter ,Using a cipher pol agent (who swore secrecy )to deliver the mail.

Yriaf grew up to be a kind and benevolent woman despite being the princess of Mary geoise. She disliked the attitude of the celestial dragons and slavery. She treats people like her equal and tries her best to free the slaves and help treat/heal/nurse the injure/sick ones until they are healthy to go home or stay with her (she would pay them with wages)if they don’t have a place to stay.Sadly, she was banned from buying more than six slaves per month by imu sama

Imu sama didn’t do this to be cruel,They are worried about Yriaf getting the wrong people’s suspicions. Imu sama honesty didn’t like the whole slavery system ,But the majority of the world nobles wanted this and imu have to go along. otherwise imu will become unpopular and risk getting deposed or worse case scenario,Getting Killed.

As much power imu has,Imu can’t protect Yriaf if all the world nobles voices their disapproval (Kinda like Garp’s situation ).

because of this ,Imu is strict with their daughter.Eventually Yriaf ran off to her father’s ship to get some fresh air from the royalty business. There she met her father’s crew and develop a relationship with one of the crew mates. Rocks is fine with it,after a long shovel talk.

Imu sama,However…… is a total different story.

Imu straight up disapproves.

But there is nothing imu can do, Other than sending cipher pol assassins to watch but not kill the crew mate who caught their sweet daughter’s eyes.

Yraif marries the crew mate,Whose name is Edward Newgate,Yes that Newgate.

Their child would eventually be known as crocodile.

Yes that crocodile.

Then imu noticed changes in rocks as the years goes by,How by each passing year,Xebec getting even more crueler and unhinged, starting to have bloodthirsty ambitions thanks to his devil fruit that messed up his brain, until imu can no longer recognized the man they had used to loved.

For now,Xebec’s sanity is barely keeping together thanks to his paternal love for their daughter .But imu is not taking any chances if one day xebec snaps and cause irreversible harm to his own crew and potentially to imu’s family. Besides,Imu is still mad about xebec choosing career over them and the lack of child support other than toy stuff animals and unhealthy snacks. Yes ,imu can be petty like that.

So imu hires a hit on xebec, saying xebec is a terrorist threat and a crazy manic. Then sends a message to the elders to inform the world government of this dangerous individual.

Battle of god valley happens and imu takes back Yriaf. Gives her a decision to either take crocodile and never met up with Edward again or hand the custody of crocodile to Edward and forbids yriaf from meeting them again, save for one day per 5 years. Imu allows for calling via den den mushi for during the whole time but that’s it .

The princess chose the 2nd option and tearfully waved good bye to her love and child.

Years pass, crocodile left the white beard pirate crew and joins the revolutionary. Also get knocked up by monkey d dragon.

When Imu founds out , they are not pleased , But At least they gotten a great grand child out of it.

His name is ……

Monkey d luffy.

Pure Chaos.

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crazyhearttragedy · 5 months

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Shades of Ambition -Coriolanus Snow x Reader

Warning: This piece contains brief mentions of violence and manipulation.

AN: Hope you enjoy! Someone asked me to put warnings before the one shot, so I'll try doing that in the future. Thank you for 269 followers!

A sea of glittering gowns and tailored suits flooded the Grand Ballroom, echoes of laughter and the clinking of champagne glasses filling the air. Amidst the opulence, you stood, an ambitious young socialite with dreams of making a name for yourself.

Just like Coriolanus Snow.

His name commanded attention, his mere presence capable of turning heads. Tonight, beneath the cascading chandeliers, he was a vision of aristocratic charm. His slicked-back silver hair framed his handsome face, and his piercing blue eyes surveyed the room with a calculating gaze that left you breathless.

It had been weeks since you first laid eyes on him. The conversation that shattered the silence of a gallery exhibition, where his wit and intellectual prowess outshone the artwork itself. From that moment on, you were mesmerized. Enthralled.

Desire fueling ambition, you maneuvered through the crowd, determined to captivate him. You spotted him engrossed in conversation with Capitol power players, politicians, and influential figures. Their words dripped with honeyed charm, masks of courtesy disguising their ruthless politics.

Your heart raced as you made your way closer, inching through the crowd like a predator stalking its prey. When you finally stood before Coriolanus Snow, his gaze fixated on you, and an inscrutable smile played on his lips.

"Mr. Snow," you greeted, your voice laced with confidence.

"Ah, if it isn't the enchanting (Y/N)," he responded, his voice smooth as silk. "What brings you to the lion's den tonight?"

You suppressed a nervous giggle, determined to maintain your composure. "A taste for adventure, or perhaps a desire to test my mettle against the fiercest predators," you replied, a hint of playful challenge in your words.

He regarded you for a moment before offering his arm. "In that case, why don't we explore the jungle together?"

You accepted his arm, feeling the thrill of danger mingling with the fluttering excitement in your chest. As you strolled through the ballroom, his conversation encompassed a vast range of topics, showcasing his breadth of knowledge. He possessed an insatiable thirst for power and influence, manipulating words with skillful precision.

Intrigued, you let yourself become entangled in his web of intellectual charms. The hours passed like fleeting moments, your laughter blending with his, each passing minute deepening the connection shared between you.

But the night was not simply a dance of intellect and flirtation. Hidden beneath the veneer of grandeur and decadence lay political undertones, each subtle movement a carefully calculated step towards a world dominated by power.

As the evening waned, the music slowing to a melancholic tune, Coriolanus Snow leaned in, his breath whispering against your ear. "I believe even the most delicate flowers could wield formidable power in the right hands," he murmured, his voice dripping with intent.

His words held an edge, awakening something within you, nurturing the prickling tendrils of ambition that had taken root in your soul. The collision of your aspirations and his persona was intoxicating, burning like the unquenchable fire of revolution.

But beneath the allure, a warning spark danced in his eyes, an undercurrent of darkness overshadowing his charm. It was a glimpse, a fissure through which your fascination was tinged with trepidation.

As the night drew to a close, you found yourself longing for more, for another chance to dance with the embodiment of ambition himself. But the path to power was not paved with roses, and the web of manipulation twisted ever tighter.

Time would reveal the true nature of this dance, where hearts would be broken, alliances shattered, and lines crossed. But for now, in the glow of the Grand Ballroom, you reveled in the tantalizing seduction of ambition and the dangerous allure of Coriolanus Snow.

Little did you know that the young man who held your thoughts captive would rise to become the most notorious leader Panem had ever known — President Coriolanus Snow.

#y/n #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #coryo snow #tbosas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #hunger games #hunger games x reader #hunger games fanfic

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orobaxis · 7 months

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i've met a stranger today

thrawn x reader a/n: angst, meeting thrawn again…for the first time. no thoughts in my head, only thrawn.

i tracked down the artist (i think!) credits to @morri-gilmour

you met a stranger today. donned with imperial uniform you have not seen in over a decade, the tunic worn and frayed, but so obviously handled with care. even after all these years, the chimaera was still a sight to behold: massive, magnificent, magnanimous. just like the grand admiral who governed it. the stormtroopers around you all looked formidable, despite the cracks, tears, and burns. the gold inlaid into their armor was a symbol of their remaking and their strength. the sound of a plate crashing to the floor took you back to a memory you forgot you had.

the knock on your door startled you and your grip on the plate and it cracked into pieces by your feet. you were upset, you remember, but his hands were slow and deliberate as he picked up the pieces. "thrawn, no," you told him, kneeling beside him to help him clean up, "you'll get hurt. i'll sweep it away. i'm sorry, you just startled me." outside of his uniform, and in the comfort of your home, he looked a lot more relaxed. his hair was just starting to grow, and you enjoyed running your hands through them. "it's quite alright," once again, it took something very serious to upset him, but you still felt bad, "we don't have to throw it. we can mend it instead, it's still useful." he gestured to the large pieces, trying to piece them together. "do you remember the potteries in the museum we went to?" with your nod, he continued, "they were broken, and repaired by mending the breakage with lacquered gold. those who practice that art believe and accept the idea of transience and imperfection." "and that idea that nothing lasts forever," you added, remembering what the curator told you.

you and your husband spent the remaining time you had mending it, and you had bitterly thought then that without him, a broken piece would never be mended again.

the soldiers chant his name. the sound of it so familiar. because that was the name you would chant too, in the dark of the night, to anyone who would listen. you didn't really know what you prayed for. maybe to see him again? or maybe you wished none of this ever happened. until finally, before you, stood grand admiral thrawn. the man you had been searching for for more than a decade. and yet.

and yet it's also not him.

you were supposed to spend your life together. how did it turn out like this? your life passed by just wondering what it would have been like if he hadn't disappeared. you mourn the life you could have had.

it should have been with him.

you met a stranger today. but it's weird. because you knew him very well. all of his names, personality, favourites, secrets, goals and ambitions. the things he loved to do,

and his smile that was once shared with you.

when thrawn finally turned to you, you saw it. the crack between the inlaid gold. his mouth opened, the only break in his stoic expression. he recognized you. and he was probably thinking that he met a stranger today too.

#thrawn #grand admiral thrawn #lars mikkelsen #star wars #star wars chiss #star wars rebels #ahsoka episode 6 #ahsoka spoilers #ahsoka #thrawn imagine #thrawn trilogy #thrawn x oc #thrawn x reader #mitth’raw’nuruodo my beloved #mitth'raw'nuruodo #star wars thrawn #thrawn ascendancy #thrawn x you

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bimoonphases · 2 months

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@wolfstarmicrofic March 13 – prompt 13: Evanesco – word count 464

Evanesco - Vanishes objects

Sirius’s hand trembled as he slid the signet ring on his finger. He had always hated it, with the heaviness of the metal and the evil glint of the emerald on it. But he couldn’t walk downstairs without it, not when his parents were hosting the Sacred Twenty-eight Gala. He was, despite now sixteen years of rebellion, the last five proudly wearing his Gryffindor tie, still heir to the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. A nauseous feeling built up in his stomach as the gong echoed from the floor below.

“Evanesco,” he murmured, well aware that his wand was locked in his father’s office and anyway the spell only vanished objects.

“Evanesco,” he repeated, hoping against hope he could really vanish, away from that house and its ambitions.

“Sirius.”

A voice came from his bedroom door and he looked up to see Regulus, like him dressed in his best robes, the bronze medallion the second son of the House of Black always wore at grand occasions around his neck.

“Looking good, Reggie,” he forced himself to smile.

“We have to go downstairs now.”

“Wait, won’t you tell me how good I look?” Sirius got up and twirled to the door.

Regulus stayed silent, then he reached up and tucked a strand of Sirius’s hair behind his ear.

“You look so much like Mother,” he whispered before turning towards the staircase.

Sirius did his best not to let that remark sting too much. Regulus already had his impassible mask on, the one he used to navigate family functions. And it was time Sirius put his on too.

“Evanesco,” he murmured desperately, as he joined his brother at the top of the stairs.

Nothing happened, and the only thing left was to focus. Focus on the steps ahead not to fall down the stairs in front of his parents and their guests, focus on the fact that evening too would end. Focus on the only thing that kept him going in moments like these, when he was reminded of everything the people now watching him from the main hall expected and believed him to be. Moony. Moony and his smile, Moony and his hugs, Moony and his hands. Just Moony, who was waiting for him to come back in one piece for their sixth year at Hogwarts. Moony who would tell him to act, to do whatever it took not to put himself in danger. Moony, with whom he was definitely running away as soon as he turned seventeen, whatever his mother would say. Moony, his own everything.

Sirius slowly walked down the staircase, his brother at his side, his parents and their guests looking on. Ready to survive. Anything for Moony.

#yes it's the night Sirius ends up running away to the Potters'#I might write about what happened later that night with one of the other prompts #also Sirius does look like Walburga and that's his tragedy #wolfstar #wolfstar microfic #sirius black #remus lupin #sirius x remus #remus x sirius #marauders #marauders era #regulus black #the black brothers #the ancient and most noble house of black #the marauders #the marauders era #just writing (like i'm supposed to live)

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theinnerunderrain · 2 years

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In the Greed to play God [Yan! Pantalone x Saintess! Reader]

Warnings: Yandere themes, mentions of poverty and harassment, religious themes, minor character death, brief description of blood, infantilizing behaviors, naive reader, attempted murder.

Word count: 3.6k

He who is not content with what he has, would not be content with what he would like to have.

Due to his upbringing in poverty, he had a profound yearning for greener pastures and a warm shelter over his head. Every night at the dinner table, he desired delectable food, Pantalone was tired of the same stale bread he ate on a daily basis but he merely indulge in that thing for the need of survival. He wanted soft, undamaged clothing that would truly keep him warm in the elements, not some rag that barely covered his malnourished chest, prompting the young children from wealthy households to point and laugh at him.

Those were the sort of privileges he desired.

These, in his opinion, were necessities for the majority of humanity but privileges for the unfortunate ones who were born within the wrong womb. Why didn't the poor have access to a system that allowed them to eat or take a shower? Why must a child suffer for a parent's mistake? For a country that was responsible for being the household of mora, it was laughable how many of its citizens still linger within poverty, waiting for some miracle to occur.

Pantone couldn't frankly understand either.

The visions are believed to be granted to those with compelling ambitions, but despite having the pure resolve to acquire those privileges to lead a comfortable life, he never received one. Was he not worthy in the eyes of the Gods? Was the desire to just live insufficient? What sort of desire must one have to obtain a God's favor?

Money may not have been the world's greatest virtue, but it is the one thing that unifies civilizations and organizes its people. The world is controlled by a small piece of parchment. Certainly not the Almighty beings that are endlessly preached of across all nations. Unlike currency, God does not rule the earth.

As a corollary, money has much more power to influence people than the faith in God.

Pantalone felt a twinge of humour as he observed Capitano tugging you behind him as he led you through the Cathedral with your small hands cradled in his palm. Although he never had the opportunity to experience it firsthand, it was similar to a toddler being guided by their parents on the first day of school, completely lost and hesitant.

As you took in your surroundings slowly, your eyes glowed with wonder and danced wildly over the room. It was clear that this was your first time seeing the cathedral's beautiful architecture, clad with towering walls painted with the finest art and large colorful windows that allow a significant amount of sunlight to filtered through. The cathedral was as grand as the Tsaritsa palace, so magnificently marvellous in comparison to your parents' small tavern that now simply stood as a dull building.

Capitano visibly decelerated his steps as you and him proceeded up the enormous stairs in an effort to prevent you from tumbling backwards. A quiet apology was spoken after you managed to trip up a few steps, but Capitano's hands were soon encircling your waist to steady you, seemingly rather used to your clumsiness instead of scolding you. You managed to ascend the steps without stumbling, but you were obviously exhausted after ascending all of those stairs with the way your lips were parted and small pants escaped your lungs.

"Welcome, Sir Capitano and Lady [First Name]."

He grinned as he drank in your somewhat stumpy appearance. Despite the fact that your beauty was rather prominent, the trip to the capital must have been quite difficult based on your untidy hair and slightly soiled outfit. But you overall seem to be in good shape, something he'll applaud Capitano for knowing the man's rather brutal personality.

"Pantalone. I can trust that you have our accommodations arranged? The journey was fairly comprehensive."

Ah, straightforward as always.

His golden eyes follow you as you cower behind Capitano while he speaks. Your gaze barely lingered on him for a brief moment before it vanished when you discovered him staring at you with that smile cast on his lips. Since he had heard that you had been removed against your request from your own home after being nurtured by your parents for so long, he figured that your fearful personality was to be anticipated.

"All of the preparations have been made by my employees. Before you depart, why jot exchange a proper introduction?"

He gestures toward you after catching a glimpse of the hostility building beneath Capitano's mask. The three of you remained motionless before Capitano prodded you to speak and introduced yourself despite your obvious discomfort. Pantalone was not at all nearly as tall as the warrior, but you still seem rather diminutive in comparison to him. Could it be that you're naturally timid, therefore it makes you seem smaller than you are?

"It's a pleasure to meet your acquaintance, Sir Pantalone."

Given the strangeness surrounding him and the fact that Pantalone is a relatively foreign name in the region of Snezhnaya, you begin to question that Pantalone was even his authentic name. His name glides off your tongue somewhat smoothly despite the slight quiver within your voice.

"Please, Pantalone or simply just sir is enough for me. No need to be so formal."

He laughs just as one of the maids enters the corridor, clearly eager to accompany you and Capitano to your quarters despite his displeasure. Perhaps he'll receive a better opportunity to interact with you more later? But he supposed it's not the right time at this moment, especially not with Capitano's obvious eyes lingering on your form like a protective predator trying to secure its prey. Besides that Capitano wasn't the type to linger around him unless he needed to discuss some political or funding matter so eagerness to escape the man was rather obvious.

"I'm ready to accompany our guests to their rooms, sir."

Capitano seems to have noticed the gleam of predation hidden within the younger man's golden hues as he drew you back behind his back. Although his demeanor remains unchanged.

What an annoyingly perceptive man.

"Ah, I imagine it would be impolite of me to keep you all here much longer. Enjoy your night and please do join me tomorrow for breakfast."

Countless thoughts began to pour through his mind like a wrecking tsunami as he watched as the maid escorted you out of the main hall. Perhaps he's making the right investment this time? Well, he always makes the right investment, but perhaps indulging a prospect of his wealth to a religious factor wasn't a terrible choice?

But when given the chance, he too wasn't reluctant to charge at his prey. Perhaps Capitano should be more watchful of his little pet? Nothing in Snezhnaya, after all, is capable of eluding his grasp. He may want to be concerned about a rat breaking out at night and getting into your room, since rats are rather pesky.

But perhaps he'll be the one to save you from the rat?

We'll simply have to wait and see.

Don't be too startled to catch a glimpse of a wandering rat late at night.

Despite the fact that nothing could truly compete with the comfort of your own home, you would have to acknowledge that the chamber you were staying in was rather pleasant. The room was rather large and was covered in a fancy-like wallpaper, and the mattress was large enough to fit more than three people. It wasn't nearly as chummy as your old bedroom within your parents' tavern, but you practically felt like royalty with the insane amount of gold furniture within the room.

You snuggled under the blanket and felt taken aback by how plush it was—it almost felt like you were lounging in a cloud-like swamp.

Warm, and soft.

You steadily close your eyes as you make a conscious effort to float away into Dreamland, a pleasant smile creeping across your face. After spending the prior weeks sleeping in tents, you were somewhat grateful to finally have the opportunity to rest within a comfortable bed. But just as you're almost certain to nod off. You were abruptly awakened by a quiet knock against your door, which caused you to sit up against the headboard and call to the person.

"What is it?"

For a fraction of a second, there was silence in the air, forcing an unpleasant feeling to sweep through your gut as you stare at the door, awaiting for their answer.

"...Sir Capitano has directed that I deliver this sleeping aid. May I come in?"

At this hour? Despite the fact it was too difficult to comprehend the miniature clock above your vanity, you figured it was probably past midnight at this point. However, Capitano wasn't a stranger with the practice of foregoing sleep in order to maintain an eye on you. Therefore, maybe it wasn't strange for him to send medicine at this time either?

"You may come in."

Speaking hesitantly, you watched as the door steadily creaked open to let a young maid, possibly even younger than you, enter the room carrying a small candle.

The maid flashed you a gentle smile, strolling to the side of your bed before carefully placing the candle next to your nightstand and pulling out a small pack of medication. Her hair was knotted in two twin braids, and the candle's radiance barely highlighted the freckles within her cheeks.

You were expecting her to deliver you the medication, but instead she simply threw the container to the floor where the contents slipped into the abyss beneath the mattress. Her other hand carefully unlatched the back of her garment to show a sharp blade that shone in the moonlight filtering through the window.

"What are you doing-!"

The young girl lunges forward, her free hand clamping against your lips to keep you from wailing loudly. The blade mockingly glowed brightly as she raised the dagger in the air, evoking memories of the shooting stars your parents used to take you to see. In an attempt to buy yourself some time to free yourself from her grip, you squirm and struggle whilst pleading with her with your eyes, praying that she would take pity on you.

You momentarily caught a glimpse of hesitancy within her dark eyes. She seemed unsure of whether she was prepared to end the life of another person owing to the manner she held the blade—it was somewhat wobbly and hesitant. She was able to stifle her turmoil, though, as she attempted to strike you with the knife whilst quietly apologising.

You shut your eyes and braced yourself for a piercing agony, but all you felt was her hand slipping away from your face. As warm liquid spilled all over your body, a ferocious cry broke the air as the sound of the maid's body slumping onto the floor. The metallic smell of blood started to permeate your senses at this point, and you painfully realised what the substance was, which drove your breathing to become bulkier.

Despite the sound of delicate footsteps creeping toward your bed, you firmly kept your eyes closed due to being fearful of being disturbed by the sight of the bloody corpse of the maid.

"[First Name]."

It wasn't the usual deep, solemn voice you had grown accustomed to hearing instead, it sounded distinctive. As opposed to that, this person's voice was rich and smooth, slipping gently into your ears like a gemstone gliding upon glass. The individual steadily stroked his fingers along your face, delicately cleaning the blood from your cheeks. His fingers were frigid, perhaps colder than Capitano's, leading you to conclude that your saviour was indeed eviler than Capitano.

"Everything is fine. All you have to do now is go back to sleep."

A hand tenderly eased your head towards the pillow as he murmured, fanning his breath across your cheeks as if he were nudging you to return to sleep despite the obscurity of the situation.

Yet, you were deeply afraid.

Opting to close your eyes for the duration of the procedure, attempting to ignore how the foot of the mattress dipped a bit beneath his body as he sat down. Straining to disregard the way his fingers traced the tiny contours within your face whilst sliding your tresses behind your ears. Your subconscious was hollering at you to go to sleep, to gradually wash out the stillness of his humming, and to eventually rinse out the severity of your predicament.

Several minutes seemed to pass by at this time, and your body started to feel somewhat heavier and your thoughts started to become muddled, as if you were evaporating from your current body. You can feel his fingertips tracing along your lips as the background humming continues on, gently lulling you into sleep.

A soothing "goodnight" was spoken into your ears as you were parting, followed by the warm sensation of something damp being placed on top of your forehead. A brief opening of your eyes allows you to see dark wavy hair and a set of golden eyes that gleam in the shadows, accompanied by plush lips that curve in a mischievous smile. Before you were capable of falling asleep and wandering off again to your dreamland.

The blood that had previously been soaking onto your skin and nightgown had already been cleansed by the time you woke up the following morning. In fact, you had changed entirely into a different gown. The young maid's body, along with the blood that had been on the floor, had all vanished.

The room appeared to be completely normal, as if nothing abnormal had happened.

You hunt for the medication that the maid had formerly dropped, feeling somewhat agitated, underneath your bed frame. Nothing, not even a single dust particle, was found underneath the bed.

Was it merely a nightmare?

A number of maids accompanied you in getting dressed and guided you to slip on a breathtaking white dress that spilled to your knees and had sleeves with cuffs that reached just above your elbow. They attached pearl embellishments to your hair, giving it the appearance as if there was an unending sea of shimmering pearls within your mane.

You peek at your reflection in the mirror, a little taken aback by how unusual you seem to be. You felt very different and possibly even more sophisticated than before thanks to all of these expensive clothes and accessories. You would even get that this dress probably cost more than your parents' tavern, even if they managed to rack up a lot of money within the span of a couple months.

One of the maids led you down into the main dining area, where Capitano and Pantalone were seated. They appeared to be having a brief conversation before your quiet footsteps reverberated throughout the space, prompting them to turn their attention towards you. Following a charming smile, Pantalone motioned for you to take a seat next to him and directly across from Capitano.

"Ah, [First Name]. Here, take a seat."

You took a seat, feeling a little stiff as you adjusted the length of your dress into place before dragging the chair up to the table.

"How was your sleep last night?"

Pantalone muses as he pushes a tea cup decorated with delicate floral motifs towards your direction. If you were to judge the cup solely by its appearance, you would undoubtedly conclude that it is made of exquisite porcelain, which is more expensive than the entirety of your closet at home.

"For most part, it was alright."

You answered, taking a tiny sip of the hot tea as you could feel two sets of eyes penetrating your head as they intently listened to your words.

"B..But I did have a strange dream last night."

You acknowledge that you still find it unsettling to glance at Pantalone as you set the cup back down on the plate and peered at Capitano who wordlessly stared back at you. Something about Pantalone simply seems so unnerving, yet it could be that you've known the Captain for a lot longer.

"Oh? Would you care to elaborate?"

At this point, would they even accept your words? Even you aren't sure if what happened last night was actually the truth or if it was all just a flocking dream. There was no proof that anything occurred, not even a single stain of left behind blood.

"I..it was just a silly childish nightmare. Can we start eating, please?"

As if inviting you to do the same, Pantalone hummed at you before picking up his eating utensils. Following suit, you take the fork and knife out and carefully cut into the piece of warm bacon that is stretched out in front of you before slipping the tender piece of meat into your mouth. Even if you've never encountered any difficulties getting food for your dinner, the piece of beef couldn't be compared in the slightest to the meals your parents prepared. The beef was incredibly soft, perfectly seasoned and sweet, and it melted upon your tongue.

Pantalone seems to notice how your eyes light up as a small laugh escapes his lips, forcing your face to blush in shame.

"The food is quite enjoyable, no need to feel embarrassed."

Despite his efforts to put you at ease, you couldn't help feeling as though he was subtly mocking you and patronizing you like some sort of innocent little girl. However, you made no attempt to reply, choosing instead to merely chuckle. However, Capitano was the first to seek to initiate a genuine conversation, slamming his glass onto the table irrespective of the fact that it appeared to be an unconscious action.

"Pantalone, let us carry on the discussion we established earlier."

Curiosity piqued at his words, and Pantalone turned his attention back from you to peer at the masked man seated next to him. Apart from the water bottle he had just consumed, his supper was left unattended.

"My apologies, Captain. It appears as if I've accidentally become distracted."

His eyes momentarily lingered on your face before shifting to Capitano as he grinned. He shifted the plate to the centre of the table before propping his elbows against the wooden and resting his head onto his hands.

"Many of the children within Arlecchino's orphanage have now successfully completed their coming-of-age ritual. This indicates that many of them have the capacity to enter the war."

Children? War? Capitano actually intends to just let children participate in fighting? You were aware of how critical the situation was at the moment, yet it was still unethical to use children as troops.

"That's correct, yet I have received reports that a large number of those children lack competence across several aspects. Therefore, I do not think that funding a futile military is really appropriate."

In response to Pantalone's statement, Capitano nodded thoughtfully with his palm resting just beneath the area of his helmet that corresponds to where his chin should be. Even though you couldn't fully understand the circumstances, the wording they used while speaking regarding children was simply too callous, and the issue must be resolved in a different way.

"C.. couldn't we simply use another method that doesn't have to involve the children? If they're not well versed with military combat perhaps they could be placed as medical examiners."

Now that you had interrupted their talk, both men's eyes turned back to you, appearing a little bewildered at your suggestion. You gradually regretted meddling with their discussion once there was a brief period of stillness. In the back of your head, you're steadily creating excuses.

"Earth may be able to supply all human necessities, but not for all human greed."

Pantalone grinned, his eyes forming the appearance of a half-moon as they wrinkled. The moon was a stunningly magnificent phenomenon that gave light to the inhabitants of earth, despite its affiliation with the darkness. A beacon of light.

However, despite his outward attractiveness, the man sitting next to you seems to be the moon's antithesis—something much more ruthless and searing, precisely like the vivid flames.

"With the exception of materialism, nothing renders us more vulnerable to attacks than loneliness that comes from greed."

Despite your trepidation, you responded, directing your attention away from his gaze and maintaining a somewhat consistent voice.

Such a tenacious little thing.

Pantalone had postulated that given that you and Capitano were rather intimate, you might have been a little downtrodden and dreary to blend in better with the Captain. However, you persisted in tenaciously upholding your moral beliefs, appropriate of the Saintess, he may assert. He hoped that you would tune in on his exchange. He laughed at your determination, his voice gliding smoothly across your ears prompting you to become flustered, perhaps thinking you somehow made a fool of yourself.

"That might be the case. I beg to differ, though, considering human greed is what inspires mankind to flourish. We would never blossom into fully formed human beings if we remained content with only one thing."

"But if there were no such thing as greed, there would be no conflict and no suffering."

As he listened to your words, Pantalone's peculiar sensation intensified. He could feel his heart thumping and wilting with obvious exuberance. Maybe the delicate birdie that Capitano is so passionate about preserving is sturdier than he initially imagined.

"Without the conception of misery, in my perception, humanity cannot exist. Since we are simply human beings and not representatives of the celestial race, we must undergo a few types of discomfort. It's what makes us humans."

His golden eyes meticulously examine your face, observing the furrow your brows make in frustration, how your lips tighten as you struggle to come up with a response.

How adorable.

Capitano, though, cut short his amusement. A fleeting expression of irritation develops on his face, then quickly vanishes and his face contorted into the usual light-hearted grin.

"[First Name]. It is inappropriate to be interrupting a conversation like this."

At his remarks, you immediately shrank back, a little pout forming on your lips as your shoulders sagged in defeat. You continue to eat your meal, nibbling at the piece of bacon gently in the manner of a squirrel devouring some pine nuts. A soft apology escapes your lips, your tone barely above a whisper.

Perhaps Pantalone was wrong.

Perhaps his avarice did reach the boundaries of the sky. Maybe his passion went beyond the minimum essentials. He desired more, or perhaps he regarded you as an essential. You were constantly brimming with life and vivacious, precisely like a whistling bird.

What a courageous little thing, chirping away at your moral principles and attempting to change his viewpoint. If you become sufficiently obedient, he might be willing to dress you in the most luxurious fabrics and jewellery. Or perhaps he just wants to enjoy your chirping for a little while longer. It's just invigorating to hear other principles than those within a community that faithfully adhered to one Tsaritsa principle.

Indeed, you would appear fairly beautiful dressed in pure white, possibly even with a satin veil thick enough for you to see through while obscuring your beauty from the gaze of some other man in lament.

But for the time being, he is content as long as you continue to chirp him your beautiful songs.

For everything in the world—the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life—comes not from the Father but from the world. 1 John 2:16

#yandere #yandere genshin au #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin x reader #genshin impact #yandere genshin imagines #yandere x reader #genshin imagines #Pantalone #yandere pantalone #fatui #fatui harbingers #saintess #yandere pantalone x reader #greed #genshin x reader

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blizzardsuplex · 4 months

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So, I actually made a RS/AC relationship meta post...thanks @christiancagesupporter for the sign that was a live sex celebration joke, and also @scissormedaddyass for not telling me to stop.

So, imagine a relationship that goes something like this: there’re two guys who’ve known each other pretty well a long time. They’re into some similar things, like music and craft beer and their mutual profession, which paved the way for their initial bond despite some initially obvious differences between them (like age and experience in said mutual profession). They have quite a few differences in personality, too—the starkest one being, probably, that one of them prefers to go with the flow, taking opportunities when they come; the other has been on that grindset since day one.

Still, they’re pretty close. When Roddy (the generally more passive one) moves on in his career, the other hugs and kisses him in public. When Adam, the generally more active one, moves on in his career and gets himself into trouble, the other comes out of nowhere to save him. They’ve had their disagreements (explosive ones), but overall things are good—kind of blue oni and red oni, as TV Tropes might say.

Then Adam gets another chance to pull himself up the ladder—not only further, but to the very top of the profession they both hold dear. He wants this (to be the best, and to be adored for it) more than anything, and will do anything to get there. This includes concocting a plan so elaborate it’s almost comedic: get close to the person on the current rung (Max), find out his weaknesses, and destroy him before any official confrontation. When several wrenches are thrown into his plans, he quickly pivots to not only play kingmaker (to someone who now owes him and is someone he's won against before) but get petty revenge on the man now-deposed, who he blames for plans going awry.

Now, as we all know, Adam is a manipulative asshole. He has backstabbed people close to him more than once and will probably backstab many more. In fact, he’s backstabbed or has planned to backstab Roddy himself at least twice. But Roddy is actually a significant part of Adam’s current plan. Adam’s mark, you see, is distrustful and wary about any attempts to get close to him. An attempt at a straight shot through to the heart would probably fail. Could Roddy (and some others) be a smokescreen, causing a distraction while the other pieces fall into place?

And, you know what? Without a second thought, Roddy does it. In fact, Roddy does it with such aplomb people around them genuinely wonder if he’s gone insane—and then outright believe it, after he continues to do it for months. He has a public tantrum in his hometown. He pretends to be delusional enough to outright attempt to kidnap Adam for weeks. Adam, again in public, verbally tears him down and disavows any bond they previously had (in favor of his new “friend”, of course).

But why does Roddy agree to go through these lengths? The simple answer is probably “emotional manipulation”, and you wouldn’t even be wrong about that…to a point. What makes Adam Cole such an effective manipulator is that he makes his feelings seem so real, and he does that by committing to actually feeling them. As Drea @shes-a-voodoo-child has pointed out recently, any love and affection he feels towards those he’s close to is actually kind of genuine—as long as those he loves know their place, which is to say he’s the one on top and running the show (as she said: just ask Kyle O’Reilly). In that case, then, yes: there’s at least some manipulation going on.

Roddy knows this though, doesn’t he? Why, then, does he seem to keep falling for it? Is he forgetful, stupid, or a total simp? I think part of it is his personality; besides being more laidback when it comes to grand-scale ambition, which Adam has in spades, thanks to Personal Issues™ he also craves the love and attention Adam liberally provides (again, as long as the status quo remains how the latter likes it).

But the interesting thing is that this love isn’t just portioned and given to him like treats for a dog, something to ensure loyalty: Roddy decided to be loyal first, and as such actively works for it. It’s more a salary than anything else—which is to say that when he chose to receive it he also knew exactly what kind of person he was going to work for, just like he actively chose to play the fool for months on end. After 10+ years of knowing the guy, he’s not blind to or delusional about Adam’s nature or demands. Definitely I don’t think he wants to “fix him”. He’s just someone whose math of the costs and benefits of being close to and associating with Adam Cole has come out with him gaining more than he’s losing. He’s made his choice, and in that way he’s kind of using Adam, too.

Also, to be honest? People (myself included) focus a bit more on why Roddy continues to stick by Adam; not a lot of people think about why Adam continues to keep Roddy around beyond a general "he's useful for now". Recognition in a relationship is a two-way street, and so (besides genuinely sharing interests and such) Adam definitely has figured out, and probably even likes, the truth: that Roddy can be as big of a prick as him. It’s not in the same way; Roddy’s brand of dickishness is more out in the open, but because of that they complement each other well. Heel synergy, you might say.

In fact, they just complement each other in general: being gifted at talking versus being gifted in-ring, a leader versus a follower, being evasive versus being direct. That they just “click” in these way probably contributes to the sense they just have fun doing things together—even if that “thing” is “heartlessly destroying Max’s world in front of everyone he knows and those watching at home”. And, of course, they don’t really challenge each other, which does wonders for their egos (both sort of fragile/easily set off in different ways).

Basically: there still a power imbalance/lack of equality in their relationship? Yeah—but the power is more or less being willingly given, and not as one-sidedly as it may initially appear. Do they enable each other’s worst habits/tendencies? Yeah—but in part it’s because they’re so used to and accepting of each other, flaws and all, which can be kind of wholesome depending on how you look at it. Are they toxic bfs as heels? Hell yeah (no buts).

Tl;dr: Roderick Strong and Adam Cole are mutually evil bros. They both know what they’ve gotten themselves into and exactly what kind of person they’ve chosen (for now) to stick with—and they more or less like and/or accept who they’re sticking with. Thanks for coming to my TED Talk that will probably be refuted when we see them interact or something moving forward

#mel's writing tag #wrasslin' talk #fine fine I'll tag the main tags #roderick strong #adam cole

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thekingofwinterblog · 4 months

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Thoughts on people saying "Kuina dieing to the stairs is anti-climatic!" To me it works, because that seems to be the conflict of Zoro's ark: pipe dreams vs cruel, sometimes even banal, reality - Kuina feared that she wont reach her dream do to simple biology, and she died because of something that could happen to anybody who is human and not a demigod - hell Zoro in the end is also a human, so what are the chances that he has the best swordfighter genes?

Guess the only flaw could be that in Arlong park the fishmen were said to be 10* stronger than humans, so by Zoro easily defeating them it kinda proves the point mute and makes Kuina sound like a brat "Well a man is 1.6 times stronger than a man, but fishmen are 10 times stronger, and I defeated the ez gg, git gud"

I really like Kuina and her story, but there is no denying that the original message it was trying to convey has been diluted HARD by One Piece's later developments.

The message of the tragedy of Kuina's death is indeed that simple, Banal reality is very much a thing that can upend pretty much anything. It's basically the same message of Usopp's backstory. his family's plans fell to pieces for the simple reason that his mother got sick and died after his dad left. no grand battle, or dramatic circumstances behind that. she just got sick and died.

It is very similar to Kuina's death, in how ambition, plans, and desires of Humanity can be derailed by mundane and cruel reality. That is life. To claim othervise would be naive. People Die.

That part still holds up.

The other big part does not. Namely her father's line "Humans are fragile beings Zoro."

The thing about this line, and it's importance in the context of One Piece has been destroyed over time to such a degree that rather than the feeling of grounded reality that it once brought, instead brings laughter by how untrue it actually is.

Early One Piece had a much, much less uncomfortable relationship with death than the Modern series which is terrified of killing people off.

This is not to say that tons of characters died, on the contrary, not counting flashbacks and chapter 1, you can probably count the people who died in East Blue on one hand(I can only recall Zoro's skinny opponent during the Kuro Arc), but Death was treated in a very different manner than it would be later.

When Oda had this random bandit gunned in the head in chapter 1, it was to set a tone. None of these characters are playing around, wheter they were pirates, bandits, marines or bounty hunters. They lived in a world where getting killed in a fight was a very real and expected risk.

When Usopp gets laughed at by the Black Cat Pirates, Luffy throws a huge boulder at them, and tells them in no uncertain terms that if they laught at him again, he WILL kill them all.

In the context of this world, Kuina's story has very specific point. Namely it's there to showcase that even if you do overcome your doubts and fears, and do commit to chasing your dreams, that is no guarantee for success.

You can still die, and in the stupidest ways, because this is not a universe where death is cheap. It does not take much to kill a human being.

This is also hammered in with what happened to the cook Pirates, a strong, and experienced crew that sailed and survived the Grand Line, and seemingly the New World as well... And they went down toa single, wave in the East blue they hadn't positioned the ship for.

despite their strength they went down like complete chunks.

Just like Kuina.

With all of this in mind, within the context of East Blue, Kuina's Death by a broken neck makes sense from a thematic standpoint.

If you look at it from beyond that era, and into the grand line, where death became as cheap as salt by the sea, it instead makes her going down to something as simple as falling down the stairs and breaking her neck, as something frankly hilariously silly, given just how many characters in this series cheats death, in the dumbest ways possible.

I could make a list of characters who the story would be better off if they died, and i would literarily be able to put up a list with at least over a hundred characters.

The simple fact is that the old tone where death is treated as a serious thing that can happen in any fight, is dead and gone, and has been for a long, long time in One Piece.

Thus removing one of the big thematic points of Kuina's death.

As for the other point, Kuina's actual strength, I dont really see that as a problem.

The Reality is that neither Kuina, nor Zoro knew ANYTHING about the "Real World" so to speak. That was mostly what Mihawk's entire speech during his and Zoro's fight was about. The fact that he was a big frog at the bottom of the well, who had never seen just how wast the world actually was.

While she was at a disadvantage in terms of the fact that her training would begin to produce slower results than Zoro's due to simple biology, the reality is that the strength ceiling of One Piece seems to be the same for men and Women.

After all, Big Mom was by all accounts just as strong as Kaido, able to fight him to a very comfortable draw withouth any greater injury.

Hell, you could make a very good argument that the reason why Big Mom never managed to surpass Whitebeard and had to settle for just being one of the other Yonko who were not the Strongest Man in the World, was because she let herself go really, really hard. Who knows how strong she might have become if she had kept herself in shape rather than just indulge in hedonism completely and become utterly decadent.

There is also the reality that Kuina is drastically underselling her own strenght and potential, because by all accounts, Kuina was a monster in her own right.

Zoro used to train by lifting boulders over his head while training to fight her.

And Kuina was stronger than him. and not by a small amount either given her unbroken 2001 win streak.

Her greatest problem was, at the end of the day that despite being blessed with immense natural skill and strength(much moreso than Zoro) she had a fragile self esteem, in large part caused by her father's upbringing that told her she was destined to failure.

Her story was about overcoming that, and her tragedy was about the fact that after doing so, her dream was still snuffed out to something completely unrelated to any of her worries or struggles.

#one piece #shimotsuki kuina #roronoa zoro #charlotte linlin #meta #analysis #questions and answers

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nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos · 7 months

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Sooooo

This is Vincent Regan (One Piece Live Action's Vice Admiral Garp) in the 2004 film Troy.

And frankly it's giving me pirate vibes and feeding some headcanons I already have for certain fan fictions I'm already working on/planning and someone make it stop I have too much shit to work on already wtf open head remove brain please

Also I just found out I share a birthday with Vincent Regan? cooool~

So feckit, here's my character history for Garp for my OPLA fanfic canon, for the hell of it and also to get it out of my head so I can work on what I actually want to work on right now.

Marine brat, family moved around a lot, but settled in Foosha Village when he was around six. Had one older brother (seven years older), father was a Marine Vice Admiral.

Bad relationship with father—he wasn't around much due to his work, and when he was home, the guy was kind of a major jerk.

Older brother sort of took on the fatherly role as a result, ended up joining the Marines at sixteen but staying relatively local at the base in Shells Town on a nearby island.

Made friends with a homeless girl named Helena at nine years old, who claimed her parents were pirates, and told incredible stories about their adventures.

Helena later reveals, when they're around thirteen and Garp points out that a lot of her stories don't add up or make sense, that her father was a Marine, and an abusive dirtbag. She had actually run away from home, stowed away on a pirate ship, and got dumped off in Foosha Village when they discovered her, and she plans on setting out as a pirate herself when she's older.

He's pretty resentful of the Marines because of his father, but he knows he's expected to enlist when he's old enough...

But fuck that, he's got an alternative now, and he's going for it, no holds barred.

Even if Helena insists on being captain and they butt heads over it a fair amount, he honestly accepts it because frankly he's head over heels for the free-spirited independent girl and he's pretty sure her ambitions have saved him from being molded into his old man's clone.

Fuel is added to the fire of his rebellion when his father is in town when he is fourteen and discovers his younger son's friendship with the street-rat Helena. Helena doesn't hold back her opinions of how much of an ass-bandit the man is, and he ultimately forbids Garp from seeing her.

Obviously that does nothing but result in him just seeing her in secret; not like it's that hard since his father is rarely around anyway.

A few days before he turns sixteen, his father arrives to take him to the base in Shells Town to enlist on his birthday. Helena proposes that they steal the man's personal sloop and set out in the night, and it's a sealed deal.

Three years in, they both have pretty hefty bounties and a decent crew put together, just enjoying freedom on the Grand Line.

But all good things must come to an end—they get into a firefight with a Marine vessel, and while they win...they learn that Marine crew was captained by Garp's older brother, who went down with the ship.

Garp can't take the guilt, no more than he can take how aloof Helena is about the ordeal, with her stating that all Marines are scum and she honestly can't bring herself to feel any guilt.

Their falling out results in him leaving, heading home to Foosha Village, and ultimately begging his father for a second chance at eighteen years old.

His father, an admiral now, agrees to pull some strings to get his bounty cancelled—as long as Garp enlists as a Marine and dedicates his career to hunting down and bringing in Helena...and, however reluctantly, he agrees.

He advances the ranks relatively quickly, having three years seafaring experience already, and his ability to think like a pirate means he's damned good at taking them down.

His father has already passed away by the time he manages to track down Helena at thirty-two years old in the North Blue. By now she is one of the most notorious captains in the world, known as The Siren for both her affinity toward music as well as her affinity for seducing her way out of trouble.

At some point, she's gained devil fruit powers (Mizu Mizu no Mi, Logia Type, Water), which has contributed greatly to her success.

He is frankly surprised when she willingly gives herself up on the condition that her crew is allowed to continue without her; Garp doesn't have much choice but to accept, as her devil fruit abilities make her nearly impossible to combat.

They're several weeks out from Marineford, which gives them a great deal of time to catch up while she's stuck in the hold.

She apologizes for being as cold as she was about the death of his older brother; says she knew it would ultimately drive him to leave her side and she felt it would be better if he left in resentment toward her than in guilt of leaving her behind.

And goddammit he's still in love with her.

Aaaand surprise surprise! she ends up preggo halfway to Marineford.

Whoops.

Unbeknownst to his own crew, he works out a plan with Helena to contact her crew and have them stage an attack to retrieve her, which he will intentionally lose, under the condition that she gives up her career as a pirate to raise their child.

Resulting in him returning to Marineford empty-handed, of course, with no one wise to the fact that Helena is carrying his child.

At this point Helena already has a base that has developed into something of a small village, an uncharted island on the Grand Line, of which she provided the coordinates to Garp.

The resulting falling out between him and Helena ends in them separating.

They marry in secret on the island, ultimately have two sons together, but everything comes full circle as his eldest son, Dragon, grows to resent him for being absent most of the time and not particularly personable when he is there, and ends up oposing the World Government directly...

And his second son (yes, another OC I've got a whole ass family tree going here) refuses to even accept his name after his older brother leaves, and ultimately runs away on his own in his early teens and joins Gol D. Roger's crew.

As a direct result of all this, when Garp ultimately takes his grandson in, he decides immediately that he doesn't want the boy involved with piracy...and yet he finds it hard to fault him for it when that is the path that Luffy ultimately falls into. His own history is a tremendous part of what leads to him letting Luffy go in Cocoyasi Village when he corners the Strawhat crew there.

#opla #opla garp #one piece #vincent regan #opla fanfiction #opla headcanon

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