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salteytakesonmanga · 8 months
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I’m sure by now we all know the jokes in the birthdays, but just in case:
Luffy’s birthday is Children’s Day, a national holiday in Japan, which suits his child-like nature.
Zoro’s birthday is a pun on “zorome,” or matching dice rolls (double 1s, double 2s etc.)
Nami's is because the word for July, the 7th month, is NAnagatsu, and the third day is MIkka.
Usopp’s birthday is April Fool’s Day, for obvious reasons.
Sanji’s birthday also uses a Japanese number pun, SANgatsu for the third month, and JI is another reading for the number 2.
I should add that in the 90s it was common for character profiles to include birthdate and blood type because horoscopes were super popular. That’s probably why Oda is kind of preemptively telling people he doesn’t care if their zodiac signs don’t make sense. (Ironically, they all make perfect sense.)
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snicketstrange · 6 months
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CHABO Chapter -5
-5
It was a spring afternoon, but it felt nothing like spring. Dense, grey clouds hung low in the sky, as if the very atmosphere was mourning the unholy matrimony taking place beneath it.
The antiquated synagogue, shrouded in withered vines and dead foliage, stood like an empty husk—its stained glass windows a tapestry of shadows and sorrows, as if cursed by some malevolent force.
The guest list was scant: Kit Snicket and the Duchess of Winnipeg, Josephine and Ike, and Windershins and his wife. Among these few, they alone knew the wretched secret—the bride, Beatrice, was pregnant with another man's child. Lemony Snicket, a man believed to be dead, a ghost whose unquiet soul haunted the ceremony.
The guests, dressed in dark, almost funereal attire, resembled phantoms—murmuring prayers that sounded more like dirges than blessings. In the case of those named, their mutterings were indeed lamentations, weighted with an air of impending doom.
Beatrice, the bride, made her slow, somber march down the aisle. Her dress, a dingy, off-white garment, seemed to encapsulate the palpable disgust some felt but dared not express. Each step she took was like the tolling of a death knell, each glance exchanged a foreboding omen, making everyone privy to the terrible undercurrent that pervaded the room.
The air grew thick, almost suffocating, as if the walls themselves were closing in, anticipating a Hermedy too horrific to name.
Bertrand watched her with a complex tapestry of emotions woven into his gaze. The bridal veil, traditionally a symbol of purity, now seemed more like a shroud of impending doom, an omen of a loveless future.
He knew that under the huppah, the wedding canopy, he would not be in search of love, but rather fulfilling a mere duty, an obligation that gripped him like an unrelenting vice.
Bertrand had been trained to control his facial expressions by the secret organization known as VFD. To the onlooker, he appeared as impassive as a gravestone, returning their scrutiny with a dark gaze that concealed any semblance of emotion.
But his hands betrayed him. They nervously twisted the fringes of his talit, his prayer shawl, in a repetitive motion that could only be interpreted as anxiety—a dead-on assessment.
Flashbacks of his history with Beatrice flickered through his mind, each carrying a sharp stab of pain that pierced his heart.
"I like someone else, Bertrand," she had told him when he was just 13.
"I don't believe you, Bertrand!" she had exclaimed at 14, when he showed her evidence that Lemony had fallen for another girl, a certain Ellington Feint.
"If you bring this up again, we can't be friends," she had warned him when he had confessed his feelings yet again at 17.
"I'm marrying Lemony," he had read in the letter delivered by a solitary carrier pigeon when he was 18.
"Leave, Bertrand. And find yourself a good therapist," she had told him, shutting the door in his face, her eyes awash with tears.
But fate had twisted their lives into an intricate knot of irony and despair, a detail Bertrand clung to so as not to succumb to utter hopelessness.
"Lemony had to flee on the wedding day. Count Olaf plans to kill him and Beatrice. Can you keep her safe, Bertrand?" Jacques Snicket, Lemony's brother, had once implored him.
Two years had passed since that ominous request, and one fateful evening, he overheard Beatrice in conversation with the Duchess of Winnipeg during her visit to their mansion:
"As long as I'm engaged to him, he'll never be safe. And how long can I continue to be a burden on Bertrand? I know he loves me. Imagine the agony he must feel sharing a home with me when I can't return even an ounce of his affection."
Then one day, over breakfast, she said:
"Bertrand, I want to tell you that I've ended things with Lemony. I've sent him a letter explaining everything."
Just as Bertrand began to hope that she was gradually opening up to the possibility of loving him, Lemony returned from his exile.
And the timing could not have been worse.
VFD, the secret organization they were all a part of, was disintegrating. A weapon of mass destruction was in development. To many, Olaf was seen as a necessary evil to counteract an even greater malice.
And he was.
There was simply no time for the indulgence of love and romance in that fraught moment. Kit Snicket, Bertrand, and Widdershins were deeply embroiled in a desperate mission to save the world. After all, the biological weapon was a deadly fungus that would annihilate its host within an hour.
And yet, despite the inopportune circumstances, despite the impending doom and life-or-death struggles, Beatrice and Lemony found a way to reignite their illicit romance.
And he impregnated her.
And then he died.
Pregnant and bereft of a husband, that was how Beatrice found herself when she came seeking Bertrand.
"I can't promise to love you, but if you'll have me as your wife, Bertrand, I promise to be yours. Just as you've always wanted," she declared, her eyes devoid of the warmth they once held.
The Rabbi, an elderly man with a long, graying beard, commenced the ceremony. His voice was a raspy echo, as if every word drained him of life. When it came time to drink the wine, Beatrice hesitated. She shouldn't drink; not while carrying a child. It was unloving, irresponsible.
The cup appeared to be filled with blood in the eerie, dim candlelight, a cruel reminder of another life, another love, that had been wrenched away from her so savagely. Asking for forgiveness from God and from her unborn child, she took a reluctant sip.
Bertrand then reached into his left pocket and drew out an object of wonder: The Ring of the Winnipeg Dynasty. It was priceless, a treasure in and of itself. He had no illusions of buying Beatrice's love, but he wanted to please her. She simply deserved the best. Kit Snicket had arranged for him to have it that very morning.
"The Duchess wishes you to place this ring on Beatrice's finger. She wants to be a part of your story," Kit had said.
Yes, that was a small blessing on this tragic day. Engraved into the ring was an 'R,' a constant reminder of the ring's noble origin.
Beatrice extended her right index finger, and Bertrand felt her hand turn ice-cold upon contact.
Her heart rate spiked, her blood pressure plummeted. A dark red streak of blood flowed down her leg, staining her dress a shocking scarlet.
"Where did you get this?" She exclaimed, her eyes a cocktail of rage, horror, and pain. A sudden, searing cramp overtook her, and she collapsed clutching her abdomen, blood gushing from within her.
Kit Snicket abruptly rose and retreated to the restroom, while the others rushed to the stricken bride's side.
The room filled with an air so thick with dread that it could be sliced through. Faces turned ashen, eyes widened in a medley of disbelief and horror.
As Bertrand paced anxiously, waiting for the wail of ambulance sirens to pierce the oppressive silence, his eyes were awash in tears. Beatrice had regained consciousness but remained in a fragile state, her eyes sealed shut as if to block out the horror of reality. The other guests urged her to lie still, their faces pale masks of disbelief and anguish. Bertrand clutched her still-chilled hand. The bleeding hadn't ceased. The air was thick, almost suffocating, saturated with an impending sense of doom.
And then he heard it, a whisper low and almost inaudible amid the palpable tension—Kit Snicket's voice, trembling in his ear. Her eyes too were wet, seemingly brimming with tears.
"I'm so sorry, Bertrand," she murmured, her voice breaking. "I promise, I will bring you 15 years of happiness to make up for this horror."
Confused and disoriented, Bertrand stared at his stricken wife, trying to make sense of Kit's cryptic words. He didn't want to turn and face Kit; her presence now felt like a haunting specter.
"The ring... did it do this to her?" he finally stammered, his voice tinged with both desperation and accusation.
"It might have reminded her of the first wedding that was never meant to be, and the emotional weight was too much for her to bear," Kit replied, her voice laden with sorrow yet oddly detached.
"There was no way for you to know this would happen, right?" he asked, seeking some form of absolution, some fragment of reassurance.
"Just remember, Bertrand, I'm in the same fight as you," Kit answered, her words layered with cryptic subtext.
"Kit, what does 'our fight' have to do with this unspeakable Trage.dy?"
But before he could extract any clarity from her, Kit turned her back and walked away, vanishing into the shadows like an apparition, leaving him with nothing but unanswered questions and a gaping void of dread. At that very moment, the paramedics arrived, rushing toward Beatrice with urgent intensity.
Bertrand was left standing there, in a room turned mausoleum, pondering Kit's ominous words and contemplating the battle they were both supposedly fighting. But as he looked at Beatrice, her face twisted in agony, her life hanging by the thinnest of threads, he couldn't help but wonder: What kind of war were they waging that could justify such monstrous collateral damage? And as that question echoed in his mind, the walls of the synagogue seemed to close in around him, suffocating him with the dark and unbearable weight of regret, dread, and horror.
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lomappreciationblog · 8 months
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Egglia post! Been able to finish some more photos from Osiria's gallery, but they're a bit spoiler-y so I'll put them under read more.
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Just the gang being cute! I headcanon Chabo acts like an older brother to Harushiro and this feeds that. Look at them just having fun, it's so cute! I wish Egglia had an art book with all the illustrations and such.
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This one is very different in tone from "Friends Forever" but it looks dang cool. And this makes me realize Chabo had a model for his pre-broken horn state, I wonder if it would have made an appearance in the game, and if so, where it would have appeared. It's bittersweet seeing Chabo and Shamo fighting together, and you can tell that they really were brothers prior to Chabo breaking his horns.
There was an illustration of them posted by the official Egglia account (this was before Rebirth, so I think one has to dig a bit into the former bird site to find it), which shows Shamo fighting with his claws and Chabo dual wielding the dagger and sword, so I guess prior to Egglia Chabo was using both weapons.
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I do find it interesting Chabo used to have green, slanted eyes, but in Egglia, with his horns broken, they've become blue and very round.
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Such an adorable bean, it's hard to believe he used to be a murderous dual wielding (but still pretty cute) guy.
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luffysfakebeard · 2 years
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me shouting at my reflection every time I have a breakdown
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nehswritesstuffs · 1 year
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Inherited Will, Destiny of the Age, Graveyard of Ambition and Dreams - Part 5
Sorry for sitting on this for so long. In other fic news, I should be getting together the final parts of stuff not-this soon, since I want to do another semi-rush for the year-end holidays. I mean, who doesn’t want to decompress with some fic?
Part 1 on [tumblr] - [FFN] - [AO3] 
Prior chapter on [tumblr] - [FFN] - [AO3]
Hoist the Colors; with Arlong out of the way, the Straw Hats decide to do some acquiring of things. [bad future!One Piece AU]
-_-_-_-_-_-_-
After finding the kitchens and making sure Rika had a snack and the beginnings of the main food prep had been started, Chabo and Kappa left their… neither were entirely certain what to call the pirates, but they left them in order to search the compound to check to see if there were any other Fish-Men straggling behind. When they were confident there wasn’t, they went into the inner sanctum and began to rifle through their former oppressors’ things, searching for anything that could be useful before any of them returned to claim them. Seemingly endless pieces of abandoned navigation equipment were getting wrapped up in paper and put into carryall bags, while varying maps, books, and cartography supplies were getting snatched as well.
“I’m still having trouble reconciling the cheerful woman with a straw hat as someone who now has two Bosses under her belt,” Chabo said idly. He picked up a book and casually flipped through it—nothing they needed. “She’s… something else.”
⌠⌠That’s an understatement if I’ve heard one,⌡⌡ Kappa scoffed. He was lining up a series of Eternal Poses on the table and comparing them with a sea chart, seeing which ones he wanted to take. ⌠⌠You saying anything I need to know…?⌡⌡
“Kakkun…”
⌠⌠You want her, go ahead; I don’t make moves on women whose sanity is liable to snap while she puppeteers my own suicide.⌡⌡
⌠⌠She just saved our home, ending what we’ve been trying to topple for most of our lives in a matter of minutes. Doesn’t that… unnerve you…?⌡⌡
⌠⌠It does, but I’m trying to be as logical as possible right now, because passion at this stage is liable to get us into trouble.⌡⌡ He switched languages as he made his decision, taking all but a couple of the Poses. “You’d think that they would take all this with them.”
“Chances are that they don’t need them as firmly as we do, or they have another cache somewhere else.”
Kappa shrugged at that and they kept rummaging about, knowing exactly what it was they needed. The sounds of shuffled papers and softly clinking glass was only broken when Grand Line native shivered at the sight of a photo.
“Oh, kalyv, I think I found her,” he said, voice quiet. Chabo looked at the other man, seeing that he was staring at a framed photo on the wall.
“Found who…?”
“Nami.”
Chabo abandoned the pile of maps to look at the photo. Sure enough, there was a picture of the Arlong Pirates from decades prior, all Fish-Men with exception of a sullen-looking Human girl with red hair. She couldn’t have been more than thirteen, her discomfort apparent to the two men.
“You know, I spent so much time thinking that she was a monster, that when I finally learned what she was doing with the Fish-Men, I cried for an entire night,” Chabo explained solemnly. “She tried to save up enough to buy Cocoyasi’s freedom, and when she didn’t return that one day, Arlong took her savings for himself and razed the village. She’d have to be almost forty now, if we ever find her. Uncle held out hope this entire time but I think all that’s left of her is these maps.”
“You know… you never told me how you and Genzo escaped.”
“Her sister,” Chabo tapped the portion of the photo with the child, “sent me to find Uncle. He was at their adoptive mother’s grave. I think he had been in love with her at one point. It’s the one on the cliff, where the Fish-Men never went. By the time we returned, everyone was dead.”
“Then let’s find everything we can and make sure none of that was in vain,” Kappa nodded. He and Chabo continued to gather up papers and charts, filling a couple large bags with things they deemed necessary to sail to and on the Grand Line, along with the little bit of money that was left behind in the Fish-Men’s mad scramble to leave. They then went back down to the kitchen, where Rika and Ninjin were already devouring a large meal, much to Tamanegi and Piiman’s horror.
“Good, you’re back,” Tamanegi noticed. “Did you find what you need?”
“We did,” Kappa said. He held up what looked like a bulbous wristwatch, which contained a fidgety compass inside instead of a timepiece. “This is a Log Pose—we’ll need this in order to sail the Grand Line.”
“Why’s that?” Rika asked, mouth full of food. The others tried not to think of how scary she had been just earlier in the day, with the way she dispatched Arlong easily.
“Each island has a unique magnetic field; when traveling, you have to sail to whichever island the Log Pose picks up next, then wait for it to reset. It takes anywhere from a couple hours to a couple years, which make these necessary as well.” He took what appeared to be another twitchy compass in a single-bulbed hourglass out of his bag and set it on the table. Rika picked it up and examined it—the words ST. POPLAR was engraved on the wood. “This is an Eternal Pose, or: a work-around to the Log Pose’s reset system. To get off some islands in a timely manner, you need these. There were dozens of them in the offices.”
“That’s it…?” Rika questioned, raising an eyebrow. Kappa scoffed.
“Have any of the rest of you been on the Grand Line?” No one else moved. “It’s a place with crazy weather and an even crazier time navigating. We need to go and find the best ship we can here and then take it to a place where we can get a decent one, Grand Line capable. Only then can we go gallivanting around as you please.”
“Where do you suppose we do that?” Tamanegi asked.
“I have some ideas, but considering it’s been over fifteen years, I’d need to do some digging first before I decide on a course and destination.” He stared at the food on the table and his mouth began to water, tempted to sit down and start eating his fill. “I… am going to tell Genzo that we’re safe and start getting word out to the rest of the Resistance.”
“We’ll stay here, Kakkun, and see what the Fish-Men have left us in terms of usable boats,” Chabo said.
“Remember: something that can at least make it to Logue Town, possibly even part of the Grand Line,” he warned. “Save some food for me, alright?”
The rest of them were in agreement—it was the least they could do, after all.
-_-_-_-_-_-_-
It was a long time before Kappa returned to Arlong Park, with the sun having almost set by the time he made it back. The others were already attempting to make dinner, though it didn’t mean that he was going to get by unnoticed.
“Kappa! I’m making my special onigiri!” Rika cheered as she saw him walk past the kitchen. He didn’t stop, instead keeping his head down and continuing on down the corridor. “Huh… do you think he heard me?”
“He might be headed towards the docks,” Piiman frowned. “The compound is a good shortcut.”
“Then I’ll go see what’s wrong,” Chabo said.
He put down the rice he was balling and followed Kappa outside. He eventually found the other man by the harbor, sitting on one of the docks with his legs dangling over the side. There weren’t many ships that had been left behind, but the way he was positioned, he was looking across the wharf at a potential craft to get to the Grand Line.
“Hey,” he said. Kappa did not move, allowing Chabo to sit down next to him, their bodies barely making contact. “Did it… did it happen…?”
“I got there and he was already cold,” Kappa admitted. A long silence passed, with crickets chirping and frogs croaking. “I didn’t think it would feel like this.”
“He raised us.”
“We’re not brothers, or cousins…”
“He made sure we were taken care of, so in a weird way, yeah, he raised us. People feel sad when the people who raise them pass away.” Tears began to form in Chabo’s eyes, threatening to develop into an out-right sob. “He didn’t even get to see Cocoyasi again…”
“Come here.” Kappa put his arm around the other man’s shoulders and let him lean into his side, resting his head against Chabo’s as the tears began to flow. There was nothing left for him to cry, Kappa knew, as he already got it all out on the walk back.
⌠⌠It’s not fair…⌡⌡
⌠⌠Of course it’s not, but we know that.⌡⌡
⌠⌠I don’t want to be the only one left… not again…⌡⌡
⌠⌠Then come with us.⌡⌡ Chabo pushed away gently, his eyes still glassy with tears. “I am going to need all the fucking sanity I can get, and if Rika is as insane as I think she is, I’m also going to need backup in case she goes off the deep end.”
“I thought a captain has to invite crew members, and although she’s been nice, she hasn’t said a word about me…”
“I’ll just make it a term of my joining.” He chuckled softly, shaking his head. “You’re dumber than a lone traveler in the desert, but I’m not going to abandon you.”
They stayed quiet for a while, simply staring at the wharf ahead.
“Kakkun…?”
“Kalyv…?”
Chabo paused and, decided on something else to say. “I really hope Terragram is out there somewhere for you. Do you think he’s still alive?”
“I’m certain of it.”
-_-_-_-_-_-_-
It took a couple days to convince the other members of the Conomi Resistance to head over to Cocoyasi, but when they did, there was much for them to catch up on. There was a large party to celebrate the ousting of their former oppressors, with plenty of food and drink and toasts towards the Straw Hat Pirates. It lasted for an entire week. Not many could remember the entire thing, if they were being honest, and they didn’t mind—the Fish-Men were gone and that was what mattered.
The pirates stayed in-port long enough for Chabo and Kappa to erect a proper memorial to the man who took them in, right next to the one for the woman he had reminisced about so much, before gathering enough supplies to last them until the next populated island. Over a month had passed since the Straw Hat Pirates had climbed ashore, and it seemed as though they were leaving with heavy hearts. The residents of the Conomi Islands were both ready to see the end of the era of pirates in their midst, but didn’t necessarily want to get rid of these particular pirates.
“What is the flag you fly?” the new mayor of Cocoyasi asked. She tilted her head as she watched the entire crew look at Rika, who chuckled awkwardly. They were all at the wharf as the pirates were finishing loading their ship for their journey in the morning.
“Here’s the thing—I don’t have one yet,” she admitted. The mayor shook her head.
“That won’t do,” she claimed. “We want to know what we can fly, so that we can properly be under your protection. Do any of you have a steady hand?”
“I do,” Tamanegi offered. He and Rika were led away by the mayor, leaving the rest of the crew to continue loading the ship.
“Why do I get a bad feeling about this?” Kappa frowned. He picked up a small crate and carried it up the gangplank, setting it in front of Piiman and Chabo, who were lowering the supplies into the inner hold for Ninjin to sort and put away.
“It could be worse,” Piiman shrugged. “One of them could be a teenager with horrid penmanship. Even if Rika’s shit at drawing, at least there’s not much Tam will let fly before taking over.”
“That’s less assuring than it needs to be.”
“Kakkun, be nice,” Chabo teased. He then looked down the hatch, seeing Ninjin shoving a crate off to the side. “How much room we got left?”
“Enough,” he replied. He then popped his head up above deck, looking about. “Yeah, we can fit that.”
“The big question is though: how much of this will actually make it to the Grand Line and what won’t?” Kappa said. “It’s been too long.”
“Don’t worry; you’ve got this,” Ninjin grinned. He then noticed Rika and Tamanegi running back to the ship, a large black cloth carried between them. “That’s fast!”
“Yeah! You’re gonna love this!” Rika shouted.
“It was pretty easy once we got going,” Tamanegi added. The men watched as Rika climbed up the mast with a rope in-hand, which she used to pull up the cloth once she got high enough to use the yardam as leverage. She brought it with her into the crow’s nest and strung it up, letting the fabric unfurl in the wind.
There it was: a grinning skull and crossbones wearing pigtails and a straw hat, just like her.
“How’s that?!” she shouted down, her smile brighter than the sun.
It was nothing less than perfect.
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kneipe · 2 years
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leipzig 2022
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9-edit · 1 year
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Bandyta czy hultaj, chabo na fulltime, dzisiaj kulturka, wieczoru perspektywy to furtka.
Bardzo dobre mam z tym wspomnienia 🥺
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roseillith · 5 months
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Serial Experiments Lain OST US reissue (2003)
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Posting it here
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tazariah · 3 months
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He doesn't know how to swim
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dozydawn · 1 year
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salteytakesonmanga · 11 months
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But then immediately Usopp turns around to face a Fishman, right after learning they have ten times the strength of the average human. He’s used for laughs a lot but this is incredibly brave of him.
There are more examples later in the series, but I think this illustrates something important about Usopp. The stories and lies he tells himself - the Brave Warrior of the Sea and Hero Sogeking and Leader of 10,000 Men stuff - actually DO help. It’s not like he actually gets a power boost from it, but what it does do is it pushes him to try harder.
Usopp is fundamentally a regular guy. He’s not monstrously strong, he doesn’t have powers… He can’t live beyond the edge of common sense like Luffy and Zoro. But by telling himself these stories he can push himself past that edge for a moment. Usopp may be a regular guy, but beyond that edge of common sense is where regular guys become heroes, and the lies become real.
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snicketstrange · 5 months
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Chabo Chapter _/99
\99
I'm lost. Who am I? Where am I? When am I? A smell jolts my senses. A foul, nauseating scent. Ammonia and ether. I gaze down at my arms, touch my face. I’m an animal. Fur coats my flesh. The stench, the fur, it brings a name to mind.I am Chabo.Voices echo."Chabo! Wake up Chabo! Hold on Chabo!"It's Sunny Baudelaire. I remember. I orchestrated her birth. Daughter to Lemony Snicket. Daughter to Beatrice and Lemony Snicket. I made it happen. The Opera Ball. An unforgettable day.Why? Why her birth? To save humanity. I’ll save humanity, even if it means forsaking my own humanity.I am Chabo."Chabo! Can you hear me?"Yes, Sunny, I hear you. We’re on the right track, Sunny. Confirmation received. Can you hear me, Sunny? I’ll revisit this timeline through Kit Snicket. A reinforcement. A sign that I’ll realize this path in the future.First reinforcement. Exhaustion overwhelms me.I must focus. The operating system is everywhere. How long since I’ve eaten? Hunger gnaws at me. I crave red meat, rare. A plate appears. My paws grab the meat, morphing into fingers. I’m still human, partially. I bite down. Delicious.I know I’m being sustained intravenously. We’re in Queequeg. It all started with Queequeg. It all started with the sugar bowl. It all started with Kit Snicket. It all started, over and over. I’m tired. Can’t leave the machine.Must complete the mission before death. But I know I’ll reinforce at some point. So, I’ll live.Where was I in the mission? Ensure the death of Beatrice’s first child with Lemony. It was Kit. But it was me. It’s done.Now it’s Beatrice’s turn. I killed her. Killed Bertrand too. Didn’t want to. Bertrand was too clever.Now to disguise myself. But first, into Beatrice’s mind.Her brain unfolds before me. It’s pink. It’s large. It’s bleeding. It’s rotting. I despise Beatrice’s brain. The brain morphs into a golden sphere. I approach. As I penetrate Beatrice’s mind, reality fades. All is white. The air thickens. It’s her death. I must rewind.I crouch. My body rebels, reshaping is agony, bones snapping, flesh tearing. No longer fingers, but paws. A tail. Enhanced senses. I run.Smells morph into shapes. I hear time rewinding. Her thoughts invade, a painful melding. Her arms, legs, mouth, I feel them as mine.Her memories sharpen, carving into my consciousness alongside.I recall what I subjected her to, night after night.I'm sorry Beatrice. But humanity's tether to survival is knotted with your marital binds. I endeavored to sew love between you hastily, yet I faltered.Your union always crumbled to dust.I had to snuff the life out of your offspring with Lemony. Your first sonwould have been the wedge driving you apart once the truth of Lemony's existence surfaced.And then Violet and Klaus would remain whispers in the void.Humanity would crumble into oblivion.Humanity clings to the hope of Violet and Klaus' existence. Clings to your care for Sunny. Clings to your sham of a marriage.Clings to your destined ashes in a raging fire.I can't puppeteer your emotions, yet I orchestrate your actions with cold precision.I am the monster lurking in the shadows. I am Chabo.I rouse Beatrice. Hoist her feeble frame and usher her to the bags. A plethora of costumes lay within.Commands:- Toss garments onto the bed.- Select the pieces, meticulously, to compose the ship’s cook attire. The hairnet and mask are imperative.- Adorn yourself.- Take the jar of powdered death – peanuts.- Navigate to the kitchen's cold embrace.She commences her obedience to the eerie commands, each step a funeral march to the unknown.I am aware, every beat of my heart resonates with the grim reality. I will be the reaper on this ship, ushering most into death’s cold arms.But through this macabre dance, I shall salvage the ember of humanity's existence.
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lomappreciationblog · 2 years
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Felt like drawing Chabo again! Tried to make him look slightly older and kinda gave him the feel of Final Fantasy protagonists.
He's still too cute to look more brooding and stuff though haha.
All the latest Legend of Mana anime news fills my heart with joy, I hope I can draw something for the anniversary celebration this year on July 15. If you're a LoM fan, the official LoM anime twitter is hosting an event for fans where you can use a hashtag to share your memories of LoM! I'm not completely sure if English entries are considered but it wouldn't hurt to check it out. I think you can get a wallpaper for participating? Here's the link if you wanna check it out!
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nehswritesstuffs · 2 years
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Inherited Will, Destiny of the Age, Graveyard of Ambition and Dreams - Part 3
As [is going to become] usual, translations are at the bottom of the page.
Part 1 on [tumblr] - [FFN] - [AO3] 
Part 2 on [tumblr] - [FFN] - [AO3]
A Promise to Genzo; Chabo and Kappa weigh their options, while Rika learns where the food is kept. [bad future!One Piece AU]
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The storm did not break until the dead of night, leaving Rika to fulfill her word the following morning. The crew slept on armchairs and a couch in the sitting area, while Chabo and Kappa remained in their tiny shared room in the back of the house.
“These people seem… unstable,” Kappa whispered. It was early in the morning, before the others woke, and the two of them were already up and awake. They were sitting side-by-side on the edge of his mattress, their shoulders just barely apart, both men hunched over with their elbows resting against their knees as they looked directly ahead. “Do we really want to risk the entire Resistance on these vagabonds?”
“You were a vagabond once, and we trusted you.”
“I was a kid who barely spoke any Eastern.”
“…and these people out there are all younger than us.” Chabo exhaled heavily and stared at his hands. “They might be outsiders and vagabonds, but… I just want to have a shot, Kakkun, and taking one is better than not at all.”
“Does that shot have to be them, though? We don’t know how many openings we’ve got.”
“…and we won’t know that number until we take it. Nezumi’s gang isn’t there—we won’t have a shot like this for a long time.” Silence passed over them, crickets chirping outside and the wan light from the setting moon being the only thing illuminating the room. He switched to another language, one more appropriate for a desert oasis than a shack in a forest. ⌠⌠I wish things were different.⌡⌡
A scoff. ⌠⌠Yeah.⌡⌡
⌠⌠I mean it.⌡⌡
⌠⌠So do I.⌡⌡ Kappa ran his fingers through his hair in frustration and made the switch back to Eastern. “Let’s say we go with whatever fucked-up plan they’ve got going. What do you think we’ll do if this isn’t what works?”
“Whatever happens next, I guess.”
“You’ve been saying that for ten fucking years.”
“…and I’ll say it for ten more.”
Kappa grumbled and stood, beginning to pace the room. He didn’t know what to do with his hands, gesticulating and fiddling with the pendant around his neck, completely unable to be still. “Genzo is at death’s door—I don’t want to be there waiting for him when he arrives!”
“I don’t think that will be the case,” Chabo said. “There’s something about Rika that just… it’s calming… like she’ll make certain everything’s going to be alright.”
“How the hell can you say that when you’ve watched the entire island chain devolve into shit?! We’re just barely scraping by and the only one in this house that can actually remember how it was before the Fish-Men is Genzo! I’ve given up on a lot, but I don’t want all these years of effort being one of those things.”
“Kakkun…”
“Don’t ‘Kakkun’ me, kalyv. You know what’s possible just as much as I do—one wrong move and there’s nothing left. All done. Vyran. The rest of the Resistance won’t even realize we’re gone until they’ve got Fish-Men on their front stoop and their homes have been set ablaze.”
“Then let’s make all the right moves.”
“Life doesn’t work that way; sometimes the only moves to make are the wrong ones.”
Chabo glanced up at Kappa, seeing how he was fidgety and rubbing the chill in the air off his upper arms. He was beyond nervous. “You can finally search for Terragram.” That made the other man stop in his tracks, staring at him slackjawed.
“You remembered.”
“You didn’t shut up about it for the first three months.” Chabo stood and took a couple steps towards the door before turning to look at Kappa, who was unconsciously fiddling with his pendant. “I’ll be bringing the pirates to Arlong Park today. Whether you’re with us or with Uncle is up to you.” He then left, softly closing the door behind him and moving through the house with not a sound.
Kappa swallowed hard and looked out the window—orange and purple were beginning to smear against the horizon, signaling the soon-held dawn. Birds chirped outside the window and the smell of sea spray reached his nose despite the window being closed. He had spent so long on this island—so long with others who knew nothing about him or his homeland—it was as though he wanted both freedom as well as to stay.
If only he could bring Conomi with him.
Letting out a heavy exhale, Kappa checked himself in the shard that served as a mirror before heading out into the main of the house. Chabo was not there, but a light was filtering out from underneath Genzo’s door. He instead went to the kitchen portion and began to boil water for tea. By the time he was pouring water into the teapot, Piiman had woken up and was sleepily following his orders, quietly toasting bread and fumbling for plates and cups. Kappa left him to continue and slipped into Genzo’s room, seeing that Chabo was helping the old man sit upright in bed.
“Did the kalyv tell you?” he asked.
“He did.” Genzo winced as he had the pillows behind him adjusted. “You boys are reckless.”
“We aren’t boys anymore,” Kappa scowled. “We have a way to potentially get rid of the Fish-Men.”
“It will put everything and everyone at risk.”
“…not if you stay back here and alert the rest of the Resistance if we don’t return.” Kappa looked at the man before him and exhaled heavily. “I think they’re stupid enough to where it actually might work.”
“How do you suppose that?”
“Like I said, Uncle: we just know,” Chabo replied. “We’ll bring in your tea and some food for the day, but if we don’t return from Arlong Park, then you know what to do.” He took a small box from the shelf and placed it on the old man’s bedside table.
“…are you really going to throw away the future I tried to give you both? The future that people have died striving to bring forth?!”
“We’re not living in anything worth saving, not unless we act,” Kappa said. “If you weren’t too weak to move, then I’d say you could come along, but you’re dead weight to us like that.”
“Kakkun…”
“It’s true.” He let their words settle in silence, the three men tense at the situation. “We’ll see you when we’ve returned.”
“…if you’ve returned,” Genzo corrected.
“No: when.” He then turned on his heel and left the room, discovering that the rest of their guests had woken up and were now attacking the toast and jam and tea breakfast that Piiman had finished putting together. Shooing away the hungry, grubby hands of Ninjin and Rika, he put together a tray and handed it off to Chabo to take into Genzo’s room. He then sat down at the table to eat what he could stomach.
“Naaa… Kappa… isn’t there anything else…?” Rika asked. “My energy levels can’t run on just toast, even tasty toast.”
“If we win, there’ll be plenty in Arlong Park that we can steal from the kitchens,” he said. “Meat and rice and vegetables and all the good things one can eat.”
“So Fish-Men eat the same things as Humans?” Piiman asked.
“Of course they can,” Chabo said, coming out of Genzo’s room. “They eat a lot of the same things, even if it’s just prepared differently. Haven’t you ever met one?” Piiman, Rika, and Ninjin shook their heads, while Tamanegi shrugged awkwardly—so not a meeting that involved food.
“So if we defeat them, we can take their food?” Rika wondered.
“I guess you can say that,” Kappa shrugged. Rika and Ninjin both seemed to vibrate in excitement—the promise of more food was something that they couldn’t pass up. “Defeat them and not only can I come along on your weird escapade, but there will be a fully-stocked kitchen for you to raid.”
“How do we get into this Arlong Park place?” Tamanegi asked. Chabo took an old and yellowed map from the wall and laid it out on the table.
“The cabin we’re in is currently here,” he said, pointing at one end of the island. He then dragged his finger towards the other far end. “This is where Arlong Park is; if we come up along the back trails here,” he traced another line and tapped the paper, “then we should be able to reach these gates unnoticed.”
“What about this place?” Piiman asked, pointing at a cluster of buildings labeled Cocoyasi.
“That’s the old town—we can’t do anything there. No one related to our cause has lived there in twenty years.”
“They keep it up to look like a Human town to trick travelers,” Kappa noted. “Due to Cocoyasi’s natural harbor, almost everything goes in and out of there.”
“…with the key word being almost,” Chabo said. He pointed to another section of the island, on the other side of Cocoyasi from Arlong Park. “There’s a gentle enough landing area here to be used as a viable alternative, so we don’t want to try from this direction. They have it on constant surveillance. The only way anyone can make landfall on other parts of the island end up being by complete accident, sheer luck, or incredible skills. Not even other members of the Resistance try it regularly. We only get extra supplies and visits from other Humans from the rocks you landed on, and even then, sometimes we just have to throw down a rope so we can haul up a crate.”
“So we sneak in, get rid of this Arlong creep, and bam! We can eat! Kappa can be our navigator! We’d be set!”
“It’s not that simple, Rika,” Tamanegi chided. “If it were, then the Resistance would have done it by now.”
“That’s right, we would have,” Kappa said. “The only reason this entire scheme is even on the table is because the Human goons who the Fish-Men have in reserve aren’t on Cocoyasi right now. They join the fray and we’re done for. Now: who’s your main combatant?”
The pirates all looked at him.
“You mean… you don’t have a main combatant…? Strongest fighter?”
“We’ve never actually been in a real fight together,” Piiman admitted. “Ninjin’s the best out of us three guys, but I don’t know about the Captain…”
“I can take those bottom-feeders,” Rika grinned. She hit her left palm with her right fist, cracking her knuckles in anticipation. “Just get me in there and I’ll take care of the rest.”
“How do you propose you do that…?” Tamanegi asked. Rika simply shrugged.
“Shishishi—I just do what I do best,” she claimed.
“I can’t believe it,” Kappa marveled, completely deadpan. “She’s completely fucking insane.”
“I thought she was our deldâremun,” Chabo teased. Kappa responded by pouring his tea in the other man’s lap, causing him to yelp in pain.
Just as it appeared that a fight was going to break out, the sound of a rhythmic thumping came from Genzo’s room. Chabo froze mid-lunge at Kappa and stared at the door uncomfortably.
“Hold on.” He poked his head into the room and popped back out again, confused. “Rika…? Uncle Genzo wants to talk to you.”
“Why me…?” she wondered. He shrugged and simply opened the door further, allowing her access. She walked inside and saw the older man, thin, sickly, and white-haired. A Den-Den transponder snail sat in a box on the nightstand and Chabo held the tray with the remnants of his breakfast. “Yes, sir?”
“The boys said that you know how to get the Fish-Men off the island,” he scowled. Rika sat down on the chair next to his bed, close enough to hear him wheezing through labored breath—claims about his health were anything but overexaggerated. “How do you propose you do that?”
“They need to get me close to them, then I’ll take care of the rest,” she said. He thought about that, then nodded.
“A Devil Fruit, hmm…?” She did not correct him. “Just don’t go filling their heads with ideas and then go back on them. We’ve lost too much hope on this speck of rock already. I might not be long for this world, but with any luck, they are, and I don’t want them suffering all the while.”
“Don’t worry, sir; I know what I’m doing.” She leaned in close to his ear and whispered lowly, so that only he could hear. His eyes went wide and he stared at her as she straightened.
“Really…?”
She nodded.
“Then get the fuck out of my house and go do what we haven’t been able to in the last thirty years so my soul can rest peacefully.” He held up his hand shakily, which Rika gently smacked with her own.
“You can count on it.”
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A/N: Translations notes are as follows: kaylv = idiot; vyran = ruined; deldâremun = darling
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roehenstart · 2 years
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Louis-Philippe d'Orléans duc de Chartres (future King Louis-Philippe) in Reichenau. By Franz Xaver Winterhalter (Copy from an original by Couder, lost in 1848).
Without revealing his real identity for fear of being discovered during his exile in Switzerland in October 1793, Louis-Philippe got a job teaching geography, history, mathematics and modern languages at a boys' boarding school in Reichenau in Graubünden. His salary was 1400 francs and he worked under the name of Monsieur Chabos. There, he had a love affair with Marianne Banzori, the school cook, with whom he had a son...
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