#the reddish sash around the waist

[arisenreborn]

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

[redtsundere-writes]

Part 21: Between Sword and Wall

King!SukunaRyomen x Servant!FemReader

Summary: You used to be just another servant among the army of humans operating under the command of the terrible king, Sukuna Ryomen. An ordinary human who only knows how to wash, clean and cook. Until one day, he notices something in you that you hadn't seen before.

Tags: MDNI. +18. Murder. Blood. Cannibalism. Sukuna Ryomen Is The Warning Itself. Nudity. Sexual Display. Vaginal. Fingering. Sometimes fluff, sometimes angst. Beta read.

Word Count: 5714 words.

Beginning. | ← Previous | Next →

A curse announced that they had finally arrived at the kingdom of Jogo from the crow’s nest. You ran to the side of the ship that was pointing east to see the land you would visit for the first time. Your mouth fell to the ground when you saw the great kingdom that awaited your arrival. A great town that was built between volcanic rocks that surrounded the colossal castle that was lost among the gray clouds that camouflages itself among the night sky. The grayish clouds of the afternoon were slightly dyed in a bright red shadow from the active volcano in the distance. It was a dark place that had a special, mysterious charm.

“Welcome to the Jogo kingdom, lady!” Mahito announced excitedly, arriving at your side.

“It’s bigger than the castle in Sukuna’s kingdom,” you commented, still in shock, without taking your eyes off the immense building.

“This castle has existed for 800 years. King Jogo made it with his own hands and technique,” Mahito explained.

That a single curse could make such a colossal infrastructure that would last for so many years was genuinely impressive. The power that the king must have had to be from another world and that Sukuna was powerful enough to overthrow said king in less than a week was terrifying. You couldn't really visualize what it really meant. You had seen the king cut off heads at most, but he was surely much more powerful than that. What would Sukuna’s power look like at 100% of its potential?

The closer they got to the port, the more noticeable the difference in temperatures between the two kingdoms was. Sukuna's kingdom had a chill weather, the skies are reddish when it's not cloudy and the wind is cool most of the year. On the other hand, the Jogo kingdom was a dry place, the clouds were heavy, and your entire body felt the heat from the smoke of the constantly burning lava.

Along the bay, several curses could be seen waiting for the arrival of their new and respected king. The happiness of the curses contrasted with the waves crashing against the dock as they got off the ship. A carriage was waiting to take them to the castle. The dark stone paths were long, while hundreds of curses welcomed the king with cheers and loud applause. You looked curiously out the window and, as expected, there was no human in sight. “Is there a commune here too?” You wondered.

The heat intensified as soon as you reached a river of lava that protected the perimeter of the castle. Lady Inoue and you were sweating all over. A giant drawbridge lowered to let you into the castle, being welcomed by the curses working as knights. Everything in the castle was made of stone, the floors, the walls, the chains, everything except for the asymmetrical windows that stretched across the entire surface.

You got off the carriage and someone was already waiting for you there. A large tan curse with black lines running all over its body. It had a helmet-shaped head that didn't cover its teeth, branches where its eyes are supposed to be, and two black lines zigzagging across its face. It wore baggy black pants secured by a white sash tied around its waist and a white cloth draped over its left arm.

"Welcome to the Jogo Kingdom. We were hoping you'd visit us again," they bowed to the king.

“This is the other commander of the Jogo kingdom, Hanami.” Kenjaku introduced them.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Mrs. Inoue and you greeted at the same time.

“What a nice meal you brought with you, my king,” they commented before licking their snout, but Kenjaku quickly shut them up with a smack on the head.

“Oh, you wish, Hanami.” Mahito scolded them with a smack on the back.

“I’m sorry, the curses here aren’t used to seeing humans.” Kenjaku smiled.

“That means there’s no commune here,” you thought in surprise. That meant that this entire kingdom had been created by and for curses. It was really impressive that what you thought all your life were monsters that only ate people could build a kingdom imposing and strong enough to face the other kingdoms.

Kenjaku led them into the castle. Despite having a dark and intimidating appearance on the outside, it was very light and cool inside. The reception area was open and a large stone fountain welcomed them. Marble floors, white walls, high ceilings. It was decorated with the intention of being a break from the dry weather outside.

“Kenjaku, take them to their rooms,” Sukuna ordered, retreating down one of the hallways. Mahito and Hanami following him faithfully.

“Follow me,” Kenjaku asked you and Mrs. Inoue.

You followed your tutor up a large spiral staircase, each window was large, and you could actually see outside, unlike the large windows your king loved so much. He led you to a large guest room. Light tones ruled the place. A beautiful rustic chandelier hung from the ceiling with a dozen candles. The marble floor that matched the rest of the castle, a thin maroon carpet, and beautiful vases with white daisies created the perfect harmony. As expected, there was a dresser made of maple wood next to a large closet of the same material. In the center of the room, like the main star, a large bed with burgundy and beige sheets sat in front of a giant window that had an impressive view of the volcano.

“That's King Jogo's volcano, the greatest heritage he left behind before he was killed by our king,” Kenjaku explained to you as you saw you so fascinated by the view.

“It's an impressive place,” you commented as you left your bow by the window.

“Maybe Mahito can show you the rest of the places later,” Kenjaku suggested.

“Can't you do it?”

“I would love to, but in this kingdom, I am the king's right hand,” he explained.

Since Uraume had stayed in Sukuna’s kingdom, the one who did his work in the Jogo kingdom was Kenjaku. It was a necessary move so that the king could travel wherever he wanted without worrying that in either kingdom there would be a rebellion in his absence.

“Dinner will be in an hour. Rest until then,” Kenjaku smiled before leaving the room to leave them alone.

You laid down on the bed, letting out a sigh of relief as your back melted into the mattress. It was a larger and nicer room than the one you had in the castle of the Sukuna kingdom. You breathed deeply, a burnt smell infiltrating your nose. You coughed out the smoke from the volcano. Everything was refreshing except the air. Now you understood why the castle was so visible from the port. None of the other buildings surrounding it were more than two stories high to avoid the smoke. Mrs. Inoue sat next to you as she fanned herself with her hand in search of some fresh air.

“What horrible weather!” Mrs. Inoue complained.

“I agree.” You wiped the sweat from your forehead with one of the white sleeves of your dress. “I’m going to bake in this dress. The fabric is too thick for this weather.”

“The king said that everything you’ll need would be here.” Mrs. Inoue headed to the closet. “Maybe there are lighter clothes here.”

“I hope so.”

“Oh, for all the kingdoms!” She screamed.

You got out of bed thinking there was some weird curse in the closet or something, but you only saw Mrs. Inoue, with a big smile on her face, holding a daring dress… if you could call it that. It was a two-piece, consisting of a short, low-cut cream-colored top and long skirt. The top had lace details and laces in the front that were fastened with bows. It was sleeveless and left her abdomen exposed, providing a touch of freshness. The skirt was long, of the same color, with lace details at the bottom and a ruffle design on the edge, which gave it an elegant and fluid movement.

“With this, the king will propose to you no matter what!” The lady exclaimed excitedly.

“Do you think the king is so shallow as to change his mind over a dress?” You asked with a certain indifference.

“He may be a curse, but he still has eyes.” Mrs. Inoue approached you to put the outfit beside you. “How do you expect him to propose to you when you don't even show an ounce of interest in him?”

Were you supposed to show interest? He was the one who wanted to marry you, not the other way around. That marriage only sought to give you more status and preserve your privileges, a manipulative strategy to reduce the possibility that one day you would try to kill the heir you would carry in your womb. A strange contract between parasite and host.

“Put it on. I'll go see what clothes I have in my closet,” Mrs. Inoue ran as fast as she could out of excitement.

You looked at the outfit on the bed with your arms crossed. It was beautiful. You didn't lose anything by wearing it. You undid the ribbon that held the simple white dress you wore to practice archery, and tied the straps of the top behind your neck and back to accentuate your waist and cleavage. The skirt fell softly over your hips. It was cooler than what you wore before, but you weren't used to leaving so much skin exposed, especially your abdomen.

When Sukuna said not to worry about packing because they had everything, they really had everything. You looked at the vanity mirror to add some makeup to look more presentable for dinner. You opened the drawers one by one to discover what was in them. There were more gold accessories than you had in the castle. You inspected them carefully, worried about ruining them. You placed a pair of bracelets on your arms and some hoop earrings in your earlobes, took your hair to secure it in a ponytail with a cherry-colored scarf, and were going to put on some sandals, but the floor was so cool that it wasn't a bad idea to walk barefoot. You looked at the small clock above the window, it was already time for dinner.

You were looking for the dining room among the long corridors of the castle. The skirt was so light that it fluttered with every step you took. The walls didn't have as many decorations as those of the castle in the kingdom of Sukuna, there were only several vases with different flower arrangements parading between each mysterious door you would open. After losing count of how many doors there were, you found the dining room at the back of the first floor. The door was half open, so you only managed to see Mahito sitting at the table. You were about to open the door until you heard something that indicated that you shouldn't enter yet.

"Are you going to declare war on the Zen'in?" Hanami asked the king, who was sitting at the head of the table, as was customary everywhere he went. "It's about time! I'm sick of them invading the south! Do you know how many trees we've lost because of that?" They complained.

Hanami, besides being a commander, was an activist at heart. Unlike other curses that hate humans for being of a different race, they hated them because they constantly destroy the ecosystem, especially the curse forest south of the kingdom. A land used primarily as combat stages where the Zen'in try to kill as many curses as possible to prevent future attacks. After each battle, Hanami has to watch all the wildlife that is harmed with tears running down their cheeks.

"I already have it planned down to the last detail. For now, the first step will be to investigate the Zen'in kingdom at the ball."

With your back pressed against the door, you listened to every word of his conversation. So that was what had kept him so busy for the past month? He was planning a war. It wasn't a surprise, after all, the idea of ​​going to the ball to gather information had been yours. But the burning in your chest was inevitable, the least you deserved was to find out about his plans.

"By the way, does the young lady know what he's planning?" Kenjaku asked.

“No, and I won’t tell her,” Sukuna replied. “She’s not ready for a war.”

You clenched your fists until you felt your nails dig into your skin, a minor pain compared to the rage boiling inside you. Were you not ready for a war? You had done things others couldn’t even imagine; you had killed your own sister and looked into the eyes of an invader without backing down. You weren’t thrilled with the idea of ​​war, but if the king had already decided, you would want him to let you know so you could prepare accordingly. His silence wasn’t just thoughtless, it was betrayal. Not telling you meant that if anything went wrong, if chaos and danger overtook them, he would leave you to your own devices, completely alone.

You were struck by the realization that he, who swore to protect you, was no longer in your side. If he wasn’t going to defend you in the midst of the gathering storm, you would have to prepare to find a way to protect yourself. In that instant, as the rage settled, you realized that you should stop expecting his loyalty and act independently.

“Will you tell her at some point?” Kenjaku was somewhat surprised by the answer, but not enough to offend the king’s plans.

“Maybe a year before,” Sukuna replied. “For now, she should just focus on giving me a good heir.”

“A mini Sukuna, how cute,” Mahito commented.

Sukuna glanced toward the door, wondering why you hadn’t arrived yet. The cooks paraded in silently, carrying an array of dishes hidden under silver domes. One by one, they were uncovered and served with precision. In front of the king, human ribs gleamed, bathed in a thick, dark sauce, a specialty of the house. For everyone else, the menu was the same, except for you: your dish was pasta bathed in the same sauce, but with chicken instead of human flesh.

The king eyed the ribs with an unusual lack of interest, barely sparing them a glance. It was unusual for him; his appetite had always been voracious, insatiable, but that day food seemed to fail to appeal to him. He couldn’t help but feel uneasy about your absence, an invisible presence that made everything else seem tasteless and empty.

“I’ll go find the young lady,” Kenjaku offered, getting up from his spot.

“I have to go. If they find out I was listening to everything, I don’t know what they’ll do to me,” you thought in panic before running off down one of the hallways. You mentally thanked your former self, who decided not to wear sandals to sneak away.

“I'll go,” Sukuna rose from his seat with the help of a curse that took his seat by the head.

“No, you stay here and eat. I'll take care of it,” Kenjaku was going to take your plate, but Sukuna snatched it from him.

“Sit down and eat,” Sukuna growled after having disobeyed him.

Kenjaku, Mahito and Hanami watched him leave the dining room with some disbelief. Kenjaku knew that he had been acting strange for a while, but thought it was because he could only think about the war. Now, he didn't eat and that worried him.

“Is that girl that important?” Hanami asked him, confused by the king's attitude.

“She's the future queen. Of course, she's important, stupid,” Mahito scolded him between wild chews.

Sukuna looked for you with the hot plate in hand. First he looked for you in your room, but you weren't there. Hall after hall he searched for you until he reached the library on the third floor. He slowly opened the door. You were in front of a mural that told the story of King Jogo in a single image, a timeline from his birth to becoming king. A wonderful work done by Kenjaku.

He almost dropped the plate as he lowered his gaze to your naked back. His breathing hitched as he noticed your curves and the skirt that rested on the edge of your hips. His heart went crazy, so he decided to take a second before taking another step. He hid behind the library door before you noticed his presence. He took a deep breath and exhaled with one of his hands resting on his chest. “Not again,” he thought, annoyed with himself after having tripped on the same stone from a few weeks ago. “You must control her, not let her control you.”

If Sukuna had a plan ready to face the Zen’in, you needed yours. Your eyes wandered around the mural, but your mind was so busy that you weren't even paying attention. You had to do something, but you didn't know exactly where to start. Lack of knowledge about war, strategies or tactics. The best thing was to find out what the king had planned so you could act accordingly. “Study the opponent,” you thought of the war as if it were a deadly debate.

“Maybe a year before. For now, she should just focus on giving me a good heir,” you quoted the king in your mind. A year before. That meant that Sukuna would attack the Zen'in kingdom at least a year after the birth of his heir. That gave you some time, but you didn't know how much exactly.

“I thought you'd be here,” Sukuna announced himself in the room.

“My king…” You whispered in disbelief as you saw him enter with your dinner in hand. “I must be careful. He can't find out that I know about the war, I can still use it to my advantage.” “What is he doing here? Is it dinner time already?” You looked at your watch, pretending that time had passed.

“That’s right.” Sukuna set the plate on the work table closest to you. “It seems you were too busy admiring the mural.”

“Everyone seems to know the story of King Jogo, so I thought I’d look into it myself.” You quickly realized that you had hinted at how you felt, you should change the subject. “It’s a good place to think, isn’t it?” You hid your nerves as best as possible.

“What are you thinking about?” Sukuna looked at you with some curiosity, but he looked away when he realized that his eyes fell on your cleavage instead of your face.

It was time to lie. You needed a topic far from the war, the castle, and any trace of betrayal, something credible enough so that he wouldn’t suspect what was really bothering you. You had to look relaxed, indifferent, as if nothing was bothering you. Then, your mind caught the perfect answer, although, deep down, you knew it wasn't entirely a lie...

"About my little sisters. There isn't a day that goes by that I don't think about them," you admitted, hugging yourself.

"I told you that I could send a group of curses to find them," Sukuna reminded you of what he told you the day you visited the commune.

“It would be pointless,” you sighed hopelessly, returning to the table where your dinner was. “They probably escaped through the Impossible Belt to the Gojo Kingdom. If you send curses there, you’ll only cause more trouble.”

Sukuna hated to admit it, but if you, your mother, and Yorozu could cross it on your own, your sisters probably could too. He sat on the table with his arms crossed, annoyed that its impenetrable border was more penetrable than he thought. His brow furrowed as he watched you blow on your food for fear of burning your tongue. It didn’t make any sense. Ever since he created the Impossible Belt 500 years ago, no one had been reported to have survived. Why would you?

You looked up before taking a bite of your pasta and met the king’s angry eyes. You didn’t know why he was so upset. You followed his gaze, and it landed on your plate. You quickly understood what he was thinking.

“Want some? You haven’t eaten yet, right?” You offered him the bite you were about to take in your mouth.

“Take that disgusting thing away from me.” Sukuna put his hand between the fork and his mouth.

“Disgusting? It looks delicious, have more respect for the work of your cooks,” you corrected him.

It wasn't a question of taste, but of the dark memories it evoked. Each bite of human food dragged him to a forgotten corner of his childhood, to a bad memory that refused to disappear. Although he could consume it without effort, something in him preferred not to, as if the simple taste brought with it old and painful shadows. He remembered nights when he had been forced to eat in secret, with hunger and fear, at the mercy of indifferent or cruel adults. Years later, that distrust was still there, latent in each dish that reminded him of that. He preferred to eat human flesh than to eat something that would take him back to those dark years.

“He hasn’t eaten, has he?” You asked worriedly.

“I’m not hungry.” Sukuna ignored you.

“Strong kings need to eat three times a day,” you told him, but he wouldn’t look at you.

The king’s stomach growled. He was hungry, but didn’t want to admit it. You cared about him even though he didn’t care about you. Even though you wanted to give him back his indifferent attitude, a taste of his own medicine, you couldn’t do it. If you acted apathetic, you would only be like…

“What if we share it?” You proposed.

You brought the bite to your mouth, savoring each ingredient of the dish with obvious pleasure. His red eyes, intense and watchful, rested on your lips, following the slow and gentle movement of chewing. It was a simple act, but the back and forth motion of your lips as you tasted the food had him captivated, caught in a silent desire to feel that same pleasure on his own skin. Noticing his gaze, you covered your mouth with your hand and looked away, a slight blush coloring your cheeks.

You delicately turned the fork in the pasta, making sure to take a perfect portion for the king. You offered him the bite with a gentle smile, filled with a warmth that seemed to dissolve any resistance. Sukuna looked away from you, then at the bite, again and again, retracting what he would do. Although he deeply distrusted human food, he trusted you. Without taking his eyes off yours, he opened his mouth and accepted the portion, carefully cleaning the fork. You felt a serene peace fill you as you watched him savor the bite and gave him a soft smile in return.

The two of you shared the plate, an exchange that became a sort of silent event. In the dim light of the library, the silence was enveloping, but there was no need to fill the space with words. The exchange spoke for itself, creating a new bond between the two of you, a silent connection that flowed like a slow river. The war, the dance, the castle, none of that mattered now.

“Are you still thinking?” Sukuna asked you, forcing you out of your mind. “I know a good place to think.” You tilted your head in confusion.

Sukuna led you through the zen gardens behind the castle. Small sand spaces with perfectly stacked rocks and monuments of small curses. They walked on the rocks warm after being exposed to the sun all day. He led you to a large house with green, yellow and white stained-glass windows in different shapes. It was as big as a large house. Sukuna opened the door and let you go first so you could be surprised.

Just when you thought there was nothing else that could take your breath away, there was always something new that made your eyes widen. The sweet fragrance of the immense amount of flowers, the lush trees, and the glass ceiling exposing the starry night. You entered the place as if it were a sacred place, feeling impure to be surrounded by such pure beauty. You had never been in a place as beautiful as that nursery.

“This place belongs to Commander Hanami, so be careful not to damage any plants,” Sukuna warned you, following you carefully as you admired the flowers.

This was Sukuna’s favorite space in the whole world. Even though it was Hanami’s, Sukuna had provided half of the flowers that were in exhibit there. The idea was that there would be at least one flower of each species so that it would be a small living museum. It also functioned as a conservatory in case any became extinct.

Everything was so beautiful and fragile that you were afraid to touch it. You recognized flowers you had seen before and marveled at the most exotic ones. It was like a little piece of paradise on earth. Not even in your wildest dreams, you thought that a place full of curses could house a place like this. You stopped next to a large pot of daisies of different colors. In addition to the white daisies you already knew, there were: blue, yellow, pink and red ones.

“I didn’t know there were so many types of daisies,” you commented, surprised.

Sukuna blushed, remembering what he had told you at the commune. Every time he saw daisies, you were there, sleeping softly in the bud. He just wanted to forget the embarrassment that went through his body when he realized that you hadn't heard his cloying speech. The good thing is that you didn't remember.

"What do they mean?" You asked him curiously.

"Are you fucking kidding?!" he thought in shock. The king turned pale at the question. Did you even remember what he had told you? No, it wasn't possible. You would have mentioned it before. If so, it meant that you knew about his feelings for you and that you were surely making fun of him behind his back. He took a deep breath, beginning to jump to conclusions.

"You told me at the commune that you learned what flowers mean. It's the little I managed to hear before falling asleep. I'm sorry," you explained when you didn't get an answer.

“Is that the only thing you remember?” Sukuna asked you seriously.

“Yes, after that, I fell asleep,” you scratched the back of your neck with a guilty smile. “That day was very hard, as you can understand.”

With that said, he let out a sigh of relief. It seemed that you had not heard his marriage proposal, and that idea gave him momentary peace. However, he could not help but feel a pang of frustration. Why did he have to be the only one tormented by such deep feelings? It seemed a ridiculous injustice: he, the greatest tyrant of all time, was trapped in emotions that made him feel more exposed than ever. How was it possible that he, a creature of power and pride, harbored such intense feelings and an adorable human was as if nothing had happened? Everything in him fought against that reality, but there were those feelings, insistent and persistent.

He felt vulnerable, a word he hated to admit. And deep down, it seemed illogical, even absurd, to suffer alone. He couldn't bear the thought of being the only one affected. He needed you to somehow feel the same way, too; he needed to know that he wasn't the only one in this game of emotions. The thought of carrying the weight of these feelings only tormented him.

“Each color has a different meaning. For example, blue ones symbolize tranquility, peace, or harmony. They are associated with creativity.” He knelt down next to you to see the pot in all its splendor. His fingers caressed the soft blue petals. “Pink daisies symbolize grace, femininity, and admiration. It is associated with gratitude.”

Sukuna explained each of the daisies until he reached the white ones, which rested gently among the others. Sukuna caressed the yellow pistils gently. It brought him a calm that he needed now more than ever. He didn't plan on losing in this game of facades. He was the king of curses and always got what he wanted with his own hands.

“What about the white ones?” You asked curiously.

His hand slowly slid down to rest on your chin, gently guiding you to turn towards him. His eyes scanned your face with a familiar tenderness, caressing you with his gaze under the dim moonlight that filtered through the glass ceiling. It had been a long time since he had looked at you like that, with that intensity capable of making you forget everything else, of making you feel as if you were the only person in the world.

His touch, as firm as it was delicate, made you melt under his fingers, stripping you of any resistance. That closeness awakened a deep desire in you, a need for his hand to continue exploring you, for him to not stop holding you until he makes you feel completely his. You longed for that moment to last longer, for him to consume you completely.

“White daisies are pure and innocent.”

With one of his lower hands, Sukuna cut a flower and placed it delicately next to your ear. His fingers slid through your hair, hiding the stem so that the flower could shine next to your eyes. He took advantage of the gesture to caress your silky hair, taking a moment longer than necessary, as if enjoying the texture between his fingers.

“They are versatile and can adapt to any bouquet of flowers.”

He held your face in his hands, his sharp thumbs sliding slowly over your flushed cheeks, caressing them with a mix of tenderness and firmness. His fingers traced the outline of your moist, parted lips, outlining them with an almost reverent precision. You looked surprised, trapped at that moment as if time had stopped. While your heart was beating a thousand miles an hour, he remained in absolute control, serene and confident, while you lost yourself in the abyss of his gaze, vulnerable to every caress he left on your skin. The scales began to balance.

“They symbolize new beginnings and true love.”

You opened your eyes slowly, accepting what your ears had just heard. Your legs became weak, and your chin fell into his palm as he pulled you even closer to him. He felt your pulse racing beneath the skin of your neck, a rapid beat that betrayed your confusion. “Did he…?” you thought, incredulous. No, he didn’t say it directly; he had only answered your question. But if that was the case, then why did he hold you with such intensity, with such disarming possessiveness? Why did his eyes scan your face like someone observing each petal of a unique flower? Why did he make the world seem so distant, and you so special in the center of his gaze?

“Just as I thought. They fit you perfectly.” Sukuna gave you a smile.

That damn smile. It wasn’t a mischievous or proud smile like the one he showed his enemies. It was a soft, small, genuine smile that altered your thoughts. You thought incoherently under his dangerous spell. You were so close to his face that his breath brushed your thirsty lips. A phantom touch that only made you want more.

“But he is a terrible tyrant!” your brain alerted worriedly. “A handsome tyrant,” the heart answered, dazed with love. You wanted to feel him, to have him close… to kiss him until you were tired. You slowly raised your hands, trembling with shyness, to caress his cheeks in the same way, but he didn’t let you. In a quick movement, the bubble around you burst. He took your wrists to move them away. He stood up from his place and looked at you from above. You didn’t understand. What were they playing at?

“I’ll leave you to think in peace.” He turned around to leave the room, leaving you alone with your thoughts. “Don’t go to bed so late,” he asked you before disappearing like a sweet dream.

You collapsed on your knees as soon as the greenhouse door closed behind you. What had that been? With trembling hands, you brought your fingers to your cheeks, trying to recover the heat and intensity that he had left on your skin just a few seconds ago. You closed your eyes, caught in the mix of emotions that invaded you, feeling how that strange warmth slowly transformed into a long-contained anger that began to burn inside your chest.

“I don’t understand you, Sukuna Ryomen! You act so indifferent one moment and so romantic the next! What do you want from me?! You’re driving me crazy, you selfish tyrant!” You let your heart scream with the certainty that the stained-glass windows kept your secrets. “I swear I’ll get my revenge!” You promised yourself.

Sukuna smiled as he lay back on the huge bed that used to belong to King Jogo. Since he had conquered the kingdom, nothing had changed in the main room: the stone furniture, the small statues, and the silk curtains that fluttered slightly, framing the balcony, remained as they were. There was only one exception: an imposing painting that hung over the majestic, but always cold, fireplace. A low, satisfied laugh escaped his lips as he remembered the look of disappointment on your face when he let go of yours. That moment, the control that so fascinated him, was once again in his hands. His laughter ceased as his chest felt empty again. He was not satisfied.

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[thesilliestrovingalive]

Updated: December 13, 2024

Reworked Character #3: Eri Kasamoto

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

Real name: Chizuko Utsunomiya

Alias: Memphis Bomb Princess

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

Retirement plans: Open up an inclusive orphanage in Hiroshima and get the necessary requirements to become a pyrotechnician and swim instructor

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

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

Likes: Fio, pyrotechnics, aimless walks, a keychain that was gifted to her by Emily, and having the swimming pool all to herself on a hot summer day

Dislikes: Missing out on chances to put her kickboxing skills to the test in combat, riding in vehicles she isn’t able to drive, overly mischievous, lazy, and hot-headed people, being touched without permission, and cults

Favourite drink: Vodka (preferably Spirytus)

Sexuality: Homoflexible sapiosexual

Gender: Female

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

Blood type: B-

Weight: 126 lbs. (57 kg)

Design: She’s a 5’ 6” (167.64 cm) Japanese ectomorph with an athletic, sylph-like build, broad shoulders, sand-hued skin, a black mole under her right eye, and top scars. She has dull chestnut eyes with visible bags beneath them and fingernails that are painted a metallic green. She has jet black hair with choppy bangs that has been bleached dirty blonde and is styled in a mid-back shaggy wolf cut, often worn up in a ponytail.

Eri has a jarring diagonal scar that runs from the left side of her temple, across the bridge of her nose, to her right levator scapulae muscle. She also has self-inflicted stab scars on the palm of her right hand, cut marks on her right forearm, the skin on her arms and shoulders have been picked at, and her legs are riddled with scrapes. She lost her left forearm in a traumatic incident, later receiving a metallic silver prosthetic replacement from Ptolemaios during her training. She dons green gold snake bite and silver jestrum piercings, and her makeup features a glittery artichoke green smoky eyeliner, light brown mascara, and coral pink lips.

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

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

Over her midriff, she dons a Soldier Plate Carrier System (SPCS) with a MultiCam pattern, which carries around her walkie-talkie and ammo for other firearms. She carries around a sage green load-bearing backpack that contains camping equipment, grenades, fire bombs, mines, hand-crafted explosive gadgets, portable ammo boxes, a canteen full of water, three canisters of gasoline, a rocket launcher, and a bottle of vodka. Her olive green waist pack, secured at the back of her belt, holds a silvery flask of vodka, a matchbox, and a compact makeup kit containing her eyeliner, mascara, and lip gloss.

The pockets of her coat contain a pack of fruity bubblegum, a navy blue lighter, a rainbow-coloured bouncy ball, a deck of playing cards, and her lucky gold Kaiki Shoho coin. Meanwhile, her cargo pants hold lockpicking tools and three boxes of cigarettes. She has worn gauze wrapped around her right forearm, a gun holster for her handgun, and a sheath for her machete. She's still in possession of a Ptolemaic Army-commissioned scoped bolt-action rifle, which is often draped over her left shoulder.

Character summary: She's a vengeful, sarcastic, cynical, and tomboyish leader who will stop at nothing to brutally hurt anyone she perceives as a threat to her comrades and friends or have caused them genuine harm. She has a sadistic streak, evident in her peculiar habit of smearing her enemies' blood on herself to intimidate others. When focused on her military duties and protecting those she respects and cares about, she tends to neglect her own needs. Eri's outspoken and crass demeanour shows no fear in speaking her mind, telling others off, and using profanities.

As a self-reliant and lonesome individual, she’s bitter and aloof towards those she dislikes and strangers. She has a tendency to engage in dishonest behaviour and manipulate situations to her advantage. When confronted about these actions, she often responds with aggressive language and contradictory arguments. She holds immense respect for the deities, particularly Sol Dae Rokker, due to her deep understanding of their crucial role in maintaining the universe's equilibrium and their tireless efforts to uphold the concepts they embody. She’ll go to great lengths to worship and make sacrifices to Sol Dae Rokker, often ritually sacrificing the remains of her enemies and indulging in drinking contests and card games with her team of Ptolemaic rebels.

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

She becomes deeply distressed and depressed if she discovers someone she cares about has attempted or died by suicide, believing they had the potential for happiness and a meaningful life. She finds narcissism, toxic masculinity, and attention-seeking behaviours utterly distasteful, and is particularly sensitive to being misjudged or perceived as a "bad person”. Lacking formal education, she takes initiative to educate herself on a wide range of subjects from fundamentals to practical, real-world issues.

Eri considers her team of Ptolemaic defectors and select members of the Regular Army's elite forces to be like family, including Ralf, Hyakutaro, Tyra, Alisa, and Red Eye. She's overly protective of Fio, whom she regards with sisterly affection, Marco, whom she admires as a courageous leader deserving of comfort and sympathy, and Walter, whom she treats like a younger brother with endearing curiosity.

She harbours significant animosity towards Tarma, seeing him as a hot-headed idiot who only causes trouble and can't take things seriously. Despite her best efforts to tolerate him, she can't help but snap at him when his silly antics go too far, he inadvertently ruins a plan or he gets too flirtatious and physically close to Fio. She longs to understand why he left her all those years ago and can't shake the feeling that he was only interested in a fleeting excitement, violating the trust she once had for him. She's eager to reach out to her younger brother, yet worries that acknowledging their biological tie might lead to rejection, and she'd miss the opportunity to connect with him face-to-face.

She deeply appreciates the unwavering loyalty and obedience of her team of Ptolemaic Army rebels, who show remarkable kindness and respect towards her friends and comrades. Their well-being is paramount to her, and she'll stop at nothing to ensure their safety, driven by a profound fear of losing or failing them. Although she hesitates to acknowledge it, lest she hurt their feelings and/or diminish their sense of worth, she does harbour a special affinity for certain members, with some holding a closer place in her heart than others.

Her top favourites are Mikuláš, Thandolwethu, Amilcare, Efterpi, Yohanes, and Zdravko. She holds them in high regard due to their unwavering support, exceptional expertise in guerrilla warfare and stealth, and efficient completion of tasks. On the other hand, her least favourite team members are Harvie, Souma, Juozapas, and Priyanka. She finds them less impressive due to their tendency to slack off, often distracted by gossiping, playing card games, taking frequent smoke breaks, admiring nature, playfully teasing their comrades, coercing others to do things they shouldn't be doing, and engaging in flirtatious behaviours. She's most concerned about Gyeong-Hui and Dezső, given their young age, socially withdrawn nature, difficulty trusting others outside of their team, and clingy relationship with her, viewing her as a maternal figure. She deeply respects them and appreciates their dedication to their military duties, and frequently checks up on them to ensure they're doing alright.

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

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

In her view, human societies construct their values based on their distinct beliefs, customs, and practices, which are also influenced by social and emotional pressures. She believes that right and wrong are simply labels and nebulous concepts that nobody can fully grasp because they’re obscured by cultural influences that shape morality to control individuals and prioritise personal comfort. She believes that individuals have a moral obligation to protect innocent lives and uphold the goodness inherent in justice. Regarding war, she thinks it can be justified if it meets certain criteria: it’s openly declared by a governing authority, has a just cause, and aims to establish a lasting peace. She acknowledges the coexistence of life and death but does not see a clear connection between the two.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Unbeknownst to her, Ptolemaios had been observing Eri for some time, recognizing her potential as a valuable asset for his army. She was first showered with excessive attention and affection by Ptolemaios' most devoted followers. Afterwards, they subjected her to an initiation ritual where she was forced to consume the heart of a deceased baby goat in the name of the Dark Lord and drink Ptolemaios' blood. He arranged specialised training for her to enhance her espionage skills and expand her militant capabilities, focusing on shock tactics and demolitions.

Once she received sufficient training, he appointed her as one of his deputies, sparking jealousy among a few of the other deputies in the Ptolemaic Army. On his behalf, she was responsible for multiple stealth missions to further the technological advancement and tactical plans of the Ptolemaic Army. She would also carry out targeted assassinations of traitors on Ptolemaios' behalf, which would often result in him rewarding her with bottles of premium vodka and, notably, her two prized black steel armlets.

During this time, Emily's compassionate and courageous nature won Eri over, and she developed a strong romantic attraction towards her, which would eventually blossom into a full-blown relationship. Ptolemaios viewed Emily as a potential obstacle to his objectives and sought to eliminate her, motivated in part by his suppressed and secret sexual attraction to Eri. Emily's death was staged to appear as a suicide, with her disemboweled body found in a dumpster, however, the circumstances surrounding her death remain unclear.

Two deputies—Elite Special Forces Commander Zoilo and Lieutenant Colonel Macba—observed Eri's struggle to cope with Emily's death and offered her superficial comfort. However, in a devastating and traumatic turn of events, Eri was brutally sexually assaulted by the three deputies, driven by resentment over her close bond with Ptolemaios and the favouritism he displayed towards her. Eri's experiences, including the loss of Emily and the traumatic assault, had a profound impact on her, fueling her feelings of grief and anger, and prompting her to re-evaluate her involvement with the Ptolemaic Army. Memories of Zoilo, Macba, and Ptolemaios’ cult ignited intense anger and a desire for revenge against the Ptolemaic Army as well as self-loathing for her own complicity. Conversely, thoughts of Emily would intensify her longing for vengeance while also filling her with profound sorrow and existential despair.

She formed an alliance with like-minded individuals who shared her vision of opposing Ptolemaios' regime, recognizing that his ambitions posed a significant threat to global stability and universal security. They also sought to prevent Ptolemaios from summoning the Avatar of Evil, fearing its awakening could trigger a catastrophic apocalypse. The group consisted of four guerrilla troops: Mikuláš, Gyeong-Hui, Thandolwethu, and Harvie; three snipers: Amilcare, Efterpi, and Souma; four special forces operatives: Juozapas, Priyanka, Yohanes, and Zdravko; and a single masked soldier: Dezső.

During their fight against the Ptolemaic Army, they caused significant setbacks on the enemy's military advancement, hindering weapons development and army growth, while also eliminating numerous soldiers and cultists. As Eri clashed with Macba, she uncovered a stunning revelation: he, along with Ptolemaios, Colonel Hilde Garn, and 1st Lieutenant Wired, were behind the terrorist bombings in Hiroshima. As she attempted to take Macba’s life, a seemingly malevolent presence intervened, halting her progress. Ominous whispers echoed in her mind, cautioning her that it wasn't yet time to end the Ptolemaic Army’s reign of terror. Uncertain and intimidated, she and her rebel Ptolemaic soldiers retreated from Ptolemaios' Osaka compound, fearing the consequences of defying the mysterious presence. This decision would become a deeply regretted moment, one that she tried to suppress by viciously stabbing the palms of her hands.

Shortly after this event, she ripped off the sleeves of her purplish-grey coat to use as makeshift tourniquets for Yohanes and Efterpi. She then intentionally acquired her top scars as a symbol of empowerment, seeking to erase the past, defy societal expectations imposed on women and girls, and embody her true identity. Around this time, she pledged loyalty to Sol Dae Rokker, harnessing his vengeance-fueling abilities to drive her determination to overthrow the Ptolemaic Army when the opportunity arose. Following this allegiance, she and her team of Ptolemaic defectors renounced their former loyalty, removing their armbands bearing the Ptolemaic Army insignia and dedicating themselves to just causes and the worship of Sol Dae Rokker.

Although she harboured resentment toward her parents after learning from a church orphanage staff member that they had abandoned her for selfish reasons, she was curious to learn about them. She conducted research into her heritage and made some intriguing discoveries. She learned she has a younger brother, Masahiko Utsunomiya, who works as an electrical technician. Additionally, she uncovered information about her extended family: her biological father had passed away and her biological mother had remarried and had two more sons. Her research also revealed a notable ancestor, Tsuneo Rokumeikan, her great-grandfather, who designed the Murder Model-1915 .38 Mk.1Am handgun and worked as a mercenary for the Intelligence Agency.

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

As the demolition and stealth expert of S.P.A.R.R.O.W.S., Eri led her rebel Ptolemaic soldiers with immense success. She befriended Fio and felt an instant, deep connection after a few interactions, viewing Fio as the younger sister she never had and vowing to protect her at all costs. She vividly remembers the time when she and Fio took Tarma's custom-built motorcycle for a test drive in the desert, only to have Fio, who was behind the handlebars, lose control and crash. Fortunately, they escaped with minor injuries, but the incident profoundly heightened her protective instincts towards Fio, leaving her with a lingering fear of losing her. Ever since, whenever someone else is driving, she's gripped by uncontrollable anxiety, haunted by the possibility of another accident.

She played a crucial role in the Great Morden War by providing Marco's team with explosives, emergency rations, and valuable intel on Rebel Army positions through stealthy infiltration. Eri showcased her advanced combat and leadership skills by helping to thwart Morden's second coup, which was aided by her team, Fio, Tarma, and Marco.

[rennsdeaddoves]

sneek peek at the fic for theweirdhybrids wukongverse

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Finally, there was the-

“Monkey!!” 

“HOLY FUC-” 

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

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

Surprisingly they gave him an answer, “Fruity!” 

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

[return-to-twisted-wonderland]

Here's Leona’s brother; Razaan Kingscholar

🦁 🦁

Razaan Kingscholar

Razaan: Sensibility And Respect; Calm.

Voice Actors

David Mallow (English)

Kazuya Nakai (Japanese)

Twisted From: Kovu from The Lion King 2

House: Savanaclaw

Personality Traits: Bold, observant, fiercely loyal, but also haunted by an inner conflict about his role within the royal family. He’s intelligent and perceptive, often analyzing situations from every angle before acting. Though generally cool-headed, Razaan has a simmering ambition tempered by personal principles.

Appearance: Rugged and lean, with sharp features that highlight his fierce nature. He sports dark brown hair with reddish-brown highlights (echoing Kovu’s color scheme) and has sharp, golden-green eyes. Razaan often wears a serious or contemplative expression, contrasting with Leona’s more relaxed attitude.

Unique Magic: “Shadow’s Embrace”

Razaan’s magic allows him to manipulate shadows, creating illusions or disguising himself within them. When activated, the shadows around him come to life, enveloping him and allowing him to blend into his surroundings or mislead enemies with deceptive figures made of shadows.

Defensive Use: Razaan can use shadows as a temporary shield, obscuring his movements to avoid attacks. In a defensive stance, the shadows wrap around him like armor, though they don’t protect against strong physical attacks.

Offensive Use: By manipulating shadows, Razaan can create decoys or briefly trap opponents in illusory darkness, disorienting them and giving him an advantage.

Weaknesses:

Limited Duration: The shadows he conjures are more effective in low-light environments, and bright light can quickly dissipate them.

Mental Strain: Maintaining shadow illusions or traps requires intense focus, and overuse leads to exhaustion or even confusion.

Personality:  He’s worked hard to earn his place, seeking to prove his worth despite being overshadowed by his older brother’s reputation and strength. While Razaan has personal ambitions, he’s conflicted about how to achieve them. Unlike Leona, who’s more overt in his disdain for responsibility, Razaan feels torn between his loyalty to his world's empire and his desire for independence. Razaan often comes across as observant and calm, but he possesses a deeply rooted strength. He’s less brash than Leona, favoring strategy and subtlety. However, he isn’t afraid to speak his mind or stand up for his beliefs when necessary.

Appearance and Outfit

Uniform: Razaan’s uniform has elements similar to Savanaclaw’s, but with personal touches that reflect his calculated and shadowy nature.

Color Scheme: Darker shades of brown and charcoal, with subtle accents of maroon or reddish-brown.

Jacket: He wears a fitted, sleeveless jacket with a high collar, adorned with dark, claw-like patterns on the shoulders.

Tunic: His tunic is a deep maroon shade, fitted with a sash around his waist in charcoal gray, secured with a small silver clasp shaped like a lion’s claw.

Accessories: Razaan wears a lion-tooth necklace, a token of his heritage and a subtle reminder of his loyalty to his family, despite any internal conflicts.

Gloves & Boots: Dark gloves and rugged boots with claw-like metallic details, reflecting his wild, predatory nature.

Backstory: Razaan had never known his homeland. Taken from the sands of his birth as an infant, he was spirited away to a distant realm, one bound by a rigid hierarchy and brimming with political machinations. This was a world of grandeur and power, ruled by a figure known only as “the Emperor.” To the Emperor, Razaan was nothing more than a pawn—a creature with raw potential, easily molded into whatever purpose he saw fit. Raised within the Emperor’s palace walls, Razaan was subjected to a rigorous upbringing. His life was ruled by an unyielding discipline, each day structured to sharpen his strength, intellect, and loyalty. From dawn until nightfall, he was trained in swordsmanship, combat tactics, and the art of perception. Every move, every word, was scrutinized. Over time, he came to realize that his future wasn’t his own, that his existence was for one purpose: to serve as the protector of the Emperor’s daughter, the young princess whose grace and beauty were revered throughout the kingdom.

As Razaan grew, his sense of loyalty and dedication became absolute. He learned to move in the shadows, silent as a phantom, always vigilant for any threat against the princess. To him, the princess was more than just a royal; she was the closest thing he had to family in a world where he was otherwise isolated. She became his reason for existing, his anchor in the turbulent life he had come to know. But as he matured, subtle differences became apparent between him and those around him. His appearance, his intense golden-green eyes, and his instinctive connection to the shadows marked him as an outsider among the palace guards and courtiers. Whispers followed him in the hallways, and he began to sense that even within this place, he was seen as something "other." He knew nothing of his true origins or the royal lineage he came from, and whenever he dared question his place, he was reminded of his purpose: loyalty to the princess above all else.

As Razaan became more attuned to the palace's inner workings, he also became acutely aware of the intricate political scheming that surrounded the Emperor’s court. Alliances were as fragile as glass, and every smile hid an ulterior motive. It was in these moments that he realized how dangerous the world could be and how crucial his role truly was. While he had been trained to defend against external threats, he began to understand that the greatest danger could come from within the palace walls.  Though Razaan’s duty as a protector consumed him, he felt an emptiness, a lingering sense that something important was missing. Sometimes, when the night was at its darkest, he would feel a pull, an inexplicable yearning for a world he couldn’t remember, a sense of kinship with something far beyond the stone walls of the palace. This longing left him conflicted—his loyalty to the princess was unwavering, but the mystery of his origins haunted him until he was summoned to Twisted Wonderland.

His world is based on: Who Made Me A Princess (WMMAP)

🦁 🦁

I know I'm doing a lot of manwhas, but to me, anime Manga and manwhas are entwined in my mind and I'm exploring other worlds from various anime, video games and movies. I'm just trying to make sense of different worlds that could make sense for the siblings.

I know Razaan's backstory parallels with the Disamonia boys aka Silver and Sebek because I think that's the point I was trying to go for.

Next will be Azul's brother.

Yoooo~

I like him.

[dyxtd21]

Star Sunstone aesthetic moodboard!!

A new Elite appears:

Star Sunstone:

Star Sunstone, in his true form as a golden floating orb of bright light, exudes an ethereal and divine presence. A vibrant yellow star symbol shines on the surface of his orb form, subtly hinting at the immense power within. Star Sunstone is secretly a god, capable of transforming into three distinct human-like appearances, each drawing from different types of sunstone, with unique traits and attire. His gemstone, an eight-cut stone, only becomes visible on his forehead when he adopts these forms, while his godly nature is expressed through the six disembodied, floating eyes that surround his head in every form. Each transformation serves a specific purpose and style, reflecting his celestial essence.

1. Tanzanian Sunstone Form:

In this form, Star Sunstone adopts the appearance of a tall and majestic figure, with skin that shimmers in a translucent but radiant orange, speckled with bright, glittering sparkles that resemble flecks of sunlight. His hair flows like molten lava, cascading down to his shoulders in waves of orange and gold, constantly shifting with a soft, glowing luminescence.

Attire: In Tanzanian Sunstone form, he wears regal, ceremonial robes with a slightly translucent quality, crafted from what appears to be woven light. The robes are adorned with intricate golden patterns that seem to move, depicting scenes of celestial harmony and balance. A sash of deep orange wraps around his waist, held together by a glowing star emblem. His attire is reminiscent of ancient solar deities, designed to evoke awe and inspire devotion.

Personality: As Tanzanian Sunstone, Star Sunstone is calm, authoritative, and wise. He radiates warmth and reassurance, giving off the impression of a protector and a guide. He embodies the qualities of the rising sun, offering hope and clarity. This form is often used when interacting with those seeking enlightenment or comfort, as it reflects his role as a benevolent and illuminating presence.

2. Indian Sunstone Form:

In this form, Star Sunstone’s skin takes on a pale golden hue with delicate orange sparkles lightly scattered across his body. His appearance is softer and more approachable, with his long hair shimmering like beams of sunlight caught at dawn. The light from his body is more subdued, with a gentle glow that is both calming and ethereal.

Attire: His attire in this form is reminiscent of traditional garments worn by ancient Indian sages, combining simplicity with a touch of celestial elegance. He wears a flowing dhoti and shawl in soft golden hues, decorated with fine patterns that subtly glow. The shawl drapes over his left shoulder, leaving his right arm exposed, symbolizing his connection to ancient wisdom and divine truth. The hems of his garments are adorned with sun motifs, which softly pulse with energy.

Personality: In Indian Sunstone form, Star Sunstone becomes reflective and contemplative, taking on the role of a spiritual teacher. His voice is soft yet carries great authority, often speaking in riddles or metaphors. He tends to observe more than he speaks, offering guidance in cryptic ways that encourage personal discovery. This form is often used when interacting with those on a journey of self-awareness or enlightenment, symbolizing the steady light of inner knowledge.

3. Norwegian Sunstone Form:

In this form, Star Sunstone’s skin is a rich reddish base with vibrant orange sparkles embedded throughout, evoking the image of a sunset just before nightfall. His appearance in this form is bolder and more imposing, with his reddish-orange hair resembling flowing embers that flicker and burn like the last light of the day. The intensity of his light is stronger in this form, with a more fiery and powerful presence.

Attire: He wears battle-like armor in this form, forged from celestial metal that gleams with the fiery hues of the setting sun. The armor is heavy but sleek, designed with angular, almost intimidating patterns that pulse with internal energy. The chest piece is adorned with a large, radiant star symbol, and the shoulder pads flare outward, giving him an even more imposing silhouette. The cape he wears is a deep, burnt orange, flowing behind him like the tail of a comet.

Personality: As Norwegian Sunstone, Star Sunstone becomes fierce and resolute. His demeanor is commanding and authoritative, often speaking with a booming voice that demands respect. This form embodies the destructive power of the sun, yet also its resilience and strength. He uses this form when confronting difficult challenges or facing those who need to be reminded of their own inner strength. His energy is fierce but controlled, representing the dual nature of fire—both destructive and life-giving.

In all three forms, Star Sunstone’s divine nature is evident through the six floating eyes that orbit his head. These disembodied eyes, glowing with radiant light, see into the soul of those he interacts with, able to perceive the deepest truths. Although he has no eyes on his face, the surrounding eyes act as an ever-watchful presence, symbolizing his godly omniscience. At a towering 9 feet in height, Star Sunstone’s human-like forms all carry a sense of cosmic importance, with each form tailored to interact with the world in a unique and impactful way, depending on the needs of those around him.

Fact: He is "related" to Oregon Sunstone.

His creations are:

Honey Calcite.

Honey Opal.

Honey Quartz.

Tinzenite.

Golden Sapphire. (Anthropomorphic Kitsune, like all the rest Sapphires but not a member of the "Nine Tales Council")

Yellow Turquoise.

Polka Dot Jasper.

Bumblebee Jasper.

[aidanchaser]

Boulangérella: A Miraculous Fairy Tale AU - Chapter 3

Table of Contents Read on Ao3

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

Chapter Three Monsieur Pigeon

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The girl nodded.

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

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

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

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

The girl nodded, and Ladybug laid out their plan.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Of course,” Ladybug said.

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

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

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

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

“Oh?” He quirked an eyebrow.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Promise me something?” she asked.

“Anything,” he said readily.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She frowned. “What do you mean?”

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

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

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

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

“I wish I wasn’t.”

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

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

“What if I didn’t?” he asked.

“Chaton…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[amodernfae]

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

[majorshatterandhare]

[ID: a photo of Ben Below, Frank Voss, Jessica Law, Jonny Sims, and Morgan Wilkinson sitting or standing on a big rope swing, in costume as their Mechanisms characters. They are all smiling wide.

Ben and Morgan stand on either end. While Frank, Jessica, and Jonny sit in each of the troughs of the rope. Frank and Jonny and both sitting facing forward, while Jessica is facing towards Jonny. Behind them, green grass and trees can be seen, as well as the metal poles of playground structures around them.

Ben is wearing a white shirt under a dark patterned waistcoat, in turn under a black coat, with black trousers and brown shoes and a black top hat on his head with welding goggles around the crown as well as something green and rectangular. He has two large metal rings on his right hand. He has light skin and reddish-brown, chin length, curly hair and short facial hair. He is leaning back and seems to be using his weight to move the swing towards Morgan.

Frank is wearing a black collared shirt with a grey tie under a black waistcoat and a long black coat with black trousers. Their shoes cannot be seen. They also wear a black fedora with a red back. They have medium brown skin and chest length, straightened, brown hair. They have a long red earring visible in their left ear. They are sitting with their legs facing the viewer; they have one hand on a chain connecting the rope to the structure, while the other is reaching to another chain.

Jessica is wearing a white shirt under a black coat with red cuff, with black trousers which have red stripes down the sides, with a silver studded belt. She sits sideways on the rope swing, with her legs on either side of it, her body facing Jonny, but her face turned toward the camera. She is smiling with her mouth open and has a black curly mustache painted on her face. She has her hands on the two chains between her and Jonny and she is wearing grey and maroon stripped, magic gloves with the fingers cut-off. She has light skin and brown hair which is tucked up under her cap. The cap has a red band around is and a gold symbol on the front.

Jonny is wearing a black shirt and trousers under a brown waistcoat with a sash over it, which has a brass shape attached to it, over his heart, as well as a brown leather belt over the vest at his waist, from which a holster holding his gun hangs behind the rope swing. He appears to be kneeling on the rope and both his body and face are facing the camera. He has light skin and short light facial hair. His head hair cannot be seen as he is wearing a black hat with a brim around the whole circumference. He has dark eyeliner radiating from his eyes and a shiny silver earring in his right ear. He is holding onto one chain on either side of him

Morgan is wearing a dark red button up shirt with a muted blue and orange tie, under a black waistcoat, with a muted pink and blue microfloral skirt, over navy tights with knee high red socks and worn, tall, black boots. He has light skin and dyed red hair, which is shaved very short on the visible side, but with the sideburns left longer. He has a large, dangle-y silver heart earring in his left ear. He is holding onto the two chains that are between him and Jonny. His mouth is open like he is laughing.

End ID]

theyre all so silly this picture is so silly

where is jonny's hat from i've never seen him in a hat he looks so happy in the hat he's just a silly little guy

they all look so happy my skrunkly scrimblos are having a good time

[sweetness-pop]

Hiya! 💗💋🍓🌸Sweetness*POP🌈🍭💀🌟 here!

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

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

Loona dressed in a lovely and beautiful formal fashion:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

🌌💎💅🌹🌙🐺💋👗👠🌸👘

[danicadenniss]

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

Home: Titan City, United Republic of Nations

Alias: Lee, Marc and Tony

Nickname: Sweetheart/Sweetie by their parents

Date of Births: September 8th 2018

Species: Human

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

Gender: 3 Males, 1 Female

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

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

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

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

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

Appearance:

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

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

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

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

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

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

Personality:

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

[justice4mxy]

check it out... manhua mxy is wearing the same outfit and hair style/accessory as the mo family servant uniform 

[copepods]

quick osmp techno design. bnuuy

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

[beevean]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[bm-islamic-art]

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

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

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

[lorelylantana]

Savageries of the Heart Chapter 1: Courtship

SFW

Next

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

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

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

She sucked in a breath, “My husband?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Zelda took a breath to speak-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t be shy now. Open it.”

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

The room burst out in raucous laughter.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You think he made the box himself?”

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

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

“What is it?” she asked.

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

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

“What should I send back?”

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

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

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

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

Her fiance had sent her a Lynel’s jaw.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A snake is a common pet?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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