#not to mention her composition skills | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

senorabond · 7 months

Text

Rumor Has It (Peña x f!reader x Pike)

Pairings: Javier Pena x f!reader; Marcus Pike x f!reader; future Pena x f!reader x Pike

Chapter 1 Summary: You've recently transferred from a promising job in D.C. to Texas when DEA Special Agent Javier Peña approaches you with his current case. Rumor has it you have an in with the FBI art crimes unit, and the DEA could use your skills and connections on a suspected narcos money laundering case. You need to do well on this case to prove yourself, but you're not sure Marcus Pike will even help after the way you left.

Rating: 18+ (Minors DNI), Mature-to-Explicit sexual content, additional warnings may be added for future chapters

Warnings: swearing, mentions of sex and masturbation (f), previous sexual relationship, office romance, references to gossip and slut shaming, sexist/patriarchal bullshit, daydreaming about "little Peña"

Reader/Character Notes: Reader is fem!afab; No mention of Reader’s body size, shape, composition, or skin color.

Words: 4.4k

a/n: I started writing this thinking it'd be a quick and dirty PWP, but then the plot took over and I'm not sorry. Time/setting is pretty loose. This wasn't "officially" beta'd - all errors and weird formatting are my own. However, a very special thanks and kisses for @azure-waves and @kilamonster for reading early versions of this! 😘 Additional author's notes at the end.

Masterlist

Rumor Has It: Chapter One

Javier Peña thinks he’s hot shit. He struts about the office like he runs the place and conducts briefings like he's holding his own personal court. It'd be easier to chalk it up to pure ego and ignore him if he didn't actually have such an impressive resume to back it up. Unfortunately, that means putting up with yet another cocksure male flirting and fucking his way through the office your respective agencies share. At least he's easy on the eyes.

Since moving to Houston six months ago for a new position with the U.S. Customs and Border Protection, you'd clocked at least four broken hearts in Agent Peña's wake. In his defense, there are far more smiles than tears in the women's restroom when his name comes up in whispered conversation. You haven't heard this much gossip about a single guy since your senior year of high school when it was rumored that three cheerleaders got knocked up by the same football player as a pregnancy pact. For the record, only two girls were actually pregnant, and the alleged father ran off with the team’s water boy a few years out of college. They made a cute couple.

Favorite topics of conversation among Peña's admirers are his tight pants, who he's purportedly slept with, how good he must be in the sack, and contending reports of how big his dick actually is. Just that day you overheard one guy in the breakroom swear to a colleague that he'd seen ‘little Peña’ twitch while the DEA agent was briefing the latest developments in his investigation. You barely managed to hide your snort in your coffee, but had to admit the mental image was intriguing.

While not morally opposed to sleeping with somebody in the same office (that'd make you a hypocrite), you personally wouldn't want to risk the potential fallout of fooling around with someone as high profile as Agent Peña. The unfortunate reality is that women always bear the brunt of those consequences, and you aren't interested in putting your career on the line for a good dicking. As much as you may desperately need one.

You'd been out a few times since moving to the area, but calling those disasters “dates” would be too generous. One such encounter seemed like it was going well, until the guy answered a call from his mother, got into a shouting match with her over the phone, then cried over the bread basket. You promptly excused yourself and blocked his number from the cab ride home.

Since that night, the only dates you’d had were with some quality home entertainment and your trusty vibrator. The Magic Wand hadn’t failed you yet. Last night you enjoyed a delicious orgasm while watching a particularly excellent video featuring two men worshiping a woman’s body. That lucky bitch. It’d been way too long since you’d gotten laid, and it was starting to take its toll. Even with the regular, self-attained orgasms, you'd begun losing focus at work. Your mind frequently wanders into sexy daydreams about impossible scenarios in the war room.

At your desk, you think back to what the guy said in the breakroom about little Peña and giggle to yourself. That'd be a sight to see, and would certainly liven up a boring case briefing. Your thoughts drift, and a fantasy begins to take shape.

Agent Peña stands at the end of the conference table, commanding the attention of everyone in the room. One hand on his hip holds his charcoal suit jacket back; the other gestures behind him to the slides displaying the latest developments in his investigation. The lights are dimmed but his signature tight pants don’t leave much to the imagination. Your gaze takes him in slowly, lazily almost. Expressive eyebrows give way to deep set brown eyes. An aquiline nose slopes to meet his trademark mustache, and his lips make the perfect pout as he speaks. The broad motherfucker has a chest and shoulders for days, and his neck is almost too big for his collared shirt. When he moves his arms, the sleeves of his suit jacket are drawn tighter around his biceps. Down, down your eyes go, over the plane of his abdomen, past the unobtrusive belt buckle, and settle on the obvious bulge down the left side of his crotch. You can’t help but admire the outline of Peña’s cock; it twitches, and saliva floods your mouth as you squeeze your thighs tightly, your body responding of its own accord. Agent Peña’s timbre changes and you realize he’s said your name - you look up at him like a deer in headlights. “Like what you see?”

You hear your name again, but his mouth hasn't moved beyond a knowing smirk…

“Hel-lo?” You shake yourself out of your daydream only to realize somebody has actually been saying your name.

To your abject horror, the real Javier Peña stands next to your desk, a manila folder in his hands and a quizzical brow lifted in your direction.

“What? Yeah? What do you want?”

The questions fly out of your mouth before you can stop yourself. To further your mortification, you can feel heat blooming across your chest and face. He knows - he has to know - what is going through your head. Someone must have turned on the heat in the building, it's sweltering all of a sudden.

Peña shifts his weight onto his left leg, his right knee bent slightly. “I’m Javier Peña with the DEA -”

“I know.” Again, with the blurting.

“Right.” He works his jaw slightly. “I was told you were the one to come talk to.”

You focus on the manila folder in his hands and refuse to let your traitorous eyes dip any lower. They're just hands, for Christ’s sake. Large, strong hands.

“Yeah? About what?” Is your voice breathier than usual?

Peña fidgets with the folder, then leans over and drops it in front of you. His thumb swipes at the corner of his mouth and he places both hands on his hips. There’s an agitated tension in his stance, and he shifts from foot to foot like a horse ready to bolt.

“You’re with Customs,” he says, as though his meaning was obvious.

It's your turn to lift a brow at him.

“Yep. That I am.”

It’s easier to pull yourself together with something tangible in front of you to focus on. You flip the folder open and start leafing through its contents. There are copies of bank transactions, transcripts from what you assume are wiretaps, and surveillance photos featuring two Latino men in well tailored suits outside a storefront, one of them holding a briefcase. This was business, this was work – you could do this.

Peña clears his throat and smoothes down his mustache, the fingers of his left hand drumming on his hip. You wonder if he’s always this twitchy or if something could be making him nervous.

“My investigation is centered around these two men,” he waves a hand vaguely at the photos. “They run the stateside money laundering operations for some heavy cartel hitters, but they like to throw in some legitimate business dealings as well just to muddy the waters.”

He pauses to clear his throat.

“Uh huh…,” you prompt, looking up in time to see him tugging at his fitted collar. This was starting to get interesting. It’s obvious he came over to ask for your help with his case, but he seems to be doing everything he can to avoid saying those three little words, ‘I need help.’ What a typical man.

Leaning back in your chair with the folder and its contents in hand, you find it much easier to take in the man standing before you. It's no longer like staring into the sun, however sexy that sun may be. The Great Javier Peña, reduced to an average fed. You can’t help but be a bit disappointed.

Peña sucks in a breath like he's going to keep speaking, then wordlessly proffers his hand to ask for the folder. You pass it back into his hands and keep your expression neutral. Flipping through the photos, he finds what he's looking for and places it on your desk.

“That was taken outside an art gallery in Dallas. I think they know we’re closing in on some of their more lucrative sources of income and are trying something new.”

You look more closely at the photo in front of you and nod. “Art classes?” The second the joke leaves your mouth you cringe inwardly. Peña’s jaw twitches as his eyebrows scowl a fraction of an inch closer. Not the time or place.

“The gallery is run by a couple in their sixties, Frank and Harriet Mansford. I think they’re working with these guys to make some kind of art deal.” You gesture to the chair opposite your desk and he accepts the invitation to sit down.

“So, tell me, Agent Peña – where exactly does Customs come in? How do I fit into this picture?” Leaning forward, elbows propped on your desk, you fix Peña with what you hope is a confident stare. His fingers worry over the corner of his chair’s armrest.

“Narcos have gotten more sophisticated in their laundering operations, but this wouldn’t be the first time they’ve used art sales to clean their money.” His gaze is steady, but his fingers continue on their restless path.

“Unless they’re smuggling stolen goods into or out of the country–”

“They are,” Peña interjects. “I believe they are.” He lets out a frustrated breath. “I don’t have the evidence yet, but I’ve already been looking into this gallery. They specialize in European art – so they’re likely getting at least some of it from abroad. And an international sale would make the paper trail harder to follow.”

“As long as they’re legitimately purchasing or selling the artwork–” You hold up a calming hand as the agent makes to interrupt again. “Agent Peña, I’d like to help, but unless their crimes touch the border, it’s out of my jurisdiction.”

“I know. But that’s not the only reason I’m talking to you.” Peña takes a deep breath like he's gearing up for something and you brace yourself.

“I don’t know anything about art, ma’am.” He gives you the closest thing to a self-deprecating grin you think he’s capable of. “I’ve been trying to get the FBI’s art squad on this, but I can’t even get someone to take my calls – I don’t have an in.” He glances surreptitiously to see if anybody else is in earshot.

Your gut does an anxious flip. Please, don't let this be going where you think it’s going. He licks his lips and hesitates, avoiding your eyes.

“Word is you might know somebody in D.C.”

Your heart stutters. Shit.

Sounds like Peña isn’t the only subject of rumors around here.

---

Great, just great. You left D.C. to get away from people treating you differently because of who you choose to sleep with, but it looks like the rumors followed you all the way to fucking Texas.

You take a good, hard look at the man sitting across from you. For a moment, you seriously consider telling him he can go fuck himself. While social blackmail isn’t something you’re willing to tolerate after everything you’ve done to start fresh, you don’t want to miss your first real opportunity to get involved in a case since arriving in Texas. Javier Peña may be a god amongst mere mortals in this town – you’d learned enough about his career to know it wasn’t all bullshit – but you weren’t going to let him get away with using you for your contacts at the FBI. Well, contact – singular.

“The ‘word’ is?” You quote back at him icily. “And what word is that, Agent Peña?” Leaning back in your chair, you cock your head to the side a bit and rest your elbows on the arm rests. His mustache twitches the slightest bit at this change in your body language and tone of voice, but he doesn’t respond. You might be overplaying your hand here, but you’ll take that risk to find out how far he’s willing to go with this approach. Not wanting to be the first to break, you let the uncomfortable silence stretch.

Right when you start to think you’ve missed the mark and he’s going to walk away without another word, he nods, eyes never leaving yours. Mirroring your pose, he tents his fingers and licks his lips again. You force yourself not to look at his mouth.

“I’m not stupid,” he states. Here it comes. “I know what people say about me around here.”

Wait, what? Schooling your features, you decide to see how this plays out.

“I know you haven’t been here very long, but I’m sure you’ve heard some of the office gossip already.” He shifts in his seat and hikes his pant legs up, casually propping one ankle on a knee. You pride yourself on not looking at his crotch.

At that moment, a woman walks by your desk and gives the two of you a thorough once over. You stare her down until she meets your eyes, the smirk forming on her lips immediately dying. She scurries away and you turn back to find Peña giving you a bit of a smirk, and a certain glint appears in his eyes.

“Agent Peña–”

“Javi, please.” The balls on this guy.

“Agent,” you repeat purposefully, “I’m not sure what, if anything, you know about me.” You pause to take a steadying breath, but Peña continues in earnest.

“I know you worked with the FBI art squad on a number of cases during your time in D.C. that resulted in the arrest of several high-profile members of a forgery ring smuggling pieces into the country for sale on the black market.”

You blink. That wasn’t what you were expecting. At all.

He keeps talking. “But that was only in the last year or so. Before that, you worked your way up as a field agent and investigator at major ports of entry, developing a specialty in high-value contraband.” Peña slowly runs his palms over his thighs; the man is in perpetual motion.

As you listen to Javi rattle off various highlights and accolades that sound like they came directly from your personnel file, you notice the change in his demeanor and tone. He speaks matter-of-factly like he’s reciting a brief, but there’s a hint of something else in his tone besides simple curiosity.

“And then you landed the D.C. assignment. From what I hear, you could’ve been running that unit in a few years, but instead you took a boring ass admin job out here.” He gestures vaguely around you. This is where he’s comfortable – when he’s the one in charge, telling you what’s what.

“You’ve sure heard a lot about me, Agent Peña.” Your tone is cool and measured.

“Why?” He leans forward and braces his elbows on spread knees. His piercing eyes level with yours, pupils wide and locked in.

“‘Why’ what?”

“Why’d you leave D.C.?”

A glance out to the common area nearby confirms there’s nobody within earshot, but you still lower your voice when you say, “You already seem to know everything there is about me.” Pausing, you feel your pulse flutter in your neck. “I would think you’ve heard that part as well.”

He’s testing you. That’s how guys like him operate. They pin you down to see if you’ve got enough in you to fight back. Fighting back is what earns their respect. The smile Peña gives you is subtle, edging on mischievous.

“I’ve heard plenty on that topic,” he confirms with a gentle nod. “There are a few prevailing theories.” He counts off the rumors on his fingers and glances up to see your reactions to each.

Pissed off the wrong politician is met with an eye roll.

Moved here for a boyfriend – “...or girlfriend?” Javi checks – earns an exasperated sigh.

“You fucked your way around–” Javi stops abruptly when an indignant sound escapes your mouth. This reaction sends Javi’s eyebrows dancing.

Kicking yourself, you decide there’s only one course of action: honesty. Keeping your voice low, you lean over your desk and Javi follows until your faces are barely a foot apart. You force yourself to look directly into his eyes as you say your piece.

“I didn’t ‘fuck my way around’ anything. Not that it’s any of your fucking business, but I had a consensual relationship that never once interfered with our professional conduct or the work at hand. Got it?” Javi doesn’t speak, but there’s a glint in his eyes as they roam over your stony expression, lips pursed in a contemplative pout.

“Once the rumor mill starts, it’s only a matter of time before the woman is left to deal with the consequences – not that I’d expect you to care about such things.” You practically spit the last words out before you can stop yourself.

The air stills between you. Peña nods as if to himself, then leans even closer, until you can smell his spicy cologne. “Let’s set the record straight about one thing right now, Agent.”

You swallow thickly and look anywhere but at his eyes – the long line of his nose, the cut of his jaw, the stubble on his cheek. His voice drops into a deeper register when he says, “I don’t give a shit who you choose to fuck or not – as long as it doesn’t get in the way of me getting the job done. We’re all adults here and can make our own grown-up choices.” He raises a finger, and points first to you, then himself as he speaks. “My one rule is: I don’t judge you, you don’t judge me.”

He pauses, giving you a second’s reprieve. “Are we on the same page now?”

You nod once, gritting your teeth at his condescending tone. Back in a normal register he says, “Good. Now about this investigation of mine…”

Peña retreats and gestures at the case documents underneath where your arms were folded on top of your desk. You look down, having almost forgotten his whole reason for being here in the first place.

“Agent Peña…” you start, and again, he interrupts.

“Please, I asked you to call me Javi.” The fucker winks at you – winks.

“Javi,” you grind out, playing his game. “I don’t know what you think I can do for you, unless this whole thing is to try and get me to –”

“Don’t finish that sentence.” His voice is a rumble in his chest. “Don’t insult me like that, and don’t insult yourself.” Javi points at the desk. “I came here asking for help because you’re a damn good agent with experience in this shit. If you want to show this office that you’re not going to back down from another fight just because some dickless piss-ant is spreading rumors, this is your chance.”

You let his words sink in and hate that he’s right. You did back down from the fight in D.C., the second it got difficult. Your pride was wounded and you ran away with your tail between your legs at the first opportunity. With a steadying breath, you sigh and start organizing the documents and photos.

“I’ll take a look at everything and see what I can come up with.” Peña begins to stand, and you cut in, “But I can’t promise I can get you in with the FBI.”

You haven’t spoken to Special Agent Marcus Pike since you left D.C. six months earlier. If you were honest with yourself, you missed the time you two spent together, even when you weren’t having amazing sex. Getting takeout from his favorite Thai place and watching an old movie, or reviewing case notes over pizza after hours in the war room. Marcus was the most decent guy you’d ever known, and you hadn’t even answered the few times he called to check in your first couple months in Texas. It’d serve you right if he refused to speak to you ever again, if you could swallow your pride long enough to call him up.

“I’ll take whatever I can get at this point.” Peña sticks a hand out to shake. You join him on your feet and grasp his hand firmly. Some of your confidence was returning.

“I never pegged you as the desperate type, Javi.” You hoped your smile was enough for the agent to hear your words as the playful banter you’d intended. Fortunately, he huffed a quiet laugh and nodded appreciatively, boldly letting his eyes wander over you. The heat of his gaze leaves pleasant tingles in its wake.

“I’ll swing by tomorrow to talk about next steps.”

The agent departs, and you sit back down at your desk with a long sigh. As you watch the man walk away, your reverie from earlier comes back in startling focus with new details. You think back to how commanding and gruff his voice had sounded with his face so close to yours. The scent of his cologne lingered – spicy, with a hint of citrus and something else you couldn’t identify. How his thick fingers splayed over his hip or massaged the arm of his chair as he spoke. The crease in the middle of his bottom lip when he swiped at the corner of his mouth.

Clearing your throat, you try to focus your attention on the stack of papers and photos in front of you. You couldn’t let your libido cloud your judgment now that you had a real case to sink your teeth into. You’d always prided yourself on your ability to compartmentalize, but your head was still swimming after the man had been in your cubicle for, what – ten minutes?

You’ve certainly got your work cut out for you.

***

Washington, D.C.

6 months earlier

“You don’t have to do this.” Marcus stands next to your desk as you finish packing your few personal belongings into an empty cardboard box. “I’ll talk to my guys, you don’t need –”

You still him with a hand. “Marcus, please. I’m choosing to do this; it’s a really good opportunity.” You hope he believes that.

Marcus sighs and rubs a hand over his face. After looking around to check that you and he were alone in the emptying building, Marcus leans into your space. “You’re telling me this has nothing to do with us?” His voice is deep, intimate.

He’s close enough for you to feel the warmth emanating from his body, and you catch a whiff of the aftershave that always leaves you feeling a bit heady. How is it still so strong even after a full day’s work? The frisson you experience whenever your bodies are in close proximity hasn’t diminished in the slightest, even after months of fucking on the sly.

You’d both maintained your professionalism at the office; you respect each others’ boundaries and careers too much to get sloppy in the workplace. The only thing that changed around the office since you started sleeping with Marcus was the other agents. Their eyes followed you around the office, conversations sputtered to a halt when you entered the breakroom, and snatches of whispered conversation filled your cubicle when they didn’t know you were there.

Clearing your throat, you force your eyes to meet his intense gaze. “Yes, Marcus, that’s what I’m saying.”

Marcus is a great agent, and an even greater guy. You know he’d want to stick up for you – as a fellow agent, and as a friend – but it’d only make things harder for you. Already your caseload had begun to dwindle and you were being consulted less and less often on issues squarely in your area of expertise. After several fruitless conversations with your supervisor, you weren't about to sit around and wait for your career to die – no matter how mindblowing the sex was.

The box is packed with your personal belongings and an assortment of stolen office supplies as your last petty ‘fuck you’ to the endemic sexism and double standards that plague federal law enforcement.

“Hey,” Marcus takes your hand in both of his and strokes his thumb over your pulse point as he perches a hip on the corner of your bare desk. “I can tell there’s something more to the story, and you obviously don’t want to tell me what it is so I’m not going to push…”

You roll your eyes at him teasingly and he huffs out a laugh, then pulls you closer so your hand is in his lap. He keeps stroking that sensitive part of your wrist and something in you thrums to life. “But?” You look at your joined hands. “I know there’s a but in there.”

“But – you know you can always talk to me. About whatever.” He shrugs a noncommittal shoulder and you step even closer, bracketing one of his legs between your own. His breath falters a bit as you turn one of his large hands over and graze your fingertips across his palm with a featherlight touch.

“If you ever need anything, please…” His voice drops into the register you only ever hear him use in private.

Fuck it – you’d been so careful and were still dealing with the consequences. Might as well have a little fun on your last day. You place a firm hand on Marcus’ thigh and glide it up to his hip.

“There is one thing I need right now.” You feel a bit giddy at your recklessness, but any nerves you might have are quelled when Marcus runs the tip of his nose up your jawline to your ear.

“And what’s that? Hm?” He inhales your scent and hums with pleasure. Before you can stop yourself, you shift your hand at Marcus’ hip to his crotch. When you feel how hard he already is you release a breath you hadn't realized you were holding.

Marcus inhales sharply through his nose at your touch, then lets out a groan in your ear at your gentle squeeze. “Tell me what you need.” His five o’clock shadow rasps against your sensitive skin as he sucks your earlobe into his mouth.

“I need you to show me that evidence locker you haven’t shut up about since we met.”

Chapter 2

NOTE: The term “war room” originally described the place military leaders discussed tactics and strategies. It’s frequently used now in federal government, law enforcement, and business settings to describe any room used to strategize and plan – it could have various technologies (computers, A/V, video-teleconferencing, etc.) or be a plain old conference/meeting space with whiteboards.

Additional Author’s Note: I'm finally forcing myself to post this fic I've been working on in an attempt to get over my fear of people reading my work. It's the first fic I've written in the Pedroverse, and quite possibly the only fic I've ever posted publicly as an adult. I would love to know what you think! I really want to become a better writer, so any and all feedback is welcome! Thanks for reading!

#senorabond writes #javier pena x reader #marcus pike x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #narcos fic #the mentalist fic #peña x f!reader x pike #rumor has it fic

136 notes · View notes

currently-tired · 2 months

Text

Tgs, but Jekyll doesn’t know he’s Hyde

Aka Jekyll is a alchemical blackout drunk.

Based off of this post; https://www.tumblr.com/ja9-animations/741619471611985920/tgs-but-all-the-lodgers-know-that-jekyll-and-hyde

@ja9-animations

“Are you sure I cannot meet Hyde?”

Lavender paled. “No, you can’t!” She burst out quickly, with wide open eyes.

Bird elbowed her sharply.

“Erm, ‘m sorry Jekyll, but you can’t. We don’t know when ‘ey show up, and-“ He began, but soon stalled, clearly unsure of what to say.

Archer picked up after him.

“They’re such a strange person. Trust me, you’ll know them if you see them. But we can’t make them appear on command.”

“Is he a sodomite? I’ve never heard of a singular person using they instead of he…” Jekyll asked softly, with a wrinkled brow.

Lavender stuttered over her response. Bird coughed, and Archer twitched nervously.

Jekyll’s eyes opened widely and he paled almost as white as a sheet; as if he never meant to say that comment aloud…

“That was profoundly impolite, and none of my business. I apologize.” Jekyll looked numb as he said these words. Same light voice as before when he had been asking about Hyde, but an uncharacteristically pinched expression on his face.

Unseen to the group of lodgers, his hands were fidgeting at his sides.

“And if he is?” Archer questioned, with a (unconvincing) impression of lightness on his face

A bitter smile instantly spread across Jekyll’s face. “As much as London’s high class officially has a problem with sodomites, I can assure you that to most, unofficially they do not…”

“Hypocrites!-” Henry hissed angrily, just quietly enough not to be heard.

Damned hypocrites who went to the [unofficial] sodomite’s bar, and fucked men just like the rest of them! It made them want to growl, and-

[How did he even know this?!- Jekyll hadn’t been to those sorts of places since university; he had seen gentlemen (in training) there, yes…

But not the ones that came to their mind. Hazy faces they he somehow recognized, memories distorted as if seeing them through a thickly frosted glass…

Jekyll packed the thoughts down to inspect later, in the quiet of their office. Preferably with a glass or three of wine…]

He continued out loud, in a louder voice.

“To me personally, it is not a problem at all. I don’t see the obsession over policing others, especially for things they cannot control. Alas, this is the society we exist in…” Henry said bitterly, trailing off with a deep frown.

Lavender gaped at him, absolutely shocked. (Henry didn’t notice, as he was too busy glaring a hole through the wood flooring…)

As soon as she recovered her composure, she began to speak.

“Okay then!…” Lavender replied quickly, trying to draw attention away from the topic.

She began talking about her newest studies into the void, and her ideas on its composition. Jekyll noticed the clear diversion, but followed along with it, distantly replying to her comments and ideas. [What was that mental slip of sorts earlier? It sounded like him. It was his own voice!- But somehow not… The thoughts were familiar; sourced from that deep seated anger he tried oh so desperately to suppress. But why were those memories so distant and hazy? How did he even have them in the first place?!-]

Archer then began to talk about his newest type of plant. A crawling vine that he said Hyde brought him from blackfog.

At the passing mention of Hyde, Bird stomped Archers foot loudly. Archer hissed in pain, and quickly moved on from the topic. (But not before flicking Bird back harshly, with his mechanical arm.)

At that point Jekyll had seen enough. Clearly whoever Hyde was, he was not going to find out from these lodgers. For whatever reason they were completely dead set on not telling him a single thing about Hyde!

The other lodgers were similar. The ones more skilled with social interaction brushed off his questions or changed topics skillfully. (It would’ve fooled most other people. But not Jekyll. That was Henry’s wheelhouse, and he recognized the exact same tactics that he himself used to deflect criticisms against the ‘mad’ scientists.)

The less experienced ones told him off more frankly, or refused the question.

Griffin flat out told him to fuck off. (Ouch! Especially since he was the one funding his experiments! Jekyll didn’t expect ass kissing from anyone, but a little bit of tact went a long way!…)

To make things even worse, Hastie was absolutely clueless, and no help at all. He told him rumors he had heard, but nothing else. (Which was something, he supposed. But Jekyll himself knew how greatly exaggerated rumors in that city were, based on what they said about him personally...)

The other person he’d usually ask, and trust to tell him the complete and utter truth was Rachel. She was less clueless; Henry knew that for sure… But she also refused to tell him a thing about Edward!

It was so unusual!-

Henry wanted to stay a little longer to try to pry just a bit more. He should know who was frequenting his own building, right?

But Jekyll knew he wouldn’t get anything voluntary. And accidental confessions were always full of annoyingly large holes that people usually never filled until they were ready to.

So Jekyll slipped away back to his office, citing the finances, with a small smile on his face. (Even if he was feeling anything but, the smile was always plastered on his face. It had to remain there, convincing and shiny…)

He slid into his chair, and instead of doing accounting, promptly drank down an entire glass of wine like a shot.

As he swirled around his second drink in his glass, he thought over what he knew about Edward Hyde.

Hyde was shorter than most people at the society, even Lavender. That would put him at around 4’9, perhaps shorter. Hyde had blonde hair with brown roots. They(?) fought viciously, and had a horrible reputation that made its way up to Lanyon in several ways somehow. (Friend of a friend’s cousin for one certain incident? Hell if Henry knew…)

They liked the color green, carried a cane that was rumored to have a long knife inside, and had a Scottish accent. (To what intensity, Henry did not know.)

And up until that day, that was all Henry knew.

His recently gained knowledge was that they [Henry did not understand that pronoun. Both its significance, and what it was even used for. But for whatever reason, Hyde was referred to by it...] were (was?) some sort of sodomite.

That was mildly unhelpful though.

The use of sodomite was broad enough to be classifying, but far too broad to really be helpful, which annoyed Henry.

The term sodomite could refer to the men who dressed up as women, the ‘men’ who were actually women, men who enjoyed the company of other men, those who engaged in bestiality, (Henry desperately hoped that Hyde did not engage in that…) and/or a million other things deemed evil or sinful by society.

Unmentionable things, that did not even deserve a term attached to them, other than the label of S. I. N…

And so, Henry was at a loss.

He was unhappy about his pitiful level of knowledge on the man who frequented the society. (He had labored far too hard, worked far too much for it all to be torn down by some unknown that he could never account for!) However, there wasn’t much he could do, barring searching London’s underworld himself. (And the ‘Good Doctor’ could not do that. Besides, even then he may not see Hyde after all...)

And so he resigned himself to filling out paperwork, wondering about that strange person in between scratches of his pen.

At the chime of nine in the night, Henry put down his pen, capped his ink, collected his papers into a neatly organized pile, and got up and stretched with a groan, stiff bones creaking.

He went into a certain cabinet, and pulled out a pre measured quantity of salt and a beaker.

Then combined a couple of substances together that formed into a noxious looking bright potion, calmly watching the viscous blue green solution swirl around the flask, and wispy smoke pouring off of it and into his face, as if it was perfectly normal.

And to Jekyll, he supposed it was.

Henry had been taking the serum for years, off and on throughout the week.

He never remembered what happened during or after they took it, except for an almost addictive deep seated contentment flowing through his veins and a peace he could find from nothing else flowing through him for hours after he came back in the morning.

The potion must’ve done something, especially with the great change it inspired in him during his darkest moments… Perhaps split off the evil? Maybe it had been separated from him entirely, or shoved off to the side to languish.

Perhaps he even vanquished it… [But why then, was he still sinful, and full of desires he knew he couldn’t have? Why did he still have a short temper, and an even sharper tongue that he had to choke down almost daily?]

Those things were not terribly good. But they were not terribly evil either.

And so, that led him to believe that he didn’t actually separate good from evil…

But whatever truly had happened, Jekyll did not know. (Or care enough to investigate, to be fully honest.)

It helped him suppress those pesky desires that plagued his mind like nothing else in his life had before. Not copious amounts of wine, or prayer and church, or hobbies he dumped after a week from sheer inability of effort, or self harm.

It kept him sane, and smiling perfectly, with a straight back and a distant but somehow still friendly posture that made young gentlemen weep.

And so, he kept drinking it, despite the total blackouts.

…A little bit of indulgence in the unknown would not damage him too much, right?

And so, without further pretense, Jekyll drank the bitter sulphorous solution, choking a bit. (He had never fully gotten used to the syrupy and somehow still liquid texture, even four years later…)

Within thirty seconds, like clockwork, they began to transform into… something else. [Exactly what it was, he had never found out…]

Bones began to move into different places, and crack open with a horrific sound. Other changes occurred, that he was too far gone to even attempt to understand what was happening. And like always, thankfully, after the pain became too great, Jekyll faded away.

And twenty minutes later Edward Hyde emerged from their own office, fully dressed.

Hyde snickered loudly at their own incompetence. Of course that potion didn’t split them into two entities! Good and evil were not distinct things! They were commingled in each man’s personality forever; from birth to death.

No fully evil entity existed. No fully good entity existed. (And it would always be that way, for all of eternity!)

However, Jekyll never remembered their second life as Hyde.

He didn’t know the revelations they’d had, both about the world, and about themself.

He didn’t know the way they laughed; freely and insanely for the first damn time in their entire life! Able to express all they were forced to repress.

He didn’t know their face.

Their absolute delight and wonder, every single time they ran a hand over their face, and felt facial hair! (Something that they were never lucky enough to find a potion to fix in the past...)

The all consuming joy that overcame him even from first look, when he realized that finally, the evil streak that they had felt inside of them their entire life shone through. Laughing wildly at those who shuddered at the sight of their face, as if subconsciously.

The way people stepped away, and were scared. Scared for once, instead of far too friendly and comfortable with someone who was practically a stranger. [“You have an honest face!” An old noblewoman at a party crooned, patting their head, after saying something far too revealing. Jekyll was briefly tempted to bite her hand. Scream at her to fuck off! Grab her hand firmly, and throw it off of his head.

But the smile stayed firmly on his face and he excused himself politely but firmly to go speak [bitch] to Hastie again. Others, who he revealed nothing to, did not trust, or did not like much, but had spoken to for months, revealed deeply intimate things to him, some practically sobbing on his shoulder.

(That damned earnest face!-)

Jekyll tried to comfort them. He disliked others being sad. He knew just how hard that hit, and how deeply it hurt.

But in the end, it just ended up being just another secret to lock away in his mind forever. One more thing to pack away, and try not to think about the next time he saw them…]

Henry didn’t know their unrelentless joy for an infinite amount of reasons. (The world was beautiful! The moon gleaming and hanging low in the sky, the smog framing the air like a gorgeous painting. The biting chill of the air stinging their reddened cheeks, and the freshness of it. Even the things he usually disliked took on a new tinge of enjoyment!)

The joy they felt at having the freedom to be and do what they wanted.

(Who gave a fuck about who or what they used to be? Who they decided to fuck? Everyone was far too busy with their own business and problems for that. It was a welcome change from bored busybodies who had nothing better to do than to gossip…)

That complete and utter anonymity they enjoyed at first, and a delightful infamy later that made them laugh, and laugh, and laugh!-

But what he did know, is that he had holes in his memory after he took the potion. He knew the way he felt contented in the morning.

(Not flooded with pleasure like he was as Hyde. More like the echoes of it. Filtered through layers of flesh and bone, long blonde hair returned to short brown, blue-green dripping tears, and whatever the mind was comprised of.)

The way he was just slightly sore; but in a pleasant way he delighted in, even without knowing the source.

And most importantly, the fact that his strict facade became easier to maintain. As if a small vent had been slit on something that was about to burst.

He reaped some of the benefits of the potion, without even knowing what it did.

He was like a blackout drunkard. Despite having no clue what happened, he returned to his vice night after night.

Edward Hyde was Henry Jekyll. (Through and through, with every single one of his memories and experiences belonging to them.)

But Henry Jekyll was somehow not Edward Hyde. (How could he be, with only the tiniest hint of their memories and experiences? Only the slightest peak from behind an iron mental curtain?…)

Hyde was Jekyll in the way a Phoenix was ashes. The pieces of what he used to be and was just hours ago, reborn again into something completely different. (Glorious to them. Perhaps more of an annoyance at best to others. Several slurs at worst. That made it even better! Jekyll tried to be the best person he could be. Tried to do right by everyone, in the best way that he could.

But after spending a whole day being frustrated, and suppressing violence even against the stupidest inconveniences, they adored inconveniencing others! Making them feel at least the tiniest bit as shit as he had, just hours earlier. [The fact that misery truly does love company, was something that Hyde had soon found out…])

And Jekyll? He was completely ignorant and unknowing. Occasionally, Hyde wondered if this all would’ve been easier if it wasn’t so…

[That (beloved? damned? incredible? painful?) potion flicked that invisible mental switch, that let all of the memories of their life as Hyde rush back to them. How? Why? Why not let them keep these memories as Jekyll? Why must he have been ignorant? Confused about their own actions, that he didn’t know were theirs?]

How much of a person’s identity relied on their memories?

[Jekyll and Hyde were effectively two entirely different people, despite living the exact same life at times. At most times, actually… How much did their memories, or the lack of them affect that?]

How much of Hyde’s identity was completely new, or something spurred by their new mindset but already there, and how much was old; some sort of leftovers from Jekyll?

How much of it was preexisting, but mutated drastically until it truly fit them?

Was it a combination of all? What about a-

Hyde stopped themself.

These were thoughts for being piss ass drunk, rambling to some faceless stranger, (Or more safely, and thus commonly a lodger if any of them were so inclined.)

Not thoughts for being sober…

And so, Hyde quickly did their rounds around the society.

Nothing was on fire so far.

All plants were under control, and certain labs were slightly cleaner than usual! What a pleasant surprise!

Griffin’s cat got loose again, and he was bitching about it. At a flat annoyed glare from Hyde, he shut up instantly, and said he’d find it.

“You’d better...” Hyde snapped annoyedly.

(That thing escaped practically every other day! And Edward was not particularly keen on it, especially after it clawed up both of their arms and bit them, leaving them bloody and pissed, pouring antiseptic down their arms..)

Doddle was asleep, but all of his materials were neatly put up; both flours and baking supplies, and chemicals and more alchemical components, neatly shelved from first look. Nothing smelt burnt when Hyde peaked their head through the doorframe, so they let it be and moved on.

Ito was requesting some more lab equipment. Hyde told her to write it down and slide it under their door.

Cantilupe was more than a little annoyed at surplus of invisible animals nosing around the society and getting into her and Lavender’s research and skeletons. The rodents in particular were a large issue, as they’d gnaw on anything even remotely close to the ground. Again, Hyde told her to write it down, making sure that she stressed the fact that the rats harmed her and Lavender’s research, and said they’d deal with it in the morning.

(…Maybe not them in particular, but Jekyll would.)

Hyde finished up their rounds, and paused to think…

Okay, Good! Everything was calm in the society! No situations, no questions, and no issues. That meant Hyde was free to leave, and get on with their night.

But before Hyde could slip out the back door of the society, they were tapped on the shoulder.

They spun around extra dramatically, and saw Archer, Bird, and Lavender gathered next to each other in a group, looking nervous. They talked to each other quietly, nodding, or shaking their heads.

Oh come on!

Hyde didn’t do any of that ‘waiting around for people to be ready’ bullshit! They had better things to be doing than standing there, still and waiting!-

“Spit it out.” Hyde snapped more than said at them shortly, with a hiss. An externally bored expression, with a tapping foot.

(Internally, their panic mounted. They looked so stressed! Oh God, they hoped something didn’t happen! Everything had been so calm and good just five minutes prior!)

Archer poked Bird and said something quietly to him that Edward couldn’t hear. Finally, Bird groaned loudly, but spoke.

“Jekyll ‘as asking about ya again.” Bird said, with an awkward sort of shift to his body.

Hyde’s panic deflated instantly, with a relieved outtake of breath.

Then after a moment, they rolled their eyes. Was that seriously all?! They were so stressed about that tiny little thing? (To be fully honest, it didn’t concern them at all...)

Jekyll didn’t remember or know Hyde, so he was a completely unknown variable. And as Jekyll, they did not like anything to be unknown. (Hyde understood it, they supposed. Unknown things could lead to disaster, and in their past they had frequently. But as Hyde, they had taken to enjoying those surprises. Something unknown meant an opportunity to work out a new strategy on the spot, which was always entertaining, even if they lost and got their teeth kicked in. They took it as an opportunity to innovate, and be clever. Hyde took it as fun, not a chore.

Unlike Jekyll, they did not view it as random error, or an unexpected variable they couldn’t control in an experiment, to exaggerate his thinking…)

They remembered asking that question a couple hours before well enough. The flood of confusion in their (his, at that moment) mind.

He was stressed about the unknown man that all the lodgers consistently lied to him about so staunchly, refusing to give up even singular crumbs.

Well, Hyde was touched by the concern and dedication the lodgers had for them! The loyalty!

…But they had to admit they were getting tired of this all.

Hyde was just about to write a letter to himself! This was getting too far out of hand!… [Why the fuck were they (was he?) so stressed about themself? Henry’s stress was their stress! And that same stress he felt at that time affected them when they were like this too!]

(It hurt Edward’s head when they thought about it for too long...)

So maybe it was time to switch up their strategy. The old one of asking the lodgers not to tell Jekyll about his second life he didn’t know about in the hopes of getting himself to keep taking the potion without any hesitation was getting headache inducing.

(And Edward was getting sick and tired of additional headaches…)

“I see. And what’d he say?” They asked, acting as if they did not remember a thing.

…Hyde may have ‘forgotten’ to discourage and maybe even mildly perpetuated a perhaps… ‘Morally incorrect’ idea about the nature of their relationship with Jekyll to the lodgers…

[It was for a decent reason, they swore!..]

The lodgers all had these preconceived notions about what Hyde was to Jekyll. That they were the ghost lurking in the back of Jekyll’s saintly [HA!-] mind.

Some sort of demon that had stalked Jekyll for his entire life, finally let loose with chemical interference. (Correct general idea… It was wildly off track though.)

Hyde thought these assumptions were mostly because they couldn’t believe that Jekyll would ever act this way by himself. (Or, of his own accord.) Because he was a gentleman, cream of the crop. Elegant, and perfect. Not sinful, or sexual, or perverse in any way at all… [Well, if only they knew!]

Edward never corrected them. That assumption was incredibly helpful to both of their lives.

They didn’t have to spend hours trying to verbalize, and then explain the subtleties of their relationship with themself.

This also meant that they viewed Edward and Henry separately, treating them entirely differently. (Which was good. They would have a heart attack as Henry if all the lodgers shifted from their previously static and predictable behavior, to a close friendly relationship. [Something that he did not remember forming.] That wild shift would make him paranoid, and them even more stressed.)

And they were already stressed enough in both states of mind.

…And did they really deserve the truth anyway?

Hyde hadn’t even meant to reveal themself!

Ito had cracked the door open with a gentle knock one night, to ask for advice with a reaction involving the feathers of a Phoenix.

Having the door open unexpectedly let their pained mid transformation screams escape into the society; shrill and warping wildly from the ongoing change from Jekyll’s deep vocal cords to Hyde’s high, almost whiny voice.

The soundproofing in their office had became entirely useless, with that one simple action.

[FUCK! He should’ve remembered to lock the damned door! He screamed at themself afterwards, as soon as they gained awareness.]

The entire society (barring Rachel, who was visiting her brother) ran up to the room. [To watch what had happened and take notes? To help? Hyde did not know.] But whatever reason they had came for, the result was the same. They all witnessed the tail end of their transformation.

Hyde shook on the ground, and panted with the aftershocks of the transformation; unwanted thoughts that stressed them screaming in their ear at the buzzing of unexpected voices, and the air from the wide open door hitting their scalp.

[They shouldn’t be here. I’m damned. They’ll report me for insanity. The asylum. Bethlam! I’ll rot. Never see the moon, the rising of the sun. They’ll kill me. Never drink another glass of wine. Get railed again. I won’t survive. Ever see Lanyon again. Kiss his face. Beg him for forgiveness for my uncaring facade.

I’ll die alone and presumed insane!- I’ll be remembered for something I’m not! My grave will not be my own! Who will take care of Zosi? I’ll be tortured for hours on end, in the name of ‘medicine.’ I’ll die!-

They went on and on and on, in a hysterical loop, as they shook on the ground.]

As they were breaking down, Ito told them all what she had just seen, with a shaking wavering voice, and a shocked hunch to her posture.

Hyde heard her and paled, staring ahead with wide open eyes that were swirling that same green-blue color as that godforsaken potion, and a wild pant, heart racing so hard it felt like they had just ran an entire marathon, at the calls of their usual name, and not the name of the body they were currently inhabiting.

And slowly, with over a dozen stares aimed at them that felt weightier than a massive boulder on each shoulder, they began a bare bones explanation with a shaking voice and fully Scottish accent.

(So truly, it was entirely their faults for intruding in their office! They did NOT want that revealed! Jekyll had the right to lie to them!)

[Right?]

Bird answered, much calmer at Hyde’s uncaring reaction. (Completely unaware of their inner turmoil. Perhaps they were still good at hiding it…)

“He asked if you were a sodomite.” He replied.

Hyde’s eyes snapped to his face, pretending to have been paying rapt attention the entire time.

“I see. Then what?” Hyde asked back, with a slight tilt of their head.

“He said he supported sodomy, in a roundabout way.” Lavender chimed in.

“I never would’ve pegged him to be that sort of person.” She frowned in thought, humming quietly.

(Well, he certainly was…)

“Well, I’m sure Jekyll subscribes to the art of desiring both men and women” Hyde ventured, commenting lightly.

Archer laughed out loudly!

“Jekyll can’t be bent! He’s so gentlemanly and regal!“ He said incredulously, choking on laughter as he spoke

Hyde cackled out loud.

They intimately knew how that meant dogshit! Some of the most celebrated men (some even holy!) frequented the exact same bars they did, to find other ‘bent’ people.

They had even fucked a couple of them, when they were bored enough and curious. They were far too normal to hold Hyde’s interest for long, however, so they soon left them alone to their daily dose of sin.

Still, Hyde catalogued this quietly in the back of their mind.

“You’d be surprised.” They murmured, staring straight ahead at the wall, spacing out a little bit. (Sometimes they wished being gentlemanly really did mean they were normal! It would’ve made their entire life so much easier!..)

Hyde soon snapped out of it at Bird’s awkward cough.

“Anything else you’d like from me? Leader duties, or otherwise.” Edward offered, fingers drumming against their thigh.

“No.” They all replied, practically at the same time, with a shake of her head (Lavender) a tilted head (Archer) and a blink (Bird).

Satisfied with these responses, Hyde made a slight movement towards the door, telegraphing it to be as obvious as possible.

An easy non verbal way of saying they were getting tired of talking. Time was ticking, and night was bleeding away! They didn’t have forever!

At this, Archer promptly stepped forward with a friendly grin and offered a handshake that Edward took immediately, shaking his hand firmly and wildly, arm swinging. They smiled widely as Archer shook back forcefully, pushing their smaller frame around.

This turned into a friendly hug. Hyde laughed joyfully from inside of his arms, and squeezed him tightly.

Archer took a step back.

“I may meet you later, depending on how this experiment goes.” He said with that same happy smile.

(Hyde liked Archer. A nice friend, who was fun to go drinking with.)

“This the one with those magic vines I got you?”

Archer nodded.

“That’s fine.” Hyde replied lightly.

“Ask around when or if you’re ready. I’m sure you’ll find where I’ve gone...” They said, with a slightly sinister laugh, full of joy.

(Christ, they loved being Hyde.)

Archer nodded and rushed away as quickly as possible, with stumbling feet, presumably to prevent the plant from growing all over the lab. (The vendor did say it had a bad tendency to grow uncontrollably after it had been watered sufficiently.)

What a shame. Their room actually looked organized, for once. (Mostly clean floors, that weren’t flooded with clock pieces, dirt, and leaves!)

To Lavender and Bird, Hyde bowed deeply and thanked them for their concern. They told them that they didn’t mind Jekyll knowing more about them anymore, and asked them to please inform the others of that shift in preference.

[This could either go really well- acclimating Jekyll to the idea of Hyde, and eventually the truth, or horribly- make Jekyll hate themself. Only time would tell, they supposed…]

Lavender and Bird nodded, and went back to whatever it was they were doing before they came to speak with Hyde, walking away.

How would Jekyll react to that idea? Knowing all they knew at that point in time, they couldn’t really judge his own reaction properly. Would he-

Oh! Forget about it!-

That was a worry for tomorrow. (Or whatever night this frame of mind was released on next.) They had things they preferred to do tonight.

So finally, they slipped outside with a smile so wide that it hurt their face, and a folk song from their childhood on their tongue, that they whistled gleefully.

How could they be stressed? Worried or sad? The world was gorgeous! The people, and the things inside of it were too!

And at that very moment in time they were Edward Hyde! Free, and unrestrained!

How could they be depressed, with pleasure singing through their thoughts and mind, and an infinite pulse of energy just underneath their skin?

With the moon shining above them, delicately floating lanterns gleaming, and the smell of rain in the air, how could negativity overwhelm them?

How could they be anything but overjoyed when London, with all its good and evil, wrong and right, moral and immoral awaited them with the widest of open arms!

#honk shoo posting #the glass scientists #tgs jekyll #tgs hyde #jekyll and hyde #I worked hard on this guys #Jekyll and Hyde are the same person #personally not a fan of the personality split thing #headcannons galore!#hoorah

67 notes · View notes

genericpuff · 4 months

Note

Absolutely love the rendition to the panel of Hades holding Persephone. Lovely to see it rendered as a more mutual act with Perse holding onto Hades instead of just letting Hades hold her, and ofc seeing Persephone actually look like an adult woman. (Not to even mention the colors and rendering because whoaa those were lovely)

And I have a question about this new rendition if I’m allowed to make it! The original had very dramatic and sharp composition with the angles and being off centered which conveyed much of the emotions and style that made early LO very striking. In adapting it, was it a conscious choice to change the composition or what were the deciding factors that made you and banshriek decide centering Perse and Hades worked better in this situation? :0

Ahhh thank you ;w; It took a few rounds of sketching to get the pose just right, the flats thankfully weren't as difficult as I was worried they'd be, but the challenge was definitely in trying to get the pose right while maintaining the height difference that's there.

As for your question, a lot of the posing and sketch composition is something I do, and then Banshriek typically goes wild with the backgrounds while making adjustments to those compositions if necessary, often times I leave the backgrounds up to their discretion as they're 10x more skilled at that sort of thing than I am and they often bring new perspectives to the table. This means that it often ends up being a game of give and take between what we contribute, sometimes I'll have sketches that they feel need to be adjusted, other times I'll have to add little tweaks to their backgrounds if it's missing something. We're both working off a base rough sketch, but we both get to contribute to the final scene in our own ways; splitting it between background and character flats has been a happy middle that's worked well for us :)

Depending on the scene, sketches can range from minimal to more detailed. Here's the original base sketch for that scene:

So originally there was a larger tree working over the side but I didn't really know how detailed we wanted to be in the actual full background, much of it depended on how complex Banshriek wanted to get. You can also tell that Persephone's face was originally buried into Hades' chest in the original panel, which I originally flatted in, but then wound up changing because I wanted her eyes to be visible to reflect both of their expressions of relief at the same time.

That said, with the pose changing from what it was in the original (from Persephone almost laying on Hades vs. him holding her and lifting her up) the composition had to change with it so I decided to just make them a bit more centered, that way the focus would be fully on them and the balance of the scene wouldn't feel "off" due to the pose change. I tend to follow the Rule of 3 here !

So yeah! That's pretty much why centering it felt a little better in this case. Though part me of does wish I was able to keep the original pose, when breaking that scene down into its bones I found it had to take a lot of liberties with its anatomy and proportions, as many LO scenes do. You can't really tell just on a surface level but Persephone's head is huge and the rest of her body is tiny (her hips literally come up to Hades' sternum and her feet meet at his knees). With the character design changes made in Rekindled to make Persephone a little less tiny and more consistent in her body type (while still maintaining the size difference between them) and to reflect their character arcs at this point (as I'm not rushing them into intimacy quite like the original comic did) certain things have to change to balance it out and accommodate. If you're a math person, think of it like solving algebra equations - what you do to one side of the equation needs to be reflected and adjusted on the other side.

And of course Banshriek did a lot more to really exemplify the mood shift in the almost labrynth-like forest Persephone grew within Tower 4. There are still trees and plant life everywhere, but instead of feeling like an endless maze with its tones of deep red that we saw Hades navigate, it now feels like a soft and gentle meeting point for the two. Like the original scene, the color change is used to change the mood of the scene and reflect the calmness of Hades and Persephone as they've found one another.

At the end of the day we did what we ultimately thought would work best for the way Rekindled is drawn, giving both Banshriek and I the freedom to fully utilize our respective skillsets. That way we were able to pay tribute to that original scene while also creating something new out of it <3

That said, I'm sure @banshriek can also chime in with their own design notes on this episode, if they have a minute to spare! I'm sure they'll have lots to say about the fun they had working with those new brushesヽ(・∀・)ﾉ

#ask me anything #anon ama #ama #anon ask me anything #lore rekindled #lore rekindled ama

90 notes · View notes

earthnashes · 10 months

Text

Woops guess who started watching Gargoyles with the squad in my discord server :)

We only watched the episodes the show first premiered with (the “Awakening” episodes) but holy shit I forgot how much I LOVE this show.

The animation is absolutely gorgeous and so fluid, and there’s so much nuance to them! Little things, like Goliath constantly using his tail as a means of attack, or how he is animated to be so careful when handling Demona or Elisa. And how differently each character moves; I love how Lex is often on all four whereas everyone else is predominantly standing upright. And how Broadway walks with a lot more weight than the rest of the cast given him being a BICC BOI.

And don’t get me started on the animalistic traits the Gargoyles exhibit man. I’ve always loved that, when something that isn’t human shows behaviors and actions that aren’t human, like the Gargoyles running on all four or when surprised they perk up like a dog listening for threats. It’s so cool, and sells the idea that while very intelligent and sapient, the Gargoyles still operate somewhat on instinct (or at least moreso than humans do).

The way the scenes were shot were crazy too man, especially the creativity of the transitions and particularly how they handled the compositions and direction of the climbing and flight scenes. The action also is top notch man.

And the voice acting, the sound mixing. GAH DAMN. Every character has an excellent voice; I already knew that but hearing it again just really hit it home just how much the character’s voices fit them and the tasty skill behind the actors themselves man. Not to mention the personalities; I forgot how often Elisa pulls wise cracks, I love her. ;w;

As for overall sound, all of it slapped, but a thing I absolutely love that a lot of other media that feature monsters in them don’t do often is backing the vocals with more feral/animalistic/inhuman sounds to really bring the point home that these things aren’t human. Like, Goliath’s cry backed with a lion’s roar, or the cat-like snarls Demona hisses out, or the whale-ish groans and bro I’m a fucking SUCKER for that shit.

But yeah! Just wanted to gush about the show a little bit. It was so fucking good, we were eatin good when it aired back in the day cuz jees. The quality and effort is crazy. I’m excited to watch the rest of the series and uhhhh ya’ll may have to see a few doodles from me for that there AU as we go. owo

130 notes · View notes

the12thnightproject · 18 days

Text

Chapter One: Nobody Expects the Spanish Inquisition - Katsuko accepts a mysterious mission that will take her to Azuchi.

Mitsunari x OC; Nobunaga x Mai

Logline - In order to protect a political alliance, Katusko and Mitsunari must pretend an engagement. But this "all business" arrangement is threatened by a coup against Nobunaga... and by feelings.

Notes - Takes place after the ending of Nobunaga's romantic route, but before the epilogue. Slow burn (very slow burn). Friends to lovers. Canon typical violence.

From the Military Notes of Ishida Mitsunari: A primary goal of military planning is to enable Generals to meet their manning objectives for force size, composition, and wartime capability. To attain these objectives, forces must be appropriately structured with motivated personnel who are deployed to jobs suitable for their talents, and given training to improve their skills, even when the country’s security goals evolve to meet new threats.

On occasion, it may be necessary to contract additional personnel, often mercenaries, who are specifically trained to carry out special projects.

Personal comments: Lord Hideyoshi read the above notes and reminded me that the hiring of additional persons should be performed by himself, and none other. He also said something that I am not certain I heard correctly, but it involved Lord Mitsuhide and a word that I am not comfortable writing down.

“She likes you better – it should come from you.” I eyed the missive in Aki’s hand as if it were an unexploded bomb. Ok, technically it was the match. The UXB was Fume. “She hates me. If I give her this, it will make it worse.” Yes, I am a messenger. Delivering messages is my job. At the same time, I’ve managed to do this job for years without becoming victim to the cliché, ‘kill the messenger.’ I had no desire to ruin this streak of not-being-killedness.

“I’ve been travelling for what feels like a thousand years.” There was wry twist to his mouth, as if those imaginary years had stolen not only time but also something incalculable.

It had felt like a thousand years to me too – I’d been here all summer, with only Fume’s dubious companionship. I was so happy to see a friendly face that I was almost willing to do as requested. Almost. “Well then, the time it takes for you to go into the kitchen and hand her the letter will feel like the blink of an eye, won’t it?”

“I cannot handle what is sure to be an unending spate of feminine histrionics.” He grabbed my hand and stuck the letter in it.

“Are you forgetting that I’m also female?” I shoved the letter back into his hands.

“You, my dear child, are never histrionic.” He waved the letter in the air. “Did I mention it’s in Portuguese?”

Dammit.

With a sigh I took the letter back, my fingers closing around the unfamiliar weight of the European vellum.

He patted my shoulder. “Good luck.” Shouldering his travel gear, he turned toward his quarters. “I’m off to sleep until tomorrow. Don’t bother me unless the world is ending. Don’t bother me then either.”

His footsteps trailed off, then I heard him pause at the doorway to the kitchen and tell Fume that he was under no circumstances to be disturbed. He was also probably telling her –

“Francisco sent me a letter?” Fume planted her squat body in front of me (had she teleported across the room?) and reached for the message. She must have been cooking when Aki stopped in to talk to her, because she still had a kitchen knife in her hand. The entrails of whatever she had been dismembering shone red and wet across the blade.

I felt less optimistic about that messenger not being killed thing.

Fume snatched the letter out of my hand, I had the dubious joy of watching her smell it, then clutch it to her cleavage. Finally, she opened it, sighed, and handed it back to me. “Translate this, Kaya.”

No ‘please.’ I considered requesting that she say it, but the letter was going to infuriate her anyway. No reason to push my luck. I opened the letter and skimmed through it, hoping Aki had been wrong about the contents… and-

Aki’s never wrong.

I wonder if Nobunaga’s job offer is still on the table.

“Don’t stand there like a witless idiot, what does he have to say?” Fume glared at me, and a bit of whatever she had been cutting slid to the edge of the knife and dangled. It was almost hypnotizing to watch that bit of intestine swing back and forth and back and –

“Kaya!”

Once, in a forest in Echigo, I encountered the God of War, and I was less scared of him than I am of Fume. I took a discreet step back, knowing that the knife would be flung at me once she heard what Francisco had to say. I opened the letter and read it to Fume. “My Dearest Little Squash Blossom.” (It absolutely did not begin that way, but my bedroom was close enough to Fume’s that I was aware of every pet name Francisco had ever called her. I unfortunately knew the pet name he used for his penis – which was not information I had ever expected or wanted to know).

“And?” She stomped her foot, and that bit of meat finally gave up and fell off the knife, landing on the floor with a loud, squelchy splat. Sigh. I was going to have to scrub that. “I swear Kaya, some days I wonder why Aki bothers to keep you.”

“Sorry Fume-sama. His handwriting is terrible.” I pretended to squint at the letter, rotating it as if to find a better angle. Mentally, I scrambled to find a diplomatic way to rephrase this ‘Dear John’ letter. “He had to travel to Goa for a family obligation.” I took another tiny step back.

“When will he come back to Japan?” When she was upset, Fume’s voice often rocketed through several octaves to reach a glass shattering pitch.

“That, he does not say.” Aside from what amounted to ‘don’t wait for me to return, have a nice life.’ Basically, it was the Sengoku version of break-up-via-text-message.

Fume’s screech of dismay would likely have all dogs in the district howling. The knife came flying, but though Fume has a terrible temper, she has worse aim, and I ducked it. While she was still raining curses upon Francisco, I escaped to the training grounds behind the manor.

During Aki’s absence, in whatever free time I could squeeze from the maid work Fume gave me, I had been working on my archery skills. My self-assigned task had been to become adept at hitting targets while I was on a moving horse. I’d gotten pretty good at this (it had been a really long summer) and could hit the target while seated in the saddle and while standing up in the stirrups.

Unfortunately, my current goal of hitting the target while hanging off the side of my horse was proving difficult. I either needed an extra hand or a better saddle, because my knee kept slipping off the pommel and I inevitably ended up thudding to the ground. Still, I continued to make the attempt. Falling off my horse was better than dealing with Fume when she was #MOOD.

After each fall, Moonlight would halt, trot back to my side, and nudge me with her nose. “What are you doing, you silly human?” At least, that was what I imagined she was saying. Fume might hate me, but my horse was my best buddy.

On my third attempt of the afternoon, I’d managed to get off a shot that landed at the edge of the target before thumping gracelessly to the turf.

Euuf. That one almost knocked the breath out of me.

Even with Moonlight nosing me, I spent a moment on the ground, staring at the puffy clouds in the sky, and pondering my life choices.

“Katsu, was there a purpose to this exercise other than practicing your falling skills?” The dry comment came from the gate to the yard, where a man with long dark hair looked down on me from his position on his own horse.

“Kyubei!” I got to my feet and dusted off my rear end. I couldn’t remember my Azuchi contact ever coming to this part of the country. I always travelled there, not the reverse. “Has something happened?”

“That was my question for you.” He climbed off his horse and glanced back over his shoulder at where the path angled steeply down the mountain. “We haven’t seen you in weeks, and Mitsuhide has an urgent request of your master.”

“Oh. Nothing’s wrong. Aki’s been away for some time. He finally returned this morning.” I glanced back toward the manor, wondering if ‘urgent business from Mitsuhide’ would meet his definition of the world ending. “I’ve been mired here all summer.”

I looped Moonlight’s reigns over the fence so she wouldn’t wander into the garden and eat something that would annoy Fume even more. “In any case, it’s good to see a friendly face. Welcome to The Mountain.” Aki had never actually named his manor, but given its location, most people referred to it this way.

“Mountain is rather an understatement. The path to here is vertical.” Once again, Kyubei looked over his shoulder at the view.

“You ought to see it in winter.” There were times when it was impassible for days. “It’s really an adventure coming and going then.”

He literally turned pale at that. “I will take your word for it.” His hand went to his waist where the edge of an oilskin pack peeped out from the vee of his kimono. “Do you know if Akihira is available to speak with me?”

“Um. Well, he did say he didn’t wish to be disturbed until tomorrow. Is there anything I can help you with in the meanwhile?” I directed Kyubei around to the front.

Kyubei paused and scrutinized me from toes to the top of my head, and I suddenly had the odd feeling he could see right into my soul. “Actually, I believe you can. Katsu, pardon me if this is an intrusive question, but are you a girl?”

Whoops! When I was here at home, I usually didn’t bother with the leather binder I used to flatten my figure, and my hair wasn’t neatly hidden away. Oh well. Too late now. “Not intrusive, and yes – though I am still Katsu. My birth name is Katsuko.”

He smiled. “You might be the perfect solution to our problem, Katsuko.”

Oh? Please. Let me be a solution to a problem, and not-

Just then the woman who generally considered me her problem blocked the front door of the manor. “Kaya stop flirting with this vagrant and come help me clean up.”

“Fume-sama, this man urgently needs to speak with Akihira.” I gestured to Kyubei, who bowed politely, but not with any particular deference.

“He isn’t to be disturbed until tomorrow, and I intend to make sure of that.” She eyed Kyubei with suspicion. “If he must speak with Akihira, then he can spend the night in the stable. Where, I might add, your horse also belongs, and not tied to the gate.”

I can’t win with this woman. “Play along,” I murmured to Kyubei before returning my attention to Fume. “This is Oda Nobunaga’s ally Akechi Mitsuhide. His message is extremely important.”

Kyubei instantly underwent a top to toes transformation – his posture straightened, his eyes took on a sharp gleam, and he flashed Fume a mocking smile. I appreciated how quickly he had done that. Although I was used to passing as a boy, and occasionally as an old man, I’d never tried to impersonate someone particular. “I’m given to understand that Yamaoka Akihira is in residence at present.”

A similar transformation affected Fume, who went from condescending to obsequious in the same amount of time. She bowed low and long. “He does not wish to be disturbed, but I am certain he would wish you treated as an honored guest. Kaya! Prepare a room for Lord Akechi.” She stepped aside and shooed me toward the guest quarters. “My apologies my lord. Akihira has treated this one as a pet.”

A pet would have people to play with, but… details.

When Fume is in a #MOOD, it’s easier to stand back and take it (while imagining a creative revenge to be named later). I turned to go inside, but Kyubei stopped me. “You do me honor, but it is, as I said, a matter of some urgency. Is there any way I can convince you to disturb him?”

“No need.” Aki padded down the hall, dressed in his nighttime robes. “It’s impossible to get any sleep with all this commotion.”

“Aki,” I said, hoping to clue him in before he broke Kyubei’s cover. “Mitsuhide – oof.” Fume had elbowed me, none to gently. “That is, Lord Aketchi travelled all the way from Azuchi to speak with you.”

With a conspiratorial smile, Aki turned to Kyubei. “He did, eh? Well, Mitsuhide, it’s a pleasure to see you… again. Shall we discuss this matter in my receiving room?”

Kyubei inclined his head and followed Aki into the house. I made to join them, but Fume grabbed my arm and yanked me back. “The floor, Kaya. There is something on it.” She pointed to the meat that had dripped from her knife earlier.

With a glance back to me, Kyubei paused. “This involves your messenger. Can she meet with us as well? It would save time.”

The “she” pronoun caused Aki’s eyebrow to raise, but he simply nodded and motioned me along. I resisted the impulse to give Fume a look of triumph.

I hurried after Kyubei into Aki’s office, skidding to a halt to avoid running into him. He’d stopped just inside the door and was looking around. I tried to imagine how the office would look to an outsider: an eye-searing jumble of odds and ends, Western trinkets and Chinese artwork culled from his dealings with the Portuguese traders, a mismatch of both Japanese style and European furnishings, and of course two shogi boards – one of which consisted of his ongoing long-distance game with Mitsuhide. I was used to it… but it could definitely be sensory overload to a stranger.

Kyubei looked down at shogi game-in-process. “This at least, is a familiar sight.”

“One would hope that this visit isn’t simply because Mitsuhide is impatient for my next move.” Aki paused by the firepit to put the tea water on to boil.

“No, of course not. Although, I will admit to being tired of losing to him every night while we wait for your message.” Kyubei glanced back and forth between the chairs that were facing a large European crafted desk, and the cushions around a traditional writing desk.

Aki gestured to the larger desk and chairs, which he preferred to use, claiming height was better on his knees. In all the years I had known him, he had not shown any evidence of knee pain. Once I had pointed that out to him, he’d told me it was because he sat in Nanban chairs. I think he chooses to sit there because it makes him look like a king facing his subjects.

Once we were seated at the desk, with cups of te- wait. Was Aki drinking… coffee? I sniffed the air and glanced at his cup.

“My latest find from a Nanban merchant.” He took a long sip. “Who, I believe, purchased it from a Dutch trader. Do you wish to taste it?” He pushed the cup toward me.

I knew what coffee tasted like, but ‘Katsu’ would not, so I took a sip then made a face that was not entirely fake. “It’s rather strong. Slightly bitter.” I don’t mind bitter. But I like my tea.

I passed the cup to Kyubei who also took a taste. “I imagine it could be an acquired taste but…hm.” He tapped his fingers on the cup. “I wonder if I might have some of this to take back to my master to see if he can taste it.”

That was an odd turn of phrase, but Aki simply nodded. “I’ll send a package with instructions on how to prepare it back with you. Meanwhile, I understand you have an important message from him?”

Kyubei handed over the message. Aki unfolded it and read through it with a few absent-minded hmmms of his own, a chin rub, and sidelong glances at me. “Mitsuhide asks if I have an apprentice or messenger who can pass as a woman. It appears to me that having Katsuko pretend to be a boy pretending to be a girl would be unnecessarily complicated.”

I imagine Julie Andrews would have something to say about that.

“Indeed.” Kyubei glanced at me critically. “However, we can do as well with Katsuko as herself. True, there would still be a bit of a disguise involved, but no one expects there to be any danger.”

No one expects the Spanish inquisition either.

I’m not really bothered by the idea of danger. After the past couple of months, I’d gladly take a change of scenery and would welcome. The denizens of Azuchi couldn’t be any worse than Fume, and even if there was some danger, it wasn’t likely to throw a bloody kitchen knife at me.

Aki rubbed his chin. “Kyubei, do you mind giving us a moment of privacy to discuss the matter?”

Kyubei bowed. “Not in the least. I’ll find your, er, kind, chatelaine and ask for a place where I can wash the mountain off me.” It sounded like he and the mountain were not fond of one another.

Once Kyubei had whisked himself away with all the discretion and attitude of an upper crust British butler (or at least a Netflix version of same), Aki turned to me. “I suppose the first question is, do you wish to do this?”

“My first preference would be to go with you on your next mission.” Aki often took me with him on short jobs, but not the long journeys where he went away, only to return looking as if the fate of the world rested on his shoulders… I would like to share that burden with him, if he would let me. Somewhere along the line, I’d stopped being just an apprentice to him, but he still shielded me from much of his work.

Aki smiled at me, but he looked … sad. Sad? Not an emotion that I usually associated with him. “That’s very … kind of you Katsuko. But these are missions that I must do on my own.”

“If that is the case then yes, please send me to Azuchi.” Not wanting to sound too overeager to be gone from home, I added, “If Fume and I spend much more time together, the next time you return, I cannot promise we’d both be alive to greet you.”

He laughed and ruffled my hair. “Alright my fierce… apprentice. Bear in mind you’ll be working for Mitsuhide who will not have as much tolerance for your brand of cheekiness as I do.”

I stole another sip of his coffee just to tease him. “You did teach me manners, remember?”

He groaned. “I do remember. That’s why I’m worried.” He looked out the window, but I had a feeling he wasn’t seeing lush summer greenery in the yard, but something less friendly… something that weighed on him. Then he seemed to shake it off and looked back to me with that familiar professorial tone. “As it happens, you’ll also be spending time in the Hida region, and it suits me very much to have someone in that area, so I’m inclined to send you with Kyubei.”

I sat up straighter. Aside from the couple of weeks I had spent in the booksellers in Azuchi, I’d never had a solo mission. “What needs doing in Hida?”

Aki rustled around with the papers on his desk and pulled out a map. “There’s a great deal of mining in the area – many parties are very interested in those mines as the desire for Japanese silver exports increases. It goes without saying that Nobunaga wants control, but there may be people not happy for him to have that. I don’t expect that the area will destabilize – at least not quickly, but when you return, I would like to know your impression of the situation.”

Thrilled that he trusted me with this, I lifted my chin and fought back the urge to smile. Professionals don’t smile. “I won’t let you down.” Again though, there was part of my brain that had on repeat, nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition.

“I know you won’t.” He took a large sip of coffee, savoring it as if it were the best beverage on the planet. “Or you’ll spend the next year solely under Fume’s authority.” He softened that threat with a smile. “I trust you know how to take care of yourself, but it goes without saying that I hope you’ll be careful and stay safe.”

Maybe it went without saying, but he had never before said it to me, especially not in that tone of voice that almost made me want to hug him.

And, so, I did hug him, and after a startled moment, he held onto me tightly, his palms pressed firmly into my back.

Although Aki encouraged Kyubei to spend the night and get an early and well-rested start in the morning, he preferred to leave right away, claiming that time was of the essence. Kyubei advised me not to bother packing any of “Kaya’s” clothing – advice that cheered me immensely, as Kaya’s clothing was a dreary pile of ugly kimonos in varying shades of mud. “Nobunaga will see that an appropriate wardrobe is provided for you. The Lady Mai is a talented seamstress and will be happy to outfit you.”

That didn’t provide much of a clue to what I would be doing, or what I should pack, but I simply threw together everything I would have brought along were I going on a trip with Aki, as well as my (sadly fraying) portrait of Toshiie, and the portable shogi set that Aki had given me on my most recent birthday. Though I knew I’d be dressing as a female, I chose to travel as Katsu – it was safer. Moreover, ‘Katsu’ was familiar, and I’d learned to keep as many familiar things close to me as possible, lest they disappear forever.

“I’m glad you were quick,” Kyubei said once we were on our way. “I do not want to make this descent after dark.”

“It’s actually easier if you can’t see where you are going,” I said, just for the fun of seeing him turn pale again. “At least if you fall off the mountain, you won’t see the rocks before you hit them.”

“I can’t wait for Mitsuhide to meet you,” he muttered as we led our horses along the steep path. Riding would have been faster, but I didn’t know how surefooted his horse was. Also, I doubted Kyubei even wanted to add another four feet of height to the equation.

“Why?” In truth, after delivering so many messages to him via Kyubei over the past four years, I was surprised that our paths hadn’t crossed.

“No reason… Katsu, can we stop talking until we reach flatter territory? I’d prefer to concentrate on not plunging to my death.” Kyubei sounded out of breath.

I glanced over my shoulder and felt bad for teasing him. I mean, put me in front of a tunnel, a cave or even a tiny windowless room, and I’d be a sobbing mess. “Alright, but to be honest, it looks worse than it is. Nobody’s ever fallen off the mountain in the summer. Well, not anyone who wasn’t drunk first.”

He grumbled something along the lines of about needing to be drunk to take this path.

It wasn’t until we made our way to flatter terrain that he regained his normal distantly friendly attitude. By the time we had camped for the night, he had relaxed enough to entertain me with some of his exploits.

“How did you manage to pretend to be Mitsuhide so quickly?” I set a copper tea kettle over the fire. “Oh, I wouldn’t eat those if I were you,” I added as Kyubei shook some of the coffee beans into his hand.

He ignored my advice and bit into one but managed to keep a straight face while what I imagined was very bitter coffee attacked his taste buds. “Some of it is training – but I’ve also had a lot of practice. He and I have exchanged identities in the past.”

“Really? I thought Mitsuhide was… older?” I’d once seen the back of his head – in fact that was the only glance I had ever seen of him – and his hair was silver-white.

“No, we’re of the same age.” Kyubei poured the coffee beans back into their metal tin. “Put me in a silver wig and anyone who doesn’t know him well would be fooled.”

Wow – I bet that made them fun at Halloween. “Will I be in disguise too?” Please don’t say housemaid.

“We’ll be presenting you Oda Princess.” Kyubei had a faint smile on his face.

“A wha-” I paused, realizing I had spoken with an unprincesslike mouthful. I swallowed, the tried… and failed… to come up with an appropriately regal reply. “Er, not that I’m not flattered, but you could have gotten an actress and done just as well.”

Kyubei inclined his head. “Indeed. Our Princess might have some additional duties more generally assigned to personal guards. But truly, as I said, we don’t expect this to be very dangerous.”

In other words, Princess-slash-bodyguard. On one hand, that sounded pretty awesome… aside from that voice in my head had that had swelled to an eight-part chorale: Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition.

@lorei-writes @bestbryn @lyds323 @katriniac @briars7

#TBTMND #A Mitsunari Night's Dream #Ikemen Sengoku #fanfic #mitsunari ishida #ikesen mitsunari #oc katsuko #katsuverse

14 notes · View notes

utilitycaster · 11 months

Note

From all the TTRPG shows you've watched so far, do you have any favourite player character builds, or builds that you think were especially well suited to the campaign/setting that the character was in?

You'd have to narrow this down - there's a lot (I stopped keeping my massive spreadsheet of character races and classes in actual play updated bc it was getting ridiculous but it's at over 100) so I'm just going to call out a few players who consistently hit this mark in everything they do.

Surprising no one, Emily Axford. Truly one of the biggest reasons why I get annoyed at the "haha Emily will DESTROY this DM" is that Emily has an incredibly good eye towards party composition and collaboration with DMs while also pulling off some wild multiclasses. This serves her in NADDPod especially, since they're a small party and everyone needs to be versatile. I will say that while I love Callie's build and think it mechanically works very well and made sense for her background in Mothership, it feels like it needs more in-story explanation that we haven't quite gotten to, but I also trust that we will.

Surprising no one with taste, Travis Willingham. Even in cases where we know it was off-the-cuff (Grog) he did a lot of work establishing why Grog was the class he was and how he felt about it; and in cases where it was pre-planned, the amount of backstory and mechanics work he does before and during the story is admirable to the point of ridiculousness (updating Chet's backstory to accommodate what Matt said in a flashback sequence? bananas). His multiclass choices always fit both the base build and the story admirably, and always fit a niche within the party that is very much needed, and the choice to play someone like Cerrit in Calamity or Fjord in general would put him here on their strength alone.

Again surprising no one, Aabria Iyengar; DMs make the best players. Capable of some great optimization (Deanna, Laerryn, whatever the hell Antiope had going on) or just playing a character with a simple build but with a strong understanding of the setting (Myrtle the Bitch; Suvi). Really, Suvi alone puts her here in that Aabria maybe more than anyone (though she might be tied with Emily Axford) understands wizards and understands that your character is a part of the DM's worldbuilding and needs to reflect that, while also serving as your contribution to that world.

And finally, Lou Wilson. He often does fairly simple builds - Nydas and late-game Fabian are the only ones with significant multiclassing beyond barbarian/fighter level dips - but he always knows precisely what his character is here to do from the start and why, can adapt on a dime, and he has a fantastic eye for subclass choice.

Honorable mentions:

Zac Oyama tends not to go for incredibly complex mechanics, but he has a great understanding of building a character who fits into the world in a way that both reflects and expands upon it, and has a great sense of subtlety, restraint, negative space, and comedic timing. (I've been meaning to make a negative space/comedic timing post but honestly just watch Zac and Travis.)

Grouping Taliesin Jaffe and Siobhan Thompson together because they are both very strong mechanically and not afraid of a wild min-maxed triple multiclass on occasion, but more specifically because they've both made at least one character I really did not vibe with and also absolutely could not fault in any way other than "not my thing, personally." Related to that, both of them bring an "I'm a generous and skilled player and I don't really give a fuck what the audience thinks" vibe that I (the audience) respects the hell out of.

Jake Hurwitz is the rare player who 100% knows his wheelhouse and embraces it whole-heartedly, and he puts in the character and setting work to keep it interesting.

Justin McElroy is mechanically competent but nothing impressive, but he absolutely thinks about his characters and the setting and how they fit together in a deep and interesting way and which sets him apart in TAZ. Kind of with Jake in that he 100% writes what he knows; I think this kind of player is underrated and having played with some, they shouldn't be.

And on the rare chances Brennan Lee Mulligan gets to play, not only is he min-maxed to the hilt but he always is working with the DM in a truly admirable way, even as he builds a little guy who cannot roll below a 25 deception or who has somehow managed to get sneak attack twice per round or something wild like that.

#answered #Anonymous #long post #actual play

67 notes · View notes

circlejourneyart · 4 months

Text

I love data! Here's my Yearly Wrapped for art.

What a bumper crop year. I have so many favourites this year that I can't fit them all in this art summary chart (it's a good selection, though).

Overall, I made 584 art pieces that I consider complete. Here are the ones that are not secret (I'm pretty sure I missed some):

Overall favourite

My art piece for Rose Magazine is decidedly my favourite this year. I'm very satisfied with the colour, composition, detailing and rendering, and I genuinely think my younger self would gasp if they knew they'd make this with their own hands someday - it's the kind of art I've striven for all my life.

Here are some honourable mentions, though:

Took the longest

Unsurprisingly, most of the works that took upwards of the usual 1-4 hours were animations and comics. Funnily enough, the top two were associated with music.

This animation, set to a snippet of Everybody Wants It by Zee Machine and Kelechi, took about 60 hours, across 2 months. The song's artists actually saw the animation roughs and complimented them - I'm still reeling.

This comic, which retells the story of Compass to the lyrics of How Big, How Blue, How Beautiful by Florence + the Machine, involved at least 20 hours across two days. I'll admit, the comic does feel like it should've taken more than two days.

And as for the single still illustration that took the longest, it was almost undoubtedly this gift for @mystalia, featuring her character Elena. I did lose count, but I'm pretty sure it took at least 12 hours.

Days with the most art pieces

The day of the year where I drew the most art was 23 pieces on December 21. This happened mainly because I was on an art stream with some friends and taking requests:

I also drew a lot on:

17 October (20 pieces)

16 October (17 pieces)

2 July (16 pieces).

I admit it, I laughed

I don't normally think of myself as a funny person but. I did make some art that actually made me lose it during the process, and these are worth mentioning as well:

Cities

How many city scenes did I draw this year?

The answer is: a lot.

To all seeing this post, thanks for being here and checking out my works! I think it was a good year, creatively speaking, and I've honed skills in both slow+detailed and fast+loose works. I look forward to the next.

#2023 #my art #yearly art wrapped

22 notes · View notes

yoriyaland · 5 days

Text

The Red Means I Love You | Chapter 2

She treats him differently, she doesn't make fun of him or call him names. She was nice, she was pretty, she wasn't very smart but that's okay, he'll help her study. She was becoming someone who he couldn't let go of, he refused to let her go. She was his source of light... she was his everything and he'll protect her forever.

🎤 PAIRING: yandere!ni-ki x Kurasawa Rin (fiction character)

🎤 GENRE: yandere au

🎤 WARNING: mention of cigarette - bullying (violence)

🎤 AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is another short chapter, it's a bit boring but I promise it gets better. I'm not kidding, I have some great ideas but those ones are in later on in the story so please be patient with me.

🎤 CHAPTERS: Prologue, 1

______________________________________________________________

"Well, well, well, are you two lovebirds on a date?" came a sneering voice from behind them. Rin couldn't help but roll her eyes as she recognised the familiar figure approaching. She turned away, exasperated, while Ni-ki, standing beside her, locked eyes with the boy he had encountered earlier that day.

"Go find something better to do, Kokoro. We don't need your company," Rin retorted, folding her arms across her chest in defiance.

Kokoro smirked, unfazed by Rin's dismissive attitude. "Relax, I was just passing by. But you really should learn to show some respect to your seniors. It's basic manners," he chided, a smug grin playing on his lips. Rin fought the urge to wipe it off with a well-placed retort.

"Apologies, senpai," Rin replied, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "I'm truly sorry if I hurt your delicate feelings. Now, could you do us the favour of leaving? Thanks ever so much."

Kokora's grin faltered slightly at Rin's biting words. "Fine, fine, since you asked so nicely," he muttered, before sauntering off, leaving Rin and Ni-ki to resume their lesson in peace.

“Don't mind him, he's a bit weird," Rin remarked, earning a chuckle from Ni-ki.

"I could tell," he replied with a grin, and the two delved back into their lesson. Ni-ki began by explaining the fundamental skills of photography.

"First, you need a good grasp of exposure. The three elements that control how light enters the camera—aperture, shutter speed, and ISO—affect the brightness and clarity of your photos," Ni-ki explained, diving deeper into the intricacies of composition and other technical aspects. Rin found herself mesmerized by Ni-ki's passion, though she struggled to comprehend the jargon he was spouting. She couldn't tear her gaze away from him, even if it meant missing out on some of the finer details.

"Would you like to give it a try?" Ni-ki offered, handing Rin the camera. "Um, sure," she replied tentatively, accepting the camera despite her lack of expertise.

For the next ten minutes, Rin fumbled with the camera, snapping random pictures without much direction. Ni-ki winced inwardly at the sight of the blurry, poorly composed photos, but he held onto hope for improvement. As their lesson progressed, Ni-ki found himself pondering the dynamic between Rin and the boy named Kokoro. He was curious, but he hesitated to pry into their personal affairs.

"I think I did a pretty good job, don't you think?" Rin asked confidently, displaying her photos to Ni-ki.

"Well, some of them are a bit blurry, but you gave it your best shot," Ni-ki murmured under his breath, relieved when Rin didn't catch his critique.

"What?" Rin questioned.

"I mean, they're pretty good, but there's always room for improvement. Maybe next lesson, it’ll be better." Ni-ki replied casually, earning a smirk from Rin.

"Next lesson? Just admit you enjoy my company," Rin teased, playfully nudging him.

"W-what? N-no, I mean—" Ni-ki stuttered, flustered by Rin's remark.

"Whatever, I'm heading home now. Care to walk me home like a gentleman?" Rin interjected before Ni-ki could respond, sauntering off with a playful smile.

Ni-ki watched her go, captivated by the picturesque scene unfolding before him. He couldn't resist snapping another photo of Rin, thankfully she didn’t catch him this time. He’ll definitely add this to the ‘Kurasawa’ collection.

“Thanks for walking me home," Rin said with a warm smile.

"I didn’t have much of a choice," Ni-ki replied quietly, his own smile mirroring hers.

"Sorry, what?" Rin asked, but Ni-ki just waved her off and headed on his way. She chuckled to herself, watching him go.

Back at home, Rin's mother called out from the kitchen, "Rin, can you help your sister with her shower?" Rin answered with a quick "Sure," and climbed the stairs to Ren's room. She found her sister gazing out at the balcony, lost in thought.

"Ren, time for your shower," Rin said, giving a light tap on the doorframe to catch Ren's attention.

Three years ago, Ren had been in a car accident during a school trip, suffering spinal cord damage that left her unable to walk. The doctors had recommended consistent physiotherapy, but as time went on, her condition deteriorated, and the family stopped the treatments. It was up to them now to care for her.

"Okay," Ren replied softly, turning her wheelchair toward Rin, who took hold of the handles and guided her to the bathroom.

"I have a story to tell you," Rin said with enthusiasm as she squeezed shampoo into her hand and began to lather Ren's hair.

"Oh? What's the story?" Ren asked, her curiosity piqued.

"I met this new kid at school. He's into photography, and he's really good at it. He's agreed to give me some tips, so I was thinking you'd make a perfect model for me to practice on. What do you think?"

Ren grinned and played with the bubbles forming in the bathtub. "That sounds like fun," she said, her eyes lighting up at the idea. Rin couldn't help but smile back. It wasn't always easy, but moments like these, with her sister's laughter and lightness, made it all worthwhile.

______________________________________________________________

Rin was finishing her morning routine, slinging her bag over her shoulder while helping her younger sister gather her things.

"I’m heading out now!" she called, her voice echoing through the hallway.

"Have a good day!" her mother replied from the kitchen.

As Rin opened the front door, she nearly collided with Ni-ki, who stood waiting outside. She jumped back in surprise.

"Whoa, you scared me! What are you doing here?" Rin asked, clutching her chest to calm her racing heart.

"I'm here to walk you to school," Ni-ki replied with a smirk, adding with a hint of sarcasm, "Like a true gentleman." Rin rolled her eyes and playfully pushed him aside. "Yeah, yeah. Let's see if you can keep up!" Without warning, she darted down the sidewalk, calling over her shoulder, "First one to school wins!"

"What-- not fair! You had a head start!" Ni-ki shouted, rushing after her, a grin spreading across his face as he chased her down the street.

As Rin and Ni-ki arrived at school, they split off in different directions. Rin went ahead to meet up with her friends, while Ni-ki set off in search of a quiet spot to take some photos. He found a secluded place behind one of the older classrooms, where a small wooden gym sat neglected and falling apart. The area was desolate, no one came here anymore. From his vantage point, he could see a distant village that seemed almost abandoned, with no signs of life.

Ni-ki settled on the ground, the view below offering a brief respite from the noise and chaos of high school. He thought about leaving it all behind, finding a place in the mountains where he could escape the turmoil. It was a fleeting moment of calm, but it didn't last long. Footsteps approached from behind, growing louder and multiplying. Ni-ki felt a familiar sense of dread, trouble seemed to follow him everywhere.

As he was about to stand up and leave, a rough hand grabbed his shirt, forcing him back down. The smell of cigarettes filled the air, and a figure sat down beside him.

"Why were you walking to school with Rin?" The voice was unmistakable. It was Kokoro. Ni-ki stared straight ahead, refusing to engage.

Kokoro chuckled, patting Ni-ki on the shoulder before getting up to stand in front of him. He bent down to meet Ni-ki's eyes, his expression darkening with each passing second. "Are you deaf?" he asked, but Ni-ki remained silent. Kokoro's grin faded as he spat in Ni-ki's face. Ni-ki closed his eyes, feeling the bile rise in his throat.

A rough hand yanked Ni-ki's hair, forcing his head back and his eyes open.

“Not so tough, anymore are you?” Then came the blow to his stomach.

"Argh!" he groaned, collapsing onto the ground. The group of boys descended upon him, their kicks landing with brutal force. They didn't stop for over five minutes, each strike sapping Ni-ki's strength, leaving him battered and broken.

“Let me give you some advice Riki, stay away from Rin,” Kokoro said before walking away with his group.

Ni-ki felt his eyes couldn’t kept open anymore, he was slowly losing his light. Blood trickled from his nose and mouth, and he could no longer breathe normally. He then let his eyes close and fell into a deep sleep.

______________________________________________________________

“Ni-ki?" A small voice reached him from the side. Ni-ki’s eyes slowly opened, and his vision blurred, but he recognized the voice—it was Rin, no doubt about it. No one else would be this concerned. He blinked, trying to focus, and as his surroundings became clearer, he noticed the sterile white walls and the faint smell of antiseptic. He was in the school's sick bay, lying on a cot with a thin blanket draped over him.

"Hey, easy now," Rin said as Ni-ki attempted to sit up, his muscles stiff and his head spinning. She gently pressed her hand on his shoulder to steady him.

"Where am I?" he asked, his voice low and raspy, avoiding eye contact with Rin.

"One of the custodians found you on the ground, unconscious, with blood all over the place," Rin explained, her voice laced with concern. "What happened? Are you okay?" Ni-ki remained silent, his gaze falling on the broken pieces of his camera lying on the bedside table. Rin followed his eyes and sighed.

"The custodian found it near you... I'm sorry. Maybe we can try to fix it?" she offered, though her tone revealed she knew it was unlikely.

Ni-ki shook his head slowly, picking up the remains of the camera, a precious gift from his father before he passed away. The damage was beyond repair. He remembered the earlier confrontation with Kokora, the jeering words, and the harsh push that sent him crashing to the ground. The memory made his stomach turn.

Rin watched Ni-ki with deep concern. She knew how much that camera meant to him. The room was quiet except for the distant murmur of students passing in the hallway outside. Ni-ki checked the clock on the wall—it was nearly time to leave for the day.

"Let's walk home together," he suggested, surprising even himself with the invitation. Despite everything, he didn't want to push Rin away. She was his only friend here, the only one who cared about what happened to him. He couldn't let some bully ruin that. The risk was worth it, even if it meant facing Kokora's wrath again.

Rin's face lit up with relief and a hint of a smile. "I'd like that," she said softly.

As Ni-ki and Rin walked side by side along the road, Rin holding onto her bike, a question began to form in his mind. If he was going to risk being seen with Rin, he needed to understand why Kokoro seemed to have a problem with their friendship.

"Can I ask you something?" Ni-ki's voice was low, almost hesitant.

"Sure, what's on your mind?" Rin replied, glancing at him.

"What's the deal between you and Kokoro?" The question caught Rin off guard. She knew it would come up eventually, but she didn't expect it so soon.

"Um, well... he’s... he's my ex-boyfriend," she admitted, a hint of reluctance in her voice. Ni-ki stopped in his tracks, causing Rin to pause and turn toward him.

"Wait, you dated him? Seriously?" His voice held a note of disbelief. He didn’t mean to sound harsh, but he couldn’t help it—of all people, why Kokoro?

"It was just for a month," Rin explained, resuming their walk. "He seemed nice at first, but things changed quickly. It wasn't a big deal." She tried to downplay it, but Ni-ki wasn’t so sure. It was starting to make sense why people had given him strange looks when he walked to school with Rin.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Ni-ki asked, sounding a bit frustrated. Rin stopped and turned back to him, her tone growing defensive.

"I didn’t think it would matter." she shot back.

"It matters because now he's messing with me," Ni-ki replied, a hint of anger creeping into his voice.

"Did Kokoro do this to you?" Rin's question hung in the air as Ni-ki remained silent. She knew only Kokoro's group were capable of doing such a thing, and she was irritated by the whole situation.

Ni-ki was feeling worn out. The confrontation earlier in the day had taken a lot out of him, and he didn't have the energy to argue further. He quietly started walking. When they arrived, they stood silently by the front door. Rin noticed the broken camera in Ni-ki's hand and felt a pang of guilt.

"Let's go to the shop and get it fixed later," she offered, but Ni-ki shook his head. He took a step back, avoiding eye contact, and without saying goodbye, he turned to leave. Rin felt a surge of guilt, she knew Kokoro must have said something to Ni-ki, and she wasn't about to let him get away with it.

______________________________________________________________

It was Saturday, and Rin had planned to meet Ni-ki for a photography lesson. But those plans had to be cancelled. Ni-ki had often mentioned how much his camera meant to him, and since it was broken, Rin could sense the disappointment he felt. She texted him multiple times about fixing it, but his response was always the same, "No."

Rin decided that she wasn’t just going to sit back and do nothing. She was determined to make the day better for Ni-ki. She texted him, asking if they could hang out at his house. It felt a bit awkward, to ask to visit a new friend’s house, but surprisingly, Ni-ki agreed.

Just an hour later, Ni-ki arrived at Rin’s house, and she immediately noticed he wasn't carrying his camera, which only added to her guilt. They walked to his house, neither saying much along the way. The silence was almost oppressive, but they shared brief smiles as they passed a playground where kids were playing. It was a small town, and everyone seemed to know each other.

Before long, they reached Ni-ki's house. It was a traditional Japanese home with a steeply sloped roof, weathered wooden walls, and a neatly kept garden. Stepping inside, Rin removed her shoes and immediately noticed a wall filled with photographs. The wall was like a timeline, showing images of Ni-ki as a child, along with photos of random objects and places. It was an eclectic collection, capturing the history and essence of Ni-ki's life.

As Rin wandered deeper into the house, she found a framed family photo on a small table. In it were Ni-ki, his mother, and his father. The photo seemed slightly worn, and she wondered where Ni-ki's mother was. Rin had a soft spot for Ni-ki, she knew the challenges of growing up without a father, as hers had left when she was young, leaving her and her mother to fend for themselves.

Another question crept into Rin's mind: where was Ni-ki’s mother now? The house was eerily quiet, with no sounds of anyone else around. It was a traditional wooden house, and any movement should have been audible, but there was nothing—just silence

"Want something to eat?" Ni-ki asked as he watched Rin wandering around his living room. Rin turned to him with a smile, her mind brewing with a plan. It was a bold move, but she was determined to surprise him by fixing his broken camera.

"Yeah, actually, I'm starving. Got any food?" Rin replied, clutching her stomach for dramatic effect.

"Not really, but I can run to the 7/11 and grab something. Sound good?" Ni-ki suggested. Rin nodded enthusiastically, it was the perfect opportunity to execute her plan.

As Ni-ki grabbed his keys and headed out the door, he instructed Rin to make herself at home in the living room. But the moment the door closed behind him, Rin quickly and quietly made her way to his bedroom. She knew it wasn't polite, but she was on a mission to get his camera fixed as a surprise.

Inside Ni-ki's room, the first thing she noticed was the wall adorned with photos of various flowers. There were also several boxes filled with his collections. It didn't take long to locate the broken camera—it was right on his nightstand. She carefully placed it in her bag and replaced it with another broken camera she'd brought along to avoid suspicion.

Feeling proud of her sneaky success, Rin was about to leave when a box on the floor caught her attention. It was slightly hidden, probably meant to be tucked under the bed. Curiosity got the best of her; despite knowing Ni-ki might get upset, she couldn't resist taking a peek.

The label on the box read "Kurasawa."

Now nothing was gonna stop her curiosity, she bent down and the box. She was stunned to see the photos, her eyes widened and she couldn’t help but jump a little. She quickly closed the box and backed away from it, she couldn’t believe her eyes, she didn’t know what to say. Was Ni-ki like this all along? She wasn’t gonna wait around and find it out, she knew she had to do something about this before it was too late.

To Be Continue

#enhypen yandere #enhypen x reader #yandere ni ki #ni ki imagines #ni ki x reader #nishimura riki x reader

13 notes · View notes

m1ckeyb3rry · 4 months

Text

Pomegranate Ink: XXVIII

Series Synopsis: Unable to heal but willing to fight, with a fiancé in Kyoto and a last name that looms over everything you do, you accept an offer to study at Tokyo Jujutsu Tech. What you did not know was that your salvation and your ruination alike would soon join you at the school, neatly wrapped in the form of a boy followed by death.

Chapter Synopsis: You meet with some of your injured classmates.

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Yuta Okkotsu × Female Reader

Chapter Word Count: 5.8k

Content Warnings: angst, misogyny, naoya zenin, forbidden relationships, canon-typical violence, character death, original characters included

A/N: me when we are officially in the last few chapters…the end is near y’all 😭

“I’m so glad you convinced the L/N healers to help us,” Ieri said, tilting her head back, a cigarette hanging loosely between her teeth. Smoking was one of her vices, and though you had mentioned before that she should quit for her own health, she was never really able to.

“It wasn’t exactly convincing in the traditional sense,” you said, rubbing the back of your neck sheepishly. “But you’re right that it definitely feels nice to know that they’ll be the ones chipping away at most of our workload. It means we can focus on the people that actually matter.”

Shortly after you became the head of the L/N clan, you and your mother had joined Ieri, Ijichi, and the rest so that you could get to work. Upon discovering that everyone had pretty much been living off of random convenience store snacks — neither Ijichi nor Ieri had the time and skills required to make any actual food — your mother appointed herself as the head chef and quickly got to work, even though all of you had told her she didn’t have to.

This is how I’ll be useful, she had said before all but sprinting off to the kitchen. You all are being so gracious in taking me in, so it’s really the least I can do.

After that, you had informed Ieri about your newfound leadership of the L/Ns, something which she was eternally grateful for. Healing so many people, even if the burden was shared amongst the two of you, would take a massive toll on your bodies and psyches, but having the entire L/N clan at your disposal definitely made things easier.

“What are the worst cases at the moment?” you said. Ieri blew out a puff of smoke.

“We just lost our highest priority patient, so there’s nothing too major that requires immediate attention,” she said. “A few injuries I might have you look at later on, but nothing fatal.”

“What do you mean by lost? The others didn’t mention anyone getting hurt to that extent,” you said. “Nor did they mention anyone dying. Do you — do you mean that Tullia wasn’t the only one?”

You had thought it was strange that Tullia and Gojo were the only casualties of the Shibuya incident that you personally knew, but back then, you had put it down to everyone else being vastly more competent than you were. Still, to hear Ieri tell it, there were more. You had lost others that you weren’t even aware of yet, and you weren’t sure that you could handle hearing who they were. Maybe that was why they hadn’t told you. Maybe they knew that it would be too much.

“Nobara Kugisaki,” Ieri said. “We had her in a stasis for a while, and I tried using my Reverse Cursed Technique on her as much as I could, but it was for nothing. It was that patch-faced curse that Itadori fought a few times; the effects of its technique are beyond the scope of healing. Even Composition likely would’ve failed in that regard.”

“Nobara?” you said. “As in…the first year?”

Ieri nodded. “It’s shitty all around, isn’t it? There wasn’t anything we could do to help her, so we eventually just had to let her go. It was better than keeping her alive in that state.”

Nobara Kugisaki. You had never even gotten the chance to introduce her to your mother like she had asked. You shouldn’t have put it off. You should’ve taken it more seriously. That was the only thing she had ever wanted from you, and it was a request that was within your power to grant, but you hadn’t done it. Why? Maybe you had found it a little silly, but it had been important to her. You were a terrible excuse for an upperclassman. Maybe if you had done that, maybe if she had met your mother and gotten into modeling like she had dreamt of, she wouldn’t have gone to Shibuya. She would’ve still been alive if you had just done that.

“Is that it, or is there anyone else that I would know?” you said.

“We couldn’t save Naobito Zenin,” she said. You scoffed.

“Good riddance,” you said, even though it was a bad practice to speak ill of the dead, especially when he was your elder and therefore necessitated respect no matter the situation. It was Naobito Zenin, though, so overall you didn’t feel too bad about it.

“And Kento Nanami,” she completed. “Along with several others that have been permanently maimed.”

“Did you say Kento Nanami?” you said. “The same one who recommended me for my promotion and everything?”

“That’s right,” she said, and this time you noticed her eyelashes were lowered. She took another drag from her cigarette. “He was taken out by that same curse. The one that got Kugisaki.”

Kento Nanami, the serious man who had saved you in Shinjuku when you had fallen out of the air after exorcising that flying curse. Kento Nanami, the wise man who had given you your initial recommendation just so that you could get paid more for everything that the higher ups put you through. He was the ideal of a Grade 1 sorcerer; you had aspired to be like him, even, aspired to have his even keel and rational approach to every situation. Nanami was supposed to be as untouchable as he was unflappable. Nanami always lived. Nanami always survived. So how, then, was this possible? How could it be that he was dead?

“One curse did all of that?” you said. “That’s impossible. How strong could it have been?”

“It was just that powerful,” she said. “That’s not the extent of it, either. Todo—”

“No,” you said, cutting her off. “No, that’s not right. Not Todo.”

What would you do without your insane rival? Without his random tangents and outlandish stories? Not even in your worst nightmares had you imagined losing Todo. It wasn’t even a thought that crossed your mind. He was incapable of dying — he was just that kind of man, the insatiable type that could never be satisfied with something as paltry as death.

“He’s alive,” she said. “But…”

The room that Todo was confined to was dark, the curtains drawn, the massive lump on the bed the only sign that there was anyone in there at all. Even when you stepped into the room, careful to keep your footsteps light so as not to startle him, he did not move at all, and you were reminded of Ieri’s warning — that ever since that day, he had been heavily depressed.

“Hey,” you whispered. “It’s me. Y/N.”

A grunt. You poked the shapeless form of blankets in what you assumed to be the back. This was met with no reaction, so you did it again and again until finally, he tossed aside his covers in a huff, sitting up and glaring at you.

“What?” he said, arms folded across his hospital-gown-clad chest. He was trying very hard to look fearsome, but considering you were just relieved that he was alive, you couldn’t find any traces of fear in you.

“Ieri told me,” you said.

“Good,” he said. “Saves me the trouble of having to explain it again.”

“Can I see?” you said. He looked at you suspiciously, his eyebrows heavy and dark on his forehead, his eyes flinty with mistrust. Slowly, though, he uncrossed his arms, revealing that one of his hands had been cut off at the wrist, the other’s palm festering with transfigured flesh.

“There you go,” he said.

“Oh, Todo,” you said. “You’ve lost your Boogie Woogie.”

A sound you’d never thought you’d hear from him escaped his mouth just then. He was crying, but it was not the over-the-top crying he’d do when he was being dramatic; rather, it was a small, soft whimper that built into a sob. The indomitable Todo, the man who had once been your greatest competition, was suddenly crying like a small child, hiccuping and gasping for air.

“It’s gone,” he choked out. “It’s gone for good. I can never get it back.”

Wordlessly, you embraced him, allowing him to bury his face in your shoulder as he cried, using one hand to stroke his back and the other to hold securely onto his burly neck, ensuring that he did not suddenly pull away before he was ready to.

“I’m sorry,” you said. “I’m sorry that that happened to you.”

“That final fight,” he said. “It was the most thrilling thing I’ve ever experienced. You were there with me every step of the way, helping me reach victory, and my brother managed to exorcise that curse, so — so I shouldn’t complain. All told, I’m one of the lucky ones. I’m alive. I’m only missing one hand. That’s more than a lot of people can say, I think. I even finally reached that peak of sorcery that neither of us ever could: the Black Flash. It was a good way to go out.”

“I’m sure,” you said, not questioning how you had been “helping Todo every step of the way” while simultaneously being unconscious and in the healing ward. It would be better not to.

“Then why am I upset?” he said. “Why does it hurt so badly?”

“They stole something from you,” you said. “Something that was important. It’s only natural that you’re upset by it.”

He extricated himself from your arms, wiping away his tears and giving you a watery smile. You smiled back, though tentatively, unsure as to why he was even smiling in the first place.

“Looks like this is the end of our rivalry, huh? You won. You’re the better fighter, because you’re the only one who still can fight. Congratulations, Y/N. I’m a little sad, because I’ll miss competing with you, but I am proud of you,” he said. “Seriously. If it’s not me, then I’m happy that you’ll be there to lead our underclassmen.”

“Actually, it’s not the case,” you said. “I gave up fighting, too.”

“What do you mean?” he said. “How could you?”

He squinted at you, and then he suddenly paled. It was like he was seeing you for the first time, the enormous scar on your neck, the state of your hands, the bags under your eyes.

“You’re not the only one who had something taken from them. It’s a long story, but I can’t heal and fight anymore. I have to choose one,” you said.

“And you chose healing,” Todo completed.

“I know you’re probably disappointed by it,” you began. He huffed.

“I won’t say I’m not,” he said.

“It’s what I have to do now, though. I can’t lose anyone else, not knowing I might’ve saved them. Maybe if I had chosen to heal earlier, I could’ve used Composition and regenerated your hand. You would still have your technique if that was the case,” you said.

“You shouldn’t blame yourself for the choices of others,” Todo immediately protested. “Whether or not you could heal, I’m the one that chose to get into that battle and lost my hand for it. It’s not your fault.”

“Losing your hand was your fault. Not regrowing it was mine,” you said. “Do you see?”

Todo clicked his tongue. “It’s a dumb type of reasoning, but fine. I see.”

“If it makes you feel better, I am the head of the L/N clan now,” you said.

“How’d you pull that off?” he said, obviously invigorated by the news. “I always knew you could.”

You cleared your throat, suddenly feeling shy in front of Todo, not wanting to confess to what you had done. Looking back, you had definitely been harsh on the rest of your clan, and even if they had deserved it, it was embarrassing to look back on that moment of your rage. You couldn’t believe that you had made your uncles beg for mercy, your father kneel at your feet and your cousins cry and piss themselves.

“Um,” you said. “I mean, I kinda just beat them all up until they agreed to it.”

This time, when Todo laughed, it was his old kind of laughter. He squeezed you into a hug, and for a moment, it felt like you two were who you used to be, back when your biggest worries had been beating one another in the exchange event.

“That’s the sorcerer I know,” he said. “That’s the kind of thing the ideal woman would do.”

“After everything, you really still think I’m the ideal woman?” you said. He ruffled your hair.

“Okkotsu’s still in love with you?” he said.

“Somehow,” you said. “I didn’t think he would be, but it seems like he is.”

“Then you’re still the ideal woman,” he affirmed.

“Even if I’m not beautiful anymore?” you said, showing him your palms, lifting your chin so he could better see your neck. “Even if I’m all messed up like this, you think that?”

“My dear rival,” he said with an air of finality. “Beauty has nothing to do with it. You’re not the ideal woman because of something as shallow as what you look like; it’s who you are that determines it. And who you are is the kind of person that anyone would be lucky to have by their side.”

Your conversation with Todo left you feeling a little better about things. Even if the state of affairs was dire, he could always be counted upon to cheer you up, and today was no different. Although you were partially at fault for the loss of his technique — yet another failure of yours by choosing Dissection over Composition — he did not blame you for it. He still thought you were the ideal woman, whatever that meant.

It heartened you a little bit, but as you approached the next room, your good mood began to fade. Seeing Todo without a hand had been bad, but this was going to be that much worse. Because he deserved it the least; after all, he hadn’t even been fighting. He had been evacuating citizens when Sukuna’s slashes reached him, so none of it had been his choice. There had never been a moment for him to accept what was happening to him.

“Toge,” you said. He was sitting by the window, his laptop open in front of him, a paused ‘Try Not to Laugh’ compilation on the screen. Despite the humorous nature of what he was supposedly watching, he seemed sad, lips settled in a frown, violet eyes downcast as he stared out through the glass. His chin rested in his hand, and there was a vase of dying sunflowers in front of him.

When he heard your voice, he leapt to his feet, racing over towards you but then pausing when he noticed you had come alone. He peeked around you before ducking his head out of the room and scanning the long, empty hallway.

“Salmon?” he said.

“No, it’s just me,” you said. “How are you feeling?”

He shrugged as best as he could with only one arm, following after you as you sat in the chair across from where he had been. Taking out a pen and notepad, you slid it over to him, knowing that he’d probably appreciate being able to communicate with more than one-word answers.

I’m okay. I mean, it’s weird to not have an arm anymore, but it doesn’t impact my cursed technique any, so it’s whatever. Yuta and Ieri both agreed that I shouldn’t fight for a while, though. Apparently, I need to recover, even though that makes no sense. Like, how is my arm supposed to heal? There’s nothing there to heal.

You snorted. “That’s not how it works. You’ve undergone a massive change; it would be unreasonable for them to expect you to fight again, let alone so soon. Besides, you need to recover mentally, too. Losing your arm like that…”

He was a little different now. Even though he was joking in his normal manner, it was false, hollow, like he was putting on a performance. His charming grin didn’t reach his eyes, and he didn’t laugh, only exhaled through his nose in feigned amusement. His collar was down, the snake-eye seals on the corners of his mouth standing out in relief against his skin, which was oddly whiter than usual.

Sometimes, I think it’s still there. I’ll try to use it, and I get frustrated when nothing happens, but then I remember that I don’t even have an arm anymore. I can still feel it, too. It hurts all of the time, which shouldn’t be the case. There isn’t anything to hurt, but it still does.

“It’s common for that to happen with amputees,” you said.

I wish I was a special case.

“Is it that awful?” you said. He swallowed.

It’s not as bad as what the others have gone through. I’m just complaining for the sake of it.

That wasn’t true. It was as plain as day; he was really in a lot of pain, but he was putting on this brave face for you because he knew what you had seen. He knew Maki had been burnt all over her body. He knew Todo had lost his technique. He knew Megumi had been beaten almost to death. He probably thought it in poor taste to complain, but you thought it anything but.

“Just because others got hurt doesn’t mean you didn’t,” you said. “No one has a monopoly on pain; more than a single person can feel it at the same time. You lost your entire arm, Toge. It’s not complaining for the sake of it. It’s entirely justified for you to feel this way.”

Thanks, Y/N. Anyways, why are you alone? I thought the others would come visit with you.

“Maki, Yuta, Panda, and the first years have entered the Culling Games,” you said, summing up the plan for him. He nodded and hummed in agreement when appropriate, but when you finished, he still looked a little confused.

What about Tullia? I’ve been waiting for her to come see me, but she hasn’t yet. I tried asking Ieri, but she was too busy to answer.

“Tullia?” you said. Had no one told him yet? He blinked at you and then frowned, continuing to write at a furious pace.

Yes. You know, our classmate? The one who drinks poison and has a blood contract with you? That Tullia.

“Do you mean to say that you haven’t heard the news yet?” you said.

What news? Did she join the Culling Games too? You should’ve mentioned that earlier.

“No — no, she didn’t do that,” you said. He cocked his head at you.

Then what? Is she mad at me for something? It’s fine if she is, but if that really is why she hasn’t come, then can you please tell her I’m sorry for whatever I did? And tell her I’ll apologize a million more times in person, too. I just want to talk to her. I miss her.

This wasn’t fair. You had barely been able to handle her death the first time. Telling it to Toge would confirm it, would make it certain that she was never coming back, and it would also definitely break his heart. How could you do that to him? How could you be the one who had to say it?

“Toge…” you trailed off in defeat, burying your face in your hands. You heard him writing, but you couldn’t stand to look up and read it. He shook your shoulder, trying to get you to see it, but you screwed your eyes shut so you didn’t have to

“Tullia,” he said, haltingly, carefully. It was the first thing you had heard him say that wasn’t a cursed speech command or something from his ingredients-based dialect. “Where — is — Tullia?”

It wasn’t his cursed technique. He was just asking. He had broken his sacred rule to ask that question. When you cracked your eyes open, he looked distraught, expression pleading. You weren’t sure what he wanted, though. For you to say it? For you to stay silent? Because he had to know by now. He wasn’t an idiot, so he had to know what you could not vocalize.

“She’s dead,” you burst out, all at once, before you could back out. “Toge, she’s dead.”

He opened and closed his mouth a few times, like he was trying to work up the nerve to say something but couldn’t. You watched him, fighting back the urge to cry and finding some measure of success in the endeavor — until you saw it.

Rolling down Toge’s cheek — Toge’s, the same Toge who always laughed and never cried, who was always happy and mischievous, never sad — was a single tear. It splashed down onto the notepad where he had been writing, the black ink spreading, the paper crinkling.

Don’t say she’s dead. She can’t be dead. That’s not what you mean, right? Right?

That was what he had written. That was what you had refused to read. Tears of your own burnt your skin, and this kind of scalding was worse than anything Jogo had ever done to you, because these tears were borne of your own body and designed specifically out of your own aching. Every ounce of pain, every milliliter of grief, all of it poured out of your eyes and onto your hands.

“She’s dead,” you repeated. “That curse — he burnt her, and then she used the last of her poison to let me defeat him, but that meant I couldn’t heal her, so I — I brought her to my family but they refused to heal her — they refused, Toge, they refused! They said they wouldn’t heal her, so I brought her to Sukuna instead, and he killed her! He cut her into a thousand pieces and said he couldn’t heal someone who was already dead!”

Toge inhaled sharply, and then he, too was crying, but he could not brush away his tears as swiftly as you could, not with only one arm, so he just gave up, hunching over his notepad and writing something, the edges of the letters fuzzy from the copious amounts of salty water seeping into the paper.

What were her last words?

“She wanted to go trick or treating. It was Halloween that night, you know, and she said she had so many costume ideas…I told her that we could go the next day and she said she’d like that,” you said before thinking back to another moment. “Oh. And while we were in Jogo’s Domain, she said…she said that she couldn’t die quite yet. She still had to tell someone she loved them.”

You both knew who she had been talking about. Toge stared at you in horror for a moment before slamming his head against the table, completely breaking down, clutching the pen in his hand so tightly it burst. Ink spilled all over his hand and down his sleeve, but he paid it no mind as he bawled like a small child.

Tullia never got to tell him she loved him herself. You were the one who had to pass those words on. What kind of a terrible joke was that? You had to sit across from Toge and watch him lose his composure so thoroughly over a death that was your fault. You had to sit across from him and know that it shouldn’t have been you saying that. It should’ve been her.

He pulled out a pencil from his pocket, staining his grey sweatpants irreversibly, and then he hesitantly began to write, his words gouged into the paper from the force with which he pressed the pencil down.

I love her too.

The world was just a blurry mass of objects now. You swiped at the tears forming in your eyes anew with no small measure of irritation. You owed it to him to read what he wrote. You were the only one who would understand what the words meant, after all, the only one who could comprehend the gravity of them.

I always thought we had so much time left. I didn’t want to rush into anything or make her feel uncomfortable, so I tried to be as slow as I could about it, thinking that we had the rest of our lives to get together. I was planning on asking her out. I even — I even wanted to marry her one day. Why did I wait? Why didn’t I just tell her from the start? I liked her for so long, so why didn’t I just say something to her? Now I never can. Now she’ll never know.

“She does know,” you said. “I’m sure of it. Even if you never said it, she knew.”

Toge did not write a response to that. He just closed his laptop and returned to staring out of the window — a silent dismissal all on its own.

There was no one else you dared to visit, and you didn’t feel up to using Composition on anyone’s minor injuries, so you decided to head to the kitchens and see what your mother was doing. She was a safe person, one who you had managed to protect — albeit belatedly — and one who hadn’t lost anyone she loved. Spending time with her wouldn’t make you cry. Spending time with her might even be fun; well, maybe not fun, but it had been so long since you had talked to her that you believed you ought to.

Who was she, the enigma that was your mother? Who had she been before she had married your father and given birth to you? You had heard that she had been a model, but what else? Had she had many friends, or had she been lonely? Had she ever fallen in love? Not what she thought she had with your father, but a truer version of the emotion, closer to what you felt for Yuta than anything else.

“Y/N! You’re just in time. Try this!” she said, shoving a spoon in your mouth before you could even greet her. You swallowed promptly, savoring the taste before beaming at her.

“It’s really good!” you said.

“Do you think so?” she said.

“Anything’s better than the crap they give us in the dining halls,” you said. “So maybe I’m a little biased. But I do think it’s excellent, yes.”

“Will the others agree, in your opinion? You know them better than I do, after all,” she said. “I don’t want to make a ton of something and then find out that everyone else hates it.”

“Ieri will eat anything if she can have a drink with it, and I’m pretty sure Ijichi brought a ton of alcohol for just that reason, so we’re covered in that aspect. I don’t think anyone else will complain, either, so you can go ahead and make it in bulk,” you said.

“That sounds good. Did you need something?” she said.

“Huh? No, I didn’t. What about you? Do you need any help getting all of this made?” you said, motioning towards the kitchen.

“I don’t need it, but if you have nothing else to do and want something to occupy your time, then I could find a few jobs for you,” she said.

“There’s nothing major to heal at the moment, so I’m free,” you said. “It’s why I came here at all. Put me to work.”

You perched on a stool and cut whatever she handed you, taking out every bit of anger you had on the poor vegetables, which hadn’t done anything wrong but were convenient targets for your fury. Your mother, for her part, did not comment on the particularly aggressive way with which you chopped them up, only thanking you whenever you slid the results into the bowl she had designated for them.

“Is there something on your mind?” your mother said. “You’ve never been one to cook, so there must be a reason you’re spending your free time here instead of anywhere else. Do you want to talk about what’s troubling you?”

“Yes,” you said, stunned at how quickly she had read you despite your distance. “I can’t stop thinking about it. I’ve already lost Tullia, and now all of my friends are in this ridiculous Culling Games. What if Maki’s next? Yuta? Megumi? What will I do then?”

“Maki Zenin, right?” my mother said.

“Yes. Now that Tullia’s gone, she’s my one and only best friend,” you said. “If she dies, I will as well. And not to mention Yuta…”

“You love him,” your mother completed. “It was as plain as day to anyone that didn’t want to see something else. The higher ups, the L/Ns…they all wanted you to be in love with Noritoshi, so that’s what they saw, but the rest of us, people like Satoru and I, we likely knew before even you did. I didn’t want to say it because I thought acknowledging it might wound you more, but I’ve been aware for quite a while now.”

“It’s like that,” you said. “That’s why I could bring him back to life. I loved him so much that I was unable to watch him die, but mother, I’m not there anymore. If something happens to him, I won’t know until it’s too late. How will I save him then?”

“It’s easy to worry, but he’s strong, isn’t he? Your father mentioned that he’s one of only four special grade sorcerers. He’s not going to go down that easily, and you have to trust in that,” she said.

“I do trust him, but that doesn’t mean I can stop myself from worrying,” you said.

“You’ll likely always worry about him. That’s just what you do when you love someone,” she said.

“Did you worry about my father, then?” you said.

“No, never,” she said. “There was someone, though. I worried about him for a time.”

“I see,” you said.

“Anyways, who’s Megumi? Is she another one of your friends who I haven’t met yet?” she said, quickly changing the subject.

“Ah, no, Megumi’s a boy,” you said. “He just has a girl’s name, but I think he’s sensitive about it, so I haven’t ever asked why.”

“Interesting,” your mother said. “And what is this boy to you?”

“He’s my underclassman,” you said, scrunching your nose as you thought about what role Megumi had in your life. “But he’s more like an annoying little brother than anything.”

“Annoying little brother?” she said.

“You know, one time I went to help him on a mission, and I took care of that ridiculous situation he got himself into — with style, might I add — but when Gojo came to make sure everything was alright, Megumi had the nerve to snitch on me, which made me look so bad in front of Gojo! It was embarrassing, and I had to clear up the dumb misconceptions he created before Gojo began to think I was just a useless liar,” you said. Your mother giggled. She sounded sweet when she did, like there was still a trace of girlhood left in her.

“That does sound like a typical younger sibling,” she said.

“He’s dependable, though,” you added. “And he actually listens to the advice I give him, so I guess he’s not terrible. Yeah, I’d even say I like him.”

“That’s good,” she said. “It sounds like you two get along well.”

“We do, which is a surprise, to be honest,” you said.

“Why is that?” she said. You rolled your eyes.

“For a while there, Gojo was trying to set us up. Not that he ever introduced us until Megumi officially enrolled or anything, but he would bring it up constantly,” you said, remembering just how adamant Gojo had been that you and Megumi deserved a chance or something.

“That’s in character for him,” your mother said affectionately. “He always was such a troublesome boy.”

“Megumi wasn’t keen on it, though,” you said. “On the whole, he’s not really into the whole dating and romance scene. He’s a lot like Maki in that sense, actually, which I guess isn’t a surprise, since they’re cousins and all.”

“He’s a Zenin, too?” she said.

“Kind of. His father left the clan, so he has a different last name, but since he got their inherited technique — the Ten Shadows — he became the head after Naobito’s death,” you said. Your mother froze in the middle of stirring the dish she had simmering on the stove.

“His father left the clan? By any chance, do you…happen to know what his family name is?” she said.

“Fushiguro, why?” you said. At that, your mother dropped her spoon. “Mother? Are you alright?”

“I can’t believe it worked out like that,” she muttered, laughing breathlessly. “I really can’t.”

“Did something happen? Do you know his parents or something?” you said. Megumi had never shared much about his personal life or past, but you had learned a little bit about him in the few months you had spent with him. According to him, his own mother died when he was very young, and his father soon remarried to the mother of his beloved step-sister Tsumiki. Both his stepmother and father abandoned them both when they were still children, though, so he mostly held nothing but resentment for the two. What did it say about your mother if she was acquainted with that kind of person?

“You could say I knew his father,” she said. “Though I never really understood him, not at all. He wasn’t a person that someone like me could ever understand. Of course, that didn’t stop me from trying.”

“You loved him,” you realized. “He was the one you worried about.”

“I did,” she said, smiling ruefully. You set aside your knives, imploring her to explain more. She picked up the spoon she had dropped and ran it under the tap water, scrubbing it with a sponge and some soap as she did. “Or at least, I was a girl who believed herself to know what that meant.”

“You can’t just leave it at that!” you said. “You were in love with Megumi’s father? Why’d you end up marrying mine, then?”

“It’s a long story,” she said.

“We have time,” you said. She pursed her lips before nodding.

“That we do. Alright, I’ll tell you, but only if you promise to keep working on those vegetables,” she said.

“I’m on it!” you said. It was the first excitement you had felt in some time, an excitement completely unrelated to violence and cruelty and fighting and healing. Here was a rare chance to learn about your mother, to begin to lessen that chasm which spanned between you two in place of a real relationship.

Her eyes shimmered with fondness and nostalgia as she began to tell the story — the one of her youth, of the person she had been before she was nothing more than Mrs. L/N, of the time when even she, too, had known what it meant to love and, in some strange way, to be loved in return.

#yuuta x reader #yuuta x y/n #yuuta x you #reader insert #canon au #pomegranate ink #m1ckeyb3rry writes

17 notes · View notes

bluethude · 2 years

Note

hello, how are you going? hope it's all ok :)

i would like to see Ningguang, Jean and Yae Miko (and others characters you like! if you don't want do write about the girls i choose it's ok too) with a very kind Reader, who always tries to alleviate an embarrassing situation, and who always tries to help people in the best way they can, but who is consequently a little naive and some people can take advantage of this. What would these women think about the Reader, and how would they act and say if the Reader was upset about people taking advantage of them? things like that

Reader can be a boy or a girl or NB, you can choose :)

(sorry about my english, it's not my native language)

(also, if something about this ask upset you I'm so sorry, but I hope it's ok)

Hello there ! I'm good, I hope you are too.

Thanks for asking ! So, I never wrote for Yae Miko (nor Jean), and I didn't do her story quest yet, but honestly, she seems fun to write. I hope you'll enjoy what I wrote ! I went with a gender neutral route and don't worry, nothing is upseting me in your request and you have a very nice english ! Have a nice day !

Requested : Yes

Character : Jean, Ningguang and Yae Miko (separately)

Summary : What Jean, Ningguang and Yae Miko think about the very kind Reader and what would they do if the reader got taken advantage of.

Word count : 1478 words

Warning : None, except maybe some spoils for those who didn't finished Liyue's story line

✉️Asks are open✉️

✨Let's go ! ✨

JEAN GUNHILDR

Honestly, you are both kinda the same, so she gets why you can't do nothing when someone asks you something.

She thinks it's nice of you. Actually, you helping around is making her job easier as she's not swamped as much into work with the citizens' ridiculous requests and she goes faster through paperwork.

She doesn't really like to share such work with those request, but Lisa and the other Knights convinced her to let you help.

She's thankful you seem to have this skill of always seeing the bright side or to change an awkward situation into a more positive one. She want to know what's your secret, herself being in a lot of awkward situation everyday and she never knows what to do or say to get out of those said situation.

As much as she encourages you to stay kind, she's also reminding you to not overwork yourself and to take a rest. A bold ask, coming from her, but she can't help it.

I think deep down she's just worried you would be taken advantage of or end up seriously hurt, after all, you never know what might happen.

And when you get taken advantage of, first thing first, it's her personal duty to make you smile again.

Pizza ? Consider it done. Tea ? Already poured in a cup waiting for you, at the perfect temperature. Books ? Your favorites are already picked. Anything to make you happy.

She will spend time with you, letting you tell her why you're upset and what happened. If you don't, she won't force you, but gently say it'll be better as you'll get it off your mind by talking and feel better.

When I say Jean and the Knights got your back, trust me they HAVE your back, just for the reason you make Jean's work easier and you're the only one able to help her without her making a fuss about it like usual. The food and distractions mentioned above are all Noelle's doing as she knew you would need to have a safe place.

Once you fall asleep that night, Jean writes a note to the other knights about what happened to you and she needs them to handle this matter. Because no one's gonna take advantage of any of Mondstadt's citizens under her watch.

So, while Jean is with you, Kaeya, Lisa, Amber and Eula are out there, tracking this person. Albedo is not there, he's in this god damned mountain and Klee is in an isolation cell.

Cryo, Pyro and Electro, this team composition is gonna hurt badly. The reason why Jean doesn't come it's to make sure you are resting well and because she knows she can trust the knights with her life.

So they talk to the one who took advantage of you. Well, talk. It is a big word, but nobody will ever know for sure what happened, especially if it was Fatuis under disguise or something along those lines.

The next day, you have a formal apology from the one who did this to you, without much explanation.

She tells you maybe they got ashamed of themselves, while the rest of the knights are pretending to be as curious as you about the sudden apology.

Overall, Jean doesn't mind you being kind and sweet to everybody. But she would like you to be careful with who you help. This time, it was easy to find and make them apologize to you. But the Abyss Order and Fatuis won't be as easy to deal with if they take advantage of you for a reason or another.

"Don't worry, y/n. They apologized, this is the important part, but it's your right to not forgive them. And next time, set boundaries, to avoid such upsetting things happening to you."

NINGGUANG

She doesn't mind your kindness. She finds it refreshing.

But she also was wondering how nobody had already taken advantage of you.

Don't get me wrong, she wants you to stay safe and as kind as you are, but she's wondering how nobody took advantage of you yet, as she knew the world, especially involving business, wasn't the nicest to people such as you.

Anyway, she gives you some warning from time to time, but since she knows you can handle yourself, the warning is just a simple "Be careful". She's not a mother hen so you're free to do whatever.

When stuck in an embarrassing situation, it's usually the others who are awkward with her who doesn't care. But she appreciates you making others comfortable around her, because not everybody was able to keep their calm in her presence.

When you come back all upset, she knows and all hell breaks loose for the one who dared to upset you.

Going after you is going after her and there's no way she would tolerate this.

A fatui ? Consider her putting this case on the negotiations between Fatuis and Liyue, since she needs as much amo as possible to milk them from every mora she can for everythign they done to Liyue.

A merchant or a citizen ? Well they would curiously have trouble finding anyone to work with as everybody would know how he can take advantage without thinking twice.

She would make sure to make their life as miserable as she can and within the limits of the law (but since she's the one establishing the commercial laws...). They can technically get back on their feet, after all, she stays rather fair, but they would be in a rough patch, despite Liyue being the place where you can make money with minimum effort.

She asks Yanfei about it, to be sure not to do anything against the written texts, but since she does everything by the law, Yanfei doesn't have anything to object to.

Once she dealt with this wicked mind (which is really fast, actually), she takes a day off to spend some time with you doing whatever you want to do, telling it's not your fault and spoiling the heck out of you with anything you want to cheer you up.

Ningguang loves your company and as someone she cares about, she would do anything for you to be happy.

"Do not worry, they won't take advantage of you in a long while, if not ever again. I personally made sure of that. But please, next time, be more careful about what you are asked to do."

YAE MIKO

She teases you a lot about your kindness and attempts at changing the mood of an awkward situation.

Awkward situations happen a lot around Yae Miko, since she seems to only tease and people never really know what to do or how to act around her with her way of speaking.

So, on the long run, she was enjoying the fact you were here to translate what she wanted to say, without putting people in a strange spot. Well, most of the time, you were correct, but not every time and she enjoyed those times where you were trying so hard to alleviate the awkward situation without success.

She always treats you to a Kitsune Udon after, somewhere peaceful around the shrine, as a form of apology.

She wasn't worried at all about you getting taken advantage of. She knew you could handle yourself so she wasn't worried the slightest.

But when you came to the Shrine, that day, she knew something was wrong.

She's very observant and perceptive. And good at reading body languages so she knew something happened.

She takes you on the side, in the usual peaceful spot where you could talk about anything. She learns the situation and the more you talk, the more she grows upset. A thing she hid, of course.

She makes her special dish, the Fukuuchi Udon, with all her skills. She even blesses the food she gives you, and lets you eat in peace, as the dish is known to grant the Great Kitsune's protection.

Once she comforts you, she distracts you and before you know it, you smile again. You're a bit wary of being all kind and nice again to people but don't worry.

Making you smile again was the first part of the plan.

Of course, she finds that person.

If it's a Fatui, she'll go full out and use her electro powers. Despite her not having electro Gnosis anymore, she's quite strong.

If it's a citizen, she'll mercilessly tease them until they are upset and confused.

Before taking advantage of them ! Nobody can stop her and she makes this person do the most ridiculous things, since nobody can say no to Yae Miko.

Once she did whatever she wants, she comes back to the shrine and to you, all happy, before telling you what she just did.

"Hum ? Them ? Oh, don't worry. I had some little fun with them. Just stay the cute and happy y/n you usually are and everything will be fine, okay ?"

300 notes · View notes

shawol-poser · 2 months

Text

To My Lover From Afar; Record 2

Pairing: Alien AU! Do Kyungsoo x Actress!Reader |CW: Mentions of death, mentions of suicide, but not a lot.|Heavily inspired by the drama series. "My Love From Another Star."||Word Count: 2.9k.

Summary: Do Kyungsoo has been living on planet Earth for the past 400 years after having failed to return home due to unforeseen circumstances. With only a few months remaining before his long-awaited return, he's found himself caught in problems and people that he thought he had left behind centuries ago. Is this what humans call, "fate?"

Masterlist

“Here.” A young lady, seemingly no older than 16, presents her savior with a poorly rolled scroll.

The hands that hold them out for the other to take slightly tinted, a dark hue staining the underside of her fingernails.

The man in front of her, her savior, accepts it graciously despite its sorry state. Eyes filled with curiosity as he unrolls it.

“Forgive my ignorance, however I cannot read the alien texts that the visitors of the gisaeng house carry around. Hence, my inability to write a hanging scroll. I hope this will suffice in its stead.”

Once his eyes finally greet the contents of the paper, there is nothing he can do but marvel at the ink that washes over it.

A figure that seemed to be the unidentified flying object that brought him to Earth is positioned on the upper corner of the composition. A shape that resembles the moon, floating through a field with tall grass and reeds.

What catches his attention the most however is the sight of his own visage staring back at him. The only difference being the dark robes he once wore, a stark contrast to his current chima jeogori, the image clearly referencing their first encounter.

From what he’s gathered, a young lady such as the one in front of him was expected to be skilled in the arts. But the style presented in front of him wasn’t reminiscent of a style from the current century.

Rather, it more closely resembled a photograph.

His silence must’ve worried the young lady as she spoke up hurriedly. “Look, I’m sorry it’s not what you expected. If you don’t like it, you can just give it back–” she reached out her hand to the man, but he only stepped back and shook his head with a smile.

The shift in the young lady’s diction amusing him as he did. Continuing to marvel at the work in his possession shortly after in silence again.

She stares at him strangely before tilting her head in question.

“You’re very strange, sir. Not that it’s a bad thing, but I’ll definitely remember you because of it.”

—---------------------------------

“Oh Y/n? The actress?” In the dabbang across the road, Lee Kwangsoo’s voice rose above the ambience of the room. Eyes wide as he looks at Kyungsoo with disbelief.

Kyungsoo shook his head out of his wandering stupor, and properly paid attention to the older man in front of him. He had decided to meet up with an old friend to inform him of his nearing departure.

And over a round or two of Janggi, a game that Kwangsoo really did not have patience for, the professor had off-handedly mentioned the student that had seemed to be boycotting his lectures.

“Ah, you know her?” The alien’s question is answered with a smack to the arm by his friend from the other side of the table, along with a rather loud verbal response.

“Of course I do! How can you not know who she is? Of course she’s barely in class, she’s too busy being on every commercial and every article on your phone!”

The younger-looking man looks surprised at Mr. Lee’s reaction. “But I don’t have a phone.”

“Now that’s on you! I’ve been telling you for 30 years now to get a phone and you still don’t listen.” While Kyungsoo normally doesn’t like being told what to do like this, especially when it could cause a scene, he smiles after hearing Kwangsoo’s words.

He’s never thought of himself as the sentimental kind, but he does think that he’ll eventually come to miss being scolded like this.

He shakes his head.

“I’ve never needed a phone. Especially not now that I’m leaving soon.” He moves to tidy up the pieces they rented at the dabbang, which prompts a sigh from the man in front of him.

“Three months, huh? I never thought I’d see the day that you’d go home…Ah, it seems all too sudden now.” He takes a sip of the black tea in front of him, seemingly deep in thought, until his expression brightens again.

“Right, I’ve been meaning to ask,”

Do Kyungsoo looks up at him after packing the board and nods in acknowledgement.

“You’ve been here for over 400 years, and you couldn’t go home for a really long while…why is that?”

——————————————-

“Is the food good?” Chanyeol asks from his side of the table, waiting for your response.

“Hm? Oh uh,” you look at your untouched food and immediately try to cut through the steak in front of you to taste it.

Chanyeol had invited you to a restaurant in a rather upscale part of the city to celebrate his return, but you simply didn’t have an appetite after today.

You hated looking ungrateful, so you expressed your thanks honestly despite this.

“It tastes really good. Thanks for inviting me out.” You responded after swallowing.

Chanyeol frowns at this.

“Hey, I’m sorry I dragged you out here. I just thought you didn’t have any plans tonight.” You sigh and face him earnestly.

“It’s– It’s not your fault, okay? Don’t fucking apologize. A lot has just been going on, and I didn’t have time to rest today.”

Being on set all morning, being chauffeured by X&O’s second, having cameras shoved in your face by being with said X&O’s second, finding out that attendance is mandatory for passing a class, and stressing about a research due tomorrow is putting you so on edge, that you feel like vomiting.

“Anyway, I’ll be fine. So lighten up.” And at your command, he does. As if whatever he was worried about in the first place completely leaves him. Only a bright smile is left on his face.

“Hmm. Whatever it is that you’re worrying about, I’m sure you can do it. Don’t stress about it too much,” He pauses to take another bite of his own steak, continuing only once the meat is in his mouth.

“You’ll get wrinkles faster, did you know that?”

“I liked you more when you were away, did you know that?” He only laughs at your empty words and without even realizing it, you find yourself smiling again.

Your stomach still feels uncomfortably full, but at least you feel a little better.

“Ah, by the way, how has your production work been doing?”

His expression softens as he starts explaining to you all that’s happened while he was in America. About the things that he's learned during one of the music camps he went to, and the people he met at said camps.

“In short, I think I’m getting closer to where I want to be, but that’s still a long time from now.”

“I’m proud of you, Park Chanyeol.”

He knows that you really mean it. He’s been sharing his dreams of pursuing music with you for a really long time now.

And even if he did have to take a 5 year course in a degree that he didn’t like because his father told him to, your encouragement to keep his passion for music alive had been one of the only things keeping him going.

He smiles that boyishly charming smile of his before speaking again.

“Ah right, about today,” The way he starts makes you look at him with laser focus, which he seems to shrink at.

“You know what, never mind.”

“Oh come on, what is it?”

“You were staring at me.”

Your face scrunches up at this.

“Am I supposed to not look at you when you’re talking?”

“I mean—“

“Don’t answer that.”

He looks down at his pretty much done plate, then looks at you. Fidgeting with something in his coat all the while before steeling his expression. As if making up his mind about something.

“Earlier this morning, I was serious. What I said on the car ride to uni.”

You huff and slump a bit at that. “And I know that—“ you’re cut off when he places a pretty black box on the table.

It’s certainly a lofty looking thing.

For something so small, the silver lacework on the double-sided opening looks smaller and really stands out against the black velvet. A sign that the box itself must’ve been curated for a special occasion, along with what was inside.

The sight of it confuses you because you’re definitely feeling something, but you just don’t know what.

You only feel it get stronger once he opens up said box and pushes it towards you.

“Isn’t waiting for 14 years long enough? Oh Y/n, let’s get married.”

———————————————

Do Kyungsoo thinks deeply about what to say. He knows what happened, but he’s finding trouble piecing them together into words that will make sense.

“There was an accident.”

Mr. Lee’s eyebrows shoot up at this. “An accident?”

He had thought of many reasons for Kyungsoo’s inability to go home, but this wasn’t the kind of reason he was thinking of at all.

Kyungsoo nods despite his friend’s shock.

“There was someone I was looking after. Long ago, I had spent all the time I had before I left by their side to keep them safe.”

He looks at his hands with that familiar blank expression and exhales calmly.

“In the end, that person ended up dying anyway. I thought that would’ve been the last I saw of her, but something strange happened.”

Now that makes his friend perk right back up again.

“Strange how?”

“On the 29th of December, 12 years ago, I saw something. Maybe I was just tired that night. I was a surgeon in Gyeonggi and there had been a lot of accidents in the area, but I had a bad feeling.”

He recounts feeling ill and weak for a moment when flashing images of a dark place, a sign, and a crying girl running away onto an empty street had suddenly occupied his thoughts.

“So I went there.”

It was strange.

He found himself on the street he saw in his mind just moments before. Just in time to witness everything.

“Oh Y/n, stop!”

“Screw you! Just leave me alone!”

Running in clothes that looked nowhere near appropriate for the weather and worn out running shoes, the girl he saw in his premonition clearly wasn’t paying attention to where she was going. The street light obviously flashing red, telling any pedestrian to stop, but an empty road meant nothing to most.

Her included, it would seem.

He considered leaving once he saw what looked to be a normal squabble amongst friends, but stopped when he saw a speeding truck ready to converge with the young girl the moment she stepped past the pavement.

That moment must have been when it began.

He’s never thought much about anything. He simply does what he is told and obeys silently because more than the unnecessary small talk of his colleagues, and definitely more than being asked lousy questions, he absolutely hates inconveniencing others.

Which is why it surprised him when he found himself moving not of his own accord, as if on autopilot. Using his abilities to freeze time to pull the girl into his arms, then letting nature run its own course again after moving onto the other side of the street.

He looked behind him to check on the truck, before looking at the person in his arms. Finding the same startled, but fierce -looking young woman from 400 years ago with furrowed brows staring back at him.

He smiled gently to reassure the poor woman.

Or at least that was his intention.

His shock must have trumped whatever expression he had as the woman could only stare at him strangely before tilting her head in question.

“You’re very strange, sir.”

The heart-achingly familiar dialogue could only sour the expression he wanted to show. There were no words that he could say that felt right at that moment, and so he just stood there with her in his arms.

This must have alarmed the young girl as her tears from earlier dried immediately as she tried to wave off her comment with a shaky hand. Worried that she had offended him.

“Not that it’s a bad thing! I promise! It makes you more memorable!”

—---------------------------------------------

“Chanyeol-ah,” You look at the ring in the now open box, before turning to look at him directly. “You bought me a ring on my birthday in senior year.”

He readies himself for what’s about to happen, no longer surprised. “I did. But you didn’t accept it.”

You frown once you look at the box again, before pushing it back towards him. “And I’m not going to accept it today either. I’m sorry.”

He sighs, but immediately looks back at you, as if realizing something. “H—Hey, it was worth a shot!”

He’s worried that you might think too deeply into his expression, like you normally do, so he continues.

Undeterred by the dulling pain in his chest.

“I’m not too surprised, but that doesn’t mean I’m not disappointed.”

“I’m really sorry.”

“For what? You said what you wanted, right? Don’t apologize for that, really.” He chuckles as he playfully punches your shoulder.

“Besides, it’s not like I’m giving up. I’ve waited this long, what’s the harm in waiting a bit longer?”

Your still frown only deepens at this. “You’re a really good guy Chanyeol, but I don’t think you should keep waiting.”

“If you really think I’m a good guy, why don’t you tell me the real reason why you don’t want to get married then? “It’s not like I’m not going to get married.”

“Then why not this year?” He’s confident that you’ll marry him, he’s certain of it. But now he just wants to know why not soon.

You stare down at your plate with wide, twitching eyes, wondering if you should bring this up to him again.

Your mouth moves faster than your brain this time.

“The guy that saved me. You remember him, right?”

He tilts his head to the side, knowing immediately who you’re talking about, but can’t seem to answer.

“I mean, I do, but I don’t remember his face.”

You expected that. “I want to find him. You know, thank him for what he did.”

He furrows his brows in question at your response and jolts back up on his seat. Eyes wide.

“Are you really, seriously, holding off marriage for that?”

“I know it’s stupid but—”

“You didn’t even have a conversation with that guy, nor spend hours talking to him, none of that!”

“So that makes it worse! Are you saying that you’d be okay with your wife, who isn’t me by the way,” you immediately stressed out before he got any ideas, “to keep on looking for another man until she finds him and thanks him? And what if she never does and she just keeps on looking for him? Wouldn’t you rather she find him before she agrees to marry you? Otherwise, it just looks like she’s disappointed it's you that walks through her door and not him.”

He thinks about what you just said with a strange amount of seriousness, nodding as you explain yourself.

He then straightens up his back and crosses his arms. Eyes immediately lighting up in mischief as a smile crept on his face. As if liking the implication he conjured up on his own.

“You’ve thought about this a lot, haven’t you?”

“That’s not the fucking point, kid. The point is, I’m sure I’m never going to get that guy out of my head. Completely sure. And I’d feel really bad for the person that I said yes to if I’m still thinking about some other guy while I’m married.”

“Wouldn’t they already feel that way towards your ‘ikemen’ or whatever?”

“No they fucking wouldn’t! I’d indoctrinate them into enjoying them with me. It’s not hard, you know? You already like SHINee and a bunch of other guys I listen to, so it can’t be that hard.” You huff out with your arms crossed, leaning back into your chair in thought as if cursing the possibility.

Park Chanyeol can only observe you from his own chair, shaking his head with a laugh after a while.

He can’t help but both be in awe and disbelief that you are the person that he likes.

—-------------------------------

As Do Kyungsoo enters the lobby to of his apartment complex, he spaces out like he usually does. Reflecting on his conversation with Mr. Lee. His feet carrying him home out of muscle memory.

He wonders if that night at the hospital made him see things that never really happened. That the girl he saved 12 years ago was just from another sad dream.

Still, if it wasn’t a dream, he would've liked to see her again before he left.

‘Then again, I probably can’t.’

He’s learned not to waste his breath sighing and being disappointed in things like this, so he settles for staring at the elevator door absently.

Waiting to get off on his floor so that he can prepare for just another day.

Another normal day with nothing exciting to shake up his heart.

Another day where he gets to live silently.

But just like how fate had gifted him an opportunity 400 years ago, fate has decided to gift him another.

A gift in the form of a vaguely familiar woman whose eyes widen upon meeting his own in between the gaps of the opening elevator door.

“Professor Do Kyungsoo?”

‘Whether anyone likes it or not, some things are just bound to happen.’

8 notes · View notes