#and as the caption says: I added in an extra crack on her chin
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Ended up adding in the crack along her chin finally!
#these are really just me playing around#but I'm having fun lol!#N#oc#skelesona#utmv oc#and as the caption says: I added in an extra crack on her chin#I have a scar there on my chin I usually forget about and idk how I got it-#but the crack on her forehead is inspired by the time I wiped out falling *up* a set of stairs when I was little#and smacked my forehead into metal/tile at the top#so I've been meaning to make the chin scar a feature too-#(I need to do a bones-only ref for her someday because like. her knees are also non-existant I think lmao-)#anywho! my beasty! my silly goofy!#I love filling up sketchbooks w/ colored stuff now too... makes my brain so happy when I look back-
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A Family Tree
Bloodline, Chapter 3. You can find all other IkeSen works of mine here. NOTE: Ayana is @jindalraekarkkiâs lovely OC! Thank you so much!
Masamune and Mitsuhide nicknamed the archivist âPrincessâ. It was their idea of a joke, prompted unbidden by a remark Nobunaga made at the office. Something about Ieyasu ârescuing a Princess in distressâ.Â
âVery funny,â he snapped irritably. It wasnât as if he needed a reminder on how heâd endangered the poor woman. The whole situation was his fault. âBack to the important things. Do we have some kind of a lead on this?â
âAs it so happens? We do.â Mitsuhide set down some paperwork. âThe accelerant used for the fire is actually quite similar to the products we found in the office Masamune cracked into. It appears that someone in our current investigations to the mob has not only figured out that Ieyasu is involved on our team, but is taking an interest in obscuring how his family plays into their organization.â
âSo let me see if I understand.â Nobunaga twirled a pen idly over his desk. âThe Mob not only was in possession of photos of the Tokugawa family, a pair of former CIA agents deceased over a decade and a half, but figures out that their son is also in connection with the CIA, and that he is investigating on his own into this?â
Masamune frowned deep, his blue eye glittering. âThat sounds like a mole to me.â
The men fell silent.
âIâll certainly be branching my investigations into that possibility,â Mitsuhide remarked lightly. âDonât you worry about that. In the meantime, we need to move the Princess into protective custody.â
Ieyasu grimaced. How unfair was this? The poor woman would have to completely uproot her whole life, disrupt everything she knew--and it was all because of him. He clenched his fist tight.Â
âHave some opinion on the matter?â Nobunaga cocked a brow at him. âYou appear tense.â
âNo opinion.â He replied brusquely. It wasnât as if that train of thought mattered. But Mitsuhide kept staring, a knowing look emerging on those snaky lips. Of course Mitsuhide could tell what was wrong.
âHow about this?â Mitsuhide suggested. âOur dearest Princess is likely a valuable resource in our investigations. Sheâs already played a part, after all. We could move her into Ieyasuâs custody.â
âIntriguing. Do tell.â Nobunaga folded his fingers together, resting his chin on the lattice of his knuckles.Â
âAs excellent as Mitsunari is at his job, itâs known that weâre stretched a touch thin. I already took the liberty of looking into her background, and she is squeaky clean. We could employ her as a civilian contractor for this particular case. It would free up our process and provide Ieyasu with a bit of needed interpersonal interaction.â
âI donât need interpersonal interaction,â Ieyasu snapped. The idea of having someone in his personal space was almost offensive. Granted, he did owe her that much, and Mitsuhide was right--but still. âAnd I donât need a random woman living in my house.â
âNo? Not even with all the benefits of someone assisting you on your case? We all know of your aversion to working with Mitsunari.â
Damnit. Ieyasu ground his teeth tight together. He was up against a rock and a hard place, and everyone knew it. âFine.â
Apparently she didnât have much. Maybe she just hadnât brought much. Either way, when he picked her up from her apartment, she only had two large suitcases and a confused expression.
âWhatâs with that face?â He snapped harder than he meant. âCome on. Is this all you have?â
âItâs all I need. I didnât think it would be polite of me to load up your space with my things.â
Well that was downright considerate. He felt bad for being rude already, but an apology wouldnât unstick from his throat. Opting for silence, he placed her things in the back seat and drove them both to his place.Â
He had a three bedroom apartment and frankly no reason for all the space. If he were honest with himself, heâd gotten the extra rooms partially for if Masamune decided to come over and crash, partially for space for his own collection of books, partially for an office. Converting the spare room heâd meant for Masamune wasnât a stretch at all--heâd just gotten some new sheets and towels. Quiet as a mouse, she slipped into the room and looked around.Â
âThank you so much,â she murmured. âIâm sorry to be in your way.â
What was he supposed to say to that? It was his fault she was there. Ieyasu reached for words and finally settled for, âIt wasnât that much trouble.â
Clearly heâd missed the mark. She didnât look assuaged at all. Desperately trying to wriggle his way from the situation, Ieyasu added, âThe office is free for use. Mitsuhide sent you some clearance. Iâll put the folders and files you can use in there, and the payment processing is going through. Questions?â
âNo, not really. Thank you.â
She was quiet for certain. Ieyasu half-forgot she was there some days. All that ever reminded him was the soft hum of some song or another, the gentle clink of mugs in the morning and the scent of food cooking. As far as roommates went, she was courteous and clean. As for the rest? He wasnât expecting much. How useful could someone entirely outside the CIA training regimen be? It wasnât that she was a subpar researcher (not that he knew if she was or wasnât), but he just didnât have hope.Â
But Mitsuhide kept presenting him with dossiers, so he kept bringing them to the office, stacking them with the others. She neatly cataloged and read and took notes, but Ieyasu wasnât expecting much.Â
And then one morning she walked into the kitchen as he was brewing coffee, holding a file in her hand.Â
âDo you mind if I ask you a question?â
âMmm?â Yes, he thought, but he just looked at her expectantly.Â
âIâm sorry. Itâs a little invasive.â But then she paused. âYou were raised by an uncle, werenât you?â
That was a weird question. He lowered the mug. âYes?â
âI--â The Princess paused, thinking about her words before finally coming out with it. âAre you sure youâre related?â
Ieyasu stopped short, staring at her. âWhat kind of a question is that?â
âI know that sounds weird,â she rushed out. âI know it does. But I did a little looking into your familial background, and something isnât adding up. So I went through your uncleâs history. He supposedly graduated from Princeton, same as your father, but--well, just take a look.â
She fished through the folder and produced several pictures, laying them out for him. That pang of familiarity rushed through him once more. It was him--that mystery man in the newspaper clipping from â93. Except now it was a smiling, younger man on the Princeton Yard, baseball bat slung over one shoulder and a slight caption underneath. I. Tokugawa, first baseman.Â
âWhat the fuck,â he blurted out. The whole world tilted under his feet; he sat heavily on the floor, struggling to make sense of it. That was his uncle. That was his uncle. So much now swirled into focus. His âUncleâs aversion to talking about his parents--how they didnât have a resemblance--how heâd never met anyone else in the family--it wasnât even his family. Who the fuck was that man? Who was that stranger?
The cold press of a cup into his hand jerked him from his reverie. The Princess stared into his eyes, concern etched in every line of her face. His first instinct was to withdraw. He didnât need her pity. Familiar irritation rose hot in his throat; no doubt she saw him as a poor orphan, a pitiful thing abandoned by his own blood. But as his fingertips closed around the ice water, he came back to himself. She wasnât pitying him. She was genuinely worried.Â
âThatâs a lot to process,â she murmured. âIâm so sorry. I didnât mean to shock you, but I couldnât think of any other way to tell you.â
For a single second, he appreciated the hell out of her. Heâd undersold her on every respect, and here she was, shining in every conceivable way. What an ass heâd been to her. How was he supposed to right that? He gulped down the ice water, looking for anything else to do aside from answer. At last, he found his voice. âI told my Uncle--or whoever that was--about the photo in the paper Iâd gotten. Heâs the mole.â
She paused. âAre you certain? How did he figure out you were part of the CIA? The link between which specific place and the paper?â
âNot a clue.â He struggled to his feet, screwing down his resolve. âNot a damn clue. But Iâm going to find out.â
#Ikemen Sengoku#Ikesen Fanfic#Ikesen Ieyasu#Ieyasu Tokugawa#Tokugawa Ieyasu#My writing#Ikesen#Bloodline#Mitsuhide Akechi#Akechi Mitsuhide#Ikesen Mitsuhide#Nobunaga Oda#Oda Nobunaga#Ikesen Nobunaga#Masamune Date#Date Masamune#Ikesen Masamune#Ikesen Spy Au#Ikesen Modern Au#A Family Tree
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Bleary Eyes (Rajila) - Juniper
Summary: When Manila catches a cold, Raja figures out what keeps her up at night. 2.5k of established lesbian Rajila.
A/N: Just a fluffy, little drabble! May or may not make this a miniseries. Enjoy!
It started with too much wine, and not enough thought.
Raja mumbled her words, laughed too loudly, lost her balance on more than one occasion. She inspected the empty bottle numerous times, looking for just one more drop to roll out onto her tongue.
She sat cross-legged on the carpet, glass toppled over to the side, the tile of the kitchen much too dangerous for her state. They stuck to white, the red much too risky for tipsy girls in rented apartments. Manila sat across from her, much more alert. There was a smile on her face, though she was beginning to sweat.
Theyâd spent many nights tangled up in bed, talking until sunrise, content to give up rest in exchange crazy hair and deep conversation, always in Rajaâs room. Theyâd get out of bed when the sun was too bright, say nonsensical things as they tried to make a decent breakfast. Â Sheâd pull the girl down to kiss her sleepy eyes, then Manila would drive home to crash out. Now, they were in Manilaâs apartment, and it was much too late to send her drunk girlfriend home.
So, by the time her third playlist ended, and the clock struck two, Manila used all the strength she had to yank her lanky girlfriend off the floor and into the bedroom. For someone so skinny, her dead weight was extremely heavy. She helped her peel down her jeans, relenting to let Raja sleep in her t-shirt and underwear. The makeup wipes were in the bathroom, and when she came back, Raja was on the foot of the bed, eyes closed, humming and swaying to some melody of her own creation. It was the end of a long day, at the end of a long week, and if Manila had not been so exhausted she might have harmonized.
She worked the cold wipe over her face, dark foundation staining the sheet.
âWeâre havinâ a sleepover, âNila?â She hiccupped.
Manila sighed and pressed a kiss to her girlfriendâs forehead. âYes, honey.â
Raja fell asleep the second her head hit the pillow. An open-mouthed, drooling, kind of sleep, and Manila giggled as she changed into pajamas. Her phone was set to charge, and she resisted the urge to take a couple of pictures.
She longingly looked toward the closet before switching the lamp off, climbing underneath the sheets.
When Raja woke up the next morning, wondering about Manilaâs disheveled appearance, she blamed the headache and fatigue on the hangover she didnât actually have.
â
The gray plastic stuck out of Rajaâs purse, begging Manila to ask what was inside.
She was making dinner for them, cupcake covered apron tied around her back, while Raja texted someone. The silence was comfortable, as it usually was, but she couldnât help but wonder why the strap of her purse still hung around Rajaâs shoulder.
âYou stop by the store on the way over?â She asked, unable to hide her curiosity. Something about the half-rate concealment led her to believe she should be interested.
âYeah, um,â Raja laughed nervously, locking her phone, as if she hadnât been waiting for the question. She pulled the bag out, holding it in her hand like it was a sack of hot coals. âItâsâŚitâs a toothbrush. I was wondering, since I stay here pretty often-â
âYes, of course,â Manila laughed, raising on her tiptoes to kiss her. âYou can leave it here. My home is your home.â Raja looked relieved, leaning against the counter. Â
Manila returned her attention to the sizzling vegetables in the skillet, considering the situation settled. Her mind drifted off to her job, listing off unfinished projects down at the office. There was the shirt design, the vitamin logoâŚ
Raja crept up behind her, wrapping her arms around her waist. Her chin rested on Manilaâs shoulder.
âSometimes I donât think you like me staying over,â she whispered.
âWatch it, Raj,â she warned playfully. âIf you make me burn myself on this hot stove, Iâll stab you with that damned toothbrush.â
The older girlâs concerns werenât unfounded. Every time she spent the night at Manilaâs, the latter had dark circles under her eyes in the morning. She always slept last, and despite not being a morning person, was always the first one up, scrolling through social media feeds, no matter the hour Raja opened her eyes.
Manila defended that sheâd never been good with sharing a bed. It disrupted her sleep, her subconscious never allowing her to fully relax. The bed felt too stiff, the covers were too hot, the street sounds rang out too loudly. A million thoughts played out in her mind, forcing her brain through the ringer. Sheâd stare at the ceiling with strained eyes, sighing in discomfort as she checked her phone periodically, watching the hours tick by.
But she loved not having to say goodbye to Raja, loved having something warm to snuggle up to on chilly mornings. The silent, lazy sex that came naturally, the birds chirping as they moved together.
It felt right.
If she was ever going to get used to it, they just needed practice, Manila said.
Still, Raja couldnât help but to feel guilty when she stopped by the office to drop off lunch, and found her dozing off at her desk.
â
Manila was up on her knees, sinking slightly into the mattress, as she sang along to the old Kate Bush album on, flooding out of her phone speaker. Rajaâs eyes were closed, head tilted back slightly, as Manila worked the brush through her long hair.
The bristles combed through the tangled strands, guided by a steady hand, sending tingles down her spine. Goosebumps rose on her arms, wishing to live in the moment forever. Sometimes, when Manila leaned forward, their dark hair twisted together, and they looked to be one magnificent being in the vanity mirror.
âI ran into my landlady today,â she spoke softly, Manila humming in acknowledgement. âNot much longer until she has the twins, I think.â
âHow exciting.â
âI need to meet with her, soon,â she mused. âMy lease is gonna be up.â
âIs it?â The brush tickled the nape of her neck. She shuddered.
âManila, Iâve told you this a million times,â Raja groaned. She could see her girlfriendâs reflection shrug.
âMust have forgotten,â she said. âGo get me a hairband and Iâll braid it for you. Top left drawer.â
Raja hopped up from the bed, and Manila swatted her ass with the brush.
She laughed, pulling open the dresser drawer that held all of her girlfriendâs miscellaneous beauty items. Pins, ribbons, extra sponges and cotton pads, an unopened pack of cheap nail files. She grabbed a black hair tie, almost missing the gift box in the corner.
ââNila,â she said warily. âWhatâs this?â
It was a tiny cardboard box, black with white polka dots, and the girl on the bed held a mischievous twinkle in her eye.
âOpen it!â She urged impatiently. Raja bit back a grin as she pried off the top.
A key sat in the center on silver silk. She peered up, seeing Manilaâs clasped hands brought up to her excited face.
âIf you say this is the key to your heart, weâre breaking up.â
Manila hopped up and skipped over to her. Her smile was wide, and Raja couldnât find it in herself to be concerned.
âI was thinking, you only have a couple months left of your lease,â she started, ponytail bouncing as she energetically spoke. âSo, when it ends, why donât you just move in?â
Raja was speechless, a warmth spreading through her chest. Pretty, almond eyes were blinking up at her, still as entrancing and playful as the day theyâd met. Manila took the key from the box and pressed it into Rajaâs palm.
âI wanna come home to you every day. This is the start of our future,â she said. âI trust you, completely. This way, we can test the waters.â
âYou mean it?â Raja finally managed to breathe out. Manila nodded, biting her lip.
She grabbed the shorter girlâs face and kissed her.
â
A few weeks later, Raja was doing her makeup in the bathroom when her phone buzzed on the countertop.
It was a snapchat from Manila, and she twisted the wand back into the tube of mascara before opening it.
It was a selfie, a tissue plugging up her nostrils. A filter was applied to the picture, adding bunny ears to the sides of her head, making her eyes look wide and weepy. The caption ran along the center.
No work today. Sick as hell!
Raja smiled as she screenshotted her girlfriendâs pouting face. She slid to the chat.
Poor baby. Bring you lunch later, ok? Xx
It was only seconds before the reply came.
LOVE U :(
Around noon, Raja heated up some soup and poured it into a thermos, grabbing a pack of saltines for good measure. She called Manila to let her know she was on the way, but it went unanswered.
She called a second time as she parked, but the voicemail greeted her again. She frowned. Manilaâs car was in the lot, so she was definitely home.
Rajaâs eyes fixated on her keys, still hanging from the ignition, and her fingers fiddled with the metal of the ringâs newest addition.
She hadnât really had the opportunity to use the key Manila had given her yet, and her stomach twisted at the thought. She didnât want to impose, but would she really have received it if that was a possibility?
Not wanting the soup to get cold, she sighed and climbed out of her car, ascending the stairs to the second story of the apartment building. She left herself in, calling out Manilaâs name.
No response.
Raja set the food and her purse down on the kitchen counter, moving to search for her missing Pinay.
The living space and bathroom were both empty, but the door to her bedroom was cracked, and Raja was willing to bet that Manila was napping off her cold.
She pressed the wood, creaking as it opened, sneaking in. Manila was almost completely covered in blankets, the curtains drawn. The carpet was littered with wadded up tissues.
âBaby,â Raja whispered, lightly shaking her shoulder. âThink you can eat something?â
She only groaned, squinting her eyes further. Raja laughed, peeling down the covers.
âCome on-â she stopped, eyebrows raised, as she saw Manila clinging onto a brown stuffed bear, a glittery bow around its neck. It was clearly old, fur stained in some spots, one of the eyes replaced with a mismatched button.
âWho is this, making a move on my girlfriend?â She teased, grabbing one of the paws.
Suddenly, Manila shot up. She was holding the bear tight to her chest, still trying to force her heavy eyelids to stay open.
âWoah,â Raja laughed. âItâs just me.â
âWhat are you doing here?â She responded groggily. Manila was clearly stuffed up, her sinuses reducing her to heavy mouth breathing.
âI brought you some soup. I let myself inâŚis that okay?
Manila nodded, messy bun threatening to unravel. Her face was flushed.
âYou look really red. Let me see if youâre feverish,â the tall girl noted, reaching her skinny fingers out to Manilaâs forehead. When she flinched, Raja huffed.
âHey, look at me,â she demanded. Manila was staring at a random spot on the comforter, fingers toying with tan fur. âManila.â
She looked up, and Raja gasped when she saw her dark eyes glimmering with tears.
âBaby, talk to me. Is it because youâre ill? Do you want some water?â Manila shook her head, once again avoiding eye contact. Raja bit her lip, going out on a limb. âAre you embarrassed that I saw you sleeping with a teddy bear?â
She said nothing, but her lip trembled.
âOh myâŚManila,â Raja rolled her eyes, climbing up on the bed. She wrapped an arm around Manilaâs shoulder, resting her head against her girlfriendâs. âPlenty of grown women still sleep with stuffed animals. You donât have to be embarrassed. Iâm not gonna judge you.â
She sniffled, and Raja handed her a tissue. Manila blew her nose and sighed, frustratingly tossing it at the trash can. It bounced off the rim, cascading down to the carpet like the majority of the others.
âI donât want you to think Iâm lame,â she mumbled. âYouâre this cool, independent, punk rock bitch, and IâmâŚnone of that.â
âIf I wanted all of that, Iâd date myself,â Raja joked. âI love you for you, âNila. Youâre sweet and snarky, and it fascinates me how the gears in your brain never stop turning. Youâre like a silly cartoon character, and it keeps me from going insane. Reminds me not to take everything so seriously.â
Manila let out a pitiful laugh, and received a kiss on the top of her head.
âEw, I smell like sick person,â she whined, making a face.
âThatâs my girl,â Raja laughed at the attitude. The clouds outside moved to cover the sun, casting more shadow over the already dim room. She grabbed the bear from her girlfriendâs hands, inspecting. âSo, tell me about Teddy, here.â
Manila scowled and snatched him back.
âHis name is Mr. Bear.â
âOriginal,â Raja teased.
âShut up! He was my first stuffed animal. Iâve slept with him every night since I was a baby.â
âEvery night?â Raja blinked. âOh, my God, Manila.â
âWhat?â
âIs this why you can never sleep when Iâm here?â She crossed her arms, and Manila sneezed. She wiped at her raw nose, avoiding the question. âYouâre an idiot! You really made yourself suffer because you thought I was going to make fun of you? What did you think was gonna happen when I moved in?â
The younger girl shrugged, her oversized shirt swallowing her body.
âWhat was I supposed to say? Itâs not like I can sleep with you and the bear at the same time,â she pouted. Manilaâs voice held an air of jest, but her eyes were genuine. Raja paused to think for a moment.
âLay down on your side of the bed,â she said. Manila raised an eyebrow. âJust do it.â
She relented, achy body begging for rest. She settled into the mattress, bear held to her chest, the same as always. Manila felt like an idiot.
The springs squeaked under the change of weight as Raja laid down beside her, wrapping an arm around her waist. She nuzzled her face into the messy mass of black and blonde.
âYouâre gonna get sick,â Manila giggled.
âI donât care,â Raja persisted, giving her a gentle squeeze. âHow does this feel?â Manila sighed, snuggling back into the curve of her body.
âPerfect.â
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