#file under: verses: hyde

[knotdispenser]

name: Hyde N. Plainsight nicknames: Shifty (by some) gender: Male / Intersex pronouns: (he/him/his) secondary gender: Both? occupation: drifter notable features: can change his body species: shape shifter fc: Hunter Doohan

+observant, charming, adaptable+ -manipulative, secretive, stealthy-

[knotfodder]

I. Versatile Origins

Found as an egg in the mysterious town of Gravity Falls, Oregon, Hyde N. Plainsight began his life in a lab, his mimicking attribute studied for the benefit of a strange unknown man. Hyde eventually escapes the underground lab he was kept him, keeping himself in hiding from humans. Over time, he has learned to mingle with humans, but regards them as simple playthings. He now ventures about, occasionally sporting different looks, but always looking for some good fun.

[strange-creature-222]

HELLO, WELCOME, WHY DON'T YOU TAKE A SEAT? RELAX, GET COMFORTABLE, TAKE A SECOND IF YOU NEED TO

Here's my little blog site thingy, I'd recommend using it while viewing my blog, so the posts aren't annoying white blocks

Y'all can call me Creature, Archivist, or scourge , I go by it/they pronouns, as well as any neopronouns

MORE INFO BELOW [warnings, interests, tags, blinkies, and is that a playlist of songs I like?]

One: GENERAL WARNING FOR INSECTS, ARACHNIDS, AND OTHER CRITTERS IN THIS BLOG

I SHOULD ALSO ADD THAT IM REALLY INTERESTED IN JUST ABOUT ANY OTHER ANIMAL THAT PEOPLE FIND SCARY

Two: this is my only account, I don't have a side blog or art blog right now, if you specifically want to see my art you can use my art tag (tags listed below)

Three: I block freely so I'm not writing a big dni, don't interact if you fall under basic dni criteria (racists, pedos, nazis, etc. You know who you are), terfs don't interact (although I don't see why you decided to come here in the first place)

Four: WARNING FOR EYESTRAIN!!!! I LIKE BRIGHT COLORS!!!! Oh and eyes, A lot of eyes

I tend to avoid flashing lights, they don't cause me pain but they're really annoying

If I should start tagging stuff as warnings just ask <3 I might not be amazing at it but I'll try

SOME STUFF IM INTERESTED IN

Wings of fire*

Will wood*

Warrior cats*

Wander over yonder

Lemon demon*

Animaniacs

Ride the cyclone

Hamilton

The beetlejuice musical

The Jekyll and Hyde musical*

Tally hall

Miracle musical

Jack stauber

Lackadaisy

Gravity falls

Across the spider-verse

Birds (mainly birds of prey)

Sea Creatures

Bugs

animals that people find scary in general

Fossils

history

Space

Rats

My chemical romance*

The owl house

The strange case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde*

The glass scientists*

The Magnus Archives*

A bunch of other things

*starred interests are ones I mainly post about*

MUSIC

MY TAGS

MY ART POSTS

#creature draws : this one has my art!

#creatures neon dragons : this one has some simple brightly colored sketches of dragons on a black background (im not sure I'm continuing this, all posts here are old)

#super cool art : other peoples art that I reblog

#creatures comic collection: comics that I reblog, I will still also put comics in the art tag

MY TEXT POSTS

#creatures ted-talks / #creatures ted talks : these have my text posts, stuff where I talk (I don't do so very often)

#creature answers : this one has my answers to asks and responses to tags

MY REBLOG STUFF

#creature rambles In someone else's post : self explanatory, I talk in someone else's post

#very important post (vip) : this one has posts I find important, nowadays I stick to things with helpful links

#creatures faves : posts I really like

#creatures faves² : posts I really really like

#creatures saved files : this one has things I want to save for later

#creatures saved files art edition : art tips and color palettes I wanna save

INTERESTS

#wee woo : will wood related stuff

#silly music people doing silly things : other musician related stuff (where you'll find lemon demon and mcr posts grouped together, yaaayy!!)

#casualdejekyll and formaldehyde : Jekyll and Hyde related stuff

#Normal British archives : The Magnus Archives related stuff

#wof of fire : wings of fire related stuff

#warrior kitty cats : warrior cats related stuff

(edit 2/20/24 THEY TOOK THE YELLOW TEXT AWAY WHAT THE FUCK)

Any now for a collection of blinkies and banners (credits in tags)

HERE'S MY PRONOUNS PAGE, THIS HAS MY NAMES, PRONOUNS, WHAT WORDS YOU SHOULD CALL ME, AND OTHER QUEER STUFF

[belzinone]

@houseofsxnner :: 36. for one muse to sit on the other’s face (may Bel's throne be Liane's face for another "one" night stand)

NSFW PROMPTS THAT DON’T SOUND LIKE A BAD PORNO

It took a great deal of concentration for her knees not to buckle or squeeze the daylights out of her paramour’s head. Her cheeks brushing against the deepest recesses of her thighs as she consumed, stroked, and penetrated her with her tongue alone was immensely weakening. “ Ah-- fuck! Ngh...! “ Hushed, piping, moans strewn from her throat filled their corner of the room like an endless string of pleasurable pearls. Bel could only clench the headboard, haphazardly transferring her weight to it to keep from collapsing onto Liane’s face and drowning her in her ecstasy. “ You’re... good at this... “ she huffed delicately as her hips gently rolled into her strokes, lips upon lips smacking sounds so dirty but so desirably delicious.

[atozfic]

[02:41]

pairing. song mingi x gn!reader. | warnings. angst, fluff, mentions of an argument. | word count: 980. | hyde’s input. this is from one of my old writing blogs (for a fandom outside of kpop) and i just couldn’t stop thinking about rewriting it with mingi because i miss him.

a static quiet had long fallen over the household, a tension in the air so thick it was near visible to the naked eye. 

when he'd stormed out the front door, all loud words and exaggerated hand gestures and hair an unruly mess from the number of times his stressed fingers had pulled at the strands, you'd continued cursing at him under your breath whilst angered footsteps had carried you into the shared kitchen, to the shared wine rack, to his most expensive bottle of wine. mercilessly, and just a little satisfied with your decision, you'd emptied it's contents within the hour. in parallel, he'd emptied a can of beer within his first five minutes in the studio, the team’s leader doing his best to mind his own business and bite his tongue on any questions regarding mingi's very clear irritation. 

the argument that had painted the walls in hostility and distress hadn't been sparked by anything damning but by an innocent, offhanded comment. the timing was just off. a cocktail of long work hours, obnoxious bosses, lost files of recorded verses and an overly curious reporter digging a little too far into ateez’s privacy blending together and creating an atmosphere for an outbreak of anger. 

the irony of it all was that both parties walked away from the fight not even entirely remembering what verbal punches you'd shot at one another, an aftermath of amnesia that kept you both fed up of one another with no real reason. that which you did remember were childish comments and unarmed statements. 

“god, didn't anyone teach you to rinse your plate?” 

“i'm sick of waking up to your drool on my pillow!” 

“my dad thinks you put your fans before me!”

“why do you always have to know what i ate for lunch? you’re not my mother!” 

you heard the car pull into the driveway and knew it was him, long before a key turned or a door creaked open. mustering up the energy and the remaining pettiness in your soul, you'd dropped your phone on to the nightstand and rolled over under the dark sheets, eyes screwed shut in an unnatural way. your moment in the spotlight never came, however, as a door down the hallway opened and shut within a moment. 

first, you panicked and sat up. 

had you just imagined mingi coming home? was it actually an intruder? no, no, the only other keys to the house were in mingi's possession, it had to be him. so, why wasn't he coming to bed? 

then, you paced the room.

hyper-aware of the fact he'd blatantly gone to sleep in the guest bedroom, you racked your brain for everything you'd said to each other in a state of frustration. no matter how hard you tried, nothing came to mind as to what could have offended him so much to send him out of your shared bed.

and, sure, you'd slept in a mingi-less bed plenty of times throughout the two year relationship, tours and schedules and filming dragging him away from your arms. but you'd never slept alone with him a few doors down, tucked away in the queen bed you had reserved for the nights his brother had one too many beers and crashed at your place or your own family came to visit for a long weekend. 

that was what worried you. 

eventually, after pacing enough to burn indents of your footsteps into the floorboards, you crawled back into the lonely bed, which seemed to be mocking your solitude in the way it engulfed you in the scent of him, not enough to fool you into thinking he was next to you but enough to have you wishing he was. then, sleep and dreams whisked you away. 

red glaring lights on an alarm clock greeted you as your eyes snapped open. an addition of weight on the mattress and a shift in the duvet brought your attention to the silhouette of mingi cautiously crawling his way into bed. if he noticed the fact you'd been woken up by his arrival, he made no effort of addressing it. tension returned to the air but it wasn't the same tension from earlier. 

this was packed full with unspoken words and longing and a deep rooted itch to just reach out and feel each other, like you were in uncharted waters, both drifting and in need of your lifeboat: each other's embrace. much like how the relationship had started, he made the first move.

unsure fingers cautiously found rest against your hip and he audibly let out a sigh, which danced through the space between you both. in the pitch dark, your visual senses less than useful, everything between you seemed heightened. every feeling, every minuscule touch, every shallow breath. the moment existed in it's own little infinity of time. 

then, with conviction, you rolled over and blindly reached out for him in the dark. he met your longing arms halfway, inching over to you. within a matter of seconds, limbs were comfortably intertwined, his chest now a pillow for your head and your forehead a resting place for his lips. 

“i promise i'll rinse my plate from now on.” his voice was but a whisper in the night but you heard every word he said and treasured it like it was ancient scripture,  it was so much more than a throwaway comment or an empty promise. it was a demonstration of love. a guarantee that, whatever it took, you'd be okay. 

you'd be together, no matter what shitty week or pointless argument tried to come between you. 

with that in mind, and a chaste kiss against your forehead, you welcomed in a dreamless sleep, for everything you could ever want was anchored down on the bed next to you, all warm limbs and loving eyes and hair messed around by sleep.

[handeaux]

Over The Years, Cincinnati Residents Created Some Very Curious Wills

Some of us prepare for the afterlife by pondering the disposition of our worldly goods. Some of us, in fact, entirely over-think this very grave (cough! cough!) matter. On the other hand, some of us give inheritance the merest passing thought. Over the years, Cincinnatians have filed some truly unusual wills at the Probate Court.

Losing His Head

W. Byrd Powell, a titan of the eclectic medical movement and a proponent of phrenology, left a most unusual bequest to his favorite student – his head. Powell, who died in 1866, was a noted phrenologist and therefore much invested in studying how the inner essence of human beings was expressed through the shape of their heads. It was rather common for phrenologists to donate their heads to science. It is not recorded to whom his student, Dr. Temperance Kinsey, one of Cincinnati’s first women doctors, passed the head onto at her death.

Eye Of Newt

John D. Riemeier was a wealthy lumber dealer, who owned a big farm in Colerain Township. He died in 1889 and left an estate valued by the newspapers at around $800,000. He also left a will that satisfied no one and kept the courts busy for a year. Most of the complainants cited Mr. Riemeier’s belief in witches. He had unwisely told several witnesses that he boiled a pig for twelve hours to entice a witch to emerge from behind his barn, foaming at the mouth. It was she, he asserted, who dictated the terms of his will. The Honorable Morris L. Buchwalter of the Court of Common Pleas was in no mood for hoodoo and set the bewitched document aside.

All We Are Is Dust In The Wind

Carl Schumann was a thrifty peddler who had accumulated an estate worth more than $2,000 when he died in 1910 at the Altenheim, Cincinnati’s Home for the German Aged. Herr Schumann bequeathed the bulk of his estate to that venerable institution, but he set aside $50 and an unusual request to the Herwegh Maennerchor (Herwegh Male Chorus). The decedent was to be cremated and he instructed the chorus to sing two German lieder while the flames consumed his earthly remains. The men of the chorus were to receive his ashes, say a few prayers, then toss the ashes into the wind from the crematory hilltop. The $50 would cover “sociability” afterwards.

If These Walls Could Talk

When she died in 1924, Nettie E. Chaffin of Washington Court House, Ohio, left the bulk of her substantial estate, estimated at $50,000, to Hyde Park’s Knox Presbyterian Church. In the fine print of the bequest, the church discovered a somewhat irregular condition attached to this generous gift. The donor demanded to be buried inside a wall of a new church, then under construction. Although her tomb was to be unmarked, she requested a plaque in the nave which would note her gift and her eternal presence “until the day break and the shadows flee away.” The church accepted the terms and immured Mrs. Chaffin as the walls of the new edifice arose.

Inspired By The Muse

Most wills are composed in formulaic legal jargon. Not so the 1946 last will and testament of Louis Henry Ernst Sommerkamp. An inspector for the Cincinnati Milling Machine Company, Louis picked up a yen for poetry, and composed part of his final testament in verse:

"All my earthly goods I've in store.

To my dear wife I leave for evermore,

I freely give - no limit do I fix,

This is my last will and she the executrix."

Legal obligations being what they are, there was a bit more prosaic verbiage to legalize the document, but that quatrain stands unique in Hamilton County’s probate archives.

Check, Please!

Elmer J. Schantz owned an automotive garage on Madison Road in 1946. His doctor’s office was just down the street. One evening, Elmer brought a curious document to his medical appointment. It was a check on which Elmer apparently designated a diamond ring and $5,000 be provided to his girlfriend in the event of his death. Elmer’s doctor advised him that, if the check was intended as a will, it needed to be witnessed. The doctor signed, then called in a patient who knew Elmer from the waiting room, and she signed, too. A few months later, Elmer was dead and his check, although challenged in court, was accepted as a proper will. Unfortunately, on the back of the check, Elmer asked not to be buried in Napoleon, Indiana. By the time all the legal challenges were dismissed, Elmer had already been buried in that Hoosier town.

Translation Required

Wing Yee operated a laundry on McMicken Avenue in Mohawk when he died in 1949. His will was very brief, but presented a challenge to the Hamilton County Probate Court because it was written in Chinese characters. There being no official Chinese interpreter, another laundryman was contacted, who provided a translation. The will was filed and accepted, allowing Mr. Yee to bestow his business upon his cousin.

Walk Like An Egyptian

Among the highlights of any visit to Spring Grove Cemetery is the Groff monument, a modest pyramid located a short walk from the Lawler sphinx, creating a sort of Egyptian neighborhood in the verdant graveyard. “Modest” was not Florence Groff’s intent. When she died in 1949, she decreed through her will and testament that a pyramid 20 feet on a side and approximately 20 feet tall occupy the entirety of the family plot. Spring Grove objected, distant relative contested the will and the compromise is a picturesque yet miniature version of the late Miss Groff’s vision.

Brevity, The Soul Of Wit

C. Britton Austin was 72 years old when he died at General Hospital in 1955. Two days before his demise, Mr. Austin scribbled just eight words on a scrap of paper 2 ¼ inches by 4 inches, “everything to my sister Frances and brother-in-law Ed.” Signed, dated and witnessed by two doctors, this briefest of Hamilton County wills was accepted by the Probate Court.

Testamentary Valentine

Frank R. Gusweiler sat down on Valentine’s Day in 1957 and wrote his entire last will and testament on a standard index card, leaving everything to his wife – and law partner – Katherine, designating her as his executrix and requesting she not be required to post bond. Five months later, Frank was dead and his very brief, handwritten, legal Valentine was filed in court.

Zoological Considerations

It is not uncommon for pets to be mentioned in wills, usually dogs and cats. Edna P. Schopper’s 1958 will is unusual only in that she provides $1,500 for the care of her pet dove, a species not often found in Probate Court. Julia G. Haley’s 1951 will provides for her two pet cats in a most unusual manner: “In the event of my death, there will be no one to care for them and as I would not want them to be turned out homeless upon the streets, it seems to me best to make some provision concerning their disposition. I do, therefore, give, will, devise and bequeath to my friend, Harry O. Porter, the sum of Four Hundred Dollars ($400.00) and request him, as soon after my death as possible, to visit my home and therein, in as humane and painless a way as advisable, put my pets to death and dispose of their remains in the cemetery provided for this purpose.”

Details, Details

Philip H. Goldsmith was only 61 when he succumbed to a heart attack in 1958. Mr. Goldsmith was the chairman of the board of the MacGregor Sports Products Company, and he certainly had some worldly goods to dispose of. His will, in essence, is fairly simple. He gave everything to his wife, with the remainder going to his daughter. However, it took 29 pages to say that, after Mr. Goldsmith outlined every single possible detail in baroque legalese. It is among the longest wills filed in the county.

The Generosity Of The Dead

William Bloom was a professional gambler. He gravitated to the Silver Slipper night club on Monmouth Street in Newport and apparently enjoyed the camaraderie. When he died in 1959, he identified bequests for “each waitress, each bartender, each porter, each shill, each dealer . . . the master of ceremonies, the doorman, and each person employed at the Silver Slipper, except showgirls.” He made a special gift to singer Bobby Linn to promote her career, plus allotments for various relatives. Problem was, Willaim Bloom’s will distributed more than $30,000, but he had less than $15,000 to his name when he died. Poor Probate Judge Chase M. Davies was left to sort out the mathematics.

Nuncupative Yet Valid

John N. Kinney wrote no will at all. A couple of days before he died in 1961, Mr. Kinney was visited by his brother and one of his sisters. He told them that another sister, Claire had visited him daily to make sure that he was fed and cared for and that he wanted her to inherit everything. The disinherited siblings appeared in court and swore to the statement made by their brother. This oral declaration, known as a nuncupative will, was accepted as valid by the court.

He Really Loved His Job

Charles A. Lackner was a teller at the Fifth Third Bank for 43, retiring in 1946. When he died in 1961, his former employer was surprised to discover that Charles had bequeathed $8,000 to the bank “in appreciation for the kindnesses shown by bank officers and employees.” Rather than keep the inheritance (How would a corporation book that?), Fifth Third created the Charles A. Lackner Fund at the Greater Cincinnati Foundation and added another $8,000 to sweeten the pot.

[lyricwritesprose]

Spider-Verse Fic: Do You Have Something To Tell Me?

On AO3

Summary: Jefferson puts the pieces together.

Contrary to what some people seemed to believe, Mrs. Davis raised no fools.  Once Jefferson finished the delicate operation of getting the Kingpin lowered by industrial crane (because hanging criminals over forty feet in the air was obnoxious enough, but Spider-Man had to go and do it with someone who outweighed a sofa) he had time to think.   Think about several things.

Continued under cut

Thing one: the new Spider-Man was a kid.  The fake-deep voice wasn’t fooling anyone.

Thing two: Spider-Man went out of his way to disguise his accent (also not fooling anyone), implying there was something that someone might recognize.

Thing three: Miles had known, without being told, that Aaron was dead.   There had been a small Spider-Man in the alley with Aaron, and Jefferson was intuitively certain that it was the same one who had fought the Kingpin.

Thing four: the writing on the note that Spider-Man left on the Kingpin looked familiar.  Maybe Jefferson didn’t pay enough attention to Miles’s art ambitions, but he had seen enough of those stickers to be somewhat familiar with the lettering style.

Thing five: Spider-Man had said, “I love you.”

Adding them together . . . came out in a crazy place, but Jefferson wasn’t willing to dismiss it just because it was crazy.  The whole week had been crazy.

“Do you have something to tell me?” he asked Miles at dinner, that weekend.

Miles looked startled and shifty, in a way people only manage when they’re desperately trying to look innocent.  “Um, no?”

“Are you sure?  Because that sounded like a question.”

“No—I mean, yes!  Yes, I’m sure.”

“All right.  But if you do want to tell me something, I’m here for you.  And I don’t just mean I’ll listen, I mean I’m here for you.  You understand?”

Miles gave him a fake salute and said, “That’s a copy,” in what was probably supposed to be a (bad) imitation of Jefferson himself.

He asked Spider-Man the same question, the next time he saw him.   Spider-Man had caught a jumper, and stuck around for the police to make it clear that the person was not a criminal, and not dangerous, despite the excessive level of webbing wrapped around him.  “I didn’t just want to leave a note,” Spider-Man concluded.  “He’s been through a lot, and honestly if I could punch his parents—“

“Don’t,” Jefferson said.  “And don’t tell me about it.  Stuff like this, there’s confidentiality to worry about.”  Although confidentiality of this sort was more Rio’s department than Jefferson’s.  “You may not wear a badge, but if you’re going to be out here doing this—and I’m still not comfortable with that—you have to make rules for yourself, and follow them.”  He took a deep breath.  “Do you have something to tell me?”

Spider-Man disappeared into thin air.

“Oh, come on!” Jefferson said.

All in all, it was five weeks—five weekends with Miles, several Spider-Man incidents that Jefferson wasn’t called to—before the thing came to a head.  In another one of those New York crises that made insurance adjusters into heavy drinkers.

Jefferson didn’t expect Spider-Man to come when he flagged him down, but he did.  “What’s the situation, Officer?”  Still fake adult voice, still fake accent.

“Special Containment is on its way,” Jefferson told him.  “You don’t have to go out there.”

“I’ll be fine, Officer.  Thank you for worrying about me.”

Everyone else was extremely busy with the perimeter, so Jefferson steered Spider-Man into an alley.  “What I mean,” he said, “is that I don’t want you to go out there.  God knows how, but the Lizard is twelve feet tall this time.”

“This is what I do,” Spider-Man said.  He jumped up onto the wall of the alley.  “I’ll see you in a minute.”

“Miles, I don’t want you out there with that thing!”

Spider-Man disappeared.

The air said, in a somewhat choked voice, “How did you—“

“I am not an idiot,” Jefferson said.  “Un-disappear yourself and come down here right now, young man, you are grounded.”

There was a short silence.

Then a small thump, and Spider-Man reappeared on the ground.  “Dad,” he said, in a small voice, “I’ve read Peter’s files.  The Lizard doesn’t want to be like this.  She’s just a person who made one really stupid decision and has to deal with this Jekyll and Hyde sh—thing ruining her life.  And your guys are setting up missile launchers.  They’re going to kill her.  An innocent woman who isn’t in control of any of this.  Are you really good with that?”

“Of course I’m not good with that!” Jefferson snapped, and made a conscious effort to soften his voice.  “But, Miles—“

“I can take her.”

“She’s throwing cars!”

“Yeah, and I can dodge them!  If I do this, nobody will have to die today, and nobody will have to kill anyone today.  And I can do this.  I promise I can.  Dad, trust me.”

Jefferson looked at him, at a loss.  He was so small.  He was just too small.

He was also Miles.  And he was brilliant.  And Jefferson had promised himself that he was going to work hard not to get in the way of that brilliance, and to help whenever he could, and— “If you think for a second that the fight isn’t going your way, you get out of there and leave it to us.  Understand?”

Miles hugged him quickly, then skittered up the wall.  “Thank you.  I love you.”

“And you’re telling your mother the minute we get—“

Spider-Man was gone.

Jefferson took a deep breath, and another.  They didn’t help much.  Then he went out and got back to work chasing off the idiots with the cellphone cameras.

The fight with the Lizard went more or less the way Miles had predicted.  The electricity thing—Spider-Man had nicknamed it his venom shock—didn’t work on the Lizard, but being kicked in the head repeatedly did.  Eventually she shrank back to an ordinary woman with an empty sleeve, and the PDNY moved in.

Jefferson spent most of the fight thinking of things he wanted to say to Miles.  Including you’re grounded and please be all right and all right, you’re not actually grounded, just stop giving me a heart attack.  But mostly he was trying to adjust to the reality, rather than just the idea, of his son having superpowers.  Capable of sticking to walls, or becoming invisible, or grabbing a twelve foot tall reptile by the tail and spinning her straight into the side of a building so hard that the facing cracked and tumbled down on top of her.

How did you teach someone with superpowers?  What guidance could Jefferson give him?  It was unfamiliar territory.

Rio took it better than Jefferson.  Or, at least, Rio didn’t get the shakes after the fight was done, which Jefferson had gone to great lengths to conceal from his fellow officers.  She did say some words that she ordered Miles to forget instantly.  And she hugged him, and she held onto him, and finally she went and got some of her old textbooks and thumped them down in front of him.

“You,” she said, “are going to learn anatomy.  And first aid.”

Miles blinked at her.  “I am?”

“You need to know where it’s safe to hit someone, and you need to know what to do if you find someone who’s badly hurt.  And,” she swallowed, “you need to know when you have to go to a hospital, and when it’s safe to come back here to me.”

“You are also,” Jefferson said, “going to learn exactly how police procedure works, and why it works like that.  The rules exist for a reason.  I won’t try to tell you that they’re perfect, or perfectly followed, but people have been working at this since long before you were born.”

Miles rolled his eyes, put his head back, and looked at the ceiling.  “Can I please just be grounded?”

“Not a chance.”

[shioritsumi]

Without a Clue J&H au/verse

I did a lot of thinking about the concept. Jekyll and Hyde, with Hyde as the genius doctor, and Jekyll as the hired actor. And I came up with something. 

May get a bit long so cut

Dr. Jekyll was a good man of good upbringing and solidly situated in the upper class. He had a good wife, and a good son. However....his son Henry was incredibly fragile. Though the boy was intelligent, he was so sensitive to sickness, he could almost never leave the house. If any servant anywhere in the house sneezed, he’d be down with a cold for a week. 

His heir’s health put an enormous amount of stress on Dr. Jekyll and the lord made some....questionable decisions in this state of mind. Such as taking up with a maid by the name of Hyde. The maid bore him a son, whom he of course immediately rejected. 

Not rejecting the boy, Edward by name, was Henry Jekyll, and his mother Sarah. They welcomed the new son, and Henry was overjoyed to have a baby brother. But as Edward grew older and closer to his brother, Henry’s health declined rapidly, and while Edward was still young his brother succumbed to his illness at last. Dr. Jekyll was left with only one son, a bastard who he would really prefer to not admit he even had. 

Edward picked up Henry’s studies,in hopes of becoming a doctor, to cure others of the illnesses his brother suffered from. Edward Hyde, still as unrecognized as ever, attended college classes under the guise of taking notes for his ill brother Henry who was actually enrolled. 

For years, Edward only went into the daylight as the errand boy or messenger or assistant/servant of his brother, a man who had been dead for years. (The ‘good doctor Jekyll’ was quite in a sad state following his son’s death and refused to file an official death certificate, posing that his son was alive and merely convalescing at home.) He only ever went out as himself at night, the only escape from his sad sorry life as someone else. 

And then one night, he saw a group of actors out at the pub and one of them bore the most stunning resemblance to....his brother? A late night slip and the actor being a genuinely nice guy led to a private conversation where Edward brought up his newly hatched scheme. 

The actor, Reginald Mirth, bore a striking resemblence to the deceased Henry Jekyll, whom no one had seen during the daytime in years and whose messages and business were carried out by his assistant/servant Edward Hyde. “Don’t you see?! We can HELP people! I can write the formulae and the speeches, and you can meet with people! I can ESCAPE!”

Reginald feels like Edward’s a bit manic but he can’t turn down a regular position, not to mention a NICE home and regular meals and beds and drink and the opportunity to travel and meet lords and ladies of high nobility and influence?

-at this point Edward Hyde is mostly nocturnal, and tends to sleep during the day. He used to go out during the day for ‘Henry’s’ businesses, but Reginald respects that Edward needs rest. -Sarah Jekyll is still alive, but her husband is not. His grief over his son’s death eventually drove him mad and he was committed to Bethlam Hospital where he later died. Technically, the home and wealth and everything were inherited by Henry Jekyll, who was never filed as having died. -one concern of Edward’s is that, in order to properly live his life, he needs to eventually get a will written up for Henry that says all his property be passed to Hyde. Except the first time he had Reginald try to write this up, the lawyer Utterson got....suspicious. But the only thing worse than a suspicious will is not having one at all when Edward and Reginald decide to end their farce.  -Reginald is an actor, but to be honest...he was never a terribly well known one. His talent shone in adlib, and anything to do with fight scenes. Even the other actors he was drinking with the night he met Edward probably don’t remember much about him.  -To be honest, the only thing anyone ever remembers about Reginald on a regular basis is that he has a ‘happy’ family name. Mirth. That stands out to them, but nothing about him ever did. He drank, like most actors. He fought, like most East Enders. He had a good heart under his rough exterior, like most men who weren’t monsters.  -Reginald’s big on nicknames. Much as it irritates Edward, Reginald regularly calls him Ed or Eddie.  -Sarah Jekyll LOVES Reginald. It’s like she just gained a new son! She’s so happy for her family. And maybe Edward isn’t HER son, but she still considers him her son. She has two boys again and she loves them both dearly even if they’re both dumbasses. (and believe me, there are) 

-HJ7 was a formula Henry was tinkering with before his death, a possible way to cure him of his illness. It was meant to ‘purge his body of all evils’, and Edward STILL isn’t sure what this means. He’s read his brother’s notes backwards and forwards, and during his later years he got...well, incredibly philosophical. So he can’t for the life of him tell if this is to purge bad habits from him, split his brain, or just literally purge the body of impurities like toxins and poisons and stuff and he just referred to them as ‘evils’. Sometimes the inexact terms written by a dying med student in the middle of a fever are just THE WORST.

Edward worries someone might steal it assuming it does something more than it probably does. But as the story opens, and for a while yet still, Edward has no idea what HJ7 would actually do if someone made it. Someone out there probably assumes it turns Jekyll into Hyde and back since Jekyll’s out during the day and then Hyde’s out at night. And honestly this mistake scares Edward. 

[knotfodder]

name: Hyde N. Plainsight nicknames: Shifty (by some) dob. age: unavailable (??) gender: Male pronouns: (he/him/his) secondary gender: Both? occupation: drifter species: shape shifter fc: Charlie Hunnam

+observant, charming, adaptable+ -manipulative, secretive, stealthy-

[knotfodder]

-