#i'm indulging myself with this one

[overdevelopedglasses]

Tojoctober Day 4 - Claws

(I became such a Strange Shape)

Alt title is from “Wilson (Expensive Mistakes)” by Fall Out Boy

In writing stuff for Tojoctober, I found out that I love writing scenes from different character's perspectives. There's not too many of them, but here's the first! Featuring the best bean from Yakuza 0, Tachibana :)

(Yakuza 0 Spoilers for Chapter 14)

—-------------------------

Tetsu Tachibana and his ally Kazuma Kiryu are on the run from the Dojima family. As key players in the Empty Lot conflict, targets are painted on both of their backs, and seemingly nowhere is safe. However, if they can stay alive for a little longer, Tachibana and his allies will win.

And that’s all the motivation he needs.

The pair ascend the stairs out of the underground they occupy into the little patch of land that is Little Asia. They glance around for a moment, before Tachibana turns to the other man.

"I cannot stay in Little Asia any longer. Kiryu-san, let us hurry to West Park."

"To where Makoto is?" Kiryu asks, making Tachibana's heart jump. His sister.

"So long as Dojima is after the Empty Lot… Nowhere is safe for her. The only way is to hurry and process the paperwork for her to release ownership."

Kiryu nods, understanding the situation, and the two men begin to walk out of this sector of Kamurocho.

Before they can leave, Tachibana senses danger. They shouldn't go this way. He halts his movement.

"What is it?" Kiryu asks, confused.

Tachibana knows this sensation crawling down his spine. It's all too familiar.

"We're being watched," he says under his breath. 

"What?"

The two men glance around the space, and Tachibana sees him. A man, similar to him, but much more sinister in nature. Tachibana opens his mouth to shout, but it's too late. The man fires his silenced pistol and the bullet lodges into Kiryu's shoulder.

Kiryu grunts and winces, and a second bullet goes into his thigh. Another cry of pain echoes from him as he falls to the ground. Tachibana, panic and concern welling within him, runs to Kiryu's side.

"Kiryu-san!" He helps Kiryu to his feet, before ushering him to some cover. Tachibana still feels the stare of the man on the rooftops. He's pretty certain of his identity, and perhaps who he works for. While maneuvering Kiryu in front of him, Tachibana registers the sounds of metal straining and clanging against buildings: the man, or rather, the assassin, is headed towards them, rapidly. Who knows what that man has with him, besides a gun. Knives? Claws? Bazookas?

Ok, maybe not that last one.

Tachibana rests Kiryu on one of the steps. He attempts to ascend the stairs and glance out into the open, but is met with several bullets about to blow his head off.

Not a good idea. 

Instead, he shifts his focus to Kiryu, grabbing his hand to get his attention. "There is no worse adversary." 

"You know him?" Kiryu asks through heavy breaths.

He hears the assassin start to approach. Not much time. Which meant…

Tachibana lets go of Kiryu's hand. He stares down the hall, trying to get his wounded friend out of his vision.

"I saw him once, in the mainland mafia. He is the most effective hitman I am aware of. His name is… Lao Gui." Tachibana raises his voice slightly, and the man, now confirmed to be Lao Gui, stops in place. 

A bit of time bought.

"Lao Gui?" Kiryu asks, in confusion.

"The murder of the Empty Lot appeared amateur to such a perfect extent the police focused entirely on you. That takes a professional." Tachibana realizes something, a bell going off in his head. A possibility, definitely. "For Lao Gui, it would be simple."

"What's that mean?" It's clear to Tachibana that Kiryu's mind was too racked with pain to process thoughts beyond their base level. 

"If an assassin of his caliber is working for the Dojima Family, it's almost certain he's the one behind the killing you were framed for."

Kiryu looks at him with a pained expression.

[Come out, Tachibana.]

Tachibana's ears perk up, the second language and third voice piercing his mind.

[I was ordered to take you, not kill you.]

Take me? Tachibana thought. What the hell was the plan? Torture? Worse?

"What's he saying?"

Right, Kiryu doesn't speak Chinese.

"His aim is to capture me alive." Tachibana focuses his thousand yard stare to Kiryu's wound on his shoulder, then his leg. He's in no shape to fend off Lao Gui, and there's no way Tachibana could do it without getting a claw to the skull.

"Kiryu-san." Tachibana starts, a pit of dread forming in his stomach. "In our current condition, we cannot hope to run from Lao Gui, let alone fight. However…" 

Tachibana picks up a piece of shattered glass. Getting a glance of his face, Tachibana is a bit startled on how at peace he looks. Especially with what he's about to do. 

"You should be able to escape alone."

Tachibana looks at Kiryu, his pained expression mixing with surprise. The sight almost makes Tachibana eat his words.

"Please, take care of my sister."

He takes one last look at his most steadfast ally, and turns to walk back into the open, and face his destiny.

"Tachibana, don't!" Kiryu's cries only hurt Tachibana's heart, as he comes face to face with Lao Gui. 

He takes the piece of glass that he grabbed, and raises it to his neck. This wasn't his first rodeo, if running around with Oda taught him anything.

[Behave yourself, and I will stay alive for you.] Tachibana speaks in his native language.

[The other man is not in my contract. He is nothing to me]. Lao Gui responds.

He means something to me. Tachibana thinks, but knows that any back-talk would result in a claw wound. Would rather not feel that sensation today.

He gestures his head to walk away from this place, and proceeds to walk out of Little Asia. Lao Gui follows right behind him.

Tachibana hears those claws unsheath as he also hears movement from the stairwell. It's those muffled movements that claw at his heart, but hope also swells with it.

Kiryu will be okay.

Kiryu will find a way to save him.

And soon, Tachibana will see his sister.

[mosaickiwi]

Home Away From

I love hopeless agony almost as much as tooth rotting fluff??

Post-kidnapping Angel adjusting (badly) to the new normal.

might do a part 2 where it gets even worse idk ← my last words before i get thrown out of the plane

Kidnapping, imprisonment, codependency, etc.

proceed with caution

Eyes straight forward, you had to keep yourself occupied fiddling with the edge of a couch cushion. Every single one had a few loose threads from how often you worried away at them. 

Twelve… thirteen… fourteen neatly aligned book spines on the lowest shelf behind the dark haired man kneeling in front of you. A full, hardcover collection of your favorite webcomic, each book signed and dedicated to you. Maybe you'd force yourself to read them all again. For the third time since your arrival.

"Angel."

It was hard to keep track of how long you'd been here—in this house far removed from Corland Bay, with everything you ever wanted in a forever home. All those wild, fantasy-ridden dreams you joked about with Ren, and then [REDACTED], were true now.

And yet your supposed fiancé carried you over the threshold of that forever home kicking and screaming. 

"Still not talking?"

His hand reached for yours, fingers gently lacing between your own before you eventually pulled away. You saw their real reaction in the corner of your vision. By now, you knew him as obsessively as he knew you—there wasn't much he could hide anymore. The pain in his blue eyes lingered for too long this time.

It hurt. You hated to see that look on his face. But you hated being trapped here so much more than that. Why couldn't he understand?

Realistically, a silent treatment would get you nowhere. A few hours had turned to days, then weeks, and he was still soft-spoken and doting towards you. There was hardly a difference in the man you proposed to, and the one that bolted the front door shut from the outside on the few occasions they left for supplies.

You were too used to domestic life, too docile compared to that first day—sometimes you'd lose yourself and forget you were a prisoner. All your old hobbies still occupied your days while he sat nearby, and it just felt natural to include the only person you ever saw. To call his name and read a passage from a book aloud for him to laugh, or casually scoot closer to him for warmth during a movie.

Those moments when you forgot felt like they could slot in between all your old memories with ease.

"I'm sorry, love. I only wanted t'keep you safe," he whispered.

His breath almost tickled your legs, followed by the feel of his forehead resting against them. The urge to brush a hand through their hair—an innocent gesture you did at least daily back home—hurt just as much to ignore.

Were it not for their words of apology, even now could've been another memory. Who could fault you for falling into habits of comfort with the one who lived for you, and you alone?

The silent treatment was the best you could do.

💜🖤💜🖤💜🖤

Tired and disoriented, you woke up alone in your bedroom. The pink haired plushie you normally cuddled had disappeared somewhere, probably tossed to a corner of the room in your fitful sleep. Your usual replacement for a space heater was nowhere to be found, either.

Had he stayed up late? You called their name. "Ren?"

A muted commotion in the hallway outside, then the door creaked open. "Angel?" your beloved hacker answered back cautiously.

"Are you coming to bed?"

There was no response for a long moment. But soon enough, his familiar footsteps sounded against the floor.

You sat up and pulled the blanket to the side for them. As he settled in, you cuddled close, resting one arm over their chest while your head laid in its rightful place atop his shoulder. You managed to lean up and find their lips for a quick kiss before closing your eyes.

Though you couldn't see his face, you imagined the blush that painted his cheeks at every piece of affection you gave. With the thought fresh in your mind, you drifted off.

💜🖤💜🖤💜🖤

Hours later you woke again, your rest this time far more peaceful in their embrace. A pitiful, lazy groan left you as you stretched, then opened your eyes to greet your partner.

[REDACTED] was silently looking down at you, propped up on one arm. 

You reached up to cup his cheek and smiled at him. He leaned into your touch like always, but their usual loving gaze was laced with hesitation. As if waiting for something. Anxious of what could bother him, your hand followed the line of his jaw down to their neck, past the tattooed heart of your name, and settled on a piece of jewelry. 

Was that correct? It felt off. A long moment passed as you fiddled with it, trying to figure out what was so out of place about that silver chain, until it hit you.

The golden ring was back on his necklace, instead of on your finger where it belonged. Where it used to belong.

Weeks, or maybe even months ago, when they kept you in a careful hold while locking the bedroom door behind them—you'd thrown that ring in his face the second he let you go. 

For all the scratches and bite marks you'd put on his arm, tearing at skin that was already long scarred, he hadn't shown a hint of worry. Not until they bent down to get the ring that hit their chest and clattered to the floor.

It was the same worried face you saw now.

Your hand stilled, and before you could even whisper the words you wanted to yell, he slipped from the bed to give you space. The door clicked shut behind them to trap you in with your thoughts.

How could you be so stupid? Weak? They didn't have to try at all to wear you down; you did it all on your own. He tore you away from friends and family, yet here you were, forgetting yourself to play house with him. Then you took it a step further and let him sleep in your bed.

Nails dug into the pillow under your head, but instead of throwing it you squeezed it tight to your chest. You bit your lip to hold back the tears, glaring down at the empty spot on your ring finger that had only now begun to match the skin around it.

Another foolish dream to pile with all the others.

As much as you wanted to hope they would see reason one day and bring you back home to make things right—a thought far past irrational by now—you had to mourn the life taken from you.

You knew them, you knew them. Always seeking your favor so quickly that any argument quelled before it had a chance to begin, but stubborn when he felt it necessary.

If the first answer was a no… the next one and the next one wouldn't change. You should've accepted it the second he locked the door.

Ren was the only person you'd ever see again.

[reksink]

Requested Works from a Humble Swan 💚

[screwdriver-and-souffle]

[nerdinsandals]

Life's been a bit exhausting lately so here's my favorite Pokémon and my favorite human 💗💚

[inkovert]

I don't make the rules but - if you don't get excited at the thought of going back and re-reading the story you wrote then you're writing the wrong story.

You are your first and most important reader.

[deliriuxe]

...Yeah, I'd whore myself up for him like this. Next question.

[mrsoharaa]

He watches you through the screens of his hovering illuminating monitors. Steady irises of piercing crimson following every motion you would make. Pupils linger onto your swift figure swinging and climbing from building to building in your own dimension.

Good, nothing too troublesome for the night.

Everything seemed calm and collected. Peaceful, even.

Miguel strolls his broaden shoulders to ease the tightening ache collecting amongst his thick muscles. Swearing lightly under his breath as he feels the tension in the slant of his shoulders pinch with every notion.

He ignores the nagging ache for a moment, eyes drifting back onto the glowing screens floating before him. Studies you intently, watching you freely, comfortably sit on the ledge of the highest building in your city.

Watches you carefully remove your mask from your face, allowing the flowy, wavy tresses of umber to dance with the gentle wind. Shaking your head softly as you allowed the remnants of your hair to cascade down to the nightly breeze. Some strands trickling over the slant of your right shoulder, majority of it curtaining down to the midst of your back.

Something deep within Miguels chest swelled at the natural sight.

Shorten breaths caught at the back of his throat, as his leering eyes continued to bask in the calming wonderment of your natural beauty through his luminous screens.

What was this? Why was he feeling like...this?

He hated it, and yet...welcomed it with open invitation.

Lulling in closer towards your radiant, pliant expression. Noting the seamless act of your slim fingers carefully raking through your hair, bringing him such...unwarranted feelings to stir in the midst of his stomach and heart.

"Peeping on the new recruit, eh Miguel?~" Lyla popped up upon his left shoulder, swiftly, hastily discarding the screen with your presence on it.

"Lyla...I thought I told you to shut down an hour ago" he feigns a fake cough, avoiding eye contact with his grinning, buzzing AI.

"Mm, you diddd, but there was something I had to check up on first! and I'm kinda glad I didn't shut down" she eggs on, he groans in irritation, already knowing what she was forming to say.

"Don't say I— youuuu, were checking her out, weren't you Miggy?" Lyla spurs on, smirking from ear to ear as she leans against his face.

"No, I wasn't. I was just checking to see if anything was out of...sorts" he flicks and pinches his languid fingers to bring up other luminous screens.

"Mm! right 'sorts' as in...?" she snides with perched brows.

"D-Danger, Lyla, what else?" he groans in growing agitation, fluster and annoyance seeping into his thicken skin.

"Just checking boss man!" she chirps, he rolls his eyes.

"Oh, before I actually do shut down Migs! maybe, you should, I don't know...try to actually have a conversation with her...say hi or something, don't creep on her" she giggles lightly, noting the gradual contemplation immerse upon his stoic face.

And without a spare of a second, Lyla had shut down.

Leaving a contemplating Miguel to his pondering thoughts, his softened eyes gleaming back up to meet with the reopened screen of your serene presence. Still sitting comfortably on the ledge of the building you were gazing over. He glances down at his watch, giving it a thought over.

It was late in the night...would you even care for company at this time?

Would you care...for his company?

Would he mind the company?

Thoughts continued to weigh at his restless mind, an extracted claw tapping away at the suited material of his crossed forearm.

He inhales a breath and exhales heavily at the pestering contemplation rambling through his head.

Finally, having enough with the inconsistent back and forth debating...he decides to coordinate directly to your exact location in your dimension. Meeting you at the peak of the buildings rooftop, the gentle cool breeze welcoming his hefty presence as he steps through the opening buzzing portal.

The sound of the familiar whirling of a portal captures your attention, your head twirls around to see the familiar built of the big man, himself, waltzing through the brighten gateway. His mask dissipating from his face as he studies around your vicinity gracefully, cautiously. Purposely, avoiding to linger on to your pretty face.

"Miguel, right?!" the sound of your soft voice swivels through his stocky being, making it that much harder for him to avoid contact with you.

Because once he does...he doesn't believe he will be able to pry away from your transcending beauty.

[tamberrio]

Do you guys see my vision do you

Nerdy thoughts about characters and the world in the au under the cut (Slight spoilers for plot of both BSD and Reverse:1999 I guess?)

ok ok so:

Dazai is the Time Keeper and works at the St. Pavlov Foundation. The ADA would basically be the small branch of the Foundation that Vertin oversees in the actual story. To that end, I can snag a couple character rolls for the BSD characters.

Dazai is Vertin, obviously. He was just as rebellious as a kid as she was, and made friends with the outside world (Oda) only to watch them die to the storm. So now the Foundation makes him go to the different time periods and collect data on why he and his suitcase are immune. Since I know Vertin is like 16 in the game, I thought I should age everyone down just slightly to fit that teenagers-doing-dangerous-things-that-should-be-left-to-adults vibe, so now he is 18 when he finds Atsushi, who is 14.

Kunikida would probably play a Sonnetto role, being the studious type who tries to follow all the rules and make sure the Time Keeper stays on track.

Yosano would probably be best suited as a Doctor in the Foundation but is saved strictly for the ADA’s branch. Probably a Medicine Pocket type of character? I actually have a draft of her where I take heavy inspiration from X’s butterfly scarf thing because thematically I think it’s perfect. I don’t know if she would exactly fit Mesmer Jr.’s role, since it includes a betrayal against Vertin along with Dubious medical practices within her family. Although the dubious medical practices thing could fit well, I don’t think the betrayal really suits her character in that regard.

Ranpo wouldn’t be an arcanist, but we have actual human characters in the story who are playable (like Ezra is human I believe), so he could use his deduction skills that way. They’d probably try to keep him away from the front lines when possible, so as not to risk him if the storm appears.

Thematically, Atsushi would be Regulus, since she’s the first to be found by Vertin in the actual story. Otherwise, Atsushi would be completely different in terms of backstory. It’s hard to tell in these sketches, but I tried to give him a coat similar to Regulus but not recognizable as such. He’d be a Beast Aflatus, obviously. Arcanists are very much discriminated against in the actual story, so that would fit really well with him. I figured Atsushi could be immune to the storm too, since his tiger has the power to cut through abilities, similar to how Dazai can nullify them.

Ango would be Madam Z, because of his strenuous relationship with the Time Keeper due to past betrayals, and his want to keep the Time Keeper out of harms way. Mori could be his direct supervisor for a time, and Ango can be complicit in the “trap” made for Dazai to get him to be more agreeable. He’d help reduce the influence the Foundation has on the Time Keeper’s decisions. Fukuzawa could be good for this role of “overlooking the team” as well.

As for the Foundation itself, I think it would be a mix of the government and the port mafia, while having Manus Vindictae be the Decay of Angels/Rats (Fyodor would make a really good villain in that regard). Although it’s hard to picture some of the port mafia members working at the Foundation, I can still pick and choose who goes where.

Every other character probably wouldn’t have a direct comparison, but that’s what I have so far. This is probably WAY easier to follow if you know the plot of Reverse: 1999 but I’ll come up with a more comprehensive doc later.

[t3chborb]

I'm one year older today, so I figured I gotta wrap a present or two~

.

..

...

... Wait...

... I got it backwards, didn't I...

... I'm supposed to be... uhh... the one opening gifts today...

... Oh, how incredibly silly of me...

Welp, I'm sure Ramattra doesn't mind~

[hyakunana]

“How would Exo even kiss?” asked a Braytech Exoscience engineer, probably

Happy Crimson Day for my fav girl friends 8D — @d2artevents

[gingermintpepper]

🌈 or 🌥️ (or both if you're feeling it)

EHEHE thank you very much for the ask! Gonna mix both prompts and give something soft with my favourite dialogue of this piece (and it's not even a wip actually, this is just a completed bit of writing I have on hand that I'm not really planning on doing anything with) which asks the question I'm pretty sure only I have asked: what if Apollo was the one to tell Heracles that he had to head to the Underworld after he'd lost Hylas during the Argo Expedition (also he consoles him a little).

"It'll never get easier, will it? This life."

Phoebus Apollo doesn't answer him. Before, Heracles would've blamed it on ego, the vanity of the gods who think themselves so much better than the mortals they yank about with their power. Now, Heracles thinks he's just a figment of his imagination, another twisted trick brought on by that bitch of the Heavens. The silence stretches on and on, only the sound of his digging and the quiet rustle of fabric fills the space between them. Were Hylas still here, he'd happily fill this stale air, nattering on and on about herbs or the colour of the fish in the lake, or the beauty of the stars between the treetops. Now, the silence is oppressive. Dense. Like the weight of water pushing all the air from his lungs.

Heracles quickly takes the bundle of Hylas' meagre things and throws it into the hole. Best not to dwell on it. Especially not when an Olympian was right beside him. (Maybe it's a good thing that this illusion is so placid. Gives him space to breathe. To think.)

He spits, picks up the flint. "Can't answer that one either? How about an easier question then," the sparks catch on the edge of Hylas' silk belt, quickly eating up the precious gift. Hylas only got to wear it once when they'd celebrated the night before the Argo set sail. He'd wanted to bring it home for his mother. "Was I also cursed to be alone for the rest of my life? It's not enough that she took my family, she's going to take everyone that treats me well too?"

Phoebus Apollo remains silent, fire turning his body warm gold. Heracles clicks his tongue, anger mounting. First Megara then Pholus and now Hylas. Man, woman, beast, it didn't matter at all, did it? All would die if they loved him. Everything would melt away like ash on his tongue and she would keep him alive just to see him squirm.

"Don't just sit there fiddling with your cloth damn it, answer me!"

Phoebus Apollo looks up then. Eyes so gold they seem to burn their own colour, calm brow, stern lips. This wasn't the playful god who refused to let him take his sister's hind without proving his worth, nor was it the distant prophet outlining the sentence for his crimes. This was someone, something else entirely and Heracles can only swallow his tongue in the face of it.

"Come," he beckons with the slightest tilt of his chin, "sit here." Heracles does. "You ask difficult questions. Ones I have no intention of answering." Slender fingers do not falter in their sewing. Heracles watches all the fine bracelets and rings jostle only slightly as the god makes his stitches. "For that, I must apologise."

Heracles snorts, dismissive and looks out into Hylas' fire, "You lot have never cared to inconvenience me before. What is one more disappointment to add to pile?"

A grim smile dances at the edge of his painted lips, "What, indeed."

"If you aren't here to answer my prayers, then you must have another errand for me." And doesn't that just make his blood boil? Even now, when Hylas' pyre has not yet burnt out, the gods still demand more from him, still drive him harder. He digs his nails into the tooth of the rock they share, hopes it is enough to keep him from laying hands on his divine slave-driver's throat and ripping it right out. "Make it quick. Even you must understand the rules of mourning."

Phoebus Apollo's smile widens. He ties off his thread and cuts the excess length with the side of his fingernail. "On the contrary, I've come bearing a gift." Unfurling the length of cloth reveals a gorgeous chamlys, etchings like constellations dotting its dark length and shimmering even in the firelight. "A gift and a word of warning"

Heracles swallows thickly, such rich cloth would surely need to be hidden from his cousins. "If you think a fancy cloak is enough to gloss everything over -"

A laugh, soft and musical. Lighter than Hylas' chuckles, sweeter even than Megara's hidden giggles. How dangerous. How lovely. "Alcides, be calm. I have nothing to hide and there is nothing you could possibly give to me. You already have my gratitude for not harming my offspring, it would please me greatly if you also accepted my boon."

"The cloth is hexed?" It feels no different from a usual chamlys, maybe just a bit softer. Phoebus Apollo laughs again, richer this time so that it resonates in the very base of Heracles' bones and sends little electric sparks shooting all across his body.

"Indeed. It will keep you hidden from the eyes of the Lord and Lady of the Underworld. Do take it with you when next you set foot in their kingdom."

A terrible chill slithers down his back. Hylas' fire pops. "What's the meaning of this?" And Heracles forgets himself, digs his hands into the lush fabric of the god's chiton and wrests him close, "You think it's funny delivering my funeral gown now? When Hylas' body hasn't even cooled?"

Phoebus Apollo hums, brilliant eyes gazing calmly up at him, "I think it should be a great boon if ever your spirit wishes to wander in the great fields of Asphodel should you make the trip."

[nikothebookdragon]

to anyone not feeling the "christmas spirit" or any kind of cheer in fact, I'm sending you much love. we may be strangers behind screens but in spirit we are holding hands and getting through this together <3

[kaizokunoyume]

Drawing Askeladd once a day until Christmas | December 24th

Merry Christmas 🎁🎄

[silusvesuius]

this tree from my new drawing looking goated afffffff 👑👑

[mortuarywriting]

if i can be petty in your askbox? that lil video of konig manspreading just made me gag. you know that man already smells like a roll of coins on a good day, but his ball smell wafting out? no wonder the dude covers his fucking nose -391780

Look I'm the LAST person to discourage pettiness in this chili's. This is a petty welcome zone.

I will, however, make it worse 'cause like. Man's also got post-mission smell which has to be appalling. Being in an enclosed space after that just feels. Not Ideal at most polite. Walk my happy ass back to base at worst. Keep a bottle of febreze and spray him liberally before letting him on at funniest.