qismet

[qismet]

ayame coming back soon so im trying my hand at some diff types of edits to rly get the sort of horror vibe

[qismet]

the sound of satoru's voice hadn't offered the relief he thought he'd wanted. the comfort he thought it might. which was good, he supposed, because it meant that some part of him knew he didn't deserve it, was no longer entitled to peace in its own right. the void within howled, empty and disappointed he hadn't followed their orders, though even amidst the mess of his own undoing, the corners of lips twitched, wanting to smile at the normalcy of it all, the rustling of the bag on the other line and the nostalgia of his offering, that torn part of him trying desperately trying to reconcile with the harsh truth that it was something that would likely never return to him --- something that abandoned him long ago.

his footsteps fell just shy of the threshold of the room the two girls had been held within, breaths quiet on the other line as suguru leaned against the wall, head tipped back to stare at the ceiling. he could have sworn he'd said something in reply, but the silence stretched too long than what would have been considered habitual between them. heart hammering, his chest tightened at the ease in which satoru had thought of him. i thought we could celebrate. what a joke. as if there was anything worth celebrating, anymore. their numbers had dwindled to four, loss hung heavy and loud. as if prompting himself to reply, he shook his head. “ uh, sorry ... got stuck on a development, ” it came out quieter than he'd wanted, throat clearing and voice steeling, still unsure of what to say, what lie to spin, what line to throw to, if he'd take to any of them at all. he'd just complain he was tired. “ gonna be here a while. ” a glance beyond the door, to the car he should have left in an hour ago. “ some kids got caught up, i'm sending them back with daiji. do me a favour ... can you make sure shōko seeks them ? ” / @sarcolite

another case, another cursed spirit tackled with practiced ease. it was a task that came as naturally to him at this point as it did to breathe, as it did to tie his shoes or whatever mundane habit had placed itself in his daily routine. at this point, it had all started to blur until he hardly had to think about what he was doing. muscle memory that followed his movements, all natural instinct. he could dare to call it a game he'd play, rather than his job. at least, that was what he needed to do to bear the weight of the elders breathing down his neck for his very existence. reverse cursed technique, that raw energy was still coursing through his veins, and he was still riding the high of his epiphany. would it ever peak like such ? he would chase it. there was a pep to his step when he strolled through the corridors of the school, two small bags of snacks in his hands — both sweet and savory, he'd always remembered to bring options. not everyone preferred the sweetness.

satoru nearly ignored the call coming through his end until he spotted the familiar contact name and photo, lips quirking, face brightening. he immediately adjusted so that one hand held the bags, phone up to his ear with the other. “ yooo, suguru ! ” it was routine for this, as well. that habitual joy in his voice. “ was just about to start lookin' for you, got done taking down a pesky little thing today so i thought we could celebrate with some eats. that place we used to go to all the time. ” shoko had been busy with her training, otherwise he'd dragged her alongside as well. “ where're you at ? they're gettin' cold. ”

[qismet]

the barons, the dealers, all of them mel had dealt with, exchanged favours with for the proposed progress of both of their cities. sly girl, she'd never intended to elevate them beyond their meagre standings, but that she'd left her own favours to be counted until now stands to be one of her better, smarter investments that money couldn't buy. golden markings she wears with a certain dignity for their existence in showing her all that her birthright holds, love and power, arms open and hooded shawl kept draped across her shoulders, a display of power, a warning to those who might try and test her. sevika's laugh twitches at the corners of her lips again, body twisting in her direction. she understands the sentiment, though keeping herself shadowed has never been something mel has mastered, too medarda to see it through, too loud in her blood, too headstrong to allow herself to be ignored.

she taps her nails against the glass in thought, before sliding it across to her like sevika hadn't offered it herself. gold shimmers with it, catches the light when she moves. “ getting what i want has never been a problem, councillor. ” not here, when her blood and riches are famed for what they can offer her, what they can offer others. and the title testing, she finds it suits her but she's more than that. more than what it means to have been given it, more than what it means to own it. “ but after the war so many have gone to ground. ” some with noxian possessions pilfered from the battle-grounds, picked from deceased soldiers, soldiers themselves and weapons such that their existence in piltover is forbidden for its future betterment. accessing their next moves, likely another planned attack whilst the governing body is weakened and still finding its feet. “ and i know that you know where i might find them. ”

sevika laughs, raspy, low in her throat. “ i only go up when i have to. ” if it were up to her, she'd spend all her days in the undercity. it just—isn't. given the chance to pretend she didn't exist because they didn't have to look at her face, she knows the council would write her off, expel her from the seat at the table they have trouble accepting belongs to her. she swallows a mouthful from her glass as mel divulges why she's here, studying the long streaks of gold running up and down her arms, the way they crawl up her neck, pull attention from the finer details of her face to the way they shimmer, almost... pulsing, alive. mel's changed. they all have. it's just one thing to know it, and another to look that change right in the eye. running her tongue along her teeth, she tries her hand at political delicacy and misses by about a mile: “ what, the barons? the dealers? ” they're still out there, she knows, but they're smart enough to stick to the shadows, nowadays. “ i'm done with my point-and-shoot days, medarda. if people owe you... you shouldn't have any trouble getting it, yourself. ”

[qismet]

[qismet]

seiko is so cool why aren't they real ....

[qismet]

oh u can like replies/comments on posts now

[qismet]

i say it once i say it again the fact that gojō and getō's fates are so inexplicably intertwined that even after death, rather than being laid to rest they are puppeted and used singularly for their power, their bodies are no longer their own and their final physical acts are not of their own will

[qismet]

BLUE EYE SAMURAI (2023)

I never said I was a samurai. You did. I am on the path of revenge. There's no place on it for love or friendship or weakness. Now I have a man to kill.

[qismet]

▍ ️♯RE: MIZU. FEATURING . . . TOKUNOBU ITO AKEMI ⤻ @sarcolite.

mizu likens bargaining to weakness and very rarely aims to stoop to such lows. buying off guards with coin or a night in one of the yoshiwaras is one thing, but if they cannot get what they want through an exchange of words or of metal clashing, there is very little point in pursuing it. allowing akemi's company aboard this ship is an expensive and dangerous exchange of favours. abetting her escape from japan's ever-closing walls is a death sentence they didn't sign up for, but they're nobody to deny her the freedom she chooses, nobody to make such decisions for her again. she said as much, blunt and all too defiant to reason, the only words spoken without the courtesy of politeness.

the rest of the crew have been advised of the path mizu aims to travel though are not knowledgeable like akemi, of the meaning of the monster in the underbelly of the ship, the slaughter mizu intends to inflict upon foreign soil so as their father did to theirs. foreign soil where everything will be different, stakes raised, unknown waters that much more treacherous. there are details only shared between the pair of them, mizu and akemi. former princess and wife, former son and samurai. akemi, though mizu doesn't know who she is with her plain clothes and the contrasting wife teeth, who hauls rope to their left with hands so delicate that her palms are scratched red, raw and angry at the labour she's never had to endure.

mizu thinks they should do the job themselves. stops from walking forward to take charge with a huff if only that akemi needs to learn to do it herself or give up trying, whine and cry about the unfairness of it all and then go home. go wherever she pleases, so long as it's far away. but there's not a fucking chance, and they know it. watches the deck of the ship to make sure they're alone and then speaks, hushed. they are not friends, and the crew procured are not their allies, just bodies, just a means to an end that cannot be privy to such secrecy that exists between the two of them. “ there's still time for you to decide you don't want to do this. ” still enough time for mizu to throw her back over walls they helped her climb over in escape. “ we don't embark until dawn, that's enough time for you to come to your senses and grovel at your husband's feet for his family to take you back. ” that in their tone speaks that they wouldn't be surprised. “ say it was grief, fear of edo burning again in your sleep. you still have that choice. ”

[qismet]

▍ ️♯RE: MIZU. FEATURING . . . TAIGEN ⤻ @sarcolite.

london is different. mizu's shades of blue mix with the sea that swims in england’s towns and cities, but wit and steel do not get them past gates that they'd have sliced through on home soil. here it is everything else that they cannot hide, clothes and skin, the barrier of language, one hand trained to hover on the hilt of a blade that is not welcomed, more a public spectacle than anything to be cautiously avoided and feared. london exists as it always has, mizu thinks, built on the stones of smells and sights of cultures not its own. it’s me. i am the difference.

the inns are dirtier than they'd care to think about, blankets itchy, fires foul smelling, people more so. food hardly edible. mere weeks have passed since their ship docked, and fowler sits across from them bound to a bedpost with four eyes trained on them, a hired mercenary from the docks of kyōto and mizu, who rarely sleeps when the enemy exists only meters from their feet, cruel and crafty. that blissful, relaxed look in his eyes most likely a product of imagining their death a thousand times over, by his own hands, by the paid hands of another, by a fatal mistake of their own doing.

chance is not a thing they can afford, so when a rattle from the rooftop scrapes and a slate falls to the ground with a crack, mizu makes to strike. the room they chose makes for a perfect escape, gracefully manoeuvring limbs as silent as the breeze to face their enemy, a shadow under the moonlight that for a moment, they barely recognise until their blade is pressed to their neck, pulse jumping in a pattern familiar. “ taigen--- ? ” tone washed with a flat surprise, a droplet of blood makes itself known as they withdraw, sword still trained to his person, tip pressed to his clothed shoulder. “ you're suicidal. and an idiot, your footwork has gotten sloppy. ” good-humour in the raise of their brow, though their lips remain pressed together, idly frustrated. “ you are supposed to be tending crops in the countryside. and a wife. but here you are …. why, how. ”

[qismet]

and i know that’s right

[qismet]

the art + your fc of mel.......... can i ask for her hand in marriage. please.

i go crazy just looking at her so ur so real for this one

[qismet]

I can see through your tricks.

[qismet]

Anok Yai

[qismet]

ambered-gold is the liquid in the glass, and though piltover's finest have labelled it piss-yellow they have craved it nonetheless, the best from the worst of places, a delicacy of restrained hope. ambered-gold are the markings on her skin, but nobody thinks twice about what to call them. she doesn't drink much these days, but cradles the glass in her palms nonetheless, the slightest of smiles tugging at her lips, all-knowing, all-feeling and all-everything. sevika is exactly where mel thought she would be, because why wouldn't she be here, be home? where her people are. despite where mel was advised she should find her, this is where she came first. “ and most people said i should find you up top. ” up top spoken like a foreigner, because it isn't above, to her. to her, piltover just is. it was. but it looks different to her now, speaks differently to her, now. “ in my time on the council i did a lot of favours for a lot of people. i have debts owed here, not that anyone is happy for me to cash in. ” none that sevika has to pay for --- obviously, her tone says as much, so questioningly guiding, goading.

she's gone the extra mile to pour @qismet a drink from a green-hued bottle, cork caught in her teeth, the liquid inside a dark amber. behind her sits the shadowed frame of her old arm: the council yuppies don't like to see it when they come down to zaun to visit her, hung up like that, but she can't bring herself to care. she hands the heavy-bottomed glass to mel with a scrutinizing look, mouth curved into a scowl once she's re-corked the bottle. “ most people thought you were never coming back. ” and who could blame her, if she hadn't? sevika's thought about leaving piltover and zaun to its ghosts in her weaker moments—more than once. “ couldn't keep away? ”

[qismet]

“ i mean, i'm comfortable. ” said again, flavour of irritation to her voice that tasted bitter, where the thought of her was sweet. something she tried to ignore but found herself circling back to, inescapable, how weak the proximity made her, how instinctual it was to part her legs further and invite her inside the cage of them. with ushi above her she had to crane her neck backwards to look up at her, something of a mundane normal, but it'd been so long since she'd had to that it only served to grate on her nerves further. a breath held as her fingertips wandered, muscles reacting to her touch in a way mizaru loathed, begged in the farthest corners of her mind for her want, her desire to curb itself. stay hidden as far from ushi's reach as it could get. a futile wish, lungs heaving a quiet sigh in what little space remained between them.

hm, from ushi's mouth and she almost wanted to parrot it back, question her --- she'd already beaten her to it by the time her lips parted. you changed where you keep your lighter. as if she had the right to notice it, pick the fact apart and lay it bear between them. mizaru scoffed, raising her nearly ashen cigarette to her lips and meeting ushi's gaze through glass as she took a drag, did the kinder thing and turned her face to the side to exhale, where really she'd have liked to blow it right back in her stupid, beautifully smug face. letting her fingers linger there a moment, warm and familiar, damning and cruel all at once. she'd changed where she kept her lighter, changed the brand of cigarettes she smoked, less expensive and of a lesser quality, but the smell of them didn't remind her of the ash tray in ushi's bedroom, how she'd still kiss her even after she'd just leaned out of the window with one in between her fingers. the ones she'd switched to would be ruined for her, after this.

when she looked back, in an instant mizaru had dropped the cigarette into the tray placed on the table, then freed hand taking ushi's wrist and pushing it back towards herself, such force that it forced her back into the chair that once housed mizaru's legs, towering over her, instead. other hand forcing her glasses into her hair, gaze uncaged, alight with a muted wrath, blanketed with aching hunger, skin missing the heat of her touch. “ what's your game, ushi ? ” so close, she could hear the air filling ushi's lungs. see the night sky reflected in her gaze. her voice a quiet seethe, only heard by the both of them, not that there were any witnesses to their scuffle. “ sidle up to me all nice and just maybe, i'll forget ? fat fucking chance. ” eyes traitorous, flickering across her features, settling on her lips, tongue darting to wet her own. “ you wanna play ? ... my rules, or you go back to whatever hole the boss dragged you out of. ” / @sarcolite.

“ that's false, i'm always cute. ” ushi could hear one of the sliding doors creaking and she shot a glare to whoever it was that was about to interrupt them. some other members from another team that she hadn't the displeasure of interacting with. likely for reasons. mori liked to paint ushi as the port mafia's ticking time bomb, a walking wave of poison that needed to be handled with care. confined to her room, away from the general public. it wasn't always that way, but after the incident, he needed to keep his best weapons close. and for her, it meant crafting a narrative that would render her virtually untouchable, the stuff of nightmares for those who weren't eager to dig a little deeper. a quick snarl of her lips was enough to send them scattering about, slamming the door shut. and then she returned her attention back to mizaru, ignoring the small clouds of smoke hazing her view. for a moment, she saw the younger version of mizaru. moments just before ushi had left. even then, she couldn't fully justify what she had done, just that she was already so far gone she couldn't reel herself in. and there they were, strangers who couldn't be strangers.

“ not a lot of that going around these days, good luck. ” trust was fickle. there was fear in the form of loyalty. there were contractual obligations. but trust, it was a rarity, even though an organization such as the port mafia would have crumbled without it. but it was hypocritical coming from ushi, in a sense. she could see how she'd fractured it, betrayed her. abandoned her. but in her own twisted belief, she never truly left. there wasn't a world in which she fully left mizaru unattended. perhaps it was only selfishness that guided her actions. it clearly was greediness that controlled her right then and there. she considered mizaru's words. their language hardly changed over the years, and even if it had, ushi was not one to truly abide by hints or the unsaid. “ you mean you're lazy. ” she couldn't resist the jab. but she was already moving. she had resorted to resting the flat of her hand on the arm of the chair for support as she leaned down further, towering over her, small frame between her legs.

the distance had depreciated enough that ushi could just scarcely see her eyes through the shades, lips parting in smugness. that wandering hand of hers had followed the stitchings of her pants, to the crux where her center met, and pads of digits teasingly hovering, featherlight touch as she just barely pressed into her flesh, and then continuing with that same pressure as she explored up. “ hm. ” she murmured, skin hot in her endeavors as she brazenly slipped into the waistband of her pants, lining just the edge aross. “ you changed where you keep your lighter. ”

[qismet]

NAKAMURA YUKA. ⸺ MIZARU .

ability - user under the guidance of the port mafia in yokohama, japan. one of the remaining ability users left after the defeat of paul verlaine ⅋ aspiring executive. leader of mirage. 23. she/her.

⁽ ¹ ⁾ ability : three wise evils. mizaru, 見ざる - see no evil. kikazaru, 聞かざる - hear no evil. iwazaru, 言わざる - speak no evil. based on “three wise monkeys” the japanese pictorial maxim of which there are two connotations. ⁽ ¹ ⁾ in buddhist tradition, it represents avoiding evil thoughts and wrongdoings. ⁽ ² ⁾ to the west, it means turning a blind eye to evil and impropriety.

for starters, mirage is an assault group within the port mafia adhering to the order of the executives, alongside the likes of the black lizard. made up of five key members and a battalion, three of which are ability users, mizaru at their head. they work on tactical subjugation due to the nature of mizaru's ability being able to rid entire opposing squads of their sight and hearing. this makes them a prime choice for any necessary assassinations in tandem with other port mafia groups and members such as akutagawa gin. they have been known to be sent overseas.

⸺ MIZARU . NAKAMURA ( 中村, middle village ), YUKA ( 有佳, exist, good ) .

raised in the slums of yokohama, mizaru was discovered at thirteen by port mafia officers as they partook in a job in the surrounding area. feeling threatened, mizaru robbed them of their senses in attempt to force them to leave. seeing this as a potential advantage for the port mafia's ability - user arsenal, she was recruited and with her came two younger ability users she had taken into her care.

originally named nakamura yuka, she decided to change this once she had joined the leagues of the port mafia and essentially cut herself off from her previous life, beginning anew. she chose to name herself after a division of her ability, mizaru - see no evil, as within the connotations of her ability's real - life basis, she partakes in the west's interpretation - turning a blind eye to evil and impropriety and using her ability to her advantage within this. ( in an alternative universe, mizaru was sought out by the hunting dogs and uses her ability in the search for justice, though the act of changing her name does not change, only in this context it means she will rid the world of evil under the government's orders. )

having started her life in the slums, on her left - hand mizaru is missing her index and middle fingers, having lost them in a street - fight. she won, but not before her opponent played dirty and bit them clean off. one of the ability - users within mirage possesses the ability to form weapons and other objects from most raw materials, and as a result fashioned mizaru a prosthetic that takes the shape of a two - fingered glove, when worn she is able to hold objects as normal, it bends and moves as though her fingers are there.

her ability, three wise evils, works in nature as mizaru being able to rid others of their sense of sight, hearing and their ability to speak ( this works by closing their throat, cutting off their breathing in the process ). it has a large radius of around 25km, meaning it is effective in long - range disabling of enemy groups and she can use this on multiple bodies, so far without a sure limitation. she possesses the ability to choose which of those she targets, and can differentiate between ally and foe. to begin the process, she must speak the sense she is robbing.

three wise evils exists as a give and take ability, meaning that whichever sense mizaru rids her victims of, she must give one up in return. if mizaru chooses to rob someone of their sight, she must give up her hearing or speech, if she robs them of their hearing she must give up her sight or speech. almost always the former, as ridding herself of her ability to speak closes her throat, too. she can use these in tandem and rid someone of two of their senses, but then she must give up whatever is left for herself. she wears sunglasses so that enemies cannot see which of her own senses she has given up. with missing sight, the eyes of others --- or her own, become a black void that only slips away once the ability is retracted.

due to the nature of her ability, mizaru is always accompanied by another member of mirage whose task, when mizaru is using her ability, is to be her eyes / ears. think - those cute little fish that stick to the sides of sharks and clean them, except this isn't cleaning it's just a protective contingency to make sure she isn't ambushed or set upon in order to stop the darkness and silence.

a skilled weapons user, she carries a standard issue handgun and an array of knives holstered to her belt. she is skilled in evasive and defensive techniques, but is also a proficient close - range fighter, being that she can control when her opponents can see or hear her.

personality wise, honest, assertive and balanced within her own ego. like many within the port mafia she is steadfastly loyal, they gave her a home when she had nothing, and she lost a great deal in wake of the defeat of paul verlaine as his singularity caused dire losses within the port mafia's gifted and non-gifted arsenal.

she is guilt - prone if things go wrong, places a great deal of responsibility on herself to care for those in her charge. in nature she is highly observant and can be cruel to those outside of her circle ie. the port mafia, mirage, and those who seek to threaten them. mizaru is advantageous and aspirational within her goals to ascend in port mafia hierarchy and constantly outdoes herself. she can be apathetic towards pain in others, yet she is earnest and sincere when the need for it arises. notorious grudge - holder, but good - natured and easy to get along with. due to the nature of her ability and her position within mirage, and thus the port mafia, she has an outwardly intimidating persona, but once that gate has been opened she is easy to be around.

with enemies, she likes to play with them before handing them off. her ability is widely used for questioning others alongside tactical subjugation.