#muddsludge

People believed in fate and destiny, they cried out for a higher purpose and ignored the fact they may not like whatever may answer their call. Mortem was one such creature, the one who heard and the one who answered.

This place, this Undercity sometimes known as Zaun and other times known was Piltover's Shadow was not as ugly as she imagined it would be. Sure, some of the architecture wasn't desirable but it had much more personality than anything in Piltover. Ramshackled together, thriving and surviving in its own way. Why go to a place already prospering when the real potential lived down here, clawing at the mud and vomiting in alleyways?

She was in the city before anyone knew it. A small building, one she fixed up enough to keep out the rats. Cleaned enough to breathe in. It was dim, it was easy to pass by, but its was now hers. It was no cabin, a shame, but she could hear the water from within and pretend it was something clean and enjoyable.

The first floor of the building clearly used to be a kitchen and sitting room crushed together, but now it merely was her space to work. Various fabrics were draped around, like a colorful snake coiled around any that dared to enter. It made it impossible to see inside, kept out the cold and kept in the warmth of the crackling fire. Because of course she picked a place that could house a fireplace.

Warped shadows cast along the walls, upon the ceiling, never truly whole due to the fabrics they danced upon. There wasn't much inside the room beyond a round table she had fixed up and a crystal ball. There was something inside it, like a stone, but it was murky and difficult to see. There wasn't much decor beyond some light catchers made from colored glass and shiny rocks. A colorful but minimal space.

People came, they asked their questions, they asked for help. Sometimes she gave it in a blessing, other times a curse. Sometimes she gave them medicine, a tool, or provided them with the execution they prayed for. Their own, or another's. She wasn't picky. Given all she heard about the Zaunite named Silco, it didn't surprise her that he'd come snooping eventually. And there she would be this eve, sitting at the table as if awaiting him. The shop was too small to accommodate everyone in his party, but it could accommodate one or two. She liked the experience to be more intimate, but she wasn't opposed to a joint session.

Send a 👫and I’ll write four headcanons I have about our muse’s relationship!

Since Senritsu still travels a lot for the Nostrade family (more accurately for Kurapika searching for the scarlet eyes) she usually brings two bottles of beer from where ever she had been, visits Leorio in his dorm,has a beer with him, reports on what kurapika is doing,plays cards with him while having a chatter, takes a nap on the guestfuton and in the next morning she leaves to continue the travelback to the Nostrade mansion. Her visits get more frequent when its exam-time,because she is worried for Leorios well-beeing and she plays her healing-songs forhim.

Senritsu personally thinks Leorio is a very admirable person: She had made her peace with knowing that she as a Hunter is a very selfish person and while her work does benefit others (restoring old musicinstruments so people could listen and play them sometimes even centuries after they had been last listened to, documenting songs and dances that might would have been lost to time otherwise, helping museums in research...) it is eventually simply her doing what she loves in the first place and the benefit for others is just a lucky accident. Leorio however became a Hunter to help people without any selfish reasons behind that and Senritsu finds that deeply admireable. Maybe she puts him a little on a pedestal; but she wants to suppot himon becoming a doctor. The second Senritsu realized she might has a little crush on Leorio-which was pretty early,she does not only hear other peoples heartbeats but her own too and her own feelings are easy to recognize with that ability- she kicked the metaphorical brakes so hard and strictly corrected how she interacts with him.Still amicable, still very friendly, still very happy to visit and support him,but never above that. Still Leorio is aperson she 100% trusts.

Around a month after Yorkshin, Leorio asks her for helping him in his Nen-training.Which made Senritsu hestiate for a moment,but since Leorio already knew Nen and was already innitated to it (and therefor she did not needed to innitate him), she actually sat down with him and started to teach him about the other techniques of Nen, although obviously a Emitter teaching a Emitter is not always the best possibility (and senritsu horrendously sucks as Gyo and Zetsu due to her nen-type and is worried Leorio would not learn properly due to her lacking). Their evenings with that beerbottles turned into training sessions and discussions about what kind of hatsu he wanted to develop.

Turns out Leorio is a fan of the rockband Senritsus younger sisters are part of and she giddily always looks forward listening to the music with him. She very proudly shows him the t-shirts she collects of that band.< (not that sh would tell that her sisters are part of that band)

"Gold star, sis." For effort, that is... "I almost believed that you gave a crap about the answer to that question." If left to her own devices, Jinx was sure she would have been able to find her own way. She didn't need Silco, and she sure as hell didn't need someone that had already abandoned her once.

No matter what kind of peace they had built up between them, it would always come back to the two of them parting ways, wouldn't it? Vi should have just been happy that she'd become even more perfect at the game of life and get over the dead weight that was doing nothing but holding her back.

"But then I asked myself why the heck would you care what's going on with me when your life is finally the way you've always wanted it to be? Huh? Your perfect girlfriend with your perfect house to come back to... no annoying little sister around to mess any of that up for you."

She shook her head, smoothing down her bangs only to grip them tightly in her hand, having to stop herself from the old habit of hitting herself when the voices started to catch on to her flares of irritation.

"Just stop talking!" She couldn't help the outburst; everything in her head too loud for any single thought to even begin to make sense. Instead, she pressed both fists to her forehead and let out a growl of frustration before letting her hands down again. Jinx took a step backwards in the process.

Vi was happy... and she was only going to screw it up for her. Just like before. Just like every. single. time. before.

He glanced down at Silco when he noticed the other man move closer to him. For a second, he did wonder why Silco had done that. But then, watching the other out of the corner of his eye as he continued to smoke his pipe, he was pretty sure he saw the other shivering a little. Vander hadn't even noticed the cold, but then he did have a bit more body mass on him than his friend.

Adjusting his pipe in his mouth, he shrugged out of his jacket before draping it over Silco's shoulders. "Here," Vander said as he resumed smoking his pipe, "you need this more than I." Even if Silco had his own jacket, it didn't seem to be doing him much good as they waited to be told they could wrap up work for the day.

he’d thought of it before. 

he’d thought of how it could be, how would sugimoto do it? how would he kill ogata? would he do it by twisting a knife in his gut? or would he bite him, to maim, and to turn him into pieces of his former self. 

ogata doubted he would use bullets and gunpowder, not in the conventional way. the man is a poor shot, worse than he’s seen other soldiers do it on their worst days. or would he let the girl do it, when all’s said and done? the thought repulsed him, the idea of anyone else but sugimoto to be at the front gates of hell with him is as foreign, unwelcome. he wants it to be him, too, so that ogata can cling to him, to his bones, to every open wound and fester like parasites, in order to live inside of him until he rots like ogata has been for a while.

ogata stares deep into sugimoto’s eyes, finds his own distorted reflection in them, his crooked smile, the blood running down his nose as sugimoto climbs on top of him, pressing ogata deeper in the soil, like he wanted to bury him already, alive and breathing. that could be an option, too, but again, sugimoto isn’t the creative type, or isn’t since ogata blew his brains out back in Abashiri.

“does that keep you up at night, thinking of murder?” is it really murder if it’s for survival? he supposes not. ogata feels sugimoto’s breath close to his face, hot and wet and it’s probably the only warm thing in this snow-piled forest. he makes sure not to glance too obviously at his gun, only a stone-throw away from ogata’s grasp. 

they’ve done this before, and it didn’t end well for his arm, or his jaw. he remembers sugimoto’s weight on him, his voice close to his ear. a different type of shiver creeps up his spine, his stomach sinks, vertigo when he’s on solid ground. 

he hadn’t realized his own breathing became agitated, as though being chased, but he’s no prey. ogata’s thumb buries deep into sugimoto’s wrist, like he intends to snap it, dislocate it, an eye for an eye. “go on, do it. it’s simple for you, isn’t it? i’ve seen you twist necks for less than this. or are you that hard up for pillow talk?”

The younger girl nods at his question. It was all in good cause of what she had done. Jinx had to get the item back that belonged to her after all. And what was an entrance in Pitover without her finding something to blow up?

"Oh you know, just some of the enforcers."

Continued from [here] with @muddsludge

She nodded. Nunnally liked black. It wouldn’t be necessarily her choice, but since she asked Ogata she was to follow his whimsy. Or rather her own in asking for fashion advice from her reluctant bodyguard. It was actually surprising he didn't refuse, but made his choice. So, she was not to shy away now.

As much as it might have seemed that Nunnally was provoking Ogata (with her outfit or rather lack of it), it was the last thing on Nunnally’s mind. She was so used to being almost completely stripped off her privacy that she had stopped paying much attention into it. Yes, she had noticed that he didn’t look away, as some of her bodyguards would, but since she found his gaze mostly neutral (or even respectful) she simply let it be. As much as she didn’t care about it too much, Nunnally knew she was pretty. She knew men fancied her. So, why would Ogata be that different?

“…who…?” – she asked slightly absent-mindedly, but even before that short word had fully left her lips, she realized he had meant Koito. Her brows furrowed in a slight annoyance, but then she shrugged gently and added almost cheerfully. As if that small expression on her face had never happened.

“Then he’d have to deal with his own disappointment.”

“I am not planning to dress to please him…or any other man for that matter.” – it was said with a superficial self-confidence as Nunnally was perfectly aware it wouldn’t take much for her to wear whatever pleased her father. But yet he never cared to care as long as she followed some basic social patterns. Anyway, she doubted that much in her wardrobe would receive Koito’s appreciation. He seemed to want a gentle and timid girl that she wasn’t.

“Then it seems you have at least good taste...in fashion.”

As Ogata was turning on his heels to leave, Nunnally’s voice stopped him: --