Hello!! (⁠人⁠ ⁠•͈⁠ᴗ⁠•͈⁠)

"Tattoos hurt, don't they?"

Just a random prompt I had in mind! :) It was inspired by this Yakuza tattoo fanart of Dazai and Chuuya, if I can find it again, I'll link it!

Dazai entered the private room, a giant traditional painting hanging on the wall behind the woman. She did not move, and a veil left only her mouth visible. Her fingers were delicate like a that of a pianist, her back straight and her eye contact made with the wall. He sat down, his back facing her.

“You’re the tattooist?”

“Are you the prodigy?” She replied, a faint smile on her face as cleaned her knife. The pale complexion of the cloth was irritated with the splotches of red from a previous client. She glanced at him, though unclear through the opaque veil.

“I don’t like questions,” He said. “But I’ll take it that you are the Port Mafia’s new tattooist.” He revealed his back. It had a few scars, merely sketches on the surface. He lay down, looking ahead to the open window, his chin resting on the edge of the futon. The moon glided through the seas of the sky, aggressively resting it’s eyes on him.

“The moon is bright today,” Lotte commented, looking at the open wound on her palm, pulling the skin to separate the scabbing. The skin was puffy, a gently feverish red surrounding the cut.

He was silent, looking at her hand. “Is that so.”

She nodded. “The moon shines the brightest on the coldest nights.” She examined the blade, her smile soft. “How sweet the moon is, to try and mimic the sun’s warmth.”

Dazai looked at her once again, the brown hue of his eyes now tainted with the night. She barely moved; he could only tell by the hushed shifts of her clothes against the knee pillow. Her skin was dark, like water under the sunset. She had no presence, she was careful not to exist in a manner that would let her be seen easily. At the same time, she was as prominent as the last ember on the tip of a candle.

“Can I have your hand?” She asked.

He offered it in an uncaring manner. Even after she had made a small cut on his fingertip, he did not flinch. She rested the knife on a new white cloth, the old one miserably curdled in the bin, sagged.

“My apologies, but it makes the process easier if I use my skill,” Lotte said, a glow emitting from their open wounds. She had not summoned it verbally, and the only glow emitting around her came from the moonlight.

She took to the tattoo, working in silence. As she did, the scent of chrysanthemums became more pungent. She hesitated, before lifting the pen. She lay it down, withdrawing from him.

“Your skill must be effective for this.”

“I suppose so.”

She then looked at his face, which was barely contorted with a look of pain. He scoffed. He had barely changed, his presence eerie whilst charismatic. There was only the presence of a ghost, as if he wasn’t truly there, only his body holding him hostage in his pain.

“You should’ve realized my ability nullified yours, most of your clients talk about the ungodly scent of earth during the process. I didn’t smell anything.”

Lotte glanced at him, tilting her head to the side carefully, the veil slanting alongside her actions. She cleaned the knife with one clean swipe, casting aside the used cloth into the black bin, disappearing amongst similar cloths with similar blotches.

“Silent suffering is a sin. Take it as punishment.”

________

18.08.23 | Lotte Williams, PT II - Characteristics

🎤: The second and last part to Lotte's slideshow/Infoshow! ✨I personally loved designing this part of her. Usually, my characters are quite extroverted, but she's an introvert-leaning ambivert, so it made me think about her hobbies and thought process better.

 Quitting.

____________

Lotte sat on the bed, Dazai sitting up. He leaned on the bed frame, grabbing the whiskey from the bedside table. The sunset bled on the sheets, pure of any stain. The stubs of a cigarette fell and sizzled onto it. The bedsheet had now learnt impurity, the ashes making the delicate fabric curdle.

The glass clinked as it was solemnly lain on the table, the glass distorting the ugly brown.

 “There’s something funny about me, “ He began, tilting his head back as he looked at Lotte. Her thin dress strap fell off her shoulder as she patiently waited for him to finish, her cigarette amber at the tip.

 “I don’t actually like whiskey. “

She stared at him blankly, no distinct change in her face. “Then why do you drink it?”

 He sighed and looked to the window.

 “Isn’t better to taste something than nothing?“

 “No,“ She puffed out, “You'll lose your sense of taste with meaningless drinks.”

“Then why do you smoke?“  He leaned his cheek on his hand, watching the sun turn her dark eyes a luminated shade of orange, a pit in the middle.

 “Because I feel less stressed.”

They looked at each other for a moment. A lock from the hairs of time had fallen, chopped with the scissors of misery.

She took the glass and squashed the cigarette into it, letting it hiss until it burnt out.

 “I'm quitting today.“ 

He fell silent, watching the soggy cigarette butt fold in the cup.

 “I'm sure healthy lungs will look cute on you. “

____

Shostakoviches

From Asagiri’s “Reception of Modern Literature” lecture at Chuo University’s Hakumon Festival. It's quite interesting, so sharing it here. It's confirmed that there'll be more arcs after this one is finished!

Confessions Of Memories. | • 3.

1. | 2. | 3. | 4. | 5. | 6. | 7. | 8.

Li Jing wished she hadn't taken the route.

She feared for him.

Of course he had lived hundreds of centuries that had built his immunity to wounds, there was nothing wrong with being cautious.

"We'll get to rest soon." She said subconsciously to the two.

Xiao nodded, whilst the Traveller was silent. Who is Mei? They looked to Li Jing, who beamed at them. They looked to the path again.

Li Jing was greeted by a little girl as they finally got to the circular village. The girl tugged on her sleeve.

"Are you staying over again? Everyone missed you. You barely visit after last year's Spring!"

Li Jing chuckled lightly. Her face fell flat, as she beckoned for the two to follow her. The path curved into a lively place, one of yellow hues and humble faces. As they settled in, she couldn't make contact with him.

He remembered; she could feel it in her swollen soul.

"So why did they need you right now? Couldn't they have asked someone else?" He murmured.

Li Jing looked at him for a moment before bursting out with laughter.

"I didn't know you whined." She pinched his cheek, prompting him to scoff.

He buried his head in the nape of her neck, his hands firmly around her waist. She hummed, filling in the last of her scroll. His affection was a plea for her attention. The ink finally finishing. They walked through the back of the village, leaving them to the stars.

His head laid in her lap, she stroked his hair. The moon smiled at the two, willing them to be together.

Except they weren't. The sunset stuck in the sky, unwilling to move for them. She dropped her things in her room, kicking it in so the door could close. The dust stuttered in the air as the door settled in place, leaving the three of them in the open area.

The birds chirped, the crows squawked.

"Make yourselves at home- for now."

"Going somewhere?" Xiao asked gently.

"Mhm. I won't take long."

She didn't have to walk far to find the rounded mound of grass and mold, littered with broken white roses and unfailing snow. Sunrays lulled on the grass, quietly expecting Li Jing.

She kneeled beside the mound, her hands curled up into delicate fists. The snow dampened her dress, as she scraped at the snow to mold a heart. She placed it ontop, and stood.

"I wish I could remember your face."

The path she walked back was one that left her empty, and senseless. She stepped back into the room, unravelling her hair. She placed her hairpins on her table. Li Jing stretched out the scroll, placing a weight on either end.

She loaded the ink.

There was a faint growl, one of pain. She paused, hearing the scraping of wood. Li Jing approached his room, his hoarse breathes filling the room.

A smooth wave of paralysis unclosed around her, hand outreached.

She hummed, like she would always do. She would just have to improvise for the harp that wasn't being played. Her throat grew brittle, as she stood from a distance, waiting for him to show any signs of relaxing.

His shoulders drooped.

A heavy silence filled the room, as they failed to make eye contact.

"I'll leave you alone. Call me if you need anything."

-

He poured hot water on the herbs, carrying it to her study. His hand hovered over the handle. Either way, he would still find her in her study, her hair like a black curtain over the book. He placed it beside her.

"Oh, thank you."

"How is the book coming?"

"Finding the memories that fit with this book isn't as easy as I thought."

"Maybe you need a break then."

She smiled to herself, closing the book as he sat opposite of her. She glanced into the glass, the hued water letting the petals fall to the bottom.

"...Sorry. I'm sorry for saying that. " She murmured.

Xiao crumpled his face, and turned to the side. What was he to say? I don't have feelings anyway. I don't deserve them.

"You don't need to apologise for that."

Her face grew faint, as she took a sip. As her tongue burned, she realized just how much she want to tell him. She wanted to tell him the truth.

-

Borrowing town memories was easy. Yet, as she sat in the place where the author once was, she could not remember. In fact, she was beginning to forget. Her eyes dulled, waiting for midnight to strike.

"It must be difficult being a historian. You constantly ignore your life to record others."

Li Jing looked at the Traveller. She smiled gracefully, fixing her posture.

"You could look at it like that. I like to look at it like an escape."

The Traveller sat beside them, resting their hands in their lap.

"I wanted to ask,"

"Who's Mei?"

"I'm not ready to answer that." She faltered, fiddling with her fingers.

"Is that why did you become a historian?"

"That wasn't because of her. I'm just naturally indebted to Liyue."

"Naturally." They thought to themselves.

"You're lucky to have a fate of your own." She chuckled.

The Traveller quipped a brow, to find Li Jing's gaze averted to the sky.

You're lucky,

To have parents who wanted you.

-

WIP because I've been trying to figure out colouring it DJDJDJ

Making this healed something deep within me I almost cried

Hot people?

Hot people. 😌

On a separate note, I really love how Asagiri-sensei kind of adds these sci-fi elements with real life adjacent theories to back them up. He did them really well in Stormbringer too. Sir knows his stuff