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coloursflyaway · 3 months

Note

hello 💘 i’m loving your stories and i have a prompt for something silly: what could the boys possibly be using a ouija board for/why did they acquire it in the first place? you pointed it out among all their iterations of clue and now i have questions lol

And finally, I have your second fic ready!

This Is How For Now We Touch

Pairing: Edwin Payne/Charles Rowland

Rating: T

Word Count: 5.200

Read on AO3

“Hey, Edwin”, Charles says, and there is something about his voice that lets Edwin know he will be rolling his eyes at least once during the upcoming conversation.

“What is it?”

“I got us something”, Charles answers and pulls a box from the bag he’s been carrying, black and unwieldy, adorned in white scribbles. He’s holding it out like it’s something precious, which Edwin highly doubts it is, considering the look Charles gives him. “Something really really cool.”

Edwin takes a moment to look at the box, the poor quality of the cardboard and the horrible picture of teenagers that are trying to look frightened, and yes, some eye rolling will definitely be necessary here. “Why on Earth would we need a Ouija board, Charles?”

The grin on Charles’ lips would be obnoxious if Edwin didn’t like him so much.

“To talk to ghosts, of course.”

It becomes a game, even if Edwin still does not know how: sometimes, when the agency is quiet, one of them gets the Ouija board, they set up some candles, and they talk to each other through it, pretending that they cannot see the other’s fingers as he moves the planchette with them.

Of course, it is silly and quite childish, but it’s also fun, a good way to focus on each other and their words completely, and sometimes, at least for Edwin, it’s easier to say things like this, without having to speak them out-loud.

So, when he looks at Charles one day and there is so much warmth and affection in his chest that it feels overfull, overflowing, ready to burst, he pulls out the board in the evening, lights the candles, and spells out, letter for beautiful, frightening, worthwhile letter: YOU’RE THE BEST FRIEND I’VE EVER HAD.

Usually, Charles would try and guess the words before Edwin has finished them, but this time, he doesn’t; when he looks up at Edwin again, his eyes are soft and bright with emotion, and maybe it’s just the flickering light of the candles, but they look just a little wet.

“You’re mine, too”, he says, and the feeling in Edwin’s chest grows even fuller, even warmer, even more overwhelming. He never wants it to fade.

(It doesn’t.)

I LET YOU WIN AT CLUE LAST TIME, Charles spells when they set up the board once more a week later, and almost doubles over laughing when Edwin starts sputtering in pure outrage.

It’s the longest they have ever gone without a case in the short history of their detective agency, and the candlelight is making Charles’ skin shine like polished metal when he slides the planchette to the last letter of his question.

WHAT’S YOUR FAVOURITE COLOUR?

There isn’t much to say, since there isn’t much going on, so Charles asking a question so inane makes sense, in some sort of way. Edwin finds he doesn’t mind it like he usually would, idle chitchat not to his taste unless Charles is the one making it.

Blue, Edwin wants to answer, out of habit more than anything, but then he stops himself, thinks. This is Charles after all, his best friend in the world, in his life and afterlife, and if anyone deserves an honest answer, it’s him. Even if the question is something so utterly inconsequential.

“Red”, he finally says, without quite knowing why. “It’s red, oh noble spirit.”

I CAN’T REMEMBER MY PARENTS’ FACES, Edwin spells out and every letter feels like the stab of a needle, the slice of a blade. And yet, it should be harder to admit to something so monstrous; and yet, it cannot be, because Charles’ gaze stays warm and understanding, just like Edwin knew it would.

“It’s been a long time”, Charles tells him, “And a lot has happened in between. I’m sure they’d understand, oh my spiritual guide.”

It takes a moment, because Edwin wants to give this idea a chance, because Charles is looking at him with so much kindness, but in the end, there is only one answer Edwin can give. He might have forgotten his parents’ faces, but not their character, not yet.

I DO NOT THINK SO.

A beat, far shorter than it should be, then Charles breaks the unspoken rules of their game and puts a hand over Edwin’s where it rests on the planchette, and holds it tight.

“Then they deserve to be forgotten”, he says, and sounds like he means it.

Edwin wishes he could say the same.

LET ME PUT SOME EYELINER ON YOU.

Charles waggles his eyebrows exaggeratedly, and for a moment, Edwin considers saying yes, just to see the surprise in Charles’ eyes. But it’s the third time he has asked the question, so he will ask again, and the longer Edwin resists, the greater the shock will be.

“Under absolutely no circumstances. Don’t even try it.”

AWW.

“Very well put, noble spirit. Couldn’t have said it better myself.”

DO YOU WANT TO GO ON A TRIP?, Edwin writes and watches Charles’ eyes light up, just like he knew they would. They haven’t done it often yet, usually quite busy with their cases, but they have just survived the Great Debacle of the Double-decker Buses, mainly unscathed even, and Edwin believes they deserve a little break.

“Oh, that would be brills, oh spiritual guide of mine”, Charles tells him, then adds, “Where do you want to go?”

There are a hundred suggestions burning on Edwin’s lips, because he never got to travel when he was still alive, only heard about faraway places through his mother’s library, but they all stay unspoken, at least for now.

YOU CHOOSE.

And Charles smiles at him, and Edwin knows it was the right thing to say immediately.

“That’s almost too much responsibility”, Charles answers, and he sounds a bit like no one trusted him with something like this before; Edwin hopes more than anything that it isn’t true. “I’ll come up with something. Something really good. I promise.”

(They go to Athens, and see the Acropolis and the Parthenon and afterwards, Delphi, and Edwin knows that, even if Charles enjoys it, he’s picked it for Edwin’s sake. Next time, he promises himself, he’ll choose, and they’ll go somewhere Charles will have the time of his afterlife.)

Charles seems to consider the words far longer than he usually would; maybe it should be worrying, but there is nothing about Charles that could worry Edwin, not really.

WHAT DO YOU MISS ABOUT BEING ALIVE?, he finally writes, and there is some fragility in the question that Edwin doesn’t understand and can feel anyway, like an echo of a thought he has had himself.

And he looks at Charles, looks at the space they have made for themselves, thinks of their cases and the souls they have helped, and comes up empty.

“To be perfectly truthful, nothing at all”, he answers, and there is something happy in the smile he gets from Charles in return, something sad as well.

It’s still morning, which makes the candles superfluous, but Edwin lights them anyway, puts them on their assigned spaces on the table cloth they got years ago; something about a séance without them just feels wrong to him.

“Do you want to write today?”, Charles asks from where he is already sitting, looking up at Edwin with eyes that Edwin could draw from memory and yet would never be able to get quite right.

“Yes, why not?”, he answers, like he hasn’t been buzzing with the need for it since the sun has risen. Not because there is something in particular he wants to say, but just because he wants Charles to listen, wants Charles’ gaze on his fingers as he moves the planchette, wants Charles’ attention on him.

It’s a desire that occurs often, at the same time one that Edwin doesn’t inspect too closely.

He sits down once the candles are lit, and it feels a little bit like coming home, because Charles smiles at him, focussed on nothing but Edwin and what he wants to say, even if what Edwin wants to say is nothing at all.

Do you have a favourite flower?, he wants to ask for a moment, then wants to spell, Your handwriting might be some of the worst I’ve ever seen. I enjoyed the last song you showed me. We should go on a trip sometime.

In the end, he writes none of it.

Because Charles looks up at him and there is so much tenderness in his gaze, and Edwin’s heart flows over with the love he has for him.

I LIKE YOU SO MUCH.

And as he reads it, letter for letter, Charles’ face lights up with the same emotion; Edwin knows his answer before he has a chance to give it, has known it all along.

“I like you just as much. Oh, best of all spiritual guides.”

I REALLY WANNA PUT SOME EYELINER ON YOU, Charles writes and Edwin has to do his very best not to smile.

“Absolutely not, noble spirit. I don’t know why you keep asking.”

U JUST WANNA SEE THE BOOK OF KELLS AGAIN, Charles spells and he’s grinning so smugly Edwin wants to groan.

“Absolutely not, I have no idea what you are talking about. Also, please be so kind as to use proper spelling”, Edwin tells him, resisting the urge to fix his bow tie, or smooth down his lapels, before tacking on, “Oh, noble spirit, who I know is familiar with the orthography of the word you.”

It makes Charles laugh, his warm, dark eyes crinkling at the edges, but Edwin ignores that, since Ouija boards do not transmit sound after all.

JUST ADMIT IT AND I’LL TAKE YOU TO DUBLIN, Charles spells out, and the problem, the real problem here, is that Edwin knows Charles means it and they will be through the mirror and at Trinity College within the minute.

The other real problem is that Charles is right, and that he knows it.

“Fine”, he concedes, hissing the word out like it has offended him personally, and then, because Charles’ grin is only widening, adds, “but we’ll also have to pay the Oscar Wilde statue a visit.”

The tip of Charles’ tongue peaks out between his lips as he drags the planchette across the board, quicker than he usually would, like there is a timeline he has to adhere to. It’s distracting in a way Edwin cannot quite pinpoint; it’s not like he hasn’t seen Charles’ tongue before, stuck out behind the back of infuriating witnesses, trying to catch raindrops that just phased through them, or, one memorable time, trying and failing to lick an ice cream cone.

And yet, Edwin cannot keep his eyes off it now, which makes it quite difficult to keep up with what it is Charles is spelling.

DO YOU WANNA GO TO A CONCERT TONIGHT, it reads in the end, after Edwin has patched up the gaps in between letters, and he already wants to shake his head, because good heavens, does he not want to, but Charles is still spelling.

THERE’S A SPECIAL’S CONCERT AND IT’S THEIR LAST TOUR AND I DON’T WANT TO GO ALONE

And he looks up at Edwin and his eyes are so wide and pleading, and Edwin knows he might be signing up for the worst night of a long time, but his head nods his approval before he has been able to form half a thought.

The smile that blooms on Charles’ lips within a split-second is worth all of it.

BRILLS, MATE. IT STARTS AT 8.

(It isn’t the worst night by any stretch of the imagination, not because Edwin ends up enjoying the music or the lights or the crowd, but because he watches Charles dance like he’s forgotten everything around them, because he listens to him belt out lyrics at the top of his lungs although no one but Edwin will hear him, because Charles is having the time of his afterlife and the thought that Edwin almost wasn’t there to witness it, is almost painful.)

LETS GO TO CORK, Edwin writes and Charles looks at him, confused.

“Cork? Why Cork? We’ve just been to Ireland.”

THERE IS A JAZZ FESTIVAL.

“But you’ll hate that. You don’t like concerts, do you?” Charles’ left eyebrow is raised, but he looks excited, and oh, Edwin definitely has made the right choice.

BUT YOU DO. LETS GO.

A pause, their fingers almost but not quite touching on the planchette, and then Charles ducks his head, smiles up at Edwin from beneath his lashes, and it does something to Edwin’s heart he refuses to think about.

“Yeah, okay.” Another pause, shorter this time. “Thank you. Oh, most generous of all spiritual guides.”

There is no Ouija board in Port Townsend, but once Crystal has gone to sleep, Edwin makes Charles go fetch it from their home. This, at least, Charles finds without difficulty.

For once, there is no discussion who will play the ghost, Edwin just picks up the planchette as soon as they have lit the single candle they could find, places it in the middle of the board and waits for Charles’ fingers to join his. They look right there, just barely touching.

“What wisdom do you want to impart on me tonight, my spiritual guide?”, Charles asks, a hint of a smile on his lips although he must know that it feels less like a game to Edwin right now, more like a confession. Edwin would do anything for him.

I’M AFRAID, he starts spelling and his hands are shaking, and Edwin doesn’t waste any energy on hoping Charles won’t notice; he will, of course, THAT YOU WILL END UP LIKING CRYSTAL MORE THAN ME.

There is a pause, and Edwin cannot look up at Charles and see his expression. He won’t find pity there, he knows Charles too well to fear that, but he isn’t sure what else to expect.

The planchette jerks under his fingertips, and then suddenly, there are arms around his shoulders, pulling Edwin closer until the only thing that stops the motion is the table digging into his stomach. Charles is solid against him in a way very few other things are, his head fitting into the crook between Edwin’s shoulder and neck in a way that seems to complete him, and Edwin wishes with something bordering on desperation that he could let out breath deep enough to carry all the tension dissipating from his spectral body.

“That’s never going to happen”, Charles mutters into the fabric of his suit, almost against his skin, and Edwin finally manages to raise his arms and hug Charles back. “There’s no one in the world I could like more than you. Believe me. Not a single person.”

They’re back in London – finally – and yet it doesn’t feel as triumphant as Edwin had hoped it would. Niko’s loss is a wound that Edwin cannot stop prodding, although it hurts every time his thoughts brush up against it, and even if he has come to like Crystal quite a bit, there is still a part of Edwin that misses how it was before she was there, when it was just Charles and him.

And maybe Charles can sense it in him, maybe he feels the same; what Edwin knows is that the first evening, after Crystal has gone back to her hotel to have a long shower and whatever the minibar has to offer, Charles walks into their game closet and comes out of it holding a familiar, battered black-and-white box.

“Let me write this time?”, he asks, and Edwin nods; how could he do anything else?

They set up their little séance, the white tablecloth, the dried flowers, the dripping candles, and although he was the one to suggest it, Charles’ hands hesitate for a moment before settling down, fingertips barely touching the planchette.

He has beautiful hands, Edwin allows himself to notice this time, strong and yet elegant, and Edwin remembers how the left one felt, even through their gloves, when Charles had put it over his own, expecting to be sucked into oblivion any second.

ABOVE ALL, Charles writes, then pauses, like he has to collect his thoughts, and Edwin will give him this time, will give him all the time he needs, whenever he needs it. I AM GLAD YOU ARE HERE.

They look up at the same time, and Edwin’s tears are glistening in Charles’ eyes, and part of him wants to reach out and hug Charles and feel him solid and real against his chest, part of him wants to stay like this forever, looking at Charles and being looked at in return.

Edwin does a third thing.

ME 2, he writes, orthography be damned, and then grips Charles’s hands in his and vows he won’t let go until he has made him smile again.

HOW MANY LEGS DO YOU THINK A MILLIPEDE REALLY HAS, Charles asks weeks later.

They have exhausted all other kinds of questions, the sun almost rising between the skyline of London, and Edwin can’t help but chuckle. Charles quirks an eyebrow in response, an invitation, and he’s so pretty, so carefree and relaxed that Edwin wants to reach out and touch him, no matter in which way, in hopes of some of it rubbing off on him.

“Do you really want to know, oh noble spirit? Because I can find the appropriate books to answer your question”, he asks, but allows his fingers to slide just a little closer to Charles’ on the planchette until they are touching in the most insignificant, the most important way.

YEAH, GO ON.

And it hurts to break the contact once more, but it’s worth it to read Charles page upon page of The Complete Encyclopedia of Common Insects on their sofa, Charles’ feet resting in Edwin’s lap and Edwin’s fingers slowly moving to circle Charles’ ankle; not a shackle, but an anklet, a piece of jewellery.

DO YOU KNOW ANY POEMS? Edwin asks, because he’s spent the day buried in volumes of Byron’s prose, and Charles looks like he might start laughing; Edwin isn’t sure why.

“Sure do, oh greatest of spiritual guides”, he replies, and it definitely isn’t the answer Edwin expected.

WHICH IS YOUR FAVOURITE?

“Whichever it is you’re reading to me at the moment”, Charles answers easily, and Edwin isn’t sure how he ever could not have fallen in love with him.

LET ME PUT SOME EYELINER ON YOU, Charles spells out, familiar words and an even more familiar grin on his lips.

“This is the fourteenth time you asked me that, noble spirit”, Edwin points out, and cannot help but smile back. They were so busy on back-to-back cases that it feels like he hasn’t had time to look at Charles properly in far too long. He’s beautiful like this, bathed in candle light and the silence of their agency, and Edwin aches with it in the most pleasant of ways.

YOU COUNTED?

“Of course.”

A pause that lasts maybe a second too long; Charles’ fingertips are pressed against his, and Edwin cannot feel, and feels them still.

I DID TOO.

YOU WERE QUITE BRILLIANT TODAY, Edwin spells out, because it’s true; Charles’ quick thinking had saved them all that day, battering the right one of three vessels on pure instinct alone.

“Ah, shush”, Charles says, but he is ducking his head, smiling; Edwin loves him so much it feels like a physical weight in his chest, grounding him in the best way. “Couldn’t have done it without you guys.”

THEN WE WERE QUITE BRILLIANT TODAY, Edwin tries again, in case it will be easier for Charles to take the compliment this way. He tries for a smile as well, and Charles’ eyes go soft at that; their fingers are touching, but it almost feels like Charles is trying to press closer still.

“That we were, oh sweetest of all spiritual guides”, Charles concedes, and for a split-second, the brightness of his smile is enough to let Edwin forget about anything else, but only that.

Sweetest?

MY FAVOURITE POEM USED TO BE FIRST MEMORY BY LOUISE GLÜCK, Charles writes, apropos of nothing, on a calm summer night when Crystal has long since gone back to her apartment and the only thing they have to do is tell silly stories, taking turns with the Ouija board.

“Your favourite…?”, Edwin starts, but it’s true, he has asked about it before. He stops for a moment, Charles watching him, and rifles through his memories to find the poem in question, before stopping dead in his tracks.

It makes sense, too much of it.

“Oh, Charles…”

Without thinking, he puts his hand over Charles’ on the planchette, even if only for a moment, because Charles is writing more.

IT’S NOT ANYMORE.

And Charles gives him a smile, and it’s not broken and not brittle, and so Edwin chooses to believe him, and smiles back.

“Give me a minute to get some books”, Edwin says, and gets up before Charles has the opportunity to answer, “We will find you a new one.”

Edwin waits until Charles has sat down and put his fingers where they belong, then writes, WHAT WERE YOU TWO TALKING ABOUT?

It sounds jealous, but that is not what makes Edwin ask the question, it’s genuine curiosity. He had been setting up the Ouija board when Crystal had returned to the agency, having forgotten her keys, and Charles and her had been talking for a few minutes while Edwin had spread the table cloth, fixed the flowers, lit the candles and the incense.

“Oh, nothing really”, Charles starts, half chuckling as he pushes a hand through his hair. It musses up his curls and Edwin desperately wants to reach out to fix them. “She asked about the séance, and I tried to explain it, but I don’t think she got it.”

HOW SO?

“Oh, she told me to “just start communicating like adults” or something like that”, he answers, and there is something bashful about it that Edwin doesn’t associate with him at all, something that looks sweet on him and yet feels strange. “Don’t worry your pretty head about it. She just doesn’t understand it.”

LET ME PUT SOME EYELINER ON YOU.

The same request, the same grin on Charles’ pink lips; it’s the sixteenth time he has asked Edwin this, and he wants to refuse out of habit, but he’s been wanting to see that surprise on Charles’s face for so long and maybe Edwin is just tired of waiting.

“Alright, oh noblest of spirits”, Edwin tells him, and the astonishment on Charles’ face was worth the wait and then some.

I’M GLAD I TOLD YOU, Edwin spells and this should be harder to say, should be something he doesn’t want to remind Charles of, but it isn’t. BACK IN HELL.

And he’s right to say it, because Charles’ eyes soften, and he smiles, and Edwin loves him so much he almost tells him again.

“Me too”, Charles answers, and it makes Edwin shiver; Charles moves his left index finger so it is resting on top of Edwin’s. “I’m honoured, even.”

Charles seems to hesitate for a moment, before he starts to move their hands, touching and yet not intertwined like Edwin imagines them being sometimes late at night, when they are wrapped up in companionable silence on their sofa, also touching, but never quite in the way he wants them to.

I THINK I HAVE A NEW FAVOURITE, he spells. POEM, I MEAN.

“Oh?”, Edwin asks, and for some reason it feels like his pulse should quicken, like this should be a confession and not just a statement of facts. Something about Charles’ eyes when he looks up at him again from the planchette, something about the quirk of his lips. “Which one is it?”

THE 2ND ONE YOU READ LAST NIGHT.

The problem is that Edwin has read so many poems over the last months, all to Charles, all on their sofa, almost all with Charles’ feet in his lap, Edwin’s fingers resting on or around his ankle.

So he says, “Oh. I am glad you enjoyed it.”

And vows to look it up afterwards, especially when the look, that strange, intense look doesn’t leave Charles’ face for the rest of the game.

“Can I tell you something?”, Charles asks him, rocking back on his heels, and Edwin is struck again by how much of Charles is just motion, even if it must be the hundredth time he’s noticed it. And how fitting it is, too, since Edwin life had never felt like it was moving, yet in his death, the Universe never seems to have stopped spinning: Charles is the centre of it.

“Of course”, he says easily, and Charles gives him a quick smile that Edwin will treasure like every other one he has ever gotten.

“Like this?”, Charles adds, and puts down the Ouija board in front of Edwin, which he must have been hiding behind his back. It’s a surprise; usually it’s Edwin who uses the barrier the board offers much more than Charles does, and nothing has happened in the last few days that Edwin could imagine rattling Charles so much he feels the need of it.

Yet, he nods immediately, and there is another smile, a little brighter this time.

They set up the candles and the incense and everything else, even if it is Edwin, who is doing most of the work, because Charles seems to be distracted, having to flick the lighter several times to produce a flame. Edwin would be worried, but Charles doesn’t seem scared, doesn’t seem to be hurt, just seems… distracted.

He sits down as soon as Edwin puts the planchette on the board, his fingers finding it like they have been itching for it.

“You ready?”, he wants to know, and Edwin has to stop himself from asking what is happening, instead just sits and nods, placing his fingers delicately next to Charles’, making sure they touch just so.

“What do want to tell me, noble spirit?”, he starts, and hasn’t even finished the words before the planchette is moving; Charles is looking at it intently, the tip of his tongue peeking out between his plush lips, and Edwin would be mesmerised by it, if he didn’t have to know what Charles wants to tell him so desperately.

I REALLY WANT TO FALL IN LOVE WITH YOU.

Edwin doesn’t have to breathe and yet the words suck the air right of the room; he doesn’t have to drink and yet his lips and throat are dry; he doesn’t have a heart that beats and yet it stops.

There are no thoughts left in his mind, but when he looks up from where their fingers are touching, Charles is already looking at him, eyes wide and earnest and almost pleading; he’s not scared, he’s not hurt, he’s… excited. This is Charles before an adventure, Charles packing his backpack and ready to leave, only waiting for Edwin to stop fussing, Charles like he always is, in motion, in flux, in the centre of Edwin’s universe.

Are you certain?, Edwin should ask, but he won’t insult him like this; Charles would never say something so momentous if he hadn’t put the thought into it before.

“Okay”, he says instead, and still feels breathless, feels starved for any additional kind of love Charles might give him that he hasn’t been allowed to taste before. “Brills. How do we- how do you want to start?”

A smile blooms on Charles’ face that rivals the sun, the stars, the candles illuminating the single most important being in Edwin’s life, and he shrugs. Their fingers press together a little more, although Edwin isn’t certain who of them moved them.

I DON’T KNOW, Charles writes, and Edwin isn’t certain what his heart is doing within his chest, only knows that it is bright and warm and overwhelming, that it is the closest he’s ever gotten to Heaven. I THINK I’VE ALREADY STARTED WITHOUT YOU.

And if possible, his smile gets brighter still, happier, and Edwin’s heart is pressing against his ribs, trying to escape them so Edwin can lay it at Charles’ feet and ask him to take care of it.

“Alright”, he says, and doesn’t know how he is still speaking, how he is having a single thought. “Then, what do we do?”

Charles hesitates for a moment, and Edwin needs the reprieve, because he would have been happy with loving Charles from the little bit of distance between them, would have taken every word and every touch and every glance and treasured them without ever asking for more. And yet, here is Charles, the sun behind his eyes, saying that he has already started loving Edwin back. That he wants to do so even more.

The planchette moves, and it’s the only thing that breaks Edwin out of his reverie, because whatever Charles wants to say, he needs to listen to.

KISS?

And maybe Edwin doesn’t have to listen after all, because the word buries itself into his very soul, digging itself so deep into his mind he’ll never think of anything else again, because -

He is nodding before he can comprehend the motion, and for a moment, Charles just looks at him, happy and still excited and maybe, just maybe, a little loving, and it’s all the warning Edwin gets.

There are lips on his, and they are soft and warm, and Edwin doesn’t even have the mind to consider the feeling of them, because Charles is kissing him and Charles is kissing him and Charles is kissing him.

A hand cradles Edwin’s cheek and tilts his head just so, and then Charles kisses him differently, his tongue teasing at Edwin’s lips until he parts them, and it’s bliss, it’s Heaven, it’s everything Edwin never thought he would deserve.

Edwin does his best to kiss back, and Charles sucks in a breath they do not need, before he kisses him with even more fervour, making a sound at the back of his throat that Edwin drinks down like it is ambrosia.

It lasts forever and it lasts no time at all, and when they part, Charles leans his forehead against Edwin’s, so that they would be sharing air between them, would share their very breaths.

“Definitely started without you”, Charles whispered into that hallowed space between their lips, and there is laughter in his voice, there are tears.

“I did, too”, Edwin replies, and knows that he sounds just the same.

Their hands, still resting on the planchette, are intertwined, and without looking down, Edwin knows they’ll stay that way forever, now.

______

Here's the two poems mentioned: First Memory by Louise Glück Like Air by Laura Hershey (and yes, Charles meant this to be a love confession, but unfortunately not even Edwin's brain is big enough to retain all poems he has ever read.)

#dead boy detectives #dead boy detective agency #edwin payne #edwin paine #charles rowland #painland #payneland #paynland #chedwin #charles x edwin #edwin x charles #i just love the idea of them doing little seances #and in general of them just doing little childish things because they're fun and they get to hang out #like in the opening titles #let the boys have fun hobbies!!!!#which lead to them kissing

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sqarletsworldlesswandering · 4 months

Note

Hello there fellow Worldless Fan!

Got any fun headcanons or theories?

Hello hello! (Gosh y'all are so welcoming, I love it-)

Hrmmmmmm. I don't have a ton of headcanons (yet), but I can certainly come up with a few, lol. Mostly for the personality of our beloved duo.

Edda:

Strikes me as the more "professional" of the two (I mean, look at her idle-). However, this is more true early in the game, while we're still chasing Aven.

That said, when actually revving for a fight, she's more akin to a chihuahua in my head. Smol, but Will Fight You. Also true early on, and just takes on a more chaotic undertone as you progress and she has someone to Protect.

She has impulse control, and half the time knows something is a bad idea, but will do it anyway if she's riled up enough. This also tempers out a (very) little bit, and shifts from "I'm gonna do it anyway" to "Let's see if I can scare the living daylights out of Aven."

Has a serious playful streak, once she get's comfortable. Especially when dashing hither and thon and sprinting across water (Aven refuses to accept any challenges to a race after getting fooled once). I like to think this surfaces after merging with Aven, and that beforehand she was too focused on being "professional" to indulge. Aven gets her to chill a bit.

Aven:

The more casual, even-keel of the two, but early on also a bit chaotic compared to Edda's markedly militant undertones.

Also the more playful by default. He seems like he would have a good sense of humor.

That said, I also envision him as being a little more reserved up-front, given that after the initial awakening, he opts to run rather than fight. I always pictured that as a mix of fear, calculation, and reservation, with emphasis on the reservation since something very new just happened, and he needs to process that before he tries fighting the other participant in that.

(Edda: "He asked for no pickles.")

I also envision him as the rest of Edda's impulse control when her inner chihuahua wins out. This is also the part where he develops grey hairs every time she decides scaring him with a stunt would be fun.

Both Edda and Aven have their aggressive streaks, but where Edda has the aforementioned chihuahua vibes, Aven is more of a porcupine/cactus - he prickles at you, and glares at you, but would also like to deter you from starting the fight if he can, and if he can't, he ain't instigating.

Less of a personality note, but that scarf of his is somehow immune to water (joking off of how in-game it continues to flap underwater, and doesn't get soggy and weighed down), and Edda is jealous. (I would like to think that at least once she snags the end of it to use as an umbrella.)

Some other miscellaneous stuff:

Aven would 100% braid Edda's hair if she lets him (which she might, later on).

As much of a fuss as he makes of it, he doesn't actually mind her using his scarf as an umbrella (even though it doesn't work very well).

Aven is the one who likes taking time to explore, and encourages Edda to slow down and enjoy things (I base this largely off of how Edda has faster movement).

The fight with Angel? Yeah, Aven ends up taking back-seat for that one, and not even because he wanted to, but because Edda has found a Groove and he's not sure he wants to interfere with it.

A similar notion is true of fighting Demon, if for...different reasons. (Basing that both on the angst potential, and on the fact that I pretty much only used Aven for evasive maneuvers and fire in that fight.)

Anyways, that got long-

I will add more as more comes to me, and knowing me it will eventually, lol. Hope you enjoy the headcanons!

#SqarletTalks #worldless aven #worldless edda #worldless headcanons #ask box shenanigans #worldless au: eclipsed

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splitsabers · 2 months

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I proudly present to you:

The Splitsabers Photomode Guide!

This guide will be a look into some of my thoughts and tips for photomode in Star Wars Jedi: Survivor. Let's get into it!

Disclaimer: I am in no way a professional 😂 my credentials include art as a hobby and a 3-month obsession with Jedi Survivor (still learning new things every day) so this is definitely more of a beginners guide but I love talking so here ya go

Survivor is a huge game full of environments, actions, and movements. When I'm looking to take photos, I have two files: one completed on New Game+, so I have access to all cosmetics and areas (this is what I use for the saber series), and one "fresh" file where I'll play the game from 0% and have access to specific animations, storylines, environments, and scenes:

When it comes to taking actual photos, I'll just run around and play the game as normal while constantly looking for areas with good lighting, scenes, or encounters.

Sometimes I'll have a specific idea, like with the saber series, where I want to take photos in certain environments. For example, for the purple saber I wanted to go for an "outcast" look with the outfit and selected areas like the laser on the Shattered Moon, observatory, and meditation arenas in force tears. I'd go through different lightsaber stances, animations, and poses, as well as lining them up with the environment to get shots I liked.

I have a collection of places I like to go throughout the game with good lighting, encounters, or similar (rehabilitation wing my beloved).

For 90% of my photos, I place the subject in focus (typically someone's face/body, weapon, or hands) and turn down the f-stop so the environment (or sometimes the rest of a person's body) is out of focus. I like doing this because it places attention onto the subject while leaving the background in context.

You can leave details like this that enhance the photo or add weight to the photographs - we as the audience can extrapolate how certain photos relate to the meaning of a shot from what we know about the game - a picture is worth a thousand words!

You can use the environment as a framing tool, or take pictures of the beautiful environments of Survivor itself!

For posing, throughout a session I'll constantly pause and check the poses for characters I'd like to take photos of. Look at scenes from different angles to see what works! There are countless different actions in the game that can provide photo opportunities. These can be idle animations, finishers, combat engagements/attacks/stance switches, cutscenes, or character interactions!

It can take a lot of tries to get the right timing - for certain sets, I'll often reach a spot, take photos while constantly pausing and checking poses, and then quit out without saving so one-time animations (like certain combat finishers or the first BD visor interaction) can be repeated for that "perfect shot" (I'm working on collecting save files for different story points throughout the game).

When it comes to posing Cal, while idle, he'll look in the same direction the camera does (it actually took me a long time to figure this out I still feel silly sometimes for not knowing) as long as the camera is behind him; otherwise he'll look straight forward. You can use this to get him to look down, up, or to the side!

Tilt can also be a fun way to add drama to a picture or change the framing of your subject to fit your shots!

Exposure is useful for changing the whole brightness of a scene or creating better opportunities for shadows and highlights. For this photo, I had an idea for this nice strong contrasting shot where the lights would only see one side of Cal's face and make a sharp shadow. However, the light from his lightsaber illuminates the dark side (no pun intended) of his face.

To solve this, I turned the exposure way down (so the saber glow would be much weaker) and really pumped that blue light onto the strong side with spotlights to create the effect I wanted.

Spotlights are also an incredibly important in creating light that frames your photo! They can be used to define and bring attention your subject, enhance existing lighting, or create visual interest using color.

I always find my favorite photos make creative/extensive use of lighting. Certain things will interact differently with spotlights or give off light of their own - consider your environment and intended effect. Also consider how the lighting will react with your subject - for example, metal reflects light differently from cloth (I'll often use spotlights to highlight/reflect metal objects like Cal's lightsaber or BD-1), or particles may have certain effects (echo sparkles will disperse spotlights really nicely!).

Here's a before and after; good lighting can really make a scene pop!

You can use spotlights to create light sources that serve to define your subject and their key features (wait... I just realized.. is that why it's called a key light??). I'll often use a 2-light combo of yellow and white to make an "artificial sun" where natural light can't reach.

Since I post the majority of my photos in sets, when I take photos I'll often take the same photo in different color combinations of spotlights, exposures, and filters so that when I select the final photos for a set the whole "matches" and looks more cohesive together.

I personally don't do any editing on my photos third-party, but for most of my photos, I'll use the "Ryloth" filter at around 30-40% strength since I like the way it affects the saturation on colors (especially reds and oranges) and boosts the contrast a bit, although I will occasionally dip into the other filters. Of course, good graphics settings (if you can run them) can always improve the look of your photos.

As always, the #1 way to improve is practice! Learn for yourself what styles you prefer and try new things. I've taken (literally) thousands of photos and I definitely feel like I've improved by loads since I started.

If you're looking for more resources:

@animatedjen has made a lovely tutorial for portrait lighting, going over the different types of lighting in Survivor and ways to use them (💛💛)

Here's a guide by andva-ri on using a line of action - it's something I use more in my art, but I'll use this concept when I'm composing some of my more dynamic shots (love using this in combination with tilts)

Feel free to link resources of your own or to come to my inbox with any questions or advice! I'm so glad I got into this and I'd love to help other people learn, or learn something new myself <3.

Thanks for reading, and happy photographing! 📸

#<333 #did this instead of writing my essay LOL #star wars jedi survivor #jedi survivor #photomode #swjs #splitsabers #tutorial #been thinkin about this for a while now it's a LOT #...curse you 30 photo tumblr post limit...#cal kestis

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 2 years

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Azul, Jack: An Honest Effort

The first thought I had about the Groovy is… MAN’S BARELY OFF THE GROUND (as expected). I imagine that Azul aggressively insisted to the photographer they should lie on the ground to get a high angle shot of him on the broom just to give the false impression of him being higher up than he actually is.

I wanted to write about Azul coming to terms with accepting who he was, as well as shed a light on how hardworking he is. He didn’t just take the easy way out, he actually worked his ass off in all that he does. There’s many instances of Azul going above and beyond go improve, even for things he sucks in or for inconsequential things (flying in his P.E. Uniform vignette, rolling the dice in his School Uniform vignette). He deserves recognition for that.

A Boy in Bloom, and his Flowering Future.

“What do you do on your days off?”

“I don’t much like to be idle. Time is money, and I would prefer to not waste either,” Azul expelled a breath. “If you must consider it a ‘day off’, then... I wake up early, prepare myself a drink, and peruse the papers. When there is no work to be done, it’s all about self-maintenance.”

“I agree it’s important to take care of yourself, but... You’re basically still working at that point.”

“You could put it that way, yes. However, sharpening one’s mind is not just busywork. It’s also like a kind of training to strengthen the brain, similar to how one would train to strengthen their muscles.”

“Now that, I get.” Jack nodded. “There’s nothing like the burn after a good, honest workout.”

At this, Azul winced. “I fail to see the appeal of such a thing. It’s hardly a sensation that I’d call pleasant. However, I suppose it can be nice to physically feel the results of rigorous effort.”

“You should try it sometime then. You’d appreciate training the muscles if you worked up a sweat yourself.”

“... I do.”

The effect on Jack was immediate. The beastman’s eyes popped, jaw hanging open and fur standing on end.

“HUH?! Azul-senpai, you... train?! Seriously? I never thought I’d hear the word from your mouth!”

“Yes,” Azul replied, bristling. His voice was set in frost. “Is that really so difficult to believe?”

“It’s just--” Jack stopped himself and reconsidered. “You’re not the type of person I picture doing that kind of thing.”

“What does it matter if I am or not? Anyone is capable of exercise, and it is well within my right to do so.”

“Er… yeah, you’re right.” The shock quickly turned to shame, and Jack’s ears flattened, tail dropping. “Sorry. I got caught up in the moment and said something careless.”

“As your benevolent upperclassman, I will overlook your transgression and accept your apology made in earnest.”

Jack gave a small smile. “So tell me more about your training. What kind of exercises do you do? What made you want to start?”

“I try to work a little of everything to ensure that my body is evenly toned. As for what motivated me to begin… I suppose you could say that I was, in your own words, looking for a ‘good, honest workout’.”

“But unlike me, you’re not in an athletic club. You don’t like P.E. class either. When you talked about it earlier, it didn’t sound like you enjoyed training. I don’t think you’d go out of your way to do it for fun.” Jack folded his arms and furrowed his brows. “If you only wanted to get stronger, wouldn’t it be easier for you to make a deal and take someone’s strength?”

“Is that truly what you think of me?” Azul frowned. “You miss the point. What use is it to steal what you desire most rather than earn it for yourself? Would I really be able to call those traits my own? There is no pride to be had in that.”

“You didn’t have an issue with it before winter break.”

“Well…” A complicated look clouded the birthday boy’s features. “I was a different person then. Those things don’t have the same value as they once did. They’ve depreciated.”

In spite of the coldness of his words—the pointed truth of them—there, too, was a soft sadness slipping past his lips. Acknowledgement, and painful sympathy.

Azul was looking at Jack, but not clearly seeing him. His eyes seemed to be trained on something else, someone else, far off in the distance.

A sad little boy curled up in a pot, clouds of inky black tears coloring the water.

“… I was a different person then,” Azul repeated, this time more firmly. “I endeavor to be someone worthy of admiration through my own efforts. If I can be satisfied with my abilities, then it will steer me from walking along that dark path again.

“Be it flying, strength, or luck of the draw… I have always been aware of those shortcomings, in life, but what good comes out of it were I to stop there? What good comes from wallowing in doubt? That is why I will make something for myself, and why I must find my own strength through honest effort.”

I will accept the past and use it to guide me to the future. The “me” I wasn’t able to accept then… Someday, I will become strong enough to embrace him.

Jack stared at him hard. “Are you being honest with me?”

Azul chuckled faintly. “Why wouldn’t I be? What would I hope to possibly gain by deceiving you about my personal ambitions?”

“Towards the end, it didn’t sound like you were…” Jack paused, cocking his head to one side. “Are you even still talking about your Overblot anymore?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Of course I was referring to that incident. What else would I be talking about?”

“You’re dodging the question again,” Jack sighed. “It’s good that you’re motivated to keep up that training though. With that kind of attitude, I’m sure you can reach the heights you’re dreaming of.”

“Urk! Must you phrase it like that?” He hurriedly glanced away, mumbling to himself under his breath. “And here I was, so carefully redirecting the conversation away from that!”

“Heh.” Jack allowed himself a smirk. “So even Azul-senpai has this kind of side to him, huh…”

“Wh-What side?!”

“You know, like a point of weakness. Vulnerable. Kind of squish—”

“AHHHH, DON’T SAY ITTTT!!” Azul pleaded, his volume and pitch spiking into a loud whine.

Jack deadpanned. “Yup. There it is, the squishiness.”

“A-Ahhhh… You went and said it anyway…” the birthday boy groaned, a hand to his forehead. He took a deep gulp of air and slowly exhaled. “… Excuse me, forget you heard that.”

“Why? Isn’t it good to be aware of your weaknesses? That way, you can find strength from them.”

Azul warily eyed him. “You’ve got some bite in you after all.”

“You keep me on my toes. Wouldn’t want you catching me off-guard someday.”

“My, I’m honored to hear that. I’ll have to work hard to keep up with that strong moral character of yours.”

“Good luck. You can work on that along with the muscles. Maybe I’ll see you at the gym or on the field sometime. Until then… show me what you’ve got.” Jack nodded at Azul’s broom.

“Hmph, very well. Prepare for me to deft your expectations, and bear witness to the fruits of my labor!!”

The merman mounted his broom, tensely straddling the handle between both legs. It was a posture he has practiced for hours on end—perfected and polished like a mirror, if not a little too stiff.

The moonlit air around him heated with magical energy, sparkles flickering among the flowers. Very slowly, his bouquet—and his feet—lifted from the ground.

And…

… Azul sluggishly chugged forward, only a few centimeters off of the ground.

“Uh… good job? … I think.” Jack searched for a compliment. “It definitely ‘defied’ my expectations like you said it would.”

Azul flushed.

“… N-Not a word of this to anyone, Jack-san!!” He sputtered back. “Solemnly swear to me that you will not share this with a single soul!!”

#twst #twisted wonderland #Azul Ashengrotto #Jack Howl #twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland scenarios #disney twisted wonderland #spoilers #something no one asked for #Azul birthday takeover

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cursedvibes · 4 months

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Mahito for the character thing 🖐️

Thanks for the ask!

favourite thing about them

My favourite little gremlin creature. I think he's a fantastic antagonist for Yuuji, especially as the first major one he has to face and he's also incredibly fun to watch. He's so excited about everything he does and so curious that it becomes kind of adorable and infectious. Doesn't take away from the horror of course. In fact his cheerfulness makes what he does all the more cruel. I really miss that kind of chaotic ruthlessness. Sukuna is cruel too, but he's more predictable and compared to the stuff Mahito got up to with Idle Transfiguration and the way he contorted his own body, Sukuna seems relatively mild and straight-forward.

least favourite thing about them

Nothing really. I used to really hate him and was begging Yuuji to finally kill him and ideally brutally (sign of a good villain), but towards the end of Shibuya he really grew on me and once Kenjaku vored him, I was starting to really like him. I guess, I don't like how the fandom tends to turn him into a manic pixie dreamgirl, especially in shipping and take away all the messiness that makes him interesting.

favourite line

"No need to yell, I can hear you just fine! Itadori Yuuji!"

"Life has no weight or particular value. Just like how water flows through the earth… …life simply flows. For you, me and everyone else–it's the same. Without meaning. Without value. That’s why you can do whatever you want. Live the way you want. Don’t limit yourself to just being indifferent."

brOTP

Him and the curse family. All of them. Couldn't really choose just one of them, I love the bond they have with each other. Although I especially like how Jogo's grumpiness contrasts with his free spirit.

OTP

Kenjaku. I like this tension between Kenjaku wanting to swallow Mahito and Mahito wanting to transform Kenjaku. I think there's a good chance that Mahito would've figured out the layers to Kenjaku's soul as well and would've been fascinated by it. One more reason to crack Kenjaku open like a coconut.

With S2 I have also rediscovered my excitement for ItaMahi. I talked a bit more in-depth here and here, but basically I love how Mahito pulls out the more cold, cruel and feral side of Yuuji. Also the way Mahito and Yuuji are basically at a similar stage in life. They learn from the other, discover themselves and grow through the pain they give each other. Both are initially not fully formed and through their battles get a better grasp of who they are or build a different perception of themselves. Mahito grasps the true shape of his soul and Yuuji develops his cog mentality (obviously a less positive development than in Mahito's case, but it is a more clearly formalized version of views he had from the beginning).

nOTP

Nanami. I don't find Nanami's personality very interesting, most of the time he bores me (although I like what his character stands for and his influence on Yuuji) and from what I've seen, Nanahito shippers tend to woobeify Mahito the most. Strong big Nanami vs frail dainty Mahito...

random headcanon

He changes his genitals or if he has them at all or not. Usually, curses don't have reproductive organs, but he got curious and like with everything played around to find whatever he's in the mood for at the moment.

unpopular opinion

He's a good villain and entertaining. He's a better and more interesting antagonist for Yuuji than Sukuna.

song i associate with them

Hirasawa Susumu - Parade Kind of a no-brainer for me. Perfect for his flavour of insanity.

youtube

核P-model - HUMAN-LE For how he represent humanity

youtube

favourite picture of them

#asks #mahito

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xylomane · 2 years

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Hi!! Quick little message, sorry for the long break! Update: I just really got busy and lost 50/50 to Qiqi on Nahida banner so I didn't get her but I got ayato but then instead of Haran I got Ei's purple spear. Have fun with my suffering as an F2P. Anyway for the long break, I decided to write a cyno x reader with a twinge of jealous, protective, and caring Cyno (no smut for now lmao). (This'll be part one, there's gonna be a part two so wait—) I just love him sm although he tortures criminals :3 I'll be making long charac x readers like this one but they are considered short fics since I've probably seen longer ones. I hope you like it!!! I might also start making ship fanfics! Btw bonus character involvement here: Alhaitham <3333 Enjoyyyyy <3333333 Always remember that you matter and you have so much more good things to experience in your life! This'll be my christmas gift to you! If you feel like reading it ofc (❁´◡`❁) Part 2 out now! Here

Daybreak, yolk of warmth rises, and the clock above Cyno's bedside table beeps on cue. The moon's counterpart had taken over the horizon and Cyno knew it the moment his eyelids fluttered to the stabbing ray of sunlight through the white blinds. The opening of another day has invited him to wake. With acceptance, he sat himself up, a sensation of burning excitement building up in his stomach. Whatever today holds set the young scholar eagerly looking forward.

The usually time-efficient scholar Cyno couldn't simply dilly dally in his day, in fact, it barely even exists in his routines and vocabulary. Perhaps to him the hands of clocks move faster that a simple five minutes of idling affects the time for his other activities like a trail of knocked-down dominoes. A short time spent for meaningless dawdle would only affect his time to finish his homeworks, pushing the weariness caused by day further through the night where silence sends him asleep. But just staring at the blazing morning sun from his opened bed window had him feeling the sudden urge to sit for a while, having time to notice this strange tranquility and wonderment he always felt every morning, as birds flew by the blue sky canvas and hearing their songs as the winds stroked his face.

Such a pleasant and delightful greeting of nature to him, birds chirping and one even landing by his window sill. Everything is as peaceful as it should be, like a golden Paris morning. Cyno couldn't believe that he never stopped himself every morning to admire such an experience. Why did he never stop to take a peaceful break? He sighed, leaving the thoughts behind. What was once adoring a peaceful moment became a time to think of somebody special.

Cyno couldn't help wondering, "How does his friend wake up with such a view? What must they be doing now? Are they still asleep?" Your existence in his life has affected him immensely. Now he just couldn't go about his day without thinking of you. Perhaps, you must be getting ready—preparing to wear that plain ol' hoodie of yours, ruffling your hair into a mess for supposed volumes, and picking that perfect scent that never fails to turn him on. An attracting aroma, indeed. Cyno inhaled the fresh morning air as if the scent was really there but then, he ends up shaking his head to full wake, deciding to finally wave the reverie away—he should be getting ready too. The idling scholar brings a hand to scratch his disarranged silver hair, closing the short break to an end, and making his way to the kitchen.

~~~◊▪◊▪◊~~~

Sunny side-up, golden rice, and a few cuts of fish meat on his plate. Cyno swallowed down a bite as he stared at his phone. Opposite of him is the always empty wooden chair, painted gold by the sunrays through the window. The sight of it empty had his mind desperately picturing you on it, the atmosphere of your smile, the spark of sheer joy in your loving gaze, and the lovely tune of your voice. He would play cards with you, wanting to watch you flip cards and shouting hoorays or grunting your disappontments in defeat as you play against him. He bet it'd be a fun challenge for him once you get used to his tricks. What if he wins over you and then suddenly you'd give it to him back—like a clever backfire?

Cyno shook his head. If that happens, his cheeks would burn red with embarassment the entire game... But it would also be very impressive of you, doing great with only a few matches. It seems you've got quite some talent with cards.

Looking down at his food, the remaining portion is still half many. Cyno's eyebrows furrowed at the new unlikely hobby as he stared confusedly at his unfinished meal. All those daydreaming as time ticked away... and he hasn't even finished his food yet, what a waste of time. What is he doing?! Daydreaming leisurely or without a care for time is such a seldom thing to happen to him but it's a rather strange day today... For some reason, he suddenly felt too lazy to have himself follow his usual proper routine. He even somewhat felt disappointed for himself, but he'll let himself slide for now since it rarely happens anyway. Cyno brings a hand down to his pocket, grabbing his phone, and opening social media to pass time for a bit.

Scrolling through his phone, Cyno skipped posts—fragments of captured moments, smiling strangers, random news... and then... he stumbles upon an image of you.

He took it all in. The strands of your hair, outlines of your face, that smile that makes him blush even more. Cyno cracked a smile at it before typing in a comment, showering as much subtle praises as he can. He didn't know how else he could express his love for you aside from a few hints but if it is to raise your confidence a little higher, he doesn't mind.

'You look great. <3 Please never let that smile fade, I love your smile.' He typed in.

Cyno sent the comment successfully. His phone made a cling and a checkmark on his screen informed that his comment has been posted, it made his heart skip a beat. Cyno couldn't help but chuckle slightly to himself at the silly reaction.

The little heart on his comment is something Cyno liked the look of so much, even though he felt shy to admit it to anyone and to himself. The idea of putting it there came from you. You always sent him that heart at almost every end of most of your messages. 'Hello Cyno! <3' 'Hey Cyno! How have you been doing lately? I'm doing great! Can you help me with my history notes if ur not busy? No pressure ofc <3' 'Don't forget to take care of yourself! <3333'

It makes him feel feelings he is very well scared and aware of.

Finally having the urge to look at the time, Cyno looked at it on his phone. 30 minutes before classes start. Hey... it's not that—No, he should be going to school now. What made him stall like this? You really made an impact to him, huh.

The woolgathering scholar, still sitting on his dining chair with a person in mind, just couldn't help replaying all your lovely phrases. But when time finally worried him enough, he reluctantly stands up, reminding himself that the faster he moves, the closer he is to seeing you. Cyno quickly headed to the bathroom for an ice-cold bath.

~~~◊▪◊▪◊~~~

Cyno closed the gates and headed out. Black hoodie and earphones on, Butterflies playing on loop as he stuffed his phone in his pockets.

I won't stop getting butterflies~ I get 'em every time, I look into your eyes~

Cyno hummed the tune, aware he's alone on the road, someone pictured before him as he reached the intersection. Their hair bounces as they take each step, and the winds tangle their fingers at a few strands. Their hand suddenly reaches to fill in the gaps of his own, like branches meant to be intertwined as they walked and the figure in his head smiles so brightly that nothing else mattered in his view except their face. Your touch traced his palms with warmth and he tried to feel it as soon as he clasped his hand into a fist. Just imagine how well your hand would fit in his... it would feel so good. The underlying question is...

...when?

You won't stop running through my mind For the rest of both our lives You give me butterflies And I keep on getting Butterflies~

Up on a bus and the light of day poured over his face as he sat beside a window with open curtains. 'What a day...' His mind grumbled. Almost half the time he spent thinking is only about you and the bugging existence of time. He stared out onto the blurring street as the bus zoomed ahead on the road, the longing for you to be by his side gnawing constantly at the back of his mind. You could put your head on his shoulder and sleep at the quietness of this bus, morning gold all over your face and he would stare at your pretty eyelashes. Your presence close to him is enough to make him feel at peace and contented... If only—Ugh. Cyno buried his face in his hands. He should stop feeling like this. It's only going to make him more disappointed that you're not even his yet. He just wants you to be his and this wish is slowly eating him whole.

Cyno opened his eyes as he put down his hands to his lap. At this point, you being in his life and living in his head rent free is both a blessing... and a curse. Being hoplessly inlove sure has its pain.

The music went on, but then Cyno finds himself not listening. He has been thinking, what if... what if you started having a crush on somebody else? Like... if it's not him but maybe one of his friends? Would he be able to survive knowing it? He looks up at the bus roof and imagines your bright smile being for someone else to own, his gut wrenches at the idea of it. What if that figure in his mind one day disappears? As if... he never loved them? What if after he admits to you that he loves you, you become disheartened and leave him? Then the buds of love wither away into oblivion... Cyno closed his eyes.

Dark. If one day he would no longer see that smile as something meant for him... His world would feel dark. Strange. Unusual. Lonely. Having not a place in his mind and his life for you at the future... it would feel so wrong. Like something's missing and the feeling is just so unfamiliar to him. He might be being overdramatic to himself but it's the most sincere he can get about his feelings. It's better to be honest than confuse oneself with one's own feelings when it comes to love. He wouldn't dare face the consequences.

Cyno felt himself torn into two sides, he could allow you to love somebody else for your better but. But... if he has a chance, he'll stay by you. He can't tell for now. But one thing's for sure, he won't stop loving you. And that's a problem if you reject him.

'12 minutes before classes start', Cyno mutters to himself the moment he opens his phone. Thank goodness there's no traffic. He'll reach you by anytime now and the strange excitement building up in his stomach is getting wilder than ever. Cyno tried to discipline his body not to do stupid things but just the sight of you sends him crazy, even if he was imagining it.

~~~◊▪◊▪◊~~~

It didn't take long for the bus to finally reach Cyno's school. The moment he saw the signature white and blue walls of it at a distance behind a cluster of trees, he has already began walking through the bus aisle, ready to go down. Cyno deeply regretted wasting his time at home and had he been here early, he would've had 30 minutes of chatting with you. Maybe not all of it was a waste of time though, especially when he commented on your photo. That's actually spending time wisely for him.

When you walk into the room I'm as nervous as the day I met you~

Cyno panted heavily up the school stairs as his feet quickly dragged him towards you with the second verse of the song playing on his red-tinted ears. He stopped himself before the gates and the pebble floor tiles to breathe—bending himself down, catching his breath and as Cyno straightened himself, he saw it there. The very person he feels so excited for, the smile he very much cherishes, and that presence... the way your gaze meets his... those sleepless nights.

The bright light of the morning sun blinded him for a few seconds so he squinted at your sweet infectious smile.

"Cyno!!!" You cried happily, going up to him to give him one tight bear hug. That smile, the feeling of stomach butterflies... Cyno went stiff.

~~~◊▪◊▪◊~~~

Cyno's stomach burst with funny feelings. The way you smiled at him—so cheery and when you put your arms around his waist— He felt bashful. He opened his arms for you and your body closed around his, his heart battling to come out of his chest. Cyno prayed you don't feel it while hugging him.

Cyno returned the warm welcome by hugging you back. The feeling of your body warmth against his own... Cyno blushed. This feeling is sending him nervous, almost close to an inner panic. He hesitated, is it really alright to hug you like this? Doubts suddenly formed in the corners of his mind, questions voicing out his inner anxiety. Cyno asked himself, is this hug really fine? Especially that it's clearly not just a hug for him. It's like feeling your body extremely close to his. What if you won't like him if this is how he reacts with your hugs? Does he really deserve to fall in love with his unaware best friend? Isn't that painful to the person he just shared an intimate friendship with? But now's not the time. Cyno thought the better of it and decided that better cherish the small moment before it fades. Relax now. R e l a x , he told himself.

Cyno burried himself into your shoulder, ready to smell your signature scent—Hm? What was that?— Cyno buried himself deeper onto your clavicle. 'It's... something new.' Cyno thought. He sniffed the scent, it smelled like a masculine perfume and a twinge of... lime fragrance? It smells so good but it's definitely not your signature scent. Has that cologne ran out? Cyno looked at the fabric of your hoodie only to realize that this is not even the color of the hoodie you always wear. It looked... oddly bigger than you before you hugged him but it probably wasn't that obvious earlier because the sunlight had been blinding him. Something feels off here... Cyno's senses suspected.

Just when he started feeling that he has had enough and the hug was beginning to become suspiciously longer than you had anticipated, he let loose from the hug but didn't let go, his eyes gazing overhead, only to see a shadow blocking the sunlight. And then he realized something.

There's... another something.... something serious... that even Cyno couldn't help feeling gut wrenched to besides a hard question in an exam. Jealousy. When he realized who was blocking the sunlight, further paces away from him, he felt the gut wrench.

It's not because the man before him that you must've been talking to before he arrived here is quite the rational and attractive man, or because he seemed to have more manly display. It's not any of that. It's because he's none other than the sly, untrustable, and mysterious Alhaitham. Why is he here? Did you two talk to each other? Why would you talk to somebody like him? Do you trust him? For what reason? What kind of mission has this man involved you in? Cyno couldn't help but keep his mind occupied by buzzing questions of confusion. And as it was happening, his gaze sharply meets the other scholar's. But of course, Alhaitham doesn't seem fazed.

Sharp stares are just another one of Cyno's old tricks and Alhaitham still vividly remembers that same day he met those eyes when Cyno and him went against each other during a supreme student government debate. Should he tell you the story? Alhaitham chuckles to himself. The glaring scholar before him hated every bit of that small smile. He really hated not arriving early now.

**To be continued**

#genshin impact #genshin #genshin scenarios #genshin imagines #al haitham #Alhaitham #cyno scenarios #cyno x reader #cyno genshin impact #Cyno highschool au #cyno imagines #Please follow me lol #gender neutral reader #cyno x y/n #cyno

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virtualcarrot · 9 months

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[KKIR] Information up to date

(Posted on AO3)

The effervescence of Naruto's wedding buoys Iruka for all of three days, tops, and then he goes into a fugue state of flash cards and checklist items he plows through all the way into the Vice President exam. After which he retires to his apartment and locks himself in for twenty four hours, fourteen of which he spends sleeping.

When he emerges to resume his duties, it’s with an unnerving shiver vibrating right under his skin. Idleness doesn’t suit him. He misses the frenzy of the previous week. His days leave his thoughts alarmingly free to roam in comparison, with nothing to distract him from the Dread of Waiting for the Sentence.

He can feel himself becoming quite insufferable.

"Iruka for the love of the Sage, give it a rest."

"Leave him be, Kaede, he needs this," Hiro argues with too much mirth to be believable.

She laughs and pitches her voice louder. "Yo Iruka, it's a nice day today, isn't it?"

"Yes", Iruka replies absently, too busy sketching horrifying diagrams to pay any mind to the drizzle outside.

He’s taken it upon himself to think up an improved sorting system for the reports. It’s dreadful and dull work, not the least of which because it’s also entirely unnecessary, but it’s just the right amount of mind-numbing to keep him from crawling up the walls during lulls in the walk-ins.

He hears more laughter and ignores it.

He's not going to get the job, is the thing, he just knows that, and then he'll never be able to look Kakashi in the eye. Eyes.

That one's still taking some getting used to.

"How would you feel about a walk on the beach, Iruka?"

"Stop making fun of my name," he can’t help but instinctively retort at the mention of anything sea related.

"Onsen, then?"

"Yes, sure, I like onsen."

He can't believe they changed the date of the exam just so he could apply. All those other candidates inconvenienced so Iruka might go to a wedding, even though he’s going to fail everyone miserably anyway. He already can't bear to think of the look of disappointment on Kakashi's face, not after the man went through so much trouble to accommodate him.

Maybe the reports could be sorted by date first instead of rank? He scribbles something down.

"So, Iruka. Would you rather have some ice cream? dango? Or takoyaki, like the one two streets over."

"Stop bothering him, Kaede. He's obviously a ramen guy."

Iruka hums in absent-minded assent without looking up and draws a nonsensical arrow from a cluster of brainstormed words to another.

Kakashi will be kind about his failure, Iruka knows, but maybe that's what makes it even worse. Ebisu’s hundreds of 'I told you so,' will be upsetting, sure, but Iruka can endure gloating when it's deserved. At least it grounds him in reality.

But Kakashi? Kakashi makes him hope for things he can't have, and it's terrible to realize that just when he gives Iruka a chance, Iruka is going to mess it up so miserably.

''Favorite color?"

"Oh I know this one, it's definitely blue,'' Hiro answers for him.

It’s a relief sometimes, being known. Saves him from contributing to conversations he’s too distracted to have.

''How do you even know that?" Kaede’s voice asks, sounding curious.

"He said it was annoying, what's with his name and all.''

Why did Iruka ever think he was in any way qualified to be Vice Principal, anyway? Truthfully, a waste of everybody's time…

But he can't ignore the laughter anymore, not when it turns into full blown cackling.

''Alright, what gives?!" he snaps, looking up with a scowl.

Fist shoved halfway up his mouth in a meager attempt at some self-control, Hiro looks away. For her part, Kaede grins back triumphantly and folds back the magazine they had been bent over. There's a pen in her hand.

She shoves the magazine towards Iruka and points at a corner of the page where a cut out picture of none other than Hatake Kakashi sits atop of a paragraph of text.

The top of the page reads '*which of Konoha's legends would be your perfect date - results*'.

''Congratulations, Iruka,'' Hiro manages in a choked voice while Iruka tries to get his head around the whole thing.

It doesn't help that his coworkers are supposed to be responsible adults. Idleness truly is a poison to the mind.

Kaede gleefully pulls the magazine back to herself.

''If you like them reliable and steadfast,” she reads, “look no further! A man of mystery and dedication, the sixth Hokage of Konoha is the one for you. Whether relaxing with you at an onsen or sharing a warm meal at the Ichiraku Ramen restaurant of Konoha, this is a man that'll remain faithfully at your side. And, who knows, allow you into his heart, and maybe even past his mask!"

Iruka's eyebrows have a hard time figuring out what angle to frown at.

"That's not--" he starts arguing, but Kaede jostles him with her free hand and a mocking pout.

"Iruka and Kakashi-san,” she sings, shoving him to the beat, “sitting on a tree, k-i-s-s-i--Ohshit! Rokudaimesama!"

Kaede pulls back with a convulsive startle that almost topples her chair. The magazine crumples in her hand. Hiro reaches out in half-hearted, belated support. It's the thought that counts.

Kakashi takes it all in with lazy amusement. And total silence.

"Rokudaime-sama, we were just--"

"It was a joke--"

"We didn't mean--"

"It doesn't--"

In the back of his mind, the part of Iruka that hasn't been eroded by worry over his professional fate watches with vicious vindication as his coworkers flounder.

It fades to ash when Kakashi's eyes turn on him.

"Iruka-sensei. Might I have a word?"

With ice running in his veins, Iruka pushes to his feet. "Ah, of course."

Kaede mutters one last ohshit while he follows Kakashi out.

"They didn't mean anything by it, it was all said in jest..." Iruka can't help but say once they've slowed in the privacy of an empty corridor.

Kakashi turns to face him with a careless shrug, pulling something out of a hidden pocket in his vest.

He hands the crisp envelope to Iruka who takes it with renewed confusion.

"What's that?"

"Your results."

And with those words, the thawing ice in Iruka’s blood freezes right over and spreads to his whole body.

The brand-new paper bends in the too harsh squeeze of his fingers.

Kakashi tilts his head, expectant. "Aren't you gonna open it?"

"Kakashi-sama, I--"

A handwave cuts him off. "That, still?!" Kakashi asks somewhat irritably.

Iruka has to swallow before he tries speaking again. "I just want to say... I appreciate the chance you've given me, even if I don't--Well, I appreciate it."

Kakashi holds his gaze wordlessly for a beat, then nods.

"Sure. Now go on," he says more softly, "open it. I want to know what it says."

"As if you don't already," Iruka finds it in himself to mutter while pulling out a kunai in lieu of letter opener.

"But I... don't?"

Iruka pauses mid cut. "What do you mean, you don't. You're the Hokage. The Academy is under your direct purview."

Entirely unbothered, Kakashi shrugs. ''I recused myself.''

Iruka suddenly sympathizes with Kaede's death grip on the magazine before. ''You what?!"

"Well, I couldn't exactly be impartial, you know,'' Kakashi retorts with something petulant to his voice, like his integrity is what Iruka's doubting, of all things.

Iruka gapes at him for a while but when no more explanation's forthcoming, he gets back to the task at hand. When in doubt, compartmentalize. Cutting the envelope. Check. Pulling out the letter. Check. Unfolding the letter in perfectly steady hands. Eh, half ain't bad, we'll check it.

Reading the contents.

''I got the job,'' he says faintly, disbelieving, voice small in the empty corridor.

He stares at the paper some more, but the words remain the same.

He feels his face break into a smile.

''Kakashi, I got it," he says again, this time stronger.

A jitter of delight overcomes him and he jumps in relief, punching the air. He feels like a sixteen year old freshly made chuunin again.

His ''Yes!" echoes up the hallway.

At the sound, one of the doors down the hall clatters open.

''Did you get in?!" Kaede's voice shouts at him.

''Hell yeah!" he hollers back.

The reports room can be heard exploding in cheers.

Iruka turns back to Kakashi, finds him standing calmly to the side with a soft smile on his face.

''Thank you. So much,'' Iruka tells him fervently, suddenly so overcome with gratitude he can only say it in a whisper.

Kakashi scratches his cheekbone, right over a dawning flush of embarrassment. ''Aah, I didn't do anything.''

''Yes, you did. So thank you for the opportunity. And thank you for believing in me.''

Kakashi shuffles his feet. ''You're the only one that didn't, Iruka-sensei,'' he says, not unkindly.

There's nothing unkind about him at that moment.

In the reports room, the hoots of joy have been joined by the characteristic drumming of chairs and desks.

Kakashi casts an amused glance in the direction of the noise. ''I should leave you to celebrate,'' he says mildly, making no move to walk away.

Iruka rubs the back of his neck and chuckles. Truly, he can't picture Kakashi in that riotous crowd.

''Ichiraku this evening? Then I can tell you all about my revolutionary plans for the filing system," he asks with a grin.

Kakashi smiles back.

''Wouldn't miss it for the world,'' he replies, pulling out his book as they walk back to the reports room.

Iruka almost laughs at it, that way of not-so-subtly keeping him company while acknowledging the end of the conversation.

Something makes him pause at the doorstep of his office. The rioters calm at his sight, expectant, but he doesn't pay them any mind.

Feeling strangely vulnerable, he turns to Kakashi with his hand on the doorframe.

''See you tonight, then?"

Kakashi clasps him on the shoulder. ''It's a date.''

And then he disappears in a whirlwind of leaves.

The fucking--

The uproar that follows is deafening.

#my scrawl #kakairu #umino iruka #hatake kakashi/umino iruka #hatake kakashi #kkir #naruto

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bionicle-ramblings · 1 month

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I'm thinking about that Mythology AU I proposed

Most of these thoughts have come to be thanks to @chancetimespace

As you've probably guessed, Nidhiki was the only one to not adopt one of the future Metru. He's not a kid person(they make noise, they cling to you, they take up all of your time, you can't convince them to do ANYTHING for their sake), and he only gre to be OKAY with kids when the Metru were steadily brought into the picture. Whenua was an infant and was Tohe's and Pono's problem, Rakau kept Matau from getting too adventurous, Vakama was either glued to Lhikan's side or hiding in his room, Onewa stayed by Naho, Nuju was usually with one of the four ice brothers, and Nokama did whatever Tuyet told her.

The Metru's age's, when adopted, ranged from 6 or 7 at the youngest to 10 or 11 at the oldest, and the order, surprisingly, goes Vakama, Whenua, Matau, Nuju, Onewa, Nokama.

The conversation of having the children BE future Toa was not an easy one. From a tactical standpoint, it was their best option, as they often had to hide the children from Dume whenever he visited, as they were beginning to suspect something was wrong, thanks to Reka's mask power(Kanohi Rode). On the other hand, the Metru are essentially their children and no parent wants to put their child in harm's way. There was arguing, there were accusations thrown at one another, there was shouting, but the decision was ultimately made, more than ever when Lhikan admitted that Vakama practically begged Lhikan to train him to fight and be a Toa

A lot of different ideologies clash with the Mangai. They all agree that no fight is considered a fair fight, but that's it. Tuyet is a firm believer in ruthlessness, as is Nidhiki("Your attacker can't hurt you of he's dead."), meanwhile Lhikan, Naho, and most of the ice brothers(Teina, Tere, and Reka) believe in honoring the Toa code; Don't kill unless it's an absolute necessity. Tohe and Pono also follow the code, but acknowledge that occasionally Tuyet and Nidhiki have a point. Whakaari believes if you start a fight, you had better be able to finish it

A key thing to know about this AU: it's very much viewed in terms of a video game, namely stuff like stats, dialog options that determine what happens, puzzles, even the ability to switch between characters you play as. A lot of the Gods in Mythology are instead extremely powerful elementals or titans, like Karzahni

Following the game, when playing as the Metru, you, obviously, start off at level one and don't have many abilities. The ones that are maxed out(accuracy, melee, etc) are still fairly low, and you improve all your stats as you play. In the game, whether you chose to or not, you play as all 6 Metru AT LEAST 3 or 4 times

Playing as one of the Mangai in flashback chapters/levels, you have MUCH higher stats and levels, so playing as one of them feels vastly different from playing as one of the Metru. Their opponents start having more health and are harder to take down, though, so don't get comfortable

Multiple types of gameplay are present: Action rhythm, memory, the 'counterpoint' stuff like Danganronoa, classic rpg action, all that fun stuff

All playable characters have idle animations from Vakama sitting down and making a mask to Lhikan just hiding a yawn before he straightens himself to Matau rocking on his feet

The final boss level begins as you play as Vakama. You have found the Mangai, your stats are maxed on every character, and if you've prepped accordingly(as the player), you sneak out of the base and begin a ten minute walk from the base to the Coliseum. This is not skippable. You are alone with Vakama for these two minutes and it's meant to be for reflection; you started the game with Vakama when he and the others were just given their Toa stones and powers, and now you are essentially with Vakama as he walks to what could be the last fight he ever has, and he doesn't know if he'll survive, as he's alone. Trying to turn and go back warrants a few prompts saying going back isn't an option, as well as in invisible wall to stop you, and if all else fails, Vakama "yells"(text dialog) that he's not going back. The way home is shrouded by dense mist/fog, so you have no option but go forward

Collectables are unlockable as the game goes on, stuff that references Bionicle lore or Mythological tales such as the tale of Icarus

Lhikan kept a journal. It is left to Vakama before he leaves. Throughout the game, you can unlock more pages of the journal, but there is a chaise where you simply read the journal. Or recounts Lhikan's time when he was a boy and before he became a Toa, his time as a Toa with his team, seeing people who earned the title of Toa, but were not put under the same intense training he has to go through, his joy and pride at seeing Vakama grow and become stronger, his sorrow at losing his brothers and sisters, even the last entry and subsequent note to Vakama saying he hopes no one is foolish enough to look him because where he's going, he likely won't be found

#bionicle #ramblings #toa metru #toa mangai #mythology au #vakama #nokama #matau #nuju #whenua #onewa #lhikan #naho #tuyet #nidhiki #long post #game talk #a lot of the mangai have fan names so bear with me

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frostynovaprime · 1 year

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Mmmmmm post sleep Tennocon Rambles under the cut

Ofc because I just started vet school last week (yay) I couldn’t attend in person. Really sad I couldn’t attend because I’ve always loved it when I went to the 2017 and 2018 events. Had to watch the stream, but it look like from pictures everyone had tons of fun and I’m glad it was a success. Next year, please let it be closer to the middle of the summer akdjejak

Art panel, the highlight for me as always as an artist myself. Really cool to see all the concept works from way back in Dark Sector. I’m so sad the art book was so expensive and sold out so fast, but I hope this means they can be inspired to do a reprint in the future (maybe when food expenses arent draining my bank like a whirlpool….) The new upcoming concepts I can’t say I’m a fan of all too much. Grendel is my most hated frame but the boar is a cool inpiration for him. I personally think the game is very oversaturated with Liger concepts, so as per most Liger deluxes Sevagoth wasn’t my cup of tea. They designed the frame, why not have someone else take a shot as his deluxe? I didn’t catch who designed Yareli’s bu that one was interesting.

And….. the Heirloom skins collection. They’re pretty. I though Mag’s was for Nova and got too excited for a bit. And as a Frost main I’m always glad for more content containing him, hell I squint at his skin because it has a few elements that are strikingly similar to my Deluxe concept for him back in 2021. But. The price. I want to buy it, but this entire collection pitch is exactly what Digital Extremes has vow to not do in all 10 years with their fair free to play model, and this sets a very bad precedent if it were to continue. $90 USD is too high of a price for a pack of skins marketed as being in celebration of 10 years, inflated artificially with the Regal Aya. A pack of 6 (with an extra bonus, making 7 total and 400 platinum) is $40 which means everything in the second tier pack is only $30. The same price as the low tier. The only new thing the skins intoduce are the Signas, which are cool, but I gesture to Kaithe coronets. The skins have no new visual effects for abilities, no new animations, not even new idles like recent Deluxe skins have. Rebecca used the word “prestigious” for describing the pack. And I beg her to NEVER use that word again for cosmetics. Prestigious content is a very slippery slope. Take the Prestige skins from League. Because of those skins Riot is now thinking they can make a variant recolor of a very old Jhin legendary and mark the price up to $200. Warframe doesn’t need that. Not to mention the FOMO. The Heirloom pack is gone at the end of the year. Even past Prime Access comes back in Resurgence after a few years. Nightwave brings back old items from past story events. The only thing that has never returned was the Founders Packs, for a good reason. The Heirloom collection feels like a rehash of the Founders marketing in the present state of them game where it’s most likely not trying to stay afloat. FOMO has never existed in Warframe, and it shouldn’t be added now.

Don’t even get me started on that 10 year Accolade in the packs. Accolades have usually been for people who made a notable contribution to the game. Founders, Closed Beta testers, Creators. All of them have some sort of impact on the game be it keeping it afloat in the starting year or contributing to the Community. Now a shiny sticker can be added to any account for as low as $30. I’ve been playing the game for 8 years. I’m not a ‘10 year supporter’ yet. The wording itself insinuates that to supoort the game for a decade, you need to pay. That Accolade should have been something added automatically when your account turns 10 years old.

Overall I’m extremely disappointed bu the Heirloom marketing as it stands. Will I buy it down the road? Chances are high when I’m not bleeding for food with school going on, which is at the very end of the year right before it goes away cause I also give into FOMO. DE has adjusted their strategies before, and I hope they do so now. But this has already set a bad first impressions for any future Heirloom content.

Anyway, rant over on that. Sound panel was cool. Always cool to hear how specific sounds are made like Kullervo. The Heirloom debacle kinda soured my mood for a bit, so I focused more on studying my classes and then went shopping with my roommates.

Came back a little late to TennoLive, probably halfways thru the Soulframe demo. From what I saw I really like the whole concept and thematic. The little turtle guy is so cute. Excited to see more of its development and eventually play it.

The Warframe aspect I had more range of feelings. Whispers in the Wall looks really cool and I’m excited for exploring what the fuck Albrecht is doing. I love how its expanding Deimos more, instead of adding another island and button to navigation. It feels like it’ll require the New War to access, since its all based around the aesthetic of the Man in the Wall seen at the very end of the quest. I’m very interest in the human Loid (best design from Liger since Nezha Empyrean imo). I hope he gives more insight into the attitudes of the Orokin since he is 99% likely from before the Old War.

And… Warframe 1999. I got sucked into Warframe because of it’s unique spin on fantasy sci-fi. And throughout the 8 years I’ve played it’s stuck to its aethetic formula to a T. Seeing CRT monitors and Nokias along with Entrati designs, the modern sci-fi elements and callbacks to Dark Sector makes it feel out of place. Blasphemous almost. But, I’ve had this feeling before with Duviri. I had reservations as to whether Duviri would break the Warframe Universe as we knew it. But DE made the Paradox make sense, and the aethetic language of the world fits perfectly into the formula. I absolutely love Duviri. I need to see more and play 1999 in order to feel how it connects to the Origin System and Duviri as a whole, be it the very distant past (and being born in 99 myself makes me…. Haaaaa) or a parallel universe connected by Void Fuckery(tm). But seeing how Duviri played out I have no real doubts DE won’t pull it off again.

#i just needed to word vomit #warframe #tennocon 2023 #everything except for the heirloon packs was chefs kiss

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iuteamstarcandy · 1 year

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[NEWS] 151023 IU chats with her same age peers.. in ‘A Bunch of Twenty-three’

The dress code for the CHAT-SHOW was ‘flower’ as flipping the number 2 to look like an ‘S’ and adding a ‘3′ to it looked like a flower. The title of the event was also ‘A Bunch of Twenty-three′

“Just writing the number 23, it looks like flower petals. Doesn’t it? Am I the only one that thinks so? It’s in the lyrics for ‘Twenty-three’ too. It goes like ‘a bunch of twenty-three~’. I think the age of 23 is just like a flower.”

“I’m in a really good mood right now. More people are listening to my songs than I thought and I tell them that too. My songs are doing really well. Am I being arrogant right now? It’s the first album I’ve done producing for, so the sense of responsibility I have for it is really different from before. I searched it up at 1am and was like, oh, I made it! I was really thankful. Really, I thought to myself that I have to live as a good person from now on (I guess she means for good karma). I’m being really excited right now, isn’t it?”

“I wrote all the lyrics. There were a lot of things I wanted to say. Also, the topics were not light ones. These are songs that contain some of my serious concerns. Originally I thought of having an ordinary album title like ‘People’. Or ‘Purple’ as an extension from ‘People’. I didn’t want to make it sound so serious for everyone. That’s why I put a layer of protective film on the album title. ‘These are not serious words, but just my idle talk (which is where the ‘CHAT’ in CHAT-SHIRE comes from).’ Like this.”

The title song ‘Twenty-three’ is inspired by the cheshire cat from ‘Alice in Wonderland’. When Alice gets lost, the cheshire cat appears in front of her and she asks, ‘Would you tell me, please, which way I ought to go from here?’ to which the cheshire cat replies, ‘That depends a good deal on where you want to get to.’

"I don’t know what’s real, really. An article about me appears on a web portal. On some days, it puts me in a good mood? Uwah, I’m just staying at home, but there’s an article on me? But on some days I think to myself that I just want to hide somewhere. I don’t know for sure what I really want and all I have are short moments. Is it like that for you guys too?”

IU sang ‘Zeze’ for a fan with relationship issues. It’s a song that uses the motif of the main character, Zeze, from ‘My Sweet Orange Tree’, which is about an angelic boy with a gentle heart who is at the same time a devil and incorrigible.

“It’s the most fun song I’ve written. I thought Zeze’s temper was sexy. Despite his two sides, I was supporting Zeze and fell in love with him as I read the novel. I become the Minguinho (tree) and the song contains my message for Zeze. I left a lot of things open to interpretation as I was writing this song, so if you read the lyrics, you’ll find it quite interesting.”

To a fan with family issues, IU said, “I hope you know that you’re being really cool” and sang ‘Red Queen’ to the fan as a gift. This is a song about the Red Queen in ‘Through the Looking Glass’. A woman everyone hates, a story about a time she was pretty. IU got her inspiration from a picture that f(x)’s Sulli drew.

"I went to Sulli’s house to play, saw the picture and thought of the Red Queen so I wrote this song. ‘That woman’ is mentioned a lot in the lyrics, but to everyone a different person would probably come to mind. Although I called her a ‘woman’, you can think of the person as a man too. Actually the lyrics to this song are rather bitter. So I tried to sing it as cunningly as possible. In order for my voice to sound cunning in talking about that woman, people listening to the song might find the woman quite poor thing and take her side. Did I manage to pull off the cunningness well?”

To a fan troubled about career and aspirations, IU sang ‘Knee’. This song was written on a sleepless night because of how much doubt she felt about herself and she missed the times when she lay in her grandmother’s lap and could sleep without any worries.

"I feel the same way. I’m 23 now, but why have I not adapted to life yet? Spending each day clumsily like an amateur. ‘Knee’ is song I love the most on the album. I think it’s the first time I almost felt like crying while recording. I was feeling so sad that I couldn’t take it.”

IU won’t be promoting this album. From November onwards she’ll start her nationwide concert tour. “This year, I was involved in all kinds of activities. Other than for my concert, I think I’ve spent all the rest of my energy. I wouldn’t want the emotions I felt while producing this album to mix with those while doing broadcasts. I just want to end on a happy note. That’s what I wish for.”

Sad to part with the fans, she said she would create such opportunities for them again. IU went down from the stage and took a group photo with the audience and promised to post it on her Instagram.

“I’ve got to go and work now. Today was really fun. It’s such a pity, I find it a pity too. Two of my ex-classmates are here. You guys are my true friends. I really really had fun and thank you for coming. Get home safely. It’s a burning Friday, so go have fun somewhere. Don’t just go straight home. Annyeong~”

Source: Newsis

Translated by squishy with love

#IU #chat-show #news #151023 #twenty-three #chat-shire #fanmeeting

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jesseelmassalamy · 1 year

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❝ …. it wasn’t the people who were buried who were being punished, but those left behind. ❞

Age: 35

Gender identification: Cis male, he/him

Residential area: Downtown

Occupation: barista at The Midnight Club

Two positive traits: Intuitive & resourceful

Two negative traits: Reticent & withdrawn

Length of time in Providence Peak: 2 years

Faceclaim: Oliver Jackson Cohen

tousled dark hair, sad eyes that speak of things he cannot put words to, muscular yet agile from decades of hard training, a pack of marlboros in his pocket, an observant and intense gaze, and well worn jeans and scuffed boots

trigger warnings: drugs, addiction, alcoholism, death

Growing up in the heart of Boston as a trust fund boy who sang in the choir every weekend and had piano practice every Thursday, life was pretty bland at first for the man known as Jesse El-Massalamy. A mother who was an attorney and a father who held his place as a Judge on the stands for trials, life was smooth and life was grand. Now, they weren’t the typical trope of rich parents. You know, the ‘hire the nanny and only call three times a week’ kind? Yeah, definitely not the El-Massalamys. They also refused to spoil their children. You had to earn your trust fund to come out on top. To prove you were ‘worthy’ of sharing the family namesake and the riches such a name earned. In fact, once Sarah, his sister, was born the two siblings spent more time than not competing against one another. It was always out of pure fun. An imaginary and healthy points system to see who was ‘better’ than the other in terms of their parent’s eyes.

Jesse being the eldest you could imagine he always had a leg up on his sister. That was, until he entered high school. Jesse El-Massalamy never imagined he would fall in love. So easily and so randomly for a man who was focused on being the best of the best. Love brought you down, love ruined your path to success. After all, as Jesse grew, he saw his parents' love morph more into a deal of some sorts. As if they were together just for the pure image of the ‘American Dream’. You know, the ‘white picket fence, a few kids and a dog’ type of dream. Jesse's parents were bland. Jesse’s parents followed the route of what everyone could always expect. And so, he didn’t mean to fall in love. With a girl. With a passion that wasn’t involved with medicine or law school.

From the time Jesse could even walk, he was meant to come out on top. Earn his trust fund and the family namesake. And yet upon entering high school, things just changed. He no longer cared for the big picture. The thought of being up there with his father, or being an attorney like his mother. He hated the sight of needles, so scratch out medical school. He wasn’t lost, he just wasn’t passionate about the things he was so engrossed in as a mere child. Jesse no longer idolized the thought of being some big tough and rich man, who could make one tremble in fear at the thought of their name. Maybe it was because of the soft spot he grew for his girlfriend. Or maybe it was because he wanted to do what was right in the best way he could. And so, straight out of high school, he — well. To put it bluntly, he hit the ‘fuck it’ button.

All the colleges he applied for tossed out the window. As he fought between the thought of being a military man and going into the police academy. He tossed the options around for months before he couldn’t take the idle time anymore. Only a few months out of high school, Jesse joined the police academy. A year after that, he married the girl of his dreams.

The girl he thought was the one of his dreams. Ashlee was perfect in the ways they complimented each other. They grew with each other throughout the years of high school. Went to prom together, skipped classes to drink out in the woods. It was your typical ‘picture’ of what a high school relationship could have been. Except there was one thing Ashlee left out of the entirety of their relationship. She was an addict. Severely addicted to a drug that claimed many on the streets of Boston. Heroin. Jesse was always too engrossed in the academy and fighting his parents' distaste over his choices that he could never notice the bad days she could have. After all, Ashlee was a functioning addict. The days she could have her fix, you could hardly know a damn thing. Maybe, it was obvious and maybe Jesse was too stupid to put two and two together but it took a long while – years – before the truth was unearthed. Catapulted years into a marriage that was built on the lie of an addict.

It wasn’t the thought of her addiction that made the marriage turn rocky. It was how it was all handled. He was a few years into being a police officer, out of the academy and on the streets putting away the 'bad guys’. Her own money had run short. Her supplier had been locked up by her husband, by Jesse. And he didn’t help. Time and time again there were fights, tooth and claw, for her to get help and yet – it never came around. Instead, as ignorant as he was figuring she was too far deep, he began to help her. Pull a few strings and allow the dealer to get out of his sentence, back out on the streets. The cop that was making a name for himself as a El-Massalamy was slowly becoming tarnished by his wife’s secret addiction. In the end, he turned into some figurative pack mule. Instead of going to arrest the dealers supplying his wife’s steady downhill drop, he was the one meeting with them to help make the trade off. To help her out of horrific withdrawals.

It was what had given him a guilty conscious to this day. For one night, when he just couldn’t take it anymore. One night where the fighting was at an all time high before his nightly shift, Ashlee died. He went off on his shift and in the end she overdosed. At the age of twenty-nine, Jesse was a widower. Free of his wife’s addictions but not of the guilt ridden conscious all his decisions allowed.

The man who had grown up playing piano lessons and singing in the damn choir lost who he was. He was branded as a dirty cop. Blackmailed for all the things he had done to 'help’ his wife. Well, what he had done to think he was helping. And so, instead of fighting the fire, Jesse left the force.

The man who once had a plan for his future. To become a military man, to have kids and to grow old with his wife, finally became lost. There was no content in what had happened. Jesse El-Massalamy was guilty for her death in one way or another and yet he could never tell a soul. It ate away at him and so, he left Boston. He could no longer be in the city, surrounded by all the buddies he made on the force or by his sister who grew suspicious of Ashlee’s death. Her secrets of addiction died with her as Jesse had paid a healthy sum of money to cover it up and keep her name clean. But still, he couldn’t stay there any longer.

Jesse didn’t have a plan of where to go, all the man knew was that he needed to get away. The trust fund he had gained, years back, had accumulated in size. And so, he went. Traveled like most would when they felt they didn’t belong. He had all the money in the world, he used to be a respected member of the police force – but what could all that matter if he was no longer left with his dignity and peace of mind?

For a few years, Jesse was stationed in Italy. Drinking expensive bottles of scotch and tequila and living as a bachelor would. Blocking the thought of being a widower out of his mind. Lavish dates and women with expensive tastes were things he doted on. These were the things that Jesse El-Massalamy would normally turn his nose up at, but he was broken from his wife’s death. And so he went from shattered widower to snobbish bachelor.

Until his own addiction caught up to him. Liquor. How easily he could drink a whole bottle down to the last drop and not get sick. How he could drink so quickly without feeling woozy. Again, another place where he didn’t feel like it was home anymore. Jesse tried to run away from his addiction. From Italy to Germany, bouncing over to Switzerland and Thailand — He felt as if he could run forever. Well, for as long as his money could take him. As long as he could last under the pressure of long spouts of blackouts and spending hundreds in a night.

Finally, Jesse El-Massalamy accepted he needed help. At the ripe age of thirty-two, he made his way back to the states. In the honor of his wife’s death, he made the decision to move back home to Boston, if only to keep his promise to never leave their hometown. It was a promise he wouldn’t be able to keep given the memories that were all over the city he grew up in.

Jesse could no longer hide from his addiction. But he didn’t exactly jump right into treatment either. Upon finding a home in the heart of downtown, he made his own attempts to lay low. He wasn’t an uptight man, but he refused to return to the force of any police building. In any way or any sense. Law for him was finished. And so, he fought for many days in the sake of finding a career, or at least a hobby. He thought of dabbling in bartending or anything to help keep money flowing and keep idle minds busy. Yet it never felt right.

However, six months after settling back into Boston and just before his 33rd birthday, Jesse joined an outpatient treatment. As soon as he was out he moved across the country, settling in Providence Peak as a way to somewhat disappear again from the life he knew. He would go to meetings, talk to some counselor (if they really thought it’d help him) and do all the necessary steps it took. To be on top once more. To stop succumbing to a bottle of liquor at night. He was paradoxical in the ways he went about himself. Far too confident for his own good and much too insecure all at once. Yet, Jesse El-Massalamy wasn’t to be labeled any longer. As a widower, as an ex cop, or some stuck up trust fund boy — he was always changing. And he was just fine with that.

#providence.intro #introduction.#biography.#character study.

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