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animatedjen · 4 months

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What's some stuff you're really hoping to see in Jedi 3 (either narratively or gameplay wise)?

Oh I'm so glad you asked this 🙌 Because I have THOUGHTS.

Gonna put everything under the cut so this doesn't clog up the feed with a wall of text (whoops.) Some of these ideas I hope to create concept art for, after I replace/fix my very cranky thirteen-year-old tablet. Anyway let’s start with gameplay!

Gameplay!

Maintaining Cal's abilities: Survivor handled this beautifully by keeping many of the skills learned in Fallen Order, instead of undoing Cal's growth from the first game. I think it'll be trickier to keep this momentum into Jedi 3 (the skill tree has gotten so large!) but story reasons could push Cal towards new types of abilities instead of bloating the current options.

More synergy between the lightsaber stances: I like all the stances in Survivor and it'd be A) disappointing to lose any of them, but B) overwhelming to add MORE combat styles. Being able to flow between the stances more fluidly would be fun though, with specific combos unlocked depending on which two are active together. Now if Merrin lets Cal borrow her knife-staff and he puts his lightsaber on the end... MAGICK SABER PIKE GO.

New or adapted movement mechanics: Maybe the ascension cable is replaced with a force ability (Force Ascend or Force Leap for an extra vertical boost?) or is "upgraded" to connect between two anchors, letting Cal create his own temporary ziplines.

Replayable missions: This could be explained in-game with a Force Tear or Cal's own interactive echoes. But I'd love the option to experience story missions and boss fights again post-game.

Customization!

This is a bonus section because Merrin should get new outfits. Haven't decided how to make it part of gameplay yet, stay tuned.

Cal's cosmetics in Survivor are mostly cool, some just funny, but overall a huge improvement from Fallen Order (yes, even though we miss all the poncho designs). For Jedi 3 I'd love to see more story-centric cosmetics that tie into the communities and people Cal has met along his journey. A Legacy outfit (incorporating pieces from his three Jedi masters), an Anchorite-inspired outfit (with arm tattoos), a bounty hunter outfit (the prize after defeating the Brood), etc. Maybe a Bogling outfit? No not made from Boglings; it looks like a Bogling. Hang on lemme fix my tablet—

Narrative + Gameplay!

Explore Tanalorr: Right now this sparkly, strong-in-the-Force, temple-carved planet is a huge mystery box for Jedi 3. There's a few directions it could go - more High Republic history, another civilization (the Nihil? someone new?) lurking in the shadows, or Force-related secrets hiding below the surface. Each Jedi game has followed Cal's exploration of an ancient culture, and I think Tanalorr can be a focal point in that journey.

Defeat Sorc Tormo and the Haxion Brood: I mentioned this in an ask earlier this week, but I so want a resolution to this fight against the Brood. Especially since roaming bounty hunters would threaten the Hidden Path. Maybe Cal breaks back into Ordo Eris, or hunts down Sorc Tormo on another planet. Maybe there's a Force-only stealth section?? Maybe a big multi-wave boss fight? Maybe Caij is there??? (no she doesn't get an invite to Tanalorr)

Dark Side Force Slow: The fact that Cal's Force Slow ability kept its red-stained aura, even in the Survivor post-game, is great. I love lasting consequences and ludonarrative harmony, yes yes yes. Really hope this isn't fully resolved by the start of Jedi 3 (potential timeskip makes it tricky but whatever) and the ability receives some sort of healing through Cal finding his way out of the darkness.

Narrative!

Timeskip?: I vote no, but I think Jedi 3 will vote yes, likely to age up Kata and allow Tanalorr to be more developed. But that also means Cal and the Mantis Crew goes through character development without us (boo) or remains emotionally stunted until we get there (also boo?). I'm more comfortable with the five year gap between FO and Survivor than I used to be though, despite "missing out" on big character moments, so maybe it'll be okay. Maybe. 👀

The Hidden Path builds a home on Tanalorr: This works until it doesn't, whether from outside pressure or the threat of a spy within. I don't think Bode's fears should necessarily be validated, but I do think the risk will keep Cal on edge and hurt his ability to trust (both others and himself.) It'll drive decisions that strain his relationships and be a source of conflict for part of the game.

The Mantis gets semi-retired and then reinstated: I just love the mental picture of the Mantis parked somewhere cozy and decorated with cloth and lights and a hideout for Kata. It's become too small and high profile to use for gathering the Path, but when the plot gets going, they're gonna need her back in action.

Three main antagonists: The Empire, an unrelated third-party with their own goals (Nihil or someone else), and Cal's own demons. The first two drive the external conflict, the third drives Cal's inner conflict and the story's themes. More on that at the end.

A memorial garden: It's designed by Pili and filled with native Tanalorrian plants and trees, from which the Anchorites hang cords and windchimes and bits of colored glass. Cere's saber was buried beneath the largest tree. Cal plays her hallikset here when he's too troubled to meditate. If we want to be mean, this place gets damaged during a battle in Act 3. If we want to be less mean, this is the place that doesn't get damaged during a battle.

Kata has some sort of student-teacher relationship with Cal: I'm torn on her being Force sensitive: this is a story about Jedi and "guide her through the darkness" is pretty telling given Cal's own darkness at the end of Survivor. But Cal helping Kata (and Kata helping Cal) can happen regardless of her Force sensitivity - it would just look different. This is a soft answer because I'm still exploring ideas around it BUT admittedly the angst levels would be higher if she is sensitive.

A battle against the shadow self: Look this one is cliche. I don't care. I want a huge cavern in the depths of Tanalorr where Cal gets to fight a dark version of himself that switches between all his former enemies. If we're making a video game here let's physically beat up our darkness. Let's have it not work. Let's bring Cal to rock bottom to remind him that he is more than his darkness and he doesn't have to do this alone. Let's go back to that same fight later and then we finally win.

There's more to explore story-wise and I will eventually, but I'm overall not concerned about Jedi 3's narrative. Respawn has been very intentional with their writing of Cal Kestis and the Jedi series so far (despite some last minute changes to Survivor) and I love this character and this story because of all the great work they've created. I really hope they finish this journey the way they want to. That being said—

How should Jedi 3 end? Should Cal die?

No: I'll argue Cal dying at the end of the trilogy completely undermines the entire lesson of Survivor.

Cal wouldn't stop fighting the Empire: The Cal we meet at the beginning of Survivor definitely wouldn't. That Cal also watched countless friends die to that same fight and saw two different Jedi fall to their passions-turned-obsessions that led them to the dark side. He may wrestle with remnant obligation or a bitter apathy, but he's definitely not as single-minded as he was before.

Cal would sacrifice himself to save the Path: Yeah, he probably would. Cere did exactly that during the Siege of Jedha when all else failed. But maybe the Path could be protected without Cal needing to be a Weapon - a lesson Cere also wanted him to learn.

Another way: I think the Koboh abyss (that separates Tanalorr from the rest of the galaxy) could be destroyed. I don't know if Cal would choose to destroy it, but I think the Empire would: if they can't reach Tanalorr it's the next best thing.

Now Cal has to make a choice: Leave (continuing the fight alone) or Stay (shepherding the Path for an unknown future.) It doesn't mean they never find a way back to the known galaxy, but it'll take time. Enough time for a New Hope to appear.

Whatever your opinion of the Sequel Trilogy, the line: "That’s how we’re gonna win. Not fighting what we hate. Saving what we love." is not only a complete thesis of Star Wars, but fits really well with Cal's journey. He's become very good at fighting. He wants to save everyone in Fallen Order, and he can't. He still wants to save everyone in Survivor, and they refuse him. His Fight has made a difference (again, Cere says as much) but it's clear this can't be Cal's final answer.

Choosing to protect the Path, choosing to trust the Force, choosing a home. That's what he's been fighting for. I love Cal Kestis because he isn't the chosen one and he isn't going to save the galaxy. But for his family and his community, he saved their galaxy. It's cheesy but I don't care, and you know Greez and BD would agree with me.

Okay this got so, so much longer than I expected. Bonus points if you made it all the way down here haha. I've had a weird assortment of concepts and ideas over the past year but never wrote them down in one place - until now. I've said it before but part of my hyperfixation with the Jedi series is because it isn't finished yet and Survivor ends on such a gut-wrenching cliffhanger. Whatever happens to this series, I'm slowly finding some sort of catharsis through all the edits and photomode shots and half-baked concepts. Thanks for tagging along ✌️

#thanks for the ask!!!!!#this is so long I'M SO SORRY #it is late and my feelings are BIG #star wars jedi survivor #jedi survivor #cal kestis #star wars #jedi 3 concepts

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aidankalenko · 19 days

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dropping off my latest narumitsu here, please enjoy

title: Occurring Continuously (ao3 link)

word count: 3469

summary: Set vaguely after 5-5. Wright thinks Apollo has a crush on him and goes to Edgeworth to ask for his opinion.

notes: A getting together fic that got away from me a bit. Post time-skip Nick is too fun to write.

“I think Apollo has a crush on me.”

“I can't say I’m surprised,” Edgeworth replies without looking up from his tea.

Over the years of their friendship, tumultuous as it has been, Wright has come to find the scent of Edgeworth’s imported teas a tangible anchor for Edgeworth's heavily abstract presence. A sweet aroma of ceylon meanders through the air, a reflection of Edgeworth's indifferent demeanour.

Just the usual. At least it smells nice.

Wright shifts in his seat. The buckle of his waistcoat presses into the small of his back, wedged against the plush chair situated across from Edgeworth.

“Right,” Wright deadpans. “I forgot you lost the ability to experience surprise in your old age.”

That earns him a snort, an auditory hint of a smile.

“After spending my years with you, Wright, I had no choice. Otherwise, I couldn't have coped with your special company.”

“We're getting away from the point,” Wright complains.

“Now that's your specialty.”

“Edgeworth,” Wright whines.

Edgeworth finally looks up. His glasses reflect sunlight and obscure his dark eyes for a second.

“Like I said, I’m hardly surprised,” Edgeworth replies. “You were a role model. Then, you were a mentor. Now, you're his boss and you've got a new suit to boot.”

Wright looks down at his outfit. He smooths down the waistcoat, adjusts the chain of his locket. “The suit can't be that impressive,” he mumbles.

“Agreed,” Edgeworth says with no edge at all. It still earns him an eye-roll from Wright. “But it's a number of levels up from sweatpants and sandals. Plus, your face is completely different without the hat.”

Wright smooths a hand over his scalp. “You really think so?” he asks.

Edgeworth takes a sip of his tea and doesn't bother to hide his unimpressed expression behind his cup. “Wright,” he says, “if you came here looking for compliments, I’m afraid I’ve already hit my daily quota.”

“Is that restricted to comments on my physical features or do I get a different number for my shining personality as well?”

“Wright,” Edgeworth grunts. Wright allows himself a brief laugh.

“Okay, so I look different,” Wright acquiesces, “but, like, I always thought he saw me as a father figure.”

“And?”

Wright manages a slight blush. “Okay, that's kinkier than I was expecting from either of you,” he admits.

Edgeworth shrugs. “I don't know the boy,” he says. “I’m just saying that it might not be as much of a deterrent as you might expect.”

After some more tea, Edgeworth leans an elbow on his desk. “What gave you the inclination to believe he might be infatuated?” he asks.

“Infatuated seems kind of like a strong word.”

“Wright, stay on task.”

“Sorry,” Wright mutters reflexively. He scratches the back of his neck. “Well, I don't know. I’ve caught him staring a couple of times, but I blamed that on the new look. But he also, you know—touches me more. Dusting my jacket kind of thing. Laughs at my jokes.”

“Including that mop you call hair?”

“Firstly, what kind of mop is as stiff and clean as this? And secondly, that was kind of a low blow.”

“I had a feeling your vanity could use some taming if you're receiving such attention from your young protege.”

Wright tugs at his collar. “He is young,” he comments. “Eleven years younger than me, in fact.”

Edgeworth hums. “Ah,” he says. “You're afraid you're a bad influence.”

Wright averts his eyes. “I can't say I’ve been the best,” he says. “I’m trying, but you know. This has all been done on the fly.”

“You're an expert on that by now,” Edgeworth tells him. His sincerity softens the corners of his lips and eyes. “Have more confidence.”

Sighing, Wright nods. “I guess you're right,” he says. “I should, especially if I want to be a good role model for him.”

“You're one of the best this country has ever seen in the courtroom, Wright.”

“I could stand to hear that more often.”

Edgeworth cuts the air with a sharp sigh. Wright grins.

“I’m already pushing it by exceeding my daily quota, Wright,” he says. “As I was saying, you're already a covetable mentor and role model. Any other expectations are ones of your own fabrication. You shouldn't put so much pressure on yourself.”

A small smile curves Wright's mouth. “You know,” he says, “I came to you because you're my best friend and pretty much the smartest guy I know. I wasn't expecting actual human advice. You've really embraced the soft part of you, you know?”

“Wright, I think you forget that I have an adoptive younger sister. The circumstances have their similarities.”

“Can't you just take a compliment?”

“I’ve been told that's not exactly my area.”

“Yes, by me, many, many times. Guess that's my bad.”

Edgeworth smiles in that careful, small way of his. “So,” he says, cutting the atmosphere yet again, smile dropping, “what's the next step?”

“Well, I got my badge back, so I was thinking I should go for my driver's license next—”

“Wright,” Edgeworth says severely.

Wright grins, but he does have the sense to be a tiny bit sheepish. “Wait until a confession comes or not?” he says. He shrugs.

Edgeworth drums his fingertips on his arm. The gesture does not produce sound, but Wright hears it regardless.

“You know,” Wright says, “I thought you would've advised against any sort of advance. He is my colleague, after all, and also eleven years my junior.”

“Wright, I’ve learned that there isn't much I can do to stop you once you've put your mind to something.”

For a second, Edgeworth expresses just a hint of discomfort. Wright almost misses it with all his shameless grinning, but his eyes are very familiar with Edgeworth's silhouette, every sigh and frown comprising a canvas he'd committed to memory with effortless ease ages ago.

Edgeworth fidgets in his seat as light glints off his glasses. He looks like a villain about to make a confession in one of his beloved historic cartoon series. Which is to say, his face moves muscles that slightly resemble some sort of emotion.

“Which is why,” Edgeworth says, “the next logical question is about your future plans. If you have any. Which I am not surprised that you lack.”

“You and your logic,” Wright scoffs. Edgeworth's brow furrows and Wright counts it as a victory. “Guess it's my bad, yet again, to hope for something that isn't a product of your infallible logic.”

A pause.

“You're asking for my personal opinion.”

“He's learning.”

Edgeworth rolls his eyes.

“I don't suppose I have one,” he says, but there's a note of hesitation that slows his lips.

“Uh huh. But you always have an opinion about me.”

“Remember what I said earlier about your vanity?”

Wright chuckles. “Alright, got me there. Still,” he presses, “I’m asking as a friend.”

Edgeworth's expression sours. “That's cheap, pulling the friend card,” he complains.

“It wouldn't be if you just acted without having to be prompted.”

“Fine.”

Edgeworth leans back in his seat. Wright observes the fading scent of ceylon and the faint hints of expensive cologne hanging on Edgeworth's shirt cuffs.

“It's your life, Wright. If you think you can be happy with him, that he can be happy with you, then I don't see how it's a question.”

Silence brews between them, hot, with steam curling at the edges.

“Edgeworth,” Wright coos, “you are so damn cute.”

“Are you asking to be thrown out of my office?” Edgeworth replies hotly, brow twitching.

“That's so sweet of you,” Wright continues, “wanting the best for me and all that. I’d almost think you had a crush on me, too!”

“Wright, with the rate at which your head is ballooning, I’m starting to doubt you'll fit through the door even if I attempt to throw you out of it.”

“That's not a denial.”

“Wright,” Edgeworth says, and the sharp quality of that warning is warmed steel against Wright's throat. “I do not have a crush on you. Don't mistake me for your twenty-something-year-old protege.”

“Oh my god, you're jealous!”

Edgeworth's eyes flash behind his glasses. The thrill of his prickling energy pressing Wright into his seat is reminiscent of those poker games Wright used to play; it's a satisfying taste of nostalgia. That's Edgeworth, through and through.

“I wasn't expecting a confession in exchange for my problem, but I guess that's one way of going about it,” Wright says. His face hurts from grinning.

“Wright.”

The name drops like a bucket of cold water atop Wright's head. Game's over.

Wright sobers his expression. Across from him is a marble statue with cracks around the eyes and mouth. Lines of age, weathering, personality. It doesn't take away from the beauty of the statue, no. In fact, it adds life, and it is there that Wright seeks out clues, truth.

He stepped out of line. He should have known. Edgeworth can be flighty, sometimes more literally than not, when it comes to his emotions. But sometimes Wright can't help himself—especially because of that flight risk.

Some of the lines on that face were carved by Wright himself. And maybe that's why Wright finds himself drawn there, searching. The statue before him is in its most permanent iteration; maybe it's habit that Wright tests that permanence.

“Alright,” Wright says. He resists the urge to put up his hands in some show of submission. “I’m sorry. I stepped out of line.”

Edgeworth's expression tightens like a canvas over its wooden frame. Were he to allow a drop of emotion to hit that pristine primer, Wright is sure he'd be marvelous.

“Perhaps,” Edgeworth allows. Tension slowly seeps out of his face. “And perhaps I should learn how to take a joke one of these days. You'd think I would have, after all this time.”

“You know what they say,” Wright replies, “old dogs and new tricks and all that.”

He finds himself surprised to feel his own body relax. He shouldn't be. More often than not, he's drawn like a bow when he's with Edgeworth.

Edgeworth adjusts his glasses on his face, replaces that mask of cool he's so fond of.

“You really are the turnabout master,” he says, and his voice is weary as he speaks, “somehow spinning this matter into a question of our friendship.”

“It was just a joke,” Wright offers. An olive branch.

Edgeworth manages a wry smile that doesn't quite breach the barrier of his glasses. “Right, and this is the part where I laugh,” he deadpans.

Wright mirrors that wry expression and pulls his phone from his pocket. “Text from Trucy,” he says. “Says she's hungry. I gave her lunch money, but I guess she just misses this newly handsome face.”

Edgeworth stares at him. Wright has an excellent poker face, practised and perfected out of Edgeworth's observant eye. Still, Wright doubts himself under that grey scrutiny.

“You'd know better than I do,” Edgeworth replies airily. He pointedly pulls out a folder from his desk drawer. “Go to her.”

“I’ll update you on the Apollo situation,” Wright promises him.

Edgeworth's expression doesn't budge. His marble is luminous in the sunlight.

“I shall wait with bated breath,” he replies in a voice that certainly does not suggest that he will.

It's an easily difficult move to step out of Edgeworth's office.

—————————

Apollo makes his move sooner than later.

They're both doing some reading from a recent conference out of state when Apollo clears his throat.

“Um, Mr… Phoenix,” he starts.

“Please,” Wright replies, “Mr. Phoenix was my father. Just call me Phoenix. Nick if you're feeling daring.”

Apollo chuckles and the sound warms Wright's belly. “I’ll just try Phoenix on for size for now,” he replies.

Wright avoids making a comment about size.

“Anyway,” Apollo powers on, the brave lad, “I just noticed the time and I was wondering if you wanted me to pick up something from the ramen cart or something. Or, uh, if you wanted to stretch your legs, we could get dinner…?”

“Not somewhere too far,” Wright replies. “These legs can only work so hard after five p.m.”

Apollo's face brightens with the brilliance of starlight. Wright doubts he could ever think of Apollo without also thinking of the galaxy, celestial beauty.

“W-Well, we have a couple of options,” Apollo says, and it's immediately clear that he's been thinking about this for a while. Prepared for several situations and possible outcomes. He can really be such a tryhard sometimes. It's incredibly endearing.

Apollo rattles off some restaurant names ranging from casual to chic. In his heart of hearts, Wright is a simple man; in his wallet, there isn't much to speak of.

“I guess it depends,” Wright says. “Are you treating me?”

Somehow the question is weighty enough to tighten Apollo’s lips.

A switch flips in Apollo’s head. He smiles, worried and weary at the same time, and replies, “Yeah, it’s on me.”

“I could use some fresh air,” Wright accepts. Apollo is the sun.

Wright hasn’t extinguished a sun before. He expects it to be an implosion, a great snuff of fire going up in smoke—he also expects that sun to burn again, a different flame for a better man.

———————————

The next time Wright ends up in Edgeworth’s office around noon, that cyclical scent of ceylon in the air, Edgeworth moves first.

“I pray you’ve come with good news?” Edgeworth asks. His tone is so flat Wright almost trips on his feet on the way in.

“God, the attitude already!” Wright accuses. “I didn’t even say hi and you’re already at my throat!”

“I haven’t had time to face you in court,” Edgeworth replies, having the gall to smile through his words, “so I’ve got to keep you sharp somehow.”

Wright feels his heart expand and deflate all at once.

“I’m not trying to sound desperate,” Wright says, “but man, I miss that.”

Edgeworth’s smile remains for a few moments longer. “Be careful what you wish for,” he says. It’s a chimera caught between promising and threatening.

“Anyway,” Edgeworth says on an inhale. His chest is stiff. Wright couldn’t be more endeared. “Have you any news regarding Apollo, or are you here simply to be a bother?”

Wright hesitates. “You’re so formal,” he begins.

“Don’t deflect,” Edgeworth presses.

Wright winces. “He… He basically asked me out,” he explains. “Like—on a date. Dinner date. He had more confidence than I was expecting, which was insanely cute.”

Edgeworth takes a cup of tea from the corner of his desk and brings it closer. He nods at Wright, prompting him to continue.

Again, Wright hesitates. “He’s cute,” he says, “don’t get me wrong. And he was such—such a gentleman, you know?”

“None of the things you’re saying have anything to do with what actually occurred that night,” Edgeworth observes. He smiles once again. There’s no time to analyze the nature of this smile.

Wright circles his thumbs around each other. “I mean,” he says, his words skipping across the surface of his tongue, “nothing happened.”

“And yet, you seem tormented by the whole thing.”

“‘Tormented’ is a strong word,” Wright comments, flinching.

Edgeworth rolls his eyes. “Regardless, it seems to be on your shoulders,” he says. “What happened? Or was it something you said to him?”

“I guess…” Wright trails off, remembering. With ease, he reels the memories of last night from his mind. The shy touches at his waist. The fluttering smiles. The vigorous blush on the boy’s face.

“I guess it was just that nothing happened,” Wright says. He swallows, and then he also says, “And—well, I told him nothing would happen.”

Edgeworth’s eyebrows fly up his forehead. “It took only one date to make you feel certain?” he asks. The incredulity from his lips is sweet.

Wright stops fidgeting his hands. He places them on Edgeworth’s desk, feeling the earth under his touch. Edgeworth observes him.

“I knew,” Wright says quietly, “that nothing would happen.”

“So,” Edgeworth says, “why did you go?”

“What was I supposed to do,” Wright sighs. He looks down at his hands. They stretch under the weight of two gazes.

There is silence in the room, bitter, aromatic. Wright’s sinuses must be inflamed.

“You know,” Wright starts, unsure of where he’s going, taking blind step after blind step forward, “this is the first time I’ve ever, in the last eight years, talked about—”

He stops. He’s afraid to continue.

Slowly, he raises his eyes to Edgeworth’s face. What meets him is pure, flawless marble—and somehow that gives Wright strength.

“This is the first time,” Wright starts again, “that I’ve mentioned anything about my love life to you, in the entirety of our friendship, and the fact that you said I should do what makes me happy…”

Wright inhales. Exhales. Spurs roll across the walls of his lungs.

“It made me—happy,” Wright says. He chokes on the word, so bulbous and contorted against his soft palate.

Edgeworth pulls forward, closer into Wright’s gravity, inclined towards his downcast eyes. “Wright,” he says softly. “Is there something the matter?”

“You really think that—that I could be happy with Apollo…?”

Wright’s question sounds so hollow, so empty, fragile porcelain that rings thinly against the blunt head of a hammer.

“Well, there’s no way I can be certain,” Edgeworth admits. “I—I could only hope for your happiness,” he adds quietly. “Above all. Indeed, this is the first time romance has ever been discussed between the two of us, and I do recognize the significance of that. And—as simple as it is, I wish only for you to be happy, my friend.”

My friend. The sound of the words vibrating against the walls of Edgeworth’s lush office feels like a succession of lashes against Wright’s spine, propelling him forward. His palms root his weight against the desk between them.

Wright stares at Edgeworth. He knows this face, this perfect, weathered, marble face. The image of that face has haunted him for decades now, in so many different iterations Wright could fill an entire library with records of Edgeworth.

He knows this face, his life’s greatest constant, his favourite everyday novelty.

Today is not a day of novelty. Today, Edgeworth looks the same as ever. He looks steady and stony.

And yet Wright takes his leap.

“You could,” Wright says haltingly, “make me happy.”

The air falls completely still.

Edgeworth inhales. Wright is certain of the ceylon aroma against Edgeworth’s senses, and that is all he is certain of.

“Pardon me?” Edgeworth asks.

“You could make me happy.”

It is an admission, and it is an admission that slides from the pit of Wright’s guts out into the ceylon air of Edgeworth’s plush and posh office.

“I don’t,” Edgeworth says with such slowness, such viscosity, “I don’t know what you mean—”

“Don’t play dumb,” Wright hisses. The noise is ugly, as is the ball of nerves knotting up his lungs and throat.

Edgeworth flushes, flustered. “I’m not—” he starts, but he can’t find the finish. His eyes begin to drown in his blush. The astonishing shade of red startles Wright into a laugh.

“I’m not playing dumb!” Edgeworth spits. His hairs are standing on end. “I genuinely have no idea what you could be insinuating!”

Wright rolls his eyes, and with it, the room spins on its axis in the second of an instant. “No, you do,” he insists. “You do. There’s no way. You’ve been around the world; you’ve met so many people. I can’t spell this out for you, Edgeworth.”

Haunches raised, Edgeworth stirs. He rises from his chair, matching Wright’s stature. His eyes are steel daggers pinning Wright to the floor, as if the weight of Edgeworth’s presence wasn’t heavy enough to incapacitate him.

“Then,” Edgeworth says, and the simple, single syllable draws Wright tight like a bowstring.

“Then?” Wright asks.

Edgeworth approaches. Wright’s breath feels crowded in his chest.

“Then you won’t mind,” Edgeworth starts, and his lips form the finish against Wright’s mouth.

Relief is the first wave to crash against Wright’s sensibilities, and with it brings clarity that lasts all of two seconds before the wave of fire crashes in after. Edgeworth is cool steel that does nothing to calm Wright’s flames—the phoenix dragged out of the ashes Wright hadn’t known had settled. Edgeworth is a beast tamer, and Wright the beast, constantly at the whims of his master.

It’s a short moment of contact, perhaps even chaste. And yet, Wright can feel fire licking at his nerves; he can feel lava pour into his joints and cool all too rapidly; and suddenly, he is a statue of stone, fixed in place as Edgeworth circles him with his eyes.

“You’re right,” Wright says. “I didn’t mind.”

#narumitsu #wrightworth #ace attorney #ace attorney fanfiction #mywriting #otp #aa #pw #those are my own tags lol sorry #i actually wrote this like 3 years ago and just edited it #also I'm so sorry i posted this on mobile so if it's ugly that's why

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thisisnotmeta · 9 months

Text

Million Dollar Man

Chapter 1

Sent.

There it was—my very first music contract signed.

My hands swiped back and forth between the 'sent' and 'draft' inboxes, confirming the reality of the moment. The air shuddered with anticipation as I blankly stared at my inbox, silently praying for a reply in the mere 1.4 seconds since I hit 'send.'

Fresh out of university last year, I found myself grappling with the realisation that I needed to figure out what to do with the rest of my life. Studying history had its limits—teaching or diving into more debt for a specialised master's degree were the conventional routes. However, nestled in the corners of my life was my little secret—I'd always been a songwriter. It wasn't something anyone really knew about until 3 months ago. After a drunken night in with my mum, I mustered the courage to share one of my demos with her. Her insistence that it was the greatest piece of music she'd ever heard, albeit the expected maternal praise, boosted my confidence. The morning after, armed with nothing more than my shitty Amazon mic and GarageBand, I sent three of my best demos to four different music labels across the country.

In the agonising months of waiting for a reply from any label, hope slipped through my fingers with each passing day. Just when despair threatened to engulf me, a glimmer of possibility emerged two weeks ago. Emails from two labels requesting in-person meetings to discuss my music further landed in my inbox, a lifeline amid the silence. Navigating a whirlwind 24-hour trip to London, I juggled the meetings, fueled by a mix of nerves and excitement. Having returned to my parents' home post-university, my part-time receptionist job became the financial anchor for one day moving out and starting my own new little life.

The journey from the North to London felt long, god it was so long, yet the promise of these potential signings kept me going. The meetings with both labels exceeded expectations, but Dirty Hit held a specific pull on me. They not only understood my musical aspirations but, to my disbelief, I met specifically with the label's founder, Jamie Oborne. A stark contrast to the very very lovely but somewhat underwhelming talent scout at the other label, Dirty Hit resonated with me on every level—the sound, the artists, the team. It felt like a perfect fit, a musical home where my compositions seamlessly blended with their illustrious discography.

The dream was a reality when Jamie extended the signing offer. Without hesitation, I accepted. The train ride back, though again, immensely long, was some of the best fun I’ve ever had. Amidst the clatter of the tracks, I scribbled down fragments for future songs, mapped out my imaginary world tour, envisioned albums, and even planned my Met Gala outfit. The euphoria of realising a lifelong dream had just basically become a reality in a matter of months hadn’t given me any time to process anything. But I was absolutely ready to potentially start something absolutely amazing. And here I was sitting in front of my MacBook, staring blankly at my Gmail.

The next few weeks were a whirlwind, a lot of online meetings, emailing and future discussing. Jamie liked my demos and wanted to get them produced and mixed professionally as well as teach me how to do it myself. I travelled back to London a few times in the weeks prior to practice and test with different producers the team thought I’d mix well with. My most successful session was my most recent, as Dirty Hit expensed a hotel for me for two nights in London to focus on my time in the studio. Ben Gleason, one of Dirty Hit’s leading producers, was someone who truly understood my music and shaped it in a way that I could genuinely hear one of my demos appearing on the radio, it was crazy. His vision and expertise were admirable to anyone. My demo, over the past 15 hours we worked on it, had turned into a real, titled potential single – ‘Million Dollar Man’.

Before I was sent to travel back home, we sent it off to the team to listen to and give feedback. It was a success, thank god. Waiting for the train to come in at Kings Cross, the sound of my ringtone filled my headphones. As I looked at my phone, I wasn’t fazed by the ‘unknown’ number and filled my boredom by answering it anyway.

‘Hello?’ I said in a slow voice, totally expecting some type of phone provider or accident scam, which usually came with answering unknown numbers.

“Hi, is this Camille?” A chirpy, womanly voice replied back to me.

“It is, yeah,” I replied nonchalantly. “Who is this, sorry?”

“Perfect! It’s Holly from Dirty Hit,” She replied. My breathing hitched, okay this phone call was important then and not just fun. This must be Jamie’s assistant, who I met a couple times through our Zoom meetings. “Thought I’d give you a little ring, so you can get my number saved and so I can update you on some things! We’ve just had a meeting today about what we want to do with you in the next few weeks and we went through everything you talked about, and we were thinking about potentially focusing you more on studio time right now, and we are wanting you to build on the songs you are in the process of and create one really really strong song that we can put out as your debut. What are your thoughts on that?”

“I think that’s a great idea! Ben and I were brainstorming a lot of songs that had great potential, so it would be cool to work with him again,” I practically begged through the phone. Ben is most definitely my favourite producer in the three I’d worked with in the short time. As much as I think Million Dollar Man is perfect, there are so many that might even end up better.

“Yeah, Ben is one of the best, especially for your sound,” she agrees, pausing for a second as she clicks what sounds like a pen and takes time to write something down. “We were thinking of sending you and a couple of our producers on a work getaway and maybe taking the time that you are there to write some songs and find your own dynamic with them, what do you think?”

“Of course, I’d love to!” I exclaim through the phone. Walking through the station to get to my soon departing train back home. Amazing, more studio work, more song writing - I have been dreaming of getting phone calls like this for years.

I have so many ideas in my head and written in my notebook just waiting to be explored with real professionals like Ben. I just prayed silently in my head that my quick praise of him would lead them sending him on the getaway along with whoever else they wanted to send with me - probably Joel or Vanna, the other two producers I had worked with in the time I’d been here. Joel’s sound was old school and he loved that classic drum in the background. Of course I didn’t hate it; he always made it sound gorgeous, but I loved the more earthy, tender sounds - songs that you could sit in the bath and vibe/pour your eyes out to. Vanna’s sound was cool, she worked a lot with the 1975, Dirty Hit’s biggest signing. Working with her was very fun, hearing about her stories with them and lots of other big musicians she has produced allowed me to have a little fangirl moment a couple times in the studio.

“Do you have an idea on which producers are coming along?” I continued.

“I’m just gonna give Ben a call and see when he’s available,” she replied. Yes! Thank god. “Thought I’d give you a call first before I called anyone else… but I know you haven’t met yet but Jamie thinks it would be a great opportunity to work with Matty aswell.”

“Matty… Healy, from the 1975?” I stutter. Surely not, I know he worked with Baebadoobee and a couple others on their latest work but surely he wouldn’t take the time to work with someone who’s just starting, would he? I wasn’t a huge 1975 fan, but I knew of their songs and Matty’s work and I admired them a lot. I’d kill to get to the level they are, but all in good time.

“Yeah, actually!” She laughed slightly through the phone. Woah. “He actually works a lot with our artists to establish their sound, you know what I mean? and he’s really talented, I promise. He was a part of our meeting today and he’s got a lot of good ideas that I think you’ll like, not to mention all the advice he can give you with starting out and he can talk you through his own experiences as well.”

“That’s amazing, I love his work!” I smile to myself, probably looking like an idiot in front of all these serious, fast walking Londoners. It seems so unbelievable that Matty Healy would take any time out of his busy schedule to work on my music, he must be bored. “If that’s something he is interested in, then I’d absolutely love to work together on something.”

“Okay, that’s perfect!” She replied. “No, he’s very interested, don’t worry. He went with Beabadoobee on a work getaway a few months ago, working on some new stuff and they made some gorgeous music - think he just wants the bragging rights again really. But, honestly he’s a star, you'll love him.”

As I was settling myself down on the busy train, Holly was writing down my best dates for the trip and ended the phone call pleasantly soon after. A Sunday to Wednesday a few weeks from now was the time they had written down for Matty’s availability and that worked with me! God knows where they were going to take us, but I couldn’t help but get excited. Me, Ben and sexy Matty Healy. I just hope he’s not a dick.

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fitf-ducks · 9 months

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The Ducks of the FITF Tour.

John Delf the sound engineer of the Louis Tomlinson tour started to put in the sound booth rubber ducks that fans gave him to keep him company, and this collection got big this US & Canada leg. So here is the story (that nobody ask for) of how this family of ducks started and growth.

[Disclaimer: I'm aware this could sound like a dumb post to make but i have fun making it and wanted to share what fans created. Also some of this photos and edits are potato quality so sorry in advanced if you don't see very well the details.]

-The Duck family started with the green duck, who was first spotted at the Cuyahoga Falls show (01.06.23) [duck count: 1].

-After that the green duck was spotted in John's photos in different shows, however at the Milwaukee, Wisconsin show (13.06.23) five new friends join in (pink, black, blue, yellow and red ducks), the green duck wasn't alone anymore [duck count: 6].

-The rainbow ducks were spotted in different shows until the Berkley, California show(29.06.23) where a new family member join in: The capitan duck with an anchor [duck count: 7].

-The seven ducks were spotted in LA, Las Vegas, Phoenix but in Irving, Texas show (06.07.23) three new members join in [duck count:10].

In the upper photo we see: the space polka dot duck, the disco duck and the duck the duck with green hair/hat.

-In the Austin, Texas show (07.07.23) two new members were add it: the FITF duck and the futbol duck [duck count: 12].

-The next show that a new family member was added it was in Hollywood Florida (13.07.23), where 1 more join in: the duck chileno [duck count: 13].

-In the Tampa, Florida show (14.07.23) the duck family got bigger with 6 Louis ducks plus a green turtle [duck count: 19+1 turtle].

In the upper photo we see (Louis in Gilford duck, Louis in Cuyahoga Falls duck,Louis in Columbus duck, Louis with 28 clothing white hoodie duck,Louis in Seattle duck and Louis Troutdale duck) and the green turtle.

If you forgot about those outfits here is a reminder:

-In the Atlanta, Georgia show (15.07.23) two new members join: the second duck chileno and the soccer ball duck [duck count: 21 + 1 turtle].

-In the Nashville show (18.07.21) six members join in [duck count: 27 + 1 turtle].

In the upper photo we see: princess duck, angel duck, green with blue glasses duck (later shows it ends up with black glasses),bracelet-flying helmet duck,big red duck, fitf album cover duck.

-In the Charlotte show (19.07.23) in the day the 28 member was add it, the cowboy duck with a pink floatie, at night two more join in Louis in Nashville duck and Louis in Atlanta duck [duck count: 30+ 1 turtle].

Checking this post and this other post and what John posted of other show, for the position of the ducks,the Nashville and Atlanta duck have a penguin on their butt so they can look more like the original Louis(they also have blue eyes like Louis).

I know the quality is not the best but you can see the form of the outfits (Atlanta outfit on the left and Nashville outfit on the right):

-In the Raleigh show (21.07.23), were add it 14 members to the duck family [duck count: 44+ 1 turtle].

In the upper photo we see: 5 long hair neon rainbow light ducks, john delf duck, baby purple duck, duck with blue shirt, North Caroline duck, middle finger duck, black stripes duck, yellow duck with a sparkly shirt and lastly duck unicorn twins.

-In the Columbia show (23.07.23), 16 ducks join the family [duck count: 60+ 1 turtle].

In the upper photo are: triplets soccer ball ducks, clown duck (fandom representation), duck blue shirt, duck with green shirt, sparkly triplets ducks (golden, red, gray ), DIY duck, pilot duck with floatie, mystery red duck (I can't see how it looks), duck with black hat, superman duck, transparent duck, red rocket duck.

-In the Boston night 1 show (24.07.23) we got 2 more ducks and an octopus stuffed animal ?.[duck count: 62+ 1 turtle+1 octopus]

In the upper photo we see High in California duck, soldier duck and cute octopus.

-In the Boston night 2 show (25.07.23), the photos share for this are really dark and I really can't see a lot, for the form and future show post I figure which were the new ones (maybe I could have miss something), in this show were add it 4 new ducks.[duck count: 66+ 1 turtle+1 octopus]

In the upper photo we see writing duck, gray necklace duck, Boston duck and weed duck.

-In the Philadelphia show (27.07.23), the photo is really dark and even edited the quality is not the best, but in this show the rest of the ducks weren't showcase in the photo we only see the new 7 ducks [duck count: 73+ 1 turtle+1 octopus].

In the upper photo we see red duck with a quiff, Luigui the italian duck, punk purple duck, soccer dress duck, blue duck (this is a new one besides the other blue)white duck and astronaut duck.

-In the Asbury Park, New Jersey show (28.07.23) we only see the 4 new duck that join the family [duck count: 77+ 1 turtle+1 octopus].

In the upper photo we see yellow Louis duck, Tomlinson duck, O.R.F.C and beaded blue duck.

-In NYC (29.07.23) in the day we got a video that share the collection and were add it 2 new ducks (maybe john got them after taking the pic of Ausbury) [duck count: 79 + 1 turtle + 1 octopus] .

My edit is awful and I have to put some photos on top so you can see all of them. Anyway in the image we see duck with glasses and mini yellow duck.

-Same day at night more ducks were add it. This is the last one and the most hard to figure it out because of the picture, I probably miss something but this is what I could notice, in the NYC show (29.07.23) 7 ducks join the family [duck count: 86+ 1 turtle+1 octopus].

In the upper photo we see duck shark, crochet duck, hidden duck, darker unknown duck, sparkly big green duck, yellow duck with something in their back and helmet duck.

Just like this collection got out of control, this post as well, If you have links of the story of fans who give ducks or better photos or name suggestions for the ducks please share it with me.

I have the same post on twitter in english and español if you want to share it over there. I'm hoping fans that gift ducks see it and could tag me in better photos so please reblog and retweet.

In the European leg tour John doesn't show the new ducks in all shows and the photos are really dark with not a lot of close ups but I will try to do another recap.

#ducks of the fitf tour #rubber duck #john delf #rubber ducks #fitfwt #fitf tour #fitf world tour #keeping up with the ducks #louistomlinson #louis tomlinson

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greypetrel · 1 year

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"Shoes are an evil way to oppress people and I won't wear them." cit.

Finally finished with her clothes concepts! (the first plan was doing 6 of them... Oops, I guess)

Aisling's wardrobe/story through clothes. Guess her favourite colour. Some notes under the cut!

Alyra | Raina| Aisling | Radha )

She loves colours. She has a palette she loves best (teal - purple - yellow) and would stick to it. In Haven she just borrowed the plainest, more muted clothes she could find to blend in better with the rest and not stick out so much. Stopped braiding her hair back to hide her tattoos and look less like a fish out of water and take some attention away from herself. She had to be convinced to go back to leg wraps (it's an extra pair of Solas she adapted to her size).

The teal doublet in her Casual Skyhold attire was the one thing she really asked for when Josephine and Leliana cornered her down to choose a wardrobe that was tailored on her. She doesn't really care all that much for clothes, she just... Hinted at Josie her colour palette, the fact that she doesn't like restrictive skirts and hates shoes, and a couple of infos on how the Lavellans dress up to compliment her wardrobe and bring something of home with her.

"And then, everything changed when the Inquisition Nation attacked". I realise afterwards, I would say I'm sorry if I actually were, but I'm not.

Halamshiral: I did two variations, number 1 is more inspired by Orlesian fashion, the silhouette is Orlesian but with a Dalish twist. I like the colours and how it brings to her formal outfit, but meh. Number 2 is the one I got with and what she actually wore. She couldn't be turned down from wearing a more disctinctly Dalish style dress to that ball, she just conceded in wearing shoes underneath (no socks, she slipped off her shoes to explore the palace and silk stockings would just be pointlessly ruined). Number 3 is the more historically accurate version, fully 1643 fashion I drew for the Three Musketeers inspired series. I kept it because I'm affectionate to it.

Wedding: She pulled it out in Lavellan style in maybe half an hour, braided some elfroot for her crown and picked some forget-me-nots from a flower bed. No she's not feeling very well, the Anchor is flaring and she lost weight.

Post-Trespasser in the Fereldan countryside, embracing local hairstyles. New foot thingies Dagna designed to be easier to pull on and off by herself with just one hand. She begrudgingly admitted that skirts are not that impractical. Lots of heavy sweaters because IT COLD. I wanted to paint some tartan so here you go, there's no really any more reason to it.

#dragon age #dragon age inquisition #inquisitor lavellan #concept art #da art #da fanart #aisling lavellan #greypetrel #dalish #dalish inquisitor #dai #fashion

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pinkertinn · 3 months

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My first tumblr post, and it's for Cleon Song Week! am I tumbling correctly?

Day 1: Love

Song: BIRDS OF A FEATHER - Billie Eilish

She was everything to him. The cool side of the pillow in the middle of the night, a soothing touch against his weary soul. Every glance from her was a sunrise, painting his world with golden hues of hope and the promise of new beginnings. She was his dream and his reality, the anchor that kept him grounded and the wings that allowed his spirit to soar. In her embrace, he found his home, a place where every moment was cherished, and every breath was a promise of forever—however long forever was for them.

When she asked him which songs reminded him of her, which tunes should set the stage for the day they would pledge their love, he found it an impossible task. How could he pick just a few melodies to encapsulate the symphony of what she meant to him? Each note would have to capture her fiery boldness, the way she challenged him when he was wrong or being a fool. It would need to reflect her nurturing spirit, her motherly instinct that reached out to those in need. Her competitive edge, the way she always kept him on his toes, would need a rhythm all its own. And then there was the warmth of her touch, a simple caress that healed his deepest wounds, and the magic in her eyes, a mystery he could read like an open book despite her efforts to hide it. Whose voice could possibly narrate the beautiful chaos and whirlwind that defined their romance?

“How about this song? Uhm, Billie Eilish?” She turned up the sound on her laptop, concentrating on the screen. “Think it’s called Birds of a Feather?” Her nose scrunched, and she slightly tilted her head as her eyes shifted to gauge his reaction.

He listened to the upbeat jingle, nodding his head in time with the beat.

“Rot away, dead, buried?” He raised an eyebrow in question. “A little morbid, no?” he scoffed at the singer's angelic voice singing about such dark things.

“Well, you know they say till death do us part… rings even more true for us, I suppose.” Her voice sounded barren, hollow of the sparkle it had when they first started sifting through songs.

And I don't know what I'm crying for I don't think I could love you more. Might not be long, but baby, I Don't wanna say goodbye

“When you think of us, and you listen to this, does it give you anything?” She swallowed down what sounded like heavy emotion, and he realized he wasn’t listening to the song in the same way she was. He closed his eyes and concentrated.

Birds of a feather, we should stick together, I know…

Feather…

I’ll love you till the day that I die…

Feathers…

That’s right. Suddenly, it was 1998, and a 19-year-old Claire stood exhausted and disheveled before him, wearing that delicate turquoise opal feather necklace. Despite the rain and the violent struggles they faced, the necklace remained unscathed, sparkling as if brand new. The silver pendant hung just above the dip in her blood-stained cleavage. She later told him that if she had to look Sherry and him in the face, she’d never have been able to leave. So, she left him with a note at the hotel, and the necklace slipped to the floor when he opened it.

I don’t want to say goodbye, and I know we should stick together. But, I’ll be back for this. It’s more your color anyway. -Claire

She was right; the blue of the necklace matched most of his outfits. Blue was his color. When she came back for it, he couldn't bear to part with it. He had it with him when they reunited at that small dive bar, where she cried, begging for his forgiveness. The necklace was pressed against his breaking heart in his suit breast pocket as he refused to hand over the flash drive to her. And when their world began to crumble in Alcatraz, that tiny feather Claire had given him was buried deep in his jean pocket.

If you go I’m going too…

His eyes burned, threatening to spill tears, as he remembered hearing her agony in that prison cell while he helplessly banged the back of his head against the bars. He had been so angry with her that day, wondering why she was even there. But in an instant, his anger turned to fear. The thought of them both perishing there, separated by a prison cell after all they had survived, was unimaginable. Yet, he felt a slight twinge of guilt in his chest, knowing that a part of him found comfort in the idea of being with her forever, even if it meant in death.

Till the light in my eyes, till the day that I die..

"Claire, I—hold on." He pushed his chair away from the table and excused himself. When he returned, he held the delicate turquoise opal feather necklace she had left him 26 years ago. Gently, he placed it around her neck. "Birds of a feather, right?" He locked the clasp and released a breath he hadn’t known he was holding. Seeing the necklace back around her neck healed something inside him that he hadn’t realized was aching.

"My something blue," amusement lighting up her features as she delicately swept her fingers across the blue stone. "I love you, Leon."

"I love you too, Claire, till the day I die." He squeezed her shoulders and leaned down to place a light kiss in the crook of her neck before sitting back down next to her.

"So, what else do you have on this playlist?" he asked, nudging her and glancing at her laptop.

#cleonsongweek #cleon #claire redfield #leon kennedy #billie eilish #birds of a feather

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sewer-ravioli · 5 months

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doing that my version of the SCU (fanon) lore post because why tf not

to save people from being forced to look at a giant post because ohhh boy this is a lot i'll be placing everything after a read more :)

Storyline: Basically Schlatt, also known as the demon of the storm is an elder god of natural disasters that went insane over time of being a god and trapped 3 mortals (Slime, Condi, and Grizzly) in a world. The apples that were eaten were infused with bits of his power and Charlie's powers first manifested when he fell the first time from the button. Cue everything that happened all three of them manifested powers slowly and then the volcano battle and then Charlie stole Schlatt's powers away and...ended up sparing him. He banished him but Schlatt was powerless after they stole his powers from him. and someone needed to teach these three new gods how to be gods. That is basically what blocks fight back is (Charlie is very bad at controlling his powers at first) They end up resetting the universe after giving Schlatt a world of his own to just retire to and to manipulate to whatever he wants. But with the universe reset the universe saw a missing part in the gods and created Bizly (who also used to be mortal just the universe went lol become a god now) as a new god in order to fix up the gap. Cue Hardest difficulty. 100 days hardcore is just a what if situation if any of the three left tried to use their powers to revive Grizzly after his death. Gods: Charlie Slimecicle: god of Magic, Creation, Harvest, Hunting, and Smelt -Usually wears a green cloak with netherite shoulder plates with a heart engraved on each with a single half heart cloak clasp. Under he has a white dress shirt, some dress pants, and boots with the crafting table grid on the sole. He uses a woB as a weapon. He has green tattoos of enchantment ruins on his arms like bands and is able to summon slime wings with his magic to fly. -He was also the one gifted Vanishing Mist (Grizzly's god sword) but refuses to use it I chose magic for him as a basic all encompassing of Enchantment and it sounds cool to me

Condifiction: God of Realms and Death -black horns that fade into purple, ender dragon wings. Dark purple cloak with an eye of ender clasp but prefers what is essentially his minecraft outfit

-has a Scythe that is essentially his anchor to the overworld if he goes. Plus cool scythe and death imagery basically I added death because i feel like afterlife can count as a whole new realm and Charlie literally blows him up at the start of hardest difficulty Bizly: god of Life and Fate -a shapeshifter who's default is a winged humanoid with deer antlers. Has a cloak like the other gods and it's dark blue with white fur hems but mainly wears a blue hoodie, jeans, and sunglasses -weapon is the gun Grizzly gifted him and it's also linked to the afterlife which like Condi as his domain is life he physically can't enter the afterlife without the gun -Beewee is canon to me he gets a dog

-bizly also has a book detailing every single life and used to have a quill to edit it but he broke it reasoning behind domains is like Slime I branched out mobs into life as a whole and fate because he is in control of the levers of the universe

Grizzly: god of Nature, weaponry, tools, and helps co-run the afterlife after his death -A wolf hybrid with Black wings. He has a red cloak with golden shoulder plates. He often has poppies on him at all times and you do NOT want to fuck with any plants around him -He has a lesser powerful vanishing mist he uses as a main weapon but he isn't as keen on immedietly resorting to violence. After his death Condi immedietly went to visit him in the afterlife to see how he's dealing and offering to help run the part of the afterlife for spirits of animals facts for all of the gods: -Condi and Slime still keep their poppies from Grizzly always on them

-Condi made it so all dead who get gifted poppies at their graves get poppies brought to them in the afterlife

-Bizly is the most often pranked. He has many times had items places on his antlers as he's sleeping -Slime likes to run off to mortal worlds to be around mortals. for examples look at all the minecraft stuff he's been in Demigods and Champions: - the gods can't maintain everything in their domains by themselves so they have Demigods (immortals created by the universe in order to have smaller parts of the domains of the gods and also help mortal tasks) and Champions (Mortals granted immortality to help essentially be spokespersons for the gods and do smaller tasks then the demigods in the mortal realm. max is 2 per god and most champions are granted minor powers)

-Grizzly has two champions decided on by all four council gods that essentially split his domain and run essentially what Grizzly cannot in the afterlife Worshippers and temples: -There are 5 main temples. one for each and one for all four. cities tend to be built around where temples are and the temple for all four in the center. -Worshippers of Magic (Slime) are magicians. They are very tech savvy and live in essentially giant cities with defenses against the monsters and offer this technology and magic to other cities to help facilitate peace and alliance. They also lead agricultural lands. -Worshippers of Life (Bizly) are more woodsy folk. They live in the woods around animals and are often sought out for those looking for pets or aid to their animals. They also hold a lot of the best hospitals. Some live in a co-habitation with Worshippers of Nature -Worshippers of Nature (Grizzly) live in the woods. some in cities co-run by worshippers of Life, and some have their own areas. Their cities are built into the trees and they have the best weaponry across all. Some Worshippers of Nature hate worshippers of Magic and Magic himself. They often fight back against their god's will to forgive Magic and his worshippers, and have been found to have ruined alters to Magic they find. Because of this Worshippers of Nature also supply their own food and also help provide food to others and refuse anything being offered by worshippers of Magic -Worshippers of Realm (Condi) don't completely have their own cities. They have one but it is mainly ran to help teach other worshippers of Realm. They are in every city and help run grave yards and do death rites for the dead. I have more but this has already gotten so big...might do a part 2 if i have anything else to talk about!! If you have any questions feel free to ask!

#sirius.txt #slimecicle #slimecicle cinematic universe #bizly #condifiction #grizzlyplays

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irisposts · 1 year

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Trance

i have a bunch of drafts so :) so i’m just gonna post them for the time being till i figure out what i wanna write <3 enjoy

The club pulsates with energy, the air is thick with the scent of musky cologne. Amidst the throng of people, your friends have dispersed, each seeking out new connections. Amidst the sway of bodies, your attention is drawn to a few potential partners, as well as some… unwelcome gazes. You've already declined one man's offer to dance. Handsome and polite, he was a rare exception in this club's atmosphere. Yet your focus has shifted to someone else—a captivating presence that has your attention.

Her hair is dark, almost auburn under the strategically angled lights. Pulled back into a low ponytail, it accentuates her freckle-dotted face. A sense of ease emanates from her casual outfit—a black t-shirt and jeans—adding to her magnetic allure.

As you approach the bar, she chuckles softly, the delicate sip of her shot momentarily captivating you.

Just as you stand near, she slams the shot glass onto the bar's corner, her gaze locking onto yours. You respond with a coy smile, your lashes playing a flirtatious game. A subtle swallow and a playful tug on her shirt collar reveal her subtle nervousness.

With a corner of your lip curling up, you break the ice, "Hi."

"Hi," she replies, her voice carrying a hint of huskiness.

"Wanna dance?" you ask, your playful energy evident.

Her brow quirks, a mischievous smile forming as she gestures toward her ear. "Huh?"

Your chuckle mingles with the music as you lean in closer. "I said, do you want to dance!"

Her laughter brushes along your ear, creating a connection that tingles with intimacy. "Oh!" Her fingers encircle your waist gently, prompting a blush to paint your cheeks. "I don't dance.”

Your eyes roll in playful disbelief. "Bullshit."

You watch as she reaches for a glass of beer, her touch lingers at your waist. She straightens herself up right, her neck's graceful curve is revealed. Your throat tightens as she swallows her drink. A grin adorns her lips, and her cheek presses affectionately against yours.

"I'm Ellie. And you?" Her warm breath is a tantalizing caress against your ear, sending electric shivers down your spine. Her voice is as sweet as honey.

Flustered, you withdraw slightly. "Y/N.”

"Pretty," she murmurs, her hand sliding up your side.

Your breath hitches momentarily as you catch her gaze. "C'mon." You grasp her hand, leading her onto the dance floor where the bass pulses through your bodies.

Ellie groans in protest, but her complaint is quickly silenced as your hand guides hers to your waist, drawing her closer to the center. The music guides your movements, and her hips meld with yours, swaying to the rhythm.

"So you can dance," you tease, pressing yourself against her. "Liar."

Ellie chuckles softly, her voice carrying a hint of playfulness. "Shut up."

Reaching for her other hand, you guide it along your side. The music envelops you as your arm rises and falls, guiding you both in a passionate dance. Midway through, you turn to face her. Letting your fingers trace a path down her cheek. The pad of your thumb rubs at the skin.

This close you see the incredible details of her face and how godly she was. You almost forget to dance at this point. It’s not until Elli leans down that you escape your mind.

Her lips brushes against your ear. "You're so fucking pretty."

A breath catches in your throat, and you pull away, your gaze locked with hers.

Between her lips and eyes, you're captivated by the dance of emotions.

Stepping forward, your fingers trail along her jawline before cupping it. The kiss that follows is fervent and messy, driven by uncontainable desire.

Heat builds between you, Ellie's hand at the small of your back anchoring you. A gasp escapes as she nips your lower lip. "Fuck." Foreheads meet as you both catch your breath.

Playfully, you lean in again, sharing smiles and soft chuckles, your yearning palpable.

Ellie's impatience becomes tangible. Her hand shifts to the base of your throat, exerting a slight pressure. Breathless, you watch as her lips find your ear, her words dripping with a seductive promise. "Let's go somewhere private."

#ellie williams #the last of us #ellie #tlou #the last of us ellie #x reader #ellie x reader #ellie williams x female reader #ellie the last of us #Spotify

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justwriteryan · 11 months

Text

MEANWHILE IN THE BATSON HOUSEHOLD...

Interior shot. Day. A teenage boy is sitting on the couch enjoying a bowl of cereal. He’s watching anime on TV. This is BILLY BATSON’s ideal Saturday morning. The sound of a cell phone buzzing beside him steals his attention away. Billy sees a text from his sister, Mary.

CHECK THE NEWS!!!

Billy sighs. He lifts the remote and changes the channel. News 52. The banner racing across the foot of the screen reads: METAHUMAN EMERGENCY IN KHANDAQ.

There is news footage of a powerfully built man hovering in the air above a city of tall buildings. Smoke and debris float around them. It’s a warzone. The figure turns toward the camera far below him. His eyes are glowing. Sparks of lightning dance from his fingertips. His outfit is black as night, save for a single golden lightning bolt on the chest.

NEWS ANCHOR: IF you’re just joining us, we’re getting reports of a major Metahuman emergency in the nation of Khandaq. Eyewitnesses are claiming the Justice Society were at the scene but their whereabouts remain to be seen. No information on the identity of this super-powered individual but based on their appearance and the powers they’ve displayed, there may be a connection to the flying superheroes of Philadelphia.

Billy’s jaw drops. His spoon falls out of his hand. The news camera zooms in and we get a better look at the menacing face of BLACK ADAM.

BILLY: Oh, sh-

Cut to black. A single word cuts through the dark.

SHAZAM!

Look, we all loved the Henry cameo (as futile a gesture as it turned out to be). But this would have been a much more fitting Black Adam post-credits.

#fanfic #fanfiction #creative writing #dcu #dc universe #dc fanfic #captain marvel #shazam #billy batson #black adam #post credit scene

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avaantares · 11 months

Note

📓

Oooh, so now comes the hard part: Deciding which story to share!

The truth is, I have a huge folder of story ideas and WIPs, some of which are just a document with a line or two of notes reminding me of the story's premise. A finite amount of writing time guarantees that most of these stories -- while fully developed in my head -- will never see the light of day. This means I have at least a dozen fics that could fall into the category of "haven't written but you've daydreamed about."

(Of course, this also means that if multiple people send me 📓, at least I won't run out of material... 😅)

Okay -- I've picked one on the basis of @iamtheshriekingguineapig bringing it up AGAIN a day or two ago. (That will teach me to tell her I have story ideas for fandoms she likes, LOL. Maybe if I post the treatment, she'll be happy with that?)

The fandom is Devil May Cry, and this is one of those stories that has the potential to be so big and sprawling that I haven't even bothered making notes for it, because unless we get hit with another pandemic (please no), I will never, ever have time to write it. (See also: Children of the Future Age, my 330K behemoth that was only, like, 60 or 80K until I was stuck in lockdown for a year and a half.) But despite the lack of written outline, this is one of those things that just lived in the back of my head long enough that I mentally scripted entire scenes and blocks of dialogue for it while doing the dishes or whatever.

Here goes:

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Lucia (who makes an appearance because I got SO MANY COMMENTS on CotFA asking me why she wasn't in the story >.<) gathers the DMC team and informs them that a new -- or possibly ancient, but recently awakened -- evil threatens the safety of the human realm. Lucia remains in the human realm to coordinate teams of devil hunters and deal with the rogue demons who have grown agitated due to the rising malice. Nico stays behind with her, outfitting the hunter teams and engineering defensive systems and weapons to protect human cities from the encroaching demons. The rest of Team DMC (a.k.a. our main cast, inclusive of Vergil) head for the underworld to deal with the malevolent energy at its source.

During their search, the hunters discover a massive star-shaped array stretching across miles of the underworld. The array is generating an impenetrable shield around something at its center, which is likely the source of the demonic energy. In order to gain access, they need to disable the seals at each corner of the array, which are the shield's anchor points. Only when all five are disabled will the shield fall, allowing them to confront the evil creature staging a comeback.

The team splits up for efficiency (and because I mentally structured this story in true video game format, with each area a "level" that characters proceed through, culminating in a boss fight). Dante, Vergil, Nero, Trish, and Lady each head for a different seal. Dante suggests making it a contest to see who can disable their seal the fastest. Never one to let a challenge go unescalated, Vergil makes a parting crack about finishing the final fight himself before the others have even returned to the center of the array.

Combat and stuff happens (I'm condensing for space!) as they make their way through their respective regions. Ultimately, as each hunter finishes off the area boss, they discover that at the center of each seal is another layer of shielding containing a power source. The objects generating the power for the greater array are arcane artifacts. Weapons. Amulets. Old, but not necessarily ancient, though they have clearly seen extensive use. And... oddly familiar, for some of the hunters.

Nero is the only one who doesn't find an artifact at the core of his seal. Instead, when he breaks through the inner shield, he finds an old man imprisoned in the array -- a human, possibly a former hunter by the looks of him. Like Dante and Vergil, his hair is white, though Nero isn't sure if that's because of his age or because he shares their unique heritage. The man's athletic build hints at his former strength, but he's been weakened and aged by the constant power drain. His memory, too, seems to have suffered -- that, or he's being deliberately cagey with his answers. It's hard to say. At any rate, he doesn't give Nero a name by which to call him. He thinks he's been trapped in the array for several years, but time moves strangely in the underworld, and he had no real frame of reference for its passage. What he wants now is to find his way back to the human realm, though he's not sure where the access points linking the two worlds have migrated to in the time he's been imprisoned.

Nero knows there's a major battle ahead and doesn't want to be slowed down, but his conscience won't allow him to leave a weak, helpless old man to fend for himself in the underworld, so he helps him stand and offers to escort him to some place that, if not entirely safe, is at least moderately deserted and well away from the energy-draining apparatus. His plan is to stash the old man somewhere and then pick him up on the way out of the underworld after they take out the Big Bad at the center.

The stranger keeps up with Nero fairly well for someone in his condition, and the longer he's out of the array, the healthier he looks. Nero decides the man is not quite as old as he originally guessed, though he doesn't stop calling him things like "gramps" in place of his missing name. For his part, the man seems very interested in Nero himself, asking questions about the devil hunting business, and then about Fortuna and Red Grave City when he learns Nero is familiar with both. Nero is cautious with his answers, but he can't fault the other man for feeling him out -- or for wanting to speak to another person after being imprisoned for so long -- so he makes polite conversation. It's not like there's anything else to do while they're slogging through the underworld.

Upon learning that Red Grave was nearly destroyed, the stranger falls silent for a while. It's not until they meet up with Lady, returning from her own seal-breaking mission, that he rouses. Lady has retrieved a Devil Arm from her seal, a pair of gauntlets that, while undeniably powerful, is of little use to herself (a dex-based ranger human) or Nero (who already has his own devil power-augmented arm). The stranger asks if he might use them, since he currently has no weapons. This confirms to Nero that the man isn't entirely human -- Devil Arms won't allow just anyone to utilize them -- but he can't think of any reason not to let the guy have some means of protecting himself. At minimum, it will make him feel less guilty about ditching the man while the rest of them go off to fight the Evil Thing.

The stranger expresses the same kind of polite curiosity about Lady that he did with Nero, though he seems more particularly interested in her heritage than her present circumstances. Lady gets a little tetchy when he prods her about her lineage one too many times. In an effort to keep the peace, Nero interrupts to suggest they pick up the pace, or Vergil really will take on the final boss before they've caught up.

The stranger definitely reacts to that name. When he recovers, he feigns polite curiosity and asks who this Vergil is. "My old man," Nero replies, with a hint of vinegar because their relationship is still (understandably) fraught. "He's a hunter, too. He and his brother are down here with us."

The stranger controls his outward reaction to this statement a little better, but he's obviously very interested. Before he can ask more, Lady, still agitated from the probing about her parents, adds a sarcastic remark about Vergil only being a hunter when it suits him -- in between laying waste to entire cities.

The man stops dead and asks her to explain that, which she does: "Vergil's the one who destroyed Red Grave City. Again. Though to be fair, Dante and I managed to stop him, the first time around. He only wiped out one borough back then. But let me tell you, the wholesale district was never the same after Temen-ni-gru punched a hole in Market Square." She sobers. "But even that was nothing compared to what the Qliphoth did. He killed thousands of innocent people when he released that thing."

The man's reaction to this information is difficult to read, but decidedly not happy. He insists that they take him to meet Vergil. Nero balks and suggests that it would be better for him to wait someplace out of harm's way; there will be time for him to meet everyone after they've dealt with the main event. The man says no, he will see Vergil now, and for the first time Nero gets the sense that he may have really, really underestimated this "helpless old man." Because this is clearly somebody who is used to being obeyed, and he does not like repeating himself -- and probably has more than enough power to back it up, when he hasn't been used as a human (or not) battery for who knows how many years.

Lady clearly gets the same vibe, and Nero sees her shift into a defensive stance. But before things can escalate further, they're hailed by Trish, who has finished her own seal mission and detoured to join them when she saw the group coming across the demonic wasteland.

The stranger sees Trish.

And that's when things get... interesting.

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So, yeah, that's my fic about where Sparda has been for all these years and why there's been no trace of him, and the whole setup is just a petri dish for more angst (Sparda learning of Eva's death and having to deal with Trish's presence, which is probably even more jarring to him than it would have been to Dante; Vergil having to face his father after he Done Messed Up Big Time), comedy (Nero having a cognitive meltdown after realizing he's been calling the OG Savior "gramps," and then having another one when he realizes the OG Savior actually is his grandfather), and family feels (Sparda finding out he has a grandson! Who is the goodest boi! Even if he is the son of Elder Son Who Done Messed Up Big Time). Which is why it promises to be another CotFA if I let it, and why I really, really, really don't have time to write it. 😅

(I am also fully aware that with the right treatment, this could potentially work as a sequel to CotFA, which I fielded a question about last week... but it all comes back to time and energy. Sigh.)

#devil may cry #dmc #fanfiction #writing #my writing #children of the future age & friends #ask game

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