浦飯 幽助 | URAMESHI YŪSUKE (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ghostmoder) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thecrossinglogs2025-01-17 01:11 pm
ghostmoder) wrote in thecrossinglogs2025-01-17 01:11 pm
Entry tags:
[OPEN] cause I'm a real tough kid
WHO: Yusuke and YOU???
WHAT: The Crossing is coming, and some pent-up energy needs an outlet
WHERE: various; pick the prompt that works best for you!
WHEN: the lead-up to the Crossing
WARNINGS: nothing for now, will update as needed!
[He feels alive again, and he hates it. That's really what all of this boils down to, in the end.
It's not as dramatic a change as it was the first time — going from weightless and useless and helpless back to flesh and blood and bone — but it feels like that anyway, which is its own special brand of bullshit. It's a reminder of how much he really misses it, the feeling of being alive; from the basic-ass shit like breezes and sunshine, down to the pain and discomfort, overstretched muscles and split knuckles and a bruised jaw.
He wants to move, feels the pull in his gut, but there's nowhere to go yet. He wants to stop falling for the stupid illusion, thoughtless moments of relishing in the feeling of being back in his body, but this place won't stop dangling it in front of him. He's frustrated. He's stressed. He's bored.
It is, unfortunately, now everyone else's problem.]
i → the city
[He doesn't particularly like spending time in the city — it's creepy and empty and, most of all, there's nothing to do — but he feels less antsy when the River is out of his eyeline, so here he is. He's found a rubber handball from somewhere, some place depressing like a room that might've once belonged to a kid younger than him, the sort of thing that's small enough to throw but dense enough to bounce.
He's set up in one of the smaller squares, away from where the lion's share of the souls have chosen to gather, and is playing catch with himself: lounged up in some corner, bouncing the ball off the stone frame above an entrance on the opposite wall.
Until, eventually, the force of his frustration finally cracks a weakness in the stone. The ball flies off at a random angle, and there's a shower of dirt and rocks, maybe or maybe not directly on your head, depending.]
Damn. [He sees you there now, whoever you are, and pops up to properly sitting. Is he going to apologize? lmao] Yo, you got eyes on where the ball went?
ii → the river
[It's difficult for him not to lean into antsyness, though. At some point he does prowl his way back down to the banks of the River, pacing restlessly along the shoreline. It has all the making's of a trap, this dragging hook bidding him to follow, but sometimes it's better to just let the trap go off and be done with it, right?
His mood is more overtly sour, if you catch him down here. He pauses his pacing only long enough to point, down the flow of the water.]
What's stopping us from just swimming it, huh? All this waiting is bullshit.
iii → wildcard
[or choose your own adventure!!]
WHAT: The Crossing is coming, and some pent-up energy needs an outlet
WHERE: various; pick the prompt that works best for you!
WHEN: the lead-up to the Crossing
WARNINGS: nothing for now, will update as needed!
[He feels alive again, and he hates it. That's really what all of this boils down to, in the end.
It's not as dramatic a change as it was the first time — going from weightless and useless and helpless back to flesh and blood and bone — but it feels like that anyway, which is its own special brand of bullshit. It's a reminder of how much he really misses it, the feeling of being alive; from the basic-ass shit like breezes and sunshine, down to the pain and discomfort, overstretched muscles and split knuckles and a bruised jaw.
He wants to move, feels the pull in his gut, but there's nowhere to go yet. He wants to stop falling for the stupid illusion, thoughtless moments of relishing in the feeling of being back in his body, but this place won't stop dangling it in front of him. He's frustrated. He's stressed. He's bored.
It is, unfortunately, now everyone else's problem.]
i → the city
[He doesn't particularly like spending time in the city — it's creepy and empty and, most of all, there's nothing to do — but he feels less antsy when the River is out of his eyeline, so here he is. He's found a rubber handball from somewhere, some place depressing like a room that might've once belonged to a kid younger than him, the sort of thing that's small enough to throw but dense enough to bounce.
He's set up in one of the smaller squares, away from where the lion's share of the souls have chosen to gather, and is playing catch with himself: lounged up in some corner, bouncing the ball off the stone frame above an entrance on the opposite wall.
Until, eventually, the force of his frustration finally cracks a weakness in the stone. The ball flies off at a random angle, and there's a shower of dirt and rocks, maybe or maybe not directly on your head, depending.]
Damn. [He sees you there now, whoever you are, and pops up to properly sitting. Is he going to apologize? lmao] Yo, you got eyes on where the ball went?
ii → the river
[It's difficult for him not to lean into antsyness, though. At some point he does prowl his way back down to the banks of the River, pacing restlessly along the shoreline. It has all the making's of a trap, this dragging hook bidding him to follow, but sometimes it's better to just let the trap go off and be done with it, right?
His mood is more overtly sour, if you catch him down here. He pauses his pacing only long enough to point, down the flow of the water.]
What's stopping us from just swimming it, huh? All this waiting is bullshit.
iii → wildcard
[or choose your own adventure!!]