absensia-archived

[absensia-archived]

i've reread rosencrantz and guildenstern are dead three times now while working on these temporary pages for the blog i'm moving char to and everything about it remains relevant as ever.

#it's the whole not existing until someone calls you #it's the way they are both full grown and established people... and yet at the same time... #they have no recollection of a home or anything about themselves before the moment they were summoned by the royal herald #it's the way that they are just as dead at the beginning of the play as they are by the end when they are executed #they are always dead they are always alive they are always nothing until they called upon ... and then they do it all over again

[absensia-archived]

DIFFICULT VS. LIKEABLE TESTS

You are a VERY DIFFICULT person to get along with: ( 62.86% ) You are a LIKEABLE person: ( 69.29% )

#our dearest and most damnable charlotte #THE GEMINI ENERGY IS STRONG HERE #love to hate her; hate to love her #the huge scores on manipulativeness and humour though #totally encompass what u need to know abt char as a character: 100% always up to smth but is having a good time always too #kind of unrelated but it's interesting that risk-taking would be a measure for being difficult... as opposed to conformity i suppose

[absensia-archived]

THERE'S ALWAYS AT LEAST TWO VERSIONS OF A STORY. MOST TIMES THERE ARE MORE THAN TWO - THOUGH NOT EVERY VERSION STANDS EQUAL TO THE OTHERS. SOME ARE ONLY FOGGY MEMORIES. OTHERS ARE ONLY A GHOST OF A SUSPICION OF THE "REAL" TRUTH, WHATEVER THAT REALLY MEANT. AS FAR AS WHAT HAPPENED IN THAT TINY ATTIC ROOM IN THE LITTLE HOURS OF THAT DAY LAST OCTOBER, THERE ARE ONLY PIECES OF A STORY LEFT BEHIND. HERE'S THE PIECE THAT MATTERS: THE OFFICIAL STANDARD INVESTIGATION YIELDED NO EVIDENCE OF MISHANDLING OR INDICATION OF ROUGE BEHAVIOUR.

@0azrae7 / SOMETIMES THE BEST THAT WE CAN DO IS T'START OVA.

they knew this could happen. it was always important to note all the ways shit could go wrong and this was one of them: their best and only lead, lying dead at their feet. suddenly, what they'd joked about in the dead of the night before didn't seem so funny. charlotte had figured that she'd could get the guy to turn; recent intel remarked that his relationship with the ultranationalists had soured, and a sense of loyalty turned brittle made for a tempting target. but offer the deal in the wrong way, SHOW TOO MANY TEETH, and no promise of reward or revenge could distract from the ugly truth: that either way, he was trapped. NO WAY OUT. ONLY DOWN. six feet under, to be exact.

CHARLOTTE: WE LOSE HIM AND THAT'S BASICALLY BACK TO SQUARE ONE. GHOST: SOMETIMES THE BEST THAT WE CAN DO IS T'START OVA. CHARLOTTE [LAUGHING]: YEAH? YOU THINK SO? CAREFUL WHAT YOU WISH FOR, GHOST. IT MIGHT JUST COME TRUE.

it'd be easy to blame the asset for losing control of the conversation. but she could swear that she'd said all the right things, smiled, assured in all the right ways. he'd been nervous, sure. angry, too, but who wouldn't be? she'd understood where he was coming from, the unfairness of it all. yes, how dare they treat him that way, what, after all he'd done for them? sacrificed? for them! it wasn't right, no, but she knew how they could make it better. wouldn't that be good? to warm yourself by the ruins of the same empire that shunned you, knowing you're now set for life? time to look out for number one! that's right. it was all right. . . until the moment he, like a man possessed, reached for a nearby empty beer bottle, broke the glass on the table - edge, and drove the glass into his own throat before pulling it through and out with a guttural groan that sounded, to charlotte's ears, sickly satisfied.

she'd launched herself across the room with a shout, landing on top of the man, both hands pressed into his neck, blood gushing hot between her fingers. this is how ghost would find her mere moments later, straddling what remained of their best lead, uselessly ordering him to wait while his eyes slid over and in the last second of his life, saw the face of the grim reaper come to take him away.

as the body stilled, charlotte, still hunched over the dead man, heaved a deep breath, loosened her grip on the torn throat, and began to laugh. it was all giggles at first, the bubbly type of joy coming through clenched teeth and passed lips stretched thin into a grin. then, she straightened off the man's still torso and pushed back her hair with bloodied hands; pale flaxen strands greedily took up the crimson colour, her own temples now wet with smudged arterial spray. " Oh, I am in so much trouble! " the giggles returned, but the sound quickly mutated. next, charlotte was bursting with her usual, good - humoured laughter as she rolled her gaze upwards at ghost, her grin genial despite the pointed look in her eyes. " What you said last night. D'you get that from a fucking fortune cookie? Holy shit. Fuck me. Okay. "

a few more giggles escaped her, but that was apparently the last of it. " Okay, " she repeated, pushing herself off the corpse and, with a quick shake of her head and roll of her shoulders, stood to her full height, a foot planted on either side of the corpse's left leg. " Alright. We should, uh, probably get rid of the body, right? I can do the hands. Can you help me with the head, though, please? "

#0azrea7 #in. #mistakes were made #(or were they???)

[absensia-archived]

SHE DOESN'T THINK OF IT AS GOING HOME. THERE'S JUST NO SUCH THING. THE WAY BACK BETRAYS HER EACH AND EVERY TIME, TWISTING, WRITHING, LIKE A PIT OF SNAKES. CHAOS THINKS THIS IS A GAME AND, IN A WAY, IT IS. JUST NOT A FAIR ONE. CHARLOTTE COULD NEVER HOPE TO MAKE IT OUT OF THIS MAZE. SO SHE PICKS A CORNER IN THE DARKNESS AND CALLS THAT HOME. / CONT. / @thefixer .

it was a matter of convenience. as a body, as a force of an ancient kind of nature made real, ( though not really real, eh, charlie? don't get ahead of yourself now. ), this was something she had to reckon with a long time ago. over the years, she had come to learn what it meant to have belongings; to have places and objects that depended on her to take care of them, and that there was this truly fucked up way people liked to get to know about each other. how did the saying go? oh, yeah. YOU CAN TELL A LOT ABOUT A PERSON BY WHAT THEY LEAVE BEHIND.

but what if what they left behind never made any sense? what if what they leave behind paints an impossible picture, of a woman who was never there, of a faceless, nameless body? she wasn't there even as she trekked through the fading twilight towards the building. the building winced at a phantom pain when she wrenched the first and second doors open, and ascended the curved staircase like a ghost on its well - trodden path, feet lightly pressing into the old, cracked marble. this place was nicer than what you might expect charlotte to be able to afford, but the unit that she moved towards was well and truly hers. ( or rather, a version of her. ) bought and signed for and the papers then buried deep - along with the news stories of. . .

no, never mind that. no, please, make yourself at home in the darkness; IT IS HAPPY TO HAVE YOU. the sound of the ice in your glass plays like music and the warmth of the lamp - light looks upon you almost lovingly. IT IS SO NICE TO HAVE COMPANY. it is so nice to have more than a mere body, for then what really is the difference between a house and crypt? a home and a grave. . .

charlotte keeps her hand on the doorknob as she stares back at mia, at first not believing that she was really there. herself, not mia. it occurred to charlotte that she might've opened the wrong door. her keys have been known to spontaneously change shape before. the wrong keys to the right doors, the right keys to the wrong doors. the entire world was her funhouse. WELCOME HOME, LOVER. she smiled at the words and figured that even if this place wasn't hers, she'd be hard - pressed to find a welcome like that anywhere else. so fuck it, this must be home. charlotte pulled the key out, and in a series of well - practiced motions, dropped her heavy backpack to the floor, shut the door with her hip, and ran her hands down the long column of latches, deadbolts, and locks.

" you look comfy. how'd you get in this time? " this was their little game. no one except for charlotte ( and even then, sometimes not even her, ) had the keys to this place. sure, she could hand a copy over to mia and save herself the hassle of replacing jimmied window locks, ceiling covers, and dry - wall, but where was the fun in that? " and I hope that's not the whiskey you're drinking. is that the whiskey? from the bottle with the gold label? "

#thefixer #in. #comes into HER home and doesn't even make HER a drink #char so detached from the concept of a home she really went “wait is this even my place” while unlocking the door

[absensia-archived]

this is going to sound so absurd. . . but if daniel craig in knives outs was a little more neutral or even a little evil rather than the good that he is ( can u tell I haven't thought this through. this is based off vibes only ), he'd be very close to a personification of char's void, ie. the version / extension of it that is directly tethered to her existence.

#im currently spinning into my own oblivion but #saw a gifset and this thought resurfaced #it's gotta be knives out specifically though because the summertime vacay vibes in the sequel just doesn't jive u know? #but his intro... him in the shadows annoyingly / ominously / intimidatingly? doing that thing w the piano? #yeah that's just the entity in the corner of char's mind all the time #anyways ... i'm going to make a list of the things i need to do to make this blog... bearable and productive again.. updates to come <3 #myer-briggs brain at it again but can't be a coincidence ... i type the void (char's void) as an intj #benoit blanc? probably an intj from what i can rmr abt the movie? #yeah... :D #life's going up in flames rn for me yeah but myer-briggs is 4ever :o)

[absensia-archived]

IMPOSSIBLY, THERE WASN'T A SINGLE SHADOW CAST ALONG THE BLEACHED WALLS AND TILES OF THE HOTEL BAR KITCHEN. FLUORESCENTS HUMMED, HISSED, AND WHEEZED IN THE CEILING ABOVE - PERSISTENT IN THEIR DUTY TO SCARE OFF RATS AND ROACHES. AND WHERE THERE WAS LIGHT... THERE SHOULD BE A SHADOW OR TWO, NO? A PERFECT HIGH NOON HUNG STUCK IN PLACE INSIDE THE STERILE, LOVELESS, LIFELESS PLACE. HEAT SIMMERED IN THE AIR. THE SPARK AND FLASH OF A GRENADE SUSPENDED, MADE IMMORTAL.

It was becoming uncomfortably warm inside the kitchen, and it was only about to get worse. A bead of sweat rolled down the side of Charlotte's face and she let it trace its line down the curve of her cheek to the point of her chin. The effort she poured into keeping her hands as steady as possible, was matched only with the effort she made to slow her breathing. SURE, THEY WERE RUNNING OUT OF TIME, BUT THAT WAS HARDLY A REASON TO PANIC. Beside her, a wood - burning stove crackled on cheerily, indifferent to the woman's predicament. It'd been fed recently, so what did it have to be worried about? Certainly it did not have any reason to be hissing curse after curse. Not like her, who had a very good reason and now here was another! Fantastic.

@ssuds / PUT YOUR WEAPONS ON THE GROUND, NOW!

" Alright! " Her voice rang out, loud and clear as a fucking dinner bell. Charlotte rose from her haunches and straightened onto her knees, the grooves of where the tiles dipped into a clean line of grout pressing painfully into her kneecaps. She regarded the mess of wires and gears from above. The wires seemed to spell out a message in a language she didn't read, but whatever it did say, she was sure it wasn't a fucking love letter. AND WHAT THE FUCK KIND OF HOTEL KITCHEN DIDN'T HAVE A WALK - IN COOLER? Briefly, Charlotte had considered picking up the bomb and making a run to the nearest elevator and sending it up where she knew the floors had been cleared, but then there was no telling what would happen if she so much as elevated or tilted the device the wrong way. It wasn't one of hers.

FUCKING FICKLE CREATURES, THESE EXPLOSIVES.

With one last quick glance at the now - dying flames inside the stove, she stood,( slowly! ), up from behind the kitchen island and sent her pocket knife skittering across the checkered floor. Without taking her eyes off the device on the ground, Charlotte reached back, pulled out the pistol she had pressed against her back, and tossed it at the soldier's feet. " Look, you --- " Charlotte stopped when she saw the soldier standing across the kitchen; eyes did a quick sweep of the area and of what little she could see past his shoulders into the corridor. A smile played across her lips as she returned her attention to the soldier, solid greys flickering from his head to his boots and back up again. " Oh, it's just you and me now! Where did all your buddies go? "

#ssuds #in. #CAUGHT RED HANDED #on this episode of kitchen nightmares

[absensia-archived]

WHICH OUT OF THE 5 NEW LOVE LANGUAGES ARE YOU?

ORANGES. Love to you is sitting next to your person, so you take out a mandarin, and as you peel it you give them every other piece. NO ONE SAYS A THING, but you both know what’s bubbling beneath it all. You wanna protect your love, and you know that somewhere deep within you, like it’s branded on your bones. You wanna be a SAFE HOUSE in the middle of a war. You wanna be a lit up home at the end of day, signaling to come this way. You devote yourself to everything you care for, you don’t know how else to want. You give your hand as an offering, you give yourself as penance. Well, it's all very: I LOVE YOU. I WANT US BOTH TO EAT WELL.

#our dearest and most damnable charlotte #if u see this and want to do it PLS DO i'd love to see the other results #I have a feeling I've already done this one - but it came back around and I'm making u all suffer this w me again #the silence of it - silence as peace for char but also as defeat #the way she wants so bad to have a home to BE a home but best she can offer is haunted house sorry #the way she has to transplant the devotion she's been built with from her focus on chaos to love and it doesn't exactly fit... #/you don't know what else to want/ bc all she knows is dedication and offering herself up as a pawn to be used #it's all very my love language is acts of service but all i know to do is confuse kill make trouble and worsen things

[absensia-archived]

One of the key ways Mamma Mia (2008) has influenced Char's characterization is the manner in which she speaks; more often than not, Char dresses her tone with a melodic "sing - songiness," which is to say that when she does speak in a flat or monotonous tone, it is either deliberate, indicative of her feeling, or both.

#It ties into how Char is usually expressive with her voice. #If she's telling a story that involves what other people have said - she will sometimes do her best to imitate or mock the other ppl's voic #She's a good singer; she knows how to use whispers/shouts/laughter/singing with intention #She curses when she's annoyed; she cackles when she feels sadistic glee; she laughs freely; she screams when scared/surprised. #It's the joy in it for me.

[absensia-archived]

IT WAS A WELL - KNOWN FACT THAT ANY VISITATIONS TO ARKHAM DURING LESS AN IDEAL CONDITIONS HAVE ALWAYS BEEN FROWNED - UPON, BUT SINCE THE INCIDENT LAST CHRISTMAS, BANS TO VISITATION WOULD COME HAND - IN - HAND WITH EXTREME WEATHER NOTICES. NO ONE WAS TO COME IN, NO ONE WAS EVER ALLOWED OUT, AND IF YOU WERE LUCKY ENOUGH TO FIND YOURSELF STILL INSIDE WHEN THE STORM HIT, CONSIDER YOUR WELCOME RELUCTANTLY EXTENDED.

Later, the guards would argue that, technically, when they allowed the sombrely dressed woman with the beautiful bouquet of flowers in her arms in to see the old district attorney, the storm hadn't yet descended upon their dark island. They would claim that, technically, she'd allowed herself in with a letter straight from the mayor's office and that they had no choice but to allow the lady through security. They would plead that, ( hey! ), technically, the two were old friends, weren't they?Acquaintances, surely, at the very least.

WHY ELSE WOULD SHE BRING THAT MAN FLOWERS ON A NIGHT LIKE THIS? WHY BRING HIM ANYTHING AT ALL?

Motive remained neatly tucked away, sound and hidden, but certainly never safe, inside the folds of Charlotte's funeral suit. An effort had been made with her hair, which in the case of the chaos agent, meant she'd taken the painful steps of securing the sun - heavy locks in a tight ponytail, the mess drawn completely away from her face. There was nothing left, not even a shadow of gold or void, to disguise her grinning face. " They warned me you wouldn't play nice. Not that you ever really did. " The stark lights embedded where they had gutted the old Gothic walls and structures were not doing the old DA any favours. Eyes the same odd silver as the coin he still clutched in his good hand, held an unwavering gaze, trained right along the seam of where a wax - like imitation of handsomeness met harshly with a mess of dead flesh.

That coin twisted in the air, catching and releasing light, and still she didn't look away from the cold stare of his one good eye. ALL WAS FAIR IN LOVE AND WAR, SURE. What most forgot was that, naturally, inevitably, all was fair in everything one could think of under the sun when one just waited long enough. It was true that Death did not discriminate, but that was because Death was a fellow agent. Death was nothing save for bodily entropy and entropy was. . . well, one example was one - half of Dent's face. They both now held something hidden from the other. He, her apparent fate, pressed cold into the back of his left hand. And she?

Heads of hydrangeas peeked out, nigh shyly, from behind the blonde's shadow - clad shoulder. " Come on, Harvey, be nice and I'll show you the present I brought just for you. " /// @coinofsilver, CONT. FROM HERE.

#coinofsilver #in. #might as well start filling out the incident report forms now....

[absensia-archived]

let me indulge my decade long obsession with myer-briggs for a second, and put on the record that charlotte has a real problem with those whose dominant or secondary cognitive function is extraverted intuition -- and it has to do with her dynamic with the primordial void as its vessel. while charlotte has and continues to do her best to comprehend the incredibly intangible, horridly abstract, and staunchly impractical nature of something that is ( and always will be ) outside the realm of complete human comprehension, she also made the decision long ago to not worry herself too much over these kinds of abstract, bigger-than-life, and unsolvable philosophical concepts. she does not enjoy spending her time and energy debating ( at length ) topics like the time - space continuum, the meaning of life and the universe, the essence of what a soul is, the significance of dreams, etc. this is, in part, why she isn't the biggest fan of poetry, and has a hard time getting along with people who are often lost in daydreams, who often speak in poetics or with a romantic edge, and who are seemingly so preoccupied with these intangible, dreamy, future - inclined ideas that they miss what is happening right in front of them. she finds these sort of people impractical and foolish; she doesn't hold much appreciation for their starry - eyed gazes, and while she does understand that abstract thinking is indicative of intelligence in its own way, she doesn't care enough for non - applicable theory to indulge this kind of thinking.

char's main qualm with the abstract and tethering of one's entire worldview and way of thinking to intangible possibilities and "what if's" is how it directly clashes with her desire to cling to the practical and tangible wherever, whenever, and however she can get it. she needs to ground herself this way because otherwise, she would be lost to the endless quagmire of fragmentary memories, skewed perceptions, half - truths, and the flux between unreality and reality, the tangible and the uncanny, etc. so, no, it doesn't help the work char literally depends on to make sure she doesn't lose her mind is unsettled by people insist on debating abstract theories w/o tying it back to a practical sense of reality. what i'm not saying is that char is unstable to the point where merely being around these people or speaking about these kind of topics would make her lose her mind; she hasn't made it this far without having worked on her mental fortitude. which is why, when it comes these people like this, char can be anywhere from kind of annoyed to "I absolutely cannot stand this person," where the latter would see her in constant conflict with this person, which by definition, means that charlotte does hold her own in her part of the clashing. of course, even if this is really the way she feels about one of these types of people, it also doesn't mean that she's going to show it, not especially if she's trying to get something from or out of said person.

#i wanted to point this out because the NORM is that char /is/ inherently an easy-going and friendly person #i've said many times and it shows through the years that there really isn't anyone that char doesn't eventually find a way to get along wit #ofc there are those she gets along better w than others; some that she naturally clicks w; and some she has pretend a lil with! #but all in all ... char IS typically very friendly and sociable... which is y i wanted to point out one of the few underlying reasons for.. #...why charlotte WOULDN'T like or have a harder time getting along with someone #all those ENTPs ENFPs INTPs and INFPs out there... char doesn't know what ur talking abt but ok u do u #this is basically my long winded way of saying that char CAN'T BELIEVE that there are ppl who willingly immerse themselves #in the mind breaking awfulness of the intangible and incomprehensible when SHE has no choice but to suffer it 24/7 #when all SHE wants is to be present in her existence thank u v much

[absensia-archived]

I've spoken briefly about this before and, again, it's usually something I leave in the little details of Charlotte's portrayal, but it's really been on my mind lately so I wanted to write out some of the prominent traits that continue to establish that, despite having gradually accumulated more experience, capital, and property over the years, Charlotte remains coded as working-class. It is crucial to both the narrative itself and her actual existence as a vessel for the primordial void, also known as Khaos. This means that she still has no ( legal ) credit cards and continues to thrift almost all her belongings, including her clothes, books, and furniture ( with the exception of shoes and appliances.) If you are someone who regularly meets up with Charlotte, you might begin to notice ( if you are perceptive ) that while she may be variably early, right on time, or show up in some unexpected state, she is rarely ever late and certainly never without a legitimate reason as to why. It is also not uncommon for Charlotte to juggle multiple jobs at the same time, and the only time she'll agree to a single job, at the exclusion of all other work is if she knows that that one job will be worth it. Related to this is the fact that Charlotte has a very hard time saying no to job offers; it's a habit ( read: stress response ) she is trying to unlearn, but it continues to be a struggle. Lastly, despite having successfully taken on leadership roles in the past, Charlotte expresses a strong dislike for being consigned to a "boss" role as she still much prefers to be hands on, in the action, at risk rather than sitting back and letting others do the work. She becomes restless if she finds herself "at the top" or in the position of too much obvious power; recall the adage about how it is lonely at the top, and how isolation is not something that the void's vessel can allow. She needs to be among people; she needs to be present to catalyze chaos. That being said, this doesn't mean that Charlotte simply allows herself to be treated or thrown away as a mere lackey or just another body, but that is still part of the struggle, isn't it?

#you'll also notice that char is very smart about the way she stores and maintains what belongings she DOES have #ie. her money her safe“houses” her work equipment #within the bounds of her control - char doesn't go out of her way to destroy or wreck her own stuff #if chaos happens then there's nothing she can do; and other people's stuff is fair game #but her own shit? she takes care of that shit best she can #it ties into the fact that she doesn't have a set or consistent sleep schedule #but for her work she will be up at the crack of dawn if needed; she will be out all night; she will be up and working days on end if needed #she also enjoys working in teams and if you've ever had to have char as a co-worker u'll know she's actually nice to work with #still untrustworthy still chaotic still annoying as fuck - but also nice #she prefers to work with equals rather than take any kind of control over others. control being the other side of the coin to chaos :') #she's also worked such a HUGE myriad of what society considers labour / “entry-level” / “unskilled” jobs... #...in order to learn from an inconspicuous position. #i could go on and on but like i said - i'll leave in the writing #i'm so proud of my chaos goblin #thinking about how at one point in her timeline she worked and played her way all the way to accidentally taking out a crime boss... #....then IMMEDIATELY did a 180 going “nope not for me” and vanished #too lonely at the top and that's no fun for this one :( #( smth smth the fact that she's just a vessel is too ingrained in her sense of self for her to actually stand out and be leader ) #( smth smth even pawn-turned-queens revert back to pawns at the end of the game ) #and as always - if you actually read through all this IM SO THANKFUL FOR U MWAH <3

[absensia-archived]

informal npc drop: gladys, an ambiguous character whose age, ethnicity, class, occupation, and location are all unknown, but is always seemingly where charlotte is. the only defining trait relevant to charlotte's narrative is this: she is charlotte's friend and her source for all sorts of entertainment of the mundane variety. you hear charlotte mention how a friend is currently caught in a love triangle between a cross-fit trainer and a circus ringleader? gladys. charlotte's hungover because a friend of hers drunk her under the table last night? gladys. charlotte had to go bail out a friend who's been arrested for trying to take too many items through the express line at the grocery store and promptly got into a scuffle with the WASP mom behind her? gladys. gladys is the chaotic good to charlotte's chaotic.... chaos.

#charlotte has learned a lot from gladys. #and i realize most of this sounds like an inconvenience but if you know char then you know char wouldn't consider ANY OF THIS inconvenient #she thinks it's hilarious most of the time #even when gladys gets her drunk and she's so tired and hates it she doesn't hold it against gladys. #gladys is also ... a ghost. in the way that she will always be off screen like those “characters” in sitcoms that r only ever mentioned

[absensia-archived]

the reason why charlotte's style has a vintage / retro edge to it isn't because she ever felt an infinity or preference for the look, but because over time, the more clothes she accumulated, the more the retro pattern emerged since she usually tried to take the clothes that seemed the most durable. fabrics like denim, corduroy, and flannel which are more durable are also naturally associated with vintage clothing. in getting her clothes for cheap from thrift stores, garage / estate sales, and community fundraisers, char inadvertently built a vintage flair for herself.

charlotte has a lot of phone numbers in her phone, but none of them are named or labelled. if you are someone she speaks to often or a friend ( or an enemy, for that matter), she will most likely have your number memorized.

char being an optimist is her finding herself in the most awful situations possible and still being like "it's not that bad it's really not that bad! it could totally be worse ok this is fine it's an adventure it's fine," even though she's probably taking in every single fucking detail around her, and her brain is steaming from her trying to devise a way out or through the situation, but it's still not really a lie to say she's still having a good time. as a reference, charlotte is always lying when she says "i'm sorry," and when she looks at you and tells you that "it's going to be okay," it's a fifty-fifty shot whether she's lying or being genuine, but when she tells you "i'll figure it out," that's always the truth.

if you were to empty char's pockets, you're most likely to find: a swiss army knife, a couple elastic bands, a hairtie (which is different than the elastic bands), spare change, a lemon drop or two, a bus or train ticket, a matchbook, loose pages of a notepad with various things written on the pages. these are what you usually find in her pockets. her bag is a different story.

charlotte has an average tolerance for alcohol. a rum and coke with lime is her go to drink, but charlotte, in fact, does not often imbibe. she never drinks when she is alone and she never drinks enough to pass a solid buzz. if you do find her drunk, you can blame it on the ladies down at the bingo hall or in her book club. that, or she's up to something and getting drunk on purpose, but this is a rarity. the closest of the typical "types" of drunks that describes an intoxicated charlotte is a mix between the "happy drunk" and the "spacey drunk." her spirits remain buoyed when drunk, she laughs just as easily but maybe a little harder, and she focuses on the light in the world. she also becomes a little...slow, for the lack of a better word. she'll be nodding along to what someone is saying only to realize she didn't understand any of it, she'll squint and blink her eyes in confusion, and she'll stare after people as it takes time for her register what someone might've said and how she'd like to react. charlotte doesn't enjoy getting drunk as it messes with her memory, and worsens her already warped sense of perception.

#started writing a headcanon on char re: photography too but i gotta think on it some more. here are some shorter ones! <3

[absensia-archived]

#LITTLE MISS GOBLIN ILY #definitely not doing the book-fluencer thing right #she's still on a flip phone forgive her

[absensia-archived]

BY ITS TRUEST DEFINITION, "CORNERED" WAS THE WRONG WORD FOR THE DILEMMA THE DETECTIVE AND HIS BLONDE FOUND THEMSELVES IN. IT IMPLIED A CERTAIN HELPLESSNESS THAT WOULD BE GRAVELY MISPLACED IF EVER APPLIED TO EITHER OF THE BODIES PRESENT. BUT WHAT'S THE BETTER WORD? TRAPPED: CERTAINLY NOT. NO ONE ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE DOOR HAD FELT IT NECESSARY TO LAY A TRAP. CAPTURED: ABSURD. NO ONE EVEN KNEW THEY WERE THERE, IN THE DARK. CAUGHT? NO. NOT YET ANYWAYS.

Cozy. Yes, that was more like it. A smirk played its way across Charlotte's lips, the shape of her mouth seemingly cut in two ( mismatched, like a pencil dropped into a half - full glass of water, ) by a sliver of light coming in through a slit in the old linen closet door. No one should've been in the house and it had been empty when they slipped through an open window like smoke, like sunlight. More importantly, no one should've come home. This house sat lonely under a dead man's name. It has for years, and for years, no one had come to examine it, resurrect it, or speak to it. That is, until now.

@valereius / A HEART TO HEART

When a dead man's cold case of a murder suddenly became of interest again, his house would naturally become the first witness, approached for questioning. The good thing about a house was that it couldn't run. Burn down? Sure. Decay until it was so structurally unsound that it couldn't abide a LIVING CREATURE in it without moaning and threatening collapse? A common fate! But at least it wouldn't run. What Charlotte didn't see coming and yet, wasn't surprised to see happen, was the arrival of not one, not two, but three of the local gangs at the doors of the very same house for what sounded like negotiations over land and resource re - distribution. For years, no one had looked at this house that sat on the very edge of the city without a single standing neighbour. Not even those damn house - flipper sorts. Until today. Well, well, from lonely to all - too - popular.

Anyone else would be looking for someone to blame as unlucky, but Charlotte didn't believe in burdening one person with all the bad luck. It was never just one person, or just one thing. Misfortune was, more often than not, a group effort. So, she was more than willing to take on some of the blame. After all, it wasn't as if the detective was standing alone in this tiny, dusty closet. Even if there was only room for one.

Cozy, indeed. There hadn't been enough time to escape out the back door unnoticed. Three sets of enforcers, footmen, runners, and low - level yes - men had arrived near simultaneously, flooding the house ( not - so ) slowly but surely. A perimeter had been quickly ( impressively ) set and Charlotte could thought how lucky they were that David had parked his car several blocks away. The meeting was in the dining room and was approaching its first hour of minutes. The shadows of the restless patrol would go by and sink them into total darkness. As another passed, the floor seemed to tilt and Charlotte tightened the grip she had on David's jacket, leveraging her balance for a moment. The guard moved away, the house stifled a groan, and the chatter continued to flow without a hitch downstairs. This close, she could do little more than roll her gaze upward and peer at Loki through her lashes and a heavy lock of her hair that hung down over one eye.

A single peel of laughter rose to an awkward crescendo only to die off alone, and Charlotte's smirk split into a grin. He had to have known: if she could've laughed, she would've. But her shoulders did not even shake and the dust that surrounded them slept undisturbed. Nibbling on her lower lip, Charlotte waited for the choir of voices to begin weaving, overlapping, melding once more before adding her own hushed voice to the soundscape. " Hey, " she begun, so gently her words could've been sounding from a dream within a dream. " What d'you want for your birthday? "

#valereius #in. #the woman has her priorities straight what can i tell ya #sure hope no one calls david rn

[absensia-archived]

Catherine Deneuve “on the set of” Le sauvage (1975)

#our dearest and most damnable charlotte #DO WE SEE IT???

[absensia-archived]

The Lighthouse (2019) dir. Robert Eggers

#sunlight is dead light. #usfw // #nsfw //