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tennessoui · 1 year

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a “stay til the dawn” epilogue

a christmas present for @anakinsthot at the request of @sexysymphony

short and sorta sweet epilogue of sorts to my king obi-wan au, where anakin crashlands on stewjon, loses his memory, and falls in love with king kenobi who makes everything a lot more difficult than it has to be

(3k)(hinted nsfw, but not really anything explicit)

Tobias has never looked more happy to see him, and they routinely get together for drinks at the King’s Pub in the Garden district to root for the Coruscanti waggleball team, decked out in Coruscanti scarlet in a crowd of unfriendly Stewjoni green.

“Ah, Toby, you’re looking well today,” Anakin reaches forward and up—and up—and up—to clap the palace guard on the shoulder of his armor.

“And you’re a sight for sore eyes, milord,” Tobias replies, offering his hand to help Anakin out of the speeder. “If I may say.”

“Say away,” Anakin chirps, jumping down to the ground and peering up at the Gargantiolan. “It’s nice to be missed, even if—“ he checks the comm unit on his wrist “—I’ve been gone less than three days.”

“My joy will pale in the face of the king’s, I assure you,” Tobias says, reaching one long arm into the speeder and retrieving Anakin’s pack. “I will see this returned to your quarters, Prince Set.”

Anakin wrinkles his nose, his immediate reaction to any suggestion that he stand on ceremony.

He may have married a king, but that doesn’t mean he particularly respects all the traditions he’s now beholden to.

As a Jedi Knight, he never would have been greeted upon his return to the Temple, nor would he be excused from the tedious task of disengaging and storing his own speeder.

Even as a war general, there had been little ceremony he had observed. He and his men were equal in all but their titles, and he had striven to make sure every soul in his company knew that.

But his new job, his new title can’t be bucked off nor ignored for the very simple reason that no one will let him.

The Stewjonians are an obliging yet obstinate sort. Much like their king, who they seem to adore above all else.

As Anakin feels the same way about King Kenobi, they have a lot in common, despite the way every Stewjonian who sees him insists on treating him as if he’s made of fine, delicate, ornamental transparisteel.

“Fine,” he says with the smallest of sighs. He learned as a general that all battles could be fought, but some were not worth the effort, so predictable was their end. “Would you happen to know where our King is, if he has missed me so?”

Tobias raises four of his six eyebrows. “Can’t you feel him in the Force?”

“No,” Anakin barely resists the urge to pout, which would be very unbecoming of a Prince Consort. “He’s blocked the bond.”

Something Obi-Wan only does when he’s angry with him, Anakin doesn’t add.

At least Obi-Wan knows better than to cut himself off from the Force all together. The one and only time Anakin had made him furious enough that he’d slipped on Force suppression cuffs and disappeared from Anakin’s mind, Anakin…hadn’t reacted well.

Now when he’s grumpy—indignant, Anakin, perhaps scorned. Kings do not feel grumpy—he blocks their bond as if he’s simply locking a door, instead of deliberately locking Anakin out of the warmth and comfort of Obi-Wan’s mind, his very soul. It’s almost worse like this, but at least he knows he’s alive, can feel a quiet humming at the end of their bond.

“Perhaps the healers have used your absence to push the king into attempting a more traditional form of a healthy, Stewjonian Force bond.”

“I was under the impression such things do not exist.”

“Aye, I’d say that may just be why he blocked it then,” Tobias points out, but at Anakin’s dark expression, he quickly raises all four of his hands in his defense. “I’m only jesting, milord. He’s holding court today, I believe, given your continued absence. If you’d like to wait in the glass gardens or in the painting gallery, I’ll let Aislaen know to tell the king you’ve arrived.”

“No need,” Anakin waves his hand, already turning towards the palace’s front doors. “I know where the throne room is. I’ll let him know myself.”

“I was afraid you’d say that,” Tobias says, but Anakin is taking the stairs two at a time, pushing himself faster than humanly possible with the Force in order to reach his husband quicker.

Given his continued absence—the absolute nerve of Obi-Wan! He’s been gone for two and a half days! He hadn’t even left the damn planet! What Obi-Wan has to be grumpy about, Anakin doesn’t know.

The throne room is one of the first rooms in the palace when one enters through the grand entrance hall. Obi-Wan had insisted on it being so, something about openness and accessibility.

Anakin has never liked its location, maybe because he’s not one to read metaphors into architecture. What it feels like to him, having the throne room only a corridor away from the mouth of the palace, is a security risk.

But at least now it’s convenient.

The guards at the door know better than to block his entrance these days, though he breezes past them almost before they can drop into the customary bow.

The throne room is almost full, people from the capitol city taking advantage of the king’s need for distraction to come and give him problems to solve while he waits for Anakin to return.

Or whatever he does when Anakin is away.

The room is small enough that Anakin can see Obi-Wan as soon as he steps in. The king looks resplendent seated on his throne, cape carefully folded around him, the blue and green color of his outfit standing out against the dark wood of the seat.

The Stewjon people are not those who value gold and jewels and overt symbols of power; this is something Anakin respects.

But Force, would his king look beautiful decked out in the regalia other planets pile on their monarch.

Anakin strides forward to stand at the back of the line leading to the King’s dias. Stewjonian citizens line the halls, but the line itself is relatively short. Though it is fairly late in the day, so maybe Obi-Wan has been seated here for hours already. Anakin would know if his stubborn husband would just unblock his side of their bond and let him have access to his mind.

He looks tired, Anakin decides as he shuffles forward and can see more of the details of his king’s face. There are shadows under his eyes, and though he is careful to give each person before him his full attention, Anakin can see him drooping with the effort of it.

If he weren’t being so pissy, Anakin would use his princely privileges to march forward and drag his king up to their private quarters for a nice soak in their indecently sized bath. He’d even wash his hair for him and push him back onto their bed to ride him to completion. He wouldn’t have to do anything. Anakin would look after the both of them.

But Obi-Wan is angry with him about something, and he’s decided to block their bond, and Anakin can’t reward that sort of behavior, not when he feels as though he needs that bond to breathe.

So instead of running his hands through his king’s auburn hair and stretching himself wide enough to take the sizable intrusion of Obi-Wan’s cock after three days of abstinence, Anakin is standing here. In line in front of his king. Ready to complain like everyone else.

Two people away from the front of the queue, Obi-Wan looks up from the woman in front of him—complaining about some sort of imagined cheese monopoly in the Lower Colsteph district that’s been affecting her sales—and locks eyes with Anakin.

He tenses all over, shoulders straightening and eyes shuttering.

For a very scary second, Anakin is terrified that he’s actually done something quite terrible and he’s just forgotten.

Can a person have selective amnesia twice in so little time?

But no, he’s been gone for the past couple of days on an excursion Obi-Wan himself approved.

It’s perhaps a measure of how much the people of Stewjon love their king that the person ahead of Anakin follows Obi-Wan’s line of sight, sees Anakin standing behind him, and immediately removes himself from the situation.

Though to be fair Anakin doesn’t know what his face looks like right now, his own anger rising in his stomach at the sight of Obi-Wan’s aloof, diplomatic expression aimed in his direction.

The nerve.

“There was a line,” Obi-Wan points out blasely as Anakin moves to stand before him.

“And now I’m in the front of it,” Anakin replies. “Won’t you hear my grievances, King Kenobi?”

Obi-Wan’s eyes flash. “I’ve half the mind to dismiss the court. It’s been a long day already, sir.”

“Oh, yes. It must be very exhausting, sitting around in comfortable furniture for hours at a time. But I’ve flown all the way from Olijon to see you, sire.”

“How flattering,” Obi-Wan replies. “But careful, sir, I’m a married man.”

Anakin bears his teeth. “As am I. As it were, my husband is who I have come to complain about.”

The crowd of Stewjonians shift around Anakin, giving him a fair amount of space.

They’re very smart people, the Stewjonians are.

“Oh?” Their king asks.

“I seem to have married the most stubborn, most uncommunicative Stewjonian the Force has ever created. He would grind his teeth down to the quick before he let slip his own emotions unprompted.”

“Hm,” Obi-Wan says.

“For example, I believe he is grumpy with me at the moment, though I’ve had to piece together his anger as one may piece together fragments of a broken mirror: the image is imperfect, unclear, incomplete.”

“Hm,” Obi-Wan says. “Perhaps if you looked into a mirror, you would find the source of your husband’s ire.”

“Oh, don’t you dare claim my metaphor for your benefit—“

“Apologies, darling. I am a king. It is what we do.” Obi-Wan leans forward on his throne and looks down at Anakin, resting his hand on his chin. “Let me ask you something.”

Anakin narrows his eyes and crosses his arms.

“How long have you been married to this terrible husband of yours?”

“I didn’t say terrible—“ Anakin starts to protest before the words freeze in his mouth. “Two years,” he says instead, a sinking feeling in his stomach.

“Exactly?” Obi-Wan asks, arching an eyebrow.

Anakin swallows. “To the day,” he admits. “Ah, fuck. But Obi-Wan, I—“

Obi-Wan stands with a swirl of his cape. “Then I suggest you rush back to Olijon post-haste. After all, I’m sure you want to spend your anniversary outside of court, with your love. I, for one, would have.”

Final judgment passed, he turns on his heel to exit through the side door.

Anakin, of course, will not allow this to happen. He uses the Force to hold the door shut as Obi-Wan presses his palm against it.

When Obi-Wan turns to look at him, nostrils flaring and real fury flashing in his eyes, Anakin inclines his head. “Court dismissed,” he prompts.

Obi-Wan clenches and unclenches his jaw before he waves his hand. “Court dismissed.”

There are murmurs of both protest and relief as the people around them start exiting through the main entrance, one Anakin throws open with another flick of his hand.

“And guards dismissed as well,” Obi-Wan snaps at the same time Anakin opens his mouth to remind him. He sends a wave of appreciation towards his husband in the Force, but the king is more blocked off than ever.

When the throne room is empty save for them, Obi-Wan stalks back to sit on his throne as if this whole thing has been his idea. He crosses his left leg over his knee and rests his hands on the armrests of his throne. “Well?”

“You let me forget our anniversary,” Anakin says, which doesn’t feel like the best foot forward at the very beginning. But it’s true. “You should have told me not to go on the trip to Olijon. It could have waited.”

“I’m not in the business of telling my husband what to do or not do,” Obi-Wan replies, as if he doesn’t take great joy from ordering Anakin around in bed.

Anakin’s raised eyebrow must convey this skepticism, because Obi-Wan huffs. “That’s different,” he says, crossing his arms. “That’s…pleasure. This is…”

When he doesn’t continue, Anakin takes that as an invitation to stride up the dias into his husband’s personal space. When that doesn’t feel close enough, he doesn’t hesitate to clamber into his lap, forcing Obi-Wan’s body to accommodate him.

“What is this, my liege?” Anakin asks, wrapping his arms around his neck.

Obi-Wan looks torn, shields weakening. They’ve never been in an argument yet that hasn’t petered out when Anakin shortens the distance between them.

“This is duty,” Obi-Wan says resolutely, even as his shields waver. “You needed to go to Olijon because as the prince and an accomplished engineer, Prince Set was expected to inspect the latest transport rig there. That was your duty. And mine was to let you go.”

“But you’re grumpy with me,” Anakin points out, shifting closer and bringing up one of his hands to start playing with the ends of Obi-Wan’s bangs, which just stick out under the weight of his crown.

Maybe this is what causes Obi-Wan to melt into him. Maybe it’s his pout as he does it. Maybe it’s just that he’s missed him as much as Anakin has missed being here with him.

“I’m not,” Obi-Wan mutters, dragging a hand over his face before he settles it against the small of Anakin’s back. “Not least because kings do not get grumpy.”

Anakin snorts but doesn’t say anything. He does rock forward pointedly though. After all, if they can get through this conversation, nothing is stopping them from…celebrating their anniversary right here in the throne room.

“I have a duty to my people as their king, and in marrying me you have taken on a part of that duty. I cannot keep you away when you are called upon, no matter the day. I…” Obi-Wan‘s eyes catch with his and he curls his hand around the apple of Anakin’s cheek. “It’s silly to be upset that you have taken so well to the duties I have burdened you with.”

Anakin blinks at him, slowly processing his words.

“I may have a reputation for being a bit forgetful,” he tells his stupid husband, nuzzling forward until their foreheads touch and he can stretch to place a kiss on the thin bow of Obi-Wan’s upper lip, “but I do believe I married a man. Not a planet. If my memory serves me correctly, in fact, we weren’t even on Stewjon when we were married. And I believe I have never taken on Stewjonian royalty vows as prince consort—“

“That’s because you keep hiding in the woods whenever we try to schedule a cerem—“

“Which means, my very stupid and melodramatic husband,” Anakin braces his both his hands on his shoulders and leans back so that he can look him in the eyes. “That my duty first and foremost is to you, and it always will be.”

Obi-Wan huffs and shakes his head slightly, automatically.

“Baby,” Anakin shakes his head back. “I left my family, my friends, my entire way of life thousands of parsecs away just so I could be with you. Duty means nothing in the face of love. Not to me; not when it comes to this love.”

His husband exhales rather shakily and twines his hand through Anakin’s hair, hauling him forward and connecting their mouths.

Anakin has been waiting for this since his ship landed back in the boundaries of Stewjon proper. He angles his head and opens his mouth at the lightest touch of Obi-Wan’s tongue to his lip, granting him access he never truly has to ask for.

It’s his already to do with as he pleases. Anakin is his to do with as he pleases, and he tries to make sure Obi-Wan understands that as he deepens the kiss, lets his hands fist in the front of Obi-Wan’s shirt as he rocks down in his lap.

Obi-Wan groans when Anakin sucks on his tongue, tightening his hold on his hair and forcing him into a better position. Kissing his husband is always an amazing experience, but after being deprived of his kisses for a few days, it feels like there’s nothing better in the world than the slide of their tongues, the sound of their breaths, the taste of Obi-Wan bursting on his tongue.

Anakin wants more. When it comes to Obi-Wan, he always wants more.

It takes the slightest nudge against Obi-Wan’s mind for his shields to waver and fall to Anakin, and he wastes no time at all reclaiming his space and refreshing their bond.

The Stewjonian healers had warned them both about bond sickness and unhealthy attachments, the Stewjonian impulse to possess and cling. But Anakin and Obi-Wan’s bond is strong and healthy, a meadow filled with soft, dappled light. Nothing at all like the thorny, overgrown path that the healers had painted in Anakin’s mind.

And if they were ever to convince Obi-Wan to sever their bond under the guise of his duty demanding it, Anakin would kill them. Simple as.

Greedily, he wraps himself in the tendrils of their open bond, separating their mouths to pant against the side of Obi-Wan’s neck.

After a second to catch his breath, he starts licking and sucking at the skin beneath his lips.

Two years. It’s been exactly two years since they were married beneath the Fei’luka sun.

“You’re the most difficult man in the entire galaxy,” Anakin murmurs, sitting back to look at his husband.

Obi-Wan’s eyes are dark, pupils blown. Anakin can feel the swell of his cock beneath his ass. It would be incredibly easy to sink to his knees right here, lift up the cloth of Obi-Wan’s kilt, and take that cock into his mouth. He knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that Obi-Wan would let him. That Obi-Wan would enjoy it.

He’s enjoyed it before, spreading his legs to allow Anakin’s shoulders to fit between them while he lounges on his throne.

Stewjonians despise opulence yet love ceremony, and their king is the same. His throne is simple treated wood, masterfully carved yet lacking the adornments others affix onto their physical seats of power. Yet Anakin has always thought that Obi-Wan gets a special sort of enjoyment from Anakin kneeling before him on his throne, though he’s never gotten him to admit it.

Anakin certainly enjoys it, the weight of his cock in his mouth and the inescapable press of Obi-Wan’s hand against the back of his head, his liege and his king and the best damn choice Anakin has ever made exacting pleasure upon him as he takes his own as well.

“Darling,” Obi-Wan groans, “a little restraint would be much appreciated.”

“How can I practice restraint when all I can think about is the way you touch me? How good it feels. How very right. Two years of it, but Force, Obi-Wan. Force, how many more years do you think we’ll have?”

“It depends on how kind the Force is to its worshippers,” Obi-Wan’s eyes crinkle and he ghosts a kiss up his jaw.

Anakin shivers. “I’m its child, baby. The Force fucking loves me.”

The space between their bodies evaporates as Obi-Wan crushes him to his chest, pulling him down so there’s no escaping the feeling of the hard line of his cock.

“Fifty years then,” Obi-Wan swears. “Perhaps a hundred.”

Anakin’s laugh is breathless as he rocks down, rubbing himself against his husband’s erection. “And how many years will it take for us to get to the point where I forget something and you just tell me?”

Obi-Wan stands, lifting Anakin up into his arms. If it didn’t make Anakin lose his voice, that display of strength and possessiveness, he’d say something clever about improper use of the Force.

As it is, he can only moan high and loud as Obi-Wan carries him towards the door to the side chamber.

“Oh, fifty years perhaps. Maybe a hundred,” Obi-Wan tells him, and Anakin kisses him quiet, as is his princely duty.

#king obi-wan au #obikin #theyre exhibitionists your honor #of course they would also get off on fighting in public #stewjonian news on a slow day is just gossip about the king and his consort #and once again #stewjon is space scotland #thanks ewan mcgregor for influencing that choice #Anakin Skywalker #obi-wan kenobi #it was super fun to revisit that fic!!#thank you for the opportunity and also sorry that it wouldn't let me tag you @sexysymphony #i bet also obi-wan is the kind of guy who has like 6 anniversary dates in his head #and gets offended when anakin doesn’t remember the anniversary of the day they met or the day he left the Jedi or the day they kissed etc

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trollamulet · 2 months

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ok ok a few aus on this master post i'll link on pinned / whatever mobile accessible thing i make for him - sorted by in and out of fandom!

toa based-aus

unbecoming! i can't get enough of this line of aus - essentially anyone other than jim getting the medal Without Resetting The World tm - jim retains knowledge of what's gone on, with mixed effects. i personally Love jim still functioning as a trollhunter, though more along the lines of main timeline toby & claire, and more along the lines of jack sturges. that, and potentially picking up the skathe hrun later.

jim escaping camelot and ending up in with either gunmar's army, or in dwoza properly - either or. just your Totally Normal Troll Guy With One Extra Finger On His Left Hand, totally doesn't also act like he's got human reactions too. maybe it's just from being locked up in camelot. as jim hesitates with a name, stumbling out 'ji...key... jiki!' and tries to disengage the conflict between humans and trolls; for better or worse. though he knows that gunmar must end up in the darklands, one way or another.

as a side tangent au to above- jim being lost to the darklands with and becoming the beast, replacing aaarrrgghh!! as gunmar's general once the shard corrupts him, but instead of losing his mind to the corrupted, he keeps his sanity for a while before going mad himself eventually. timey wimey bullshit can happen with a human jim stumbling upon him.

seriously come schmack me with aus.

#i mean this entire blog's premise is a practical au #i'd be the voice that urged orpheus [ ooc ]#masterlists.

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legionofpotatoes · 2 years

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Ngl, that reblog about vampires turning their noses up at traditional vampire things feels like the MCU in a nutshell

Here's all these intergalactic super beings with wacky powers and absurd caricature-like personalities, then Hollywood got in there and was like "alright, what if they all have, like, one of their trademark Things™, but other than that they're just generic cookie-cutter-ass hero/villain humans with plot masquerading as real emotions?"

Not sure why this came to mind, but I guess this culture of big, creative studios always watering down these classic, beloved concepts for the sake of make them more broadly appealing (ie: safer) and people themselves still having a stuck-up attitude about what others enjoy (despite now partaking in all this "nerd" stuff themselves) is just getting a bit tiring, tbh

Bring back the wacky shit, let's have fun in this dying hellscape for a change

The... cultural maladies introduced by the MCU both in creative and business terms upon the macro storytelling optics of the mainstream as well as the industry at large are a fascinating topic to dive into, but a difficult thing to attack from this particular angle. I will say that sure, I think its tendency to chase after "charming" (it's the best single word adjective I have for their Max Appeal Setting) character traits does have this weird side-effect of shutting out shlocky narratives, truly flawed human stories (spiders toby vs spiders tom), and scoffing at its pulpy roots without actually interrogating meaning; but like, what is meaning in today's storytelling landscape anymore. Is it simply wacky shit for its own sake? Or maybe just a more malleable tonal tapestry allowing for less rigid themes? A good balance of both for fun and catharsis? I truly do not know anymore, and that's without being flippant. The altar of story is no longer the arbiter of plot and characterization, no longer the crux of all drama, and in some cases we can find it culturally beneficial (heightened representation of marginalized voices as characters become all meaning), while in others not so much (spoiling a tentpole film is sacrilege as plot becomes all meaning). That is simply the lay of the land now and we have to take that into account when talking about the MCU and what it is essentially begetting and "working with".

Like. Okay without letting this get away from me we all know they're a corporate revenue vulture with a stranglehold on theater chains and global production pipelines etc. making them, in essence, a type of at-scale monopoly/trendsetter. So their missteps, of which there are plenty, become MASSIVE issues for cinematic storytelling. And even when they pick up a few small wins by truly leaning into directorial choices and letting them run amok, as, say, when mohamed diab took a great, real look at trauma in moon knight, they still tend to end by letting the mask slip and disengaging from their overarching philosophical conflict (we get that punishing future crimes is bad; but interrogate the WHY anyway??) and throwing a giant kaiju battle and post-credits stinger at us because emotional catharses are not the goal, they're a stepping stone to the Next Thing, ergo plot, ergo viewer retention and ROI, ergo the perpetual drive for meaning-unmaking in story terms.

And I'm aware I'm at risk of extrapolating it all a bit too far off-base here, but all I'm getting at is that monetizing the meaning of plot is a much more sustainable business model than risking implosion by giving way to artistic voices that are ultimately at odds with your very own establishment. And within this tense framework, you find that weaving meaningful themes in a perpetual tapestry of what is essentially the cinematic equivalent of serialized TV ends up being an exercise at finding lowest common denominators and just. arriving at simple cyclical parables of the monomyth or whatever the "MCU formula" stands for nowadays. And that in itself is an approach so agnostic to rapid tonal/aesthetic shifts that the text ends up mocking itself in small details to establish rules going forward. Which isn't. Like, bad; old tropes are often steeped in bigotry and harmful patterns yada-yada. But it is not a good default setting for contained storytelling.

Which is how I think we arrive at what you're saying; where sometimes threats to the status quo of linear character progression through the grand MCU roadmap become subjects of ridicule, often in-text, and the charm of their narratives keeps the boat from rocking, quietly calcifying and waving these tonal aberrations off forever. A good example off the top of my head is when they truly, genuinely thought that making thanos a malthusian agent of culling was somehow more interesting than keeping his original motives of trying to impress death as a glorified turbo incel. And anyone now will agree! because THAT is the building block the rest of the roadmap stands on, even if a shlocky romp about aliens and power and love and death that would interrogate male entitlement would be an infinitely more interesting story than whatever half-baked, unresolved philosophical nonsense they tried to pull with infinity/endgame. Everyone still talks about megamind, for fuck's sake. Marvel movies can be fun to sit through, truly, but they have zero staying power with me.

A smaller example that is maybe less emblematic but rubs me wrong, personally, is how they keep incorporating old comic book costumes as easter eggs that end up being secretly mean-spirited, panicked parodies. Of course Vision can't have his strongman outfit, it is so stupid he will wear it for halloween! This is a nonsense me-thing, I know, but like. Eesh.

This utterly got away from me. short version: I agree and what we do in the shadows should be what cinema strives for

#anon #asks #long post #sorry gang I have REAL trouble condensing thoughts #still working on it

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lifeslittleinnuendos · 1 year

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Mountain Sunrise

The hardest part of any moment is in the momentum. It is hard to move from at rest into active. It’s hard to slow from movement into quiet. I notice it when I’m riding those sweet, lazy babies at the barn. I notice it within myself when I’m laying in bed and thinking about the day ahead.

Waking up to the chill running deep in my body, I allowed my eyes to close and imagine the picture of a full life. In darkness, in a deep breath that travels first to my belly, then to my lungs, and lands somewhere into my heart space. That is where my knowing seems to live. She’s a gentle tingle along my skin and sometimes a prickling of moisture in my eyes. She’s calm and has the ability to stay disengaged from the noise and the intensity of the thoughts. She’s aware of the feelings within the various points of her body. “I come to life when you pull me closer” – Toby Mac

I cannot be stopped by any element. I refuse to be withheld by fear. It’s everywhere and is given to me over and over by other people, repeatedly. Their concern is in their love, and it is starting to insight a rage inside my soul. My mom poured fear into this body of mine, and I feel like a man standing in a canoe on the ocean trying to keep the thing afloat by scooping buckets of fear water into the sea next to me. I refuse to let anyone take my knowing from me ever again.

With Glennon, Abby, and Amanda in my ear, I made the 30 minute drive to House mountain. Listening to these beautiful women talk about what it means to let go. Letting go has been coming up all week. It started at Sangha. I started this journey with how the fuck do I keep my head above water without drowning myself. How do I keep from running to the medicine cabinet full of bandaids and tape? It morphed into how the hell do I stay with myself? What does it look like to feel and not run? How do I find stillness? Where is rest?

Nature and feeling small in the world. It’s in the overwhelming beauty of colors in a sunrise and a sunset. It��s in the warmth that envelopes my skin. I keep finding it in an intentional breath. There is a paradox that in movement, I find stillness. In stretching, in soreness, in pushing my body, I continue to find peace.

Peace –

French pais “reconciliation, silence, permission” Latin “pacem” – agreement, treaty, tranquility, absence of war Root “pag” – to fasten, the notion of binding together Old English “Frio, sibb” – happiness, treaty or agreement made between conflicting parties to refrain from further hostilities.

Maybe the note that I continue to hit on is that I find peace when I find deep connection with something other than myself. Connection with the planet or another being. There is something beautiful in the notion of binding together and refraining from hostility within myself.

Whitney’s ideology that we are the universe observing itself seems to find a little more credence. In connection with the energy of other life there is peace. Understanding seems powerful, even if the belief is not shared. Maybe just to see and accept the difference is enough.

The air was cold and yet 4 layers on top seemed to hinder to desire to get back into the warmth of the car. I watched the sky begin to warm with the slightest hue of pinks as I drove. Only two cars in the parking lot felt like a great way to have an entire mountain to myself. I noticed the tones of blues, pinks, and yellows in the air and ground around me. I started out with a bright red cardinal in front of me on the path. A little fearless as he allowed me to get so close to take a picture. As I moved up the path, I felt a sense of fear that I would miss the sunrise from the top. However, it was more important that I be in the moment. That I find joyful movement and allow the setting to fill me. It was as if the universe was listening. As the sun finally pulled himself from behind a cloud and shot through the sky to his resting place at the top of the world, I found a small clearing halfway up. I stood to watch the journey through the sky. It gave off streaks of light and color that felt explosive. Each time those UV rays reached out to kiss my skin, I could feel the warmth spread across my body. Connection. Peace.

With the sun firmly in place, I continued up the trail. Lost in my thoughts, in the exertion, in the music in my ears, I seemed to lose the path. A sense of panic took hold before I heard toby mac singing in my ear “the only road to found is lost.” Laughter erupted from my heart. It’s like the world wanted me to hear the damn thing loud and clear. Be lost baby. Be lost to find what you need to. You can take care of the one wild and precious heart, soul, and body that you have been given. Listen, feel, choose. Up or down. Back of forward. Back track to safety and add more time to the experience. Climb forward. You know the trail is on the ridge. So I climbed. Breathe through the panic. One hand on your heart, close your eyes, one big deep breath, and just move. You can always go back. So climb I did. Searching for a path and a trail. An audible sigh of relief to see worn groves along the ridgeline as I slipped back into the easy tread of where people had been before me. Endless views of the mountains in front of me. Houses and lives splayed everywhere under me.

I can do hard things. I can let go. Going forward, I will always stay with myself. I will never leave you baby.

“Listen to the wind, it talks. Listen to the silence, it speaks. Listen to your heart, it knows.”

There is something incredible in the rising and the setting of the sun. Maybe there is some life application within those thoughts. Something beautiful in the rising and setting of our lives. The in between tends to illuminate everything.

Gratitude.

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catstarrecordings · 1 year

Text

CATSTAR RECORDINGS RADIO SHOW 210

DOWNLOAD M4a - https://drive.google.com/file/d/17lsw5nW507wB7I8P4x8iIrrko2KnPTge/view?usp=sharing

DOWNLOAD MP3 - https://catstar-records.blogspot.com/2023/01/catstar-recordings-radio-show-210.html

Mixcloud - https://www.mixcloud.com/DiscohouseKingdom/catstar-recordings-radio-show-210/

TRACKLIST: 01.Rami Deejay & Keely Timlin - Disengage (Karol XVII & MB Valence Remix) 02.Zeitgeist - MDMA (Karol XVII & MB Valence present Jackspeare Remix) 03.Miguel Migs, Lisa Shaw, Micky More & Andy Tee - Lose Control (Micky More & Andy Tee Vocal Mix) 04.Adri Block - Hustle (Clubmix) 05.Adri Block & Paul Parsons - I Don t Play That (Nu Disco Club Mix) 06.Suki Soul Feat. Yam Who - Wear It Out (Jaegerossa Extended Disco Vocal Mix) 07.Mike Newman, Antoine Cortez - Miss Your Love 08.Paco Caniza - Get In The Action 09.Jo Paciello - One Time In Your Life (Original Mix) 10.Roberto Telli feat. Tracy Hamlin - One Thing On My Mind 11.Piem & Lili Caseley - Discotheque (Extended Mix) 12.Block & Crown - Trapped On The Beat 13.Crazibiza feat. DragonFly - Got The Love (House Of Prayers Remix) 14.Ghostbusterz - Fakin a Holiday 15.Disco Gurls - Happy People We Are (Extended Mix) 16.Sean Finn & Paul Jockey - Dare Me (Softmal & Lucenamusic Extended Remix) 17.Dj.A-Bor - bude tObi VraZhe (Club Mix) 18.Alessio Collesano - Let's Work (Devara Remix) 19.DJManuel, Miss Kelli - Move (Mirko & Meex Extended Remix) 20.Zsak - Hold On (Extended Mix) 21.Luca Debonaire & Maickel Telussa - Let Me Be Your Fantasy (Extended Mix) 22.Lissat - Party Jam Anthem (Original Mix) 23.Atlantic Ocean, CASSIMM - Waterfall (Extended Mix) 24.Kevin McKay - Like This (Extended Mix) 25.Roland Clark presents Urban Soul - Have A Good Time (Qubiko Remix) 26.Two Cents Short - My Love (Extended Mix) 27.Calippo - Kurt Cobain 28.Croatia Squad - Bringing It All Back (Extended Club Mix) 29.Khar - Bad 30.Fred again.. - Delilah (pull me out of this)

CATSTAR RECORDINGS RADIO SHOW 210 Mixed & Compilation by:Discohouse Kingdom TELEGRAM CATSTAR REC ЧЕРВОНОГРАД UA https://t.me/catstar blogspot https://catstar-records.blogspot.com/ twitter https://twitter.com/CATSTARRECORDS facebook https://www.facebook.com/catstarrecords mixcloud https://www.mixcloud.com/DiscohouseKingdom/#follow youtube https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCocnpCLljRlvcYiQ2WpQOWg

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aerielz · 3 years

Note

Oh please could you do “just take my hand” for j/d?

Last one was so angsty I decided this one would be just straight up post-canon fluff!

The night is cold, but pleasant, and he’s enjoying himself, which is not as much of a rare occurrence as it used to be. Relaxing still doesn't come naturally, and Josh figures perhaps it never will. But he’s learned to push aside the press, and the threats, and the pressure, and congress. It's there, in his pocket, a phone call away. But for now, it is tame.

At this moment all that worries him is the air of amused understanding Toby has about him.

Donna walks ahead of them, almost bouncing on her feet, leading the way across Central Park to some place Josh’s not sure what it is, and Toby watches as her giddy form guides them to… wherever. He keeps glancing between the two of them, something clearly on his mind.

Up until Josh can’t take it anymore.

“What?,” he asks, eyes darting to Donna, mirroring Toby, as some structure starts to become clear.

Toby just shakes his head.

“What?”

“I’m just surprised you’re okay with this.”

Josh shrugs, legitimately confused. “With what?”

“You really don’t know,” Toby lets out a genuine laugh, “Your obliviousness truly is dumbfounding.”

“What the hell are you even talking about?,” he answers, just in time to look up and see what it is that they’ve been approaching all along. “Oh.”

They catch up to Donna at the edge of an ice skating rink, as she’s hooking her thumb over her shoulder to indicate the both of them to the woman behind the counter.

“Oh,” he repeats.

It’s a big and loud place, not packed, by any means, but it is tourist season: there's enough of a crowd inside the rink to lose someone in, and families and couples stand outside, too, just as entertained to watch as the ones inside are to skate. The harsh lights that light up the attraction mark a big spot in the night, making it stand out from a great distance.

It’s an impressive feat that he managed to completely miss it.

“Why did you think we were coming to the Park at this hour?,” Toby asks.

Josh takes a second. Shrugs. “Sightseeing?”

“Without an agenda…? Her?,” he points to Donna.

If she’s offended by the take, she doesn’t let it show. Donna doesn’t even turn around — she just hands the woman in front of her a few bills and thanks her when she motions for them to enter a waiting area.

Toby follows Donna into it, and Josh stays where he is, brow furrowed in a grimace.

He opens his mouth to protest, but closes it immediately.

If he thinks about it, it was rather obvious, wasn’t it? It’s entirely expected that she’d drag them into this along with her — it’s Donna, they’re in New York in the middle of winter and she’s asked him for skis that one Christmas, for crying out loud —, it’s not like it’s a stretch.

If it’s her leading the way, he’ll follow. He doesn’t care where they’re going anymore. But it’s not his blind trust in her that takes him further this time, it’s her excitement about the whole thing. There’s something different about it, something he can’t quite grasp. Josh can understand how he got himself into this position. What he can’t understand is why, when he looks at her, he sees her face light up like Time Square.

She sits down at the bench and takes off her boots to put on the skates with an ease that spells practice, and Josh observes her motions, a tad mesmerized, following suit even if the familiarity in her gestures is something he can't copy. It’s just tying a shoe, but he feels like he’s fumbling.

Donna enters the rink tentatively, but quickly glides away from the edge, gaining an easy confidence in her footing far faster than Josh would think was possible. She’s out a few feet, being soon joined by Toby, before realizing he’s not beside her. She angles her body sideways and skids to a halt, looking back to wait for him.

It's his first mistake, really — having waited for her to look back. He should've just gotten it over with while she was distracted, but, alas, now he has a proper audience.

Josh takes his first steps into the ice with way too much confidence and both his legs decide to go opposite ways, sending his butt to the ground.

Donna’s eyes widen. She tries very hard not to smile.

(And fails.)

“Oh my god, you can’t ice skate,” Donna glides back to the entrance and bends down to help him get on his feet, “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“You were making it seem easy, I thought it couldn't be that hard."

"You've never done this before?,” Toby says from beside Donna.

Josh shrugs, taking Donna's hand.

"I don’t understand, you're from Connecticut.”

"What, and that’s a requirement, now?,” He has a good grip on Donna's hand, but he can't decide how exactly to stand up. Josh tries putting both his legs under himself, and they won't stay put where he wants them, sliding everywhere no matter what he does, “Jesus, why do people think this is fun?!"

“I don't know, I’m having quite a lot of fun,” Donna teases.

“Yes, but you're a sadist,” he replies.

“She's a masochist, is what she is,” Toby chimes in, taking enough pity on him to help, “Nothing else explains willingly being around you for this long.”

With Toby pulling him by his other hand Josh finally finds enough purchase on the ice to more of less stabilize himself on the blades.

It's a fragile balance. To say the least.

“Oh, god, I’m gonna die,” he all but gasps, tightening his grip on Toby's and Donna's arms, “I’m gonna die or— or— I’ll fall again and then someone’s gonna go over my fingers and. I don’t know, chop them off. Look at these things, they're deadly.”

“They're rentals, they're blunter than Lou on a Friday night at the podium,” Donna remarks.

Josh looks at her, “Bringing Lou into this will not make me feel any safer.”

“What were you doing your entire childhood?,” Toby asks.

“Studying.”

“That’s just sad.”

“Yeah, well, I know that now.”

“It takes a while to get used to it, but it's not that hard,” Donna says, “Just… baby steps.”

Both Donna and Toby let go of Josh and he stays upright, which, as far as the three of them are concerned, looks like progress.

He tries to take a step and his balance fails him, again, having him make a wild grab at whatever’s closest.

He ends up throwing his entire weight on Toby, who says, “Or perhaps just… try to stay upright for a couple minutes, you know, get used to that.”

“Well, you do it, then, if it's so easy.”

“I am doing it, in fact my ability to stay on top of ice skates is the only thing separating you from certain death, right now.”

“Listen—”

“God, you’re both insufferable,” Donna complains.

Josh disengages his grip on Toby’s arm and defiantly leans away, falling to the other side, instead, to the safety of the rails, “—I'll need five minutes tops, you'll see, I'll be skating circles around you—”

“You wanna spend the time we have on ice arguing, fine,” Donna continues, “I'm gonna try something else.”

“—I'm adaptable, it's my whole thing. Tell him, Donna.”

He turns to her for support and it's just in time to see her floating away from them.

The annoyance he feels at the insignificant betrayal doesn't survive watching her as she skates, though.

Most of the people doing rounds around them look clumsy and unsure on the ice, but Donna looks like she’s home. There’s a unique freedom to her movements, a confidence, that looks good on her. She has the turn of a smile tugging at the corner of her lips, like she does when she convinces senators to shut up and listen, but it’s lighter, here. She leans her body away from the railing to take a turn and it’s almost like there’s not a single tense muscle on her body, like she’s gliding without any effort.

Josh stays where he is, gripping the guard rail with both his hands, watching dumbly as she does not much else then make a full turn around the rink. When she’s not too far away from where she started, Donna diverts to the center of the ice, where there’s no one and the ice is even. She brings her feet closer together and her arms closer to her chest, which sends her body into a slow spin around its own axis. It’s not fast, but it’s graceful, and she looks focused on her own movements, enjoying each second, purpose behind every move — like when she kisses him, when she unbuttons his shirt, when she’s drawing her own name out of his lips.

The comparison is a little out of place, and makes him blush, but the truth is that Josh knows her joy like he knows his own. Both are, after all, intimately connected. So as he watches Donna’s happiness from afar, he lets himself feel it, too.

His mouth hangs open, when she comes closer to where he is with Toby.

"How did you—” he says, a dumb smile on his face, “How come I didn’t know you could do that?”

He sounds giddy, almost innocent in his laughter. Donna’s cheeks burn red with the effort and the effect of his gaze.

She shrugs, and turns around to face him, ”You never asked.”

“I’ve known you for eleven years. We’ve been married for two of those, how come I didn’t know you can figure skate, this is ridiculous.”

“I can’t figure skate, Josh, it's just really basic stuff.”

“You should’ve shown me this when we met, I’d have married you on the spot.”

“Would’ve shaved off six months tops,” Toby chimes in.

“I’m serious.”

“We work every waking hour, Josh, not a lot of skate rinks open at three in the morning in DC.”

“We met in New Hampshire, there’d have been a lake. Or. Something.”

“Honey.”

“I’m sorry, I’m... processing.”

“It’s not anything impressive.”

“From where I’m standing it looks pretty fucking impressive.”

“Can't believe I'm saying this,” Toby says, “But I'm with Josh in this one.”

“You're not helping, Toby. C'mon, it's really easy,” she extends Josh a hand, “I’ll show you.”

“No, I,” Josh gives her a nervous laugh, “I think I’m fine here.”

“Come on,” she insists, “Take my hand.”

He’s curious enough to consider, but, still… “You really think that’s a good idea?”

“You wanted to be a ballerina, there has to be some sort of body awareness in you.”

“You do know I never took a single ballet class, right.”

“Just take my hand,” she insists, “You’re gonna be fine.”

“Yes, take her hand, Josh,” Toby says, and his is the face of a man who knows he's about to have an inordinate amount of fun at the expense of someone else. “You're going to be absolutely fine.”

Josh gives him a look, to which Toby's smile just widens.

That silent and childish challenge is more than enough to convince Josh to actually do it. He takes a deep breath and leans away from the railing, taking both of Donna's hands, one in each of his.

“Oh, god.”

Donna brings him closer to her and grips him at the elbows, so they're more safely linked. She sinks the brakes in the ice and pushes back and takes him with her when she slides back.

“Oh, god. Oh, God, Oh god,” Josh keeps saying.

“You’re stiff as a plank, you’re gonna break something,” she says, laughing.

“Oh, God, I’m gonna break something.”

“No — oh my god — here, just—,” Donna takes one of her hands away from his elbow.

“Donna—”

“Shh, just calm down. Look here, look at me,” she says, gently laying her hand over his cheek, “Josh?”

He looks up, locking his eyes to hers.

“Just keep looking at me, okay?”

He nods, a bit frantic.

“Just relax, honey,” she says, moving her thumb over his skin.

It’s like each stroke removes something from him, something that should never have been there in the first place. The tension in his jaw instantly vanishes. He breathes a little slower.

Donna smiles, her eyes still on his, and slides her hand down, over his neck. He releases the tightness there, too.

They’ve been here before, they both have this program down pat.

When he had panic attacks in the middle of the night, a decade ago, she’d calm him down like this. She couldn’t call him honey back then, and he didn’t know she tasted just as sweet, but the routine is the same. It's Donna gliding her fingers over his skin, giving him something to focus on, taking him out of his head.

Following this practiced dance of their own creation, Donna’s hand slide down again to his chest, his heart right below her palm under layers of clothing. Josh’s entire upper body relaxes.

Less rigid, he feels less like he’s about to topple over. He can focus on the cutting winter wind on his face instead, then; and this nice sensation under his feet that's almost like floating, which is the closest he'll ever be to flying.

It's a clumsy taste of a freedom she knows a lot better than him, yes. But a taste of it, regardless.

He feels more stable, more confident, and she notices it.

Josh is not paying attention to it enough to know how she does it, but whatever it is, it sends them both spinning, like she did before. It feels good. He can almost pretend he knows what he’s doing. Josh laughs, and he's not sure why, or where it came from, but he knows it's the right thing to be doing right now.

Snow starts to fall over them, showering them in white very lightly; very slowly. Flakes dust Donna’s hair and the harsh white lights of the rink hit her from behind and cast a halo around her frame — she looks downright angelical, it’s absolutely ludicrous. He can't stop smiling.

When they come to a halt, Josh pulls her closer, touching his forehead to hers.

He thought the ridiculous part of being in love with her had been over years ago. So naive of him.

“Not so bad, huh?,” she whispers.

Her nose is cold when he kisses it. Her lips too. He lingers, her face touching his, and feels the space between them warming up.

“You’re both disgusting.” Toby screams from not very far.

Donna kisses him, this time, and he takes her bottom lip between his. There's nothing else beside the feeling of her, then, that tentative way Donnatella Moss— not being a fan of this sort of public display of affection — nibbles at his own lips, as if she doesn't have his ring around her finger.

Josh never feels his phone vibrating in the pocket of his coat. Not then, and not five minutes later when it rings again.

He’ll only remember it exists after he takes it out of his pocket when they're back in Toby’s guest room. Donna is pulling a fluffy, horrid, Christmas sweater over her tank top when he notices the screen cracked beyond repair.

“That wasn't like that this morning, was it?,” she asks, noticing it too.

“Yeah, no. I think repeatedly falling on my butt this evening has something to do with it, though.”

“There has to be some place that can get it fixed, we can ask Toby.”

He thumbs the glass and watches the mess of lines and lights flicker under the pressure. There's nothing recognizable coming through.

He shrugs. “You know how the Secret Service is with these things.”

Donna comes behind him to put her arms around his midriff, watching him play with the useless cellphone over his shoulder.

“What if it's some sort of national emergency?,” she asks.

“Sam would've called you and asked for me,” he says, “Or just let you solve it. God knows by now everyone knows you can do this better than me.”

“Damn right I do,” she plays along, kissing the nape of his neck and getting a hum of appreciation out of him, “But, seriously, honey—”

“It's our weekend off,” Josh says, turning around to pull her into his arms properly, “I have other priorities.”

He can tell she's trying to hide her relief, but Donna melts against him, a little, and a smile tug at the corner of her lips as she rests both her hands against his chest. He can still feel the lightness of watching her do spirals or swizzles or whatever-the-hell-those-were-called — can still taste that freedom he found in her smile.

(A couple of years in, but they’re both still getting used to this. To the enormity of this thing they do, and the things they’re building together, which, somehow, feel bigger.)

“I'll get it fixed when we come back home,” he tells her. Donna nods, fits herself in his embrace. “And then we'll find you some skates, and a rink, and you'll show me exactly what it is that you've been hiding from me all these years.”

#the west wing #a few notes about this fic:#one; the length of this little monster is the reason I refrain from doing too many prompts. it takes ages and I never get anything done #because I CAN'T CONTROL MYSELF OKAY #which is not to say you can't just litter my ask box #by all means DO #I just can't promise speed #or anything resembling a reasonable word count #second; I finished this and never read it twice so it probably has terrible rhythm #I'm p sure the ending feels like it comes too abruptly #I promise I'll get it edited when it goes to ao3 #third;#full disclosure I've never been to new york so this is entirely based on like Google searches and too many romcoms #forth;#I was stressed a mutual reblogged Tessa and Scott doing Moulin Rouge at PyeongChang and I am weak ok #I went down a figure skate spiral and ended up on kurt browning doing rag-gidon-time #I already had this half written but watching browning fall to his butt gave me the last push I needed #and then I had the time of my life writing josh as the human disaster he is #tww fic mine #az answers

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tobi-smp · 3 years

Note

Tobi my beloved thank you for always keeping a cool head in unfortunate interactions/miscommunications I would have cried if i tried to engage in like a friendly debate and someone yelled at me

I really appreciate the support ! arguments can be really overwhelming Especially when miscommunication gets involved, which is a big part of why I've slowly moved into writing an essay for practically everything I say jaklfsd I try to pick my words carefully to express the Full Meaning of any idea that I'm getting across to (hopefully) not be misunderstood. unfortunately, I think that can make my responses pretty dense (and repetitive afjklsd), especially if someone's already upset, which can Also lead into misinterpretation and miscommunication.

it's unfortunate, but at that point you just kind of need to disengage.

#discourse

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edgypasta-headcanons · 4 years

Text

Villain Action Squad Class S

(Let’s just say this is the secret squad ‘UA’ created for Villain Disasters and they’re the first in line to take care of. Slenderman tweaked this shit up because of getting into UA without arousing suspicion.)

Teachers/Mentor(s)

Dr. Richard H. Smiley

Emitter

Alias

- The Doctor

Quirk

- Science Magik(?)

TBA

Students

Jeff Woods

Emitter

Alias

- Hodek

Quirk

- Killer Instinct

"Ultimate Killing Machine". Jeff possesses instincts to kill by any means and in the most effective ways possible, use anything at hand to do so and have no mental issues or moral dilemmas either before, during, or after the deed. He is, in short, cold and merciless killer. He can also give off a murderous aura, inducing fear into his opponents.

Benjamin Lawman

Transformer

Alias

- Ben Drowned

Quirk - Technologic

Ben becomes the embodiment or personification of technology, granting him limitless or near-limitless control overall technology. He can control the flow of intricate machinery, and assemble or disengage their programming at will and operate most technology at distance.

Jack Nicholis

Mutant-Transformer

Alias

- Eyeless Jack

Quirk - Chernobog

He is able to become a demonic creature of unimaginable power. He has innumerable powers that are beyond the comprehension of that of lesser demonic beings. Although it’s rare for him to change into his full-demon form, Jack has the ability to use a good chunk of his abilities with ease without breaking a sweat.

Tim Wright

Emitter

Alias

- Masky

Quirk

- Thousand-Mile Eyes

Either using himself or with the use of Telesynchronization, he can see a viewing radius of at least fifty meters. It also allows him to also perform accurate calculations, analyze the area at high speeds, and allows for a Soul Perception-like ability to accurately gauge the power of an individual via his soul and to distinguish types of being.

Brian Thomas

Emitter

Alias

- Hoodie

Quirk

- Guns

Using the metal minerals in his body, he’s able to create any kind of gun and ammunition out of his hands. The more minerals he consumes the more guns and ammunition he can produce

Nina Hopkins

Emitter?

Alias

- Yandere-Chan

Quirk

- Chiropteran Blood

Similar to Jeff’s and Stain’s quirk but not quite. Once she gets the smell and/or taste of blood, she’ll go ballistic. Making her into a near-unstoppable killing machine with a deadly blood type running through her veins. Whoever was to ingest her blood, their blood can crystallize and immediately kill them.

Jane Richardson

Emitter

Alias

- Lady in Black

Quirk

- Heavenly Garments

Jane as the ability to create either her own or other’s undergarments into deadly weapons. Underwear such as any kind of panties, boxers, or briefs can change into guns, bras change to either war hammers or battle-axes, stockings or knee socks change to bladed weapons, etc.

Jonathan Blake

Mutant

Alias

- The Puppeteer

Quirk

- Puppetry

Jonathan has poltergeist-like physiology whereas he can phase through solid surfaces with ease and secrete ectoplasm if given. He is very skilled in handling his strings as a weapon and an overall tool for when needed. They are able to pierce through flesh if needed, but not any other material such as wood, metal, concrete. His strings are fairly strong and will not snap easily. The strings are made from the same ectoplasm as his insides are, therefore he’s able to produce the strings through any other place of his body as well. He’s been seen to produce strings through places like his mouth and nostrils as well, though this surely felt very uncomfortable for him. The strings can reach a length of about 15 meters (50 feet) and hold up to around 200 kg in weight (440 lbs).

Natalie Ouellette

Emitter

Alias

- Clockwork

Quirk

- Time Loop

She can trap anyone into a reiterating time stream where everything inside the loop is restarted precisely every so often, possibly even backward. She is able to force someone to relive the same minute, hour, day, week, month, year, etc. for as long as she keeps them there. But she’s only able to keep up this illusionary power for the max of 15 minutes to a half-hour before they come back to real-time.

Toby Rogers

Emitter

Alias

- Ticci Toby

Quirk

- Vibration Emission

Vibration Emission gives Toby the ability to generate vibrations, or shock waves, which can travel through virtually any medium, most notably he uses this ability to shake things he touches with his hands. It also causes his stuttered speech and body ticks.

Satine Walker

Mutant

Alias

- Dracul

Quirk

- Princes of Hell

Satine has the ability to become a demonic entity that has a long-range of capabilities and powers. She can use multiple of these at the same time without causing any damage to herself and uses them to hunt, catch, and/or kill her targets

Darkelle Kimura

Emitter-Mutant

Alias

- Deimos

Quirk

- Lunar Child

She can create, shape, and manipulate darkness and shadows. By itself, darkness is mostly used to cloud everything into total darkness, but by accessing a dimension of dark energy it can be channeled to a variety of effects, create and dispel shields and areas of total darkness, create constructs and weapons. She also possesses the ability to use dark magic with ease and has an extra mouth on the back of her head that can and will eat anything in sight.

Misty Mann

Mutant

Alias

- Dysphoria

Quirk

- Slenderman Syndrome

She possesses the attributes and ability of the Slenderman.

Seifer Flauros

Mutant

Alias

- Soul Eater (lmao he didn’t care)

Quirk

- Darkling

Seifer has a large pair of bat-like wings on his back as a hard staple of his mutation. He has enhanced physiology of a demon and can undergo a full-on transformation with multiple mouths appearing around his body, blacken limbs, claws, sharpen teeth, a pair of horns, and blackened eyes. He’s a Zalgoid, what else to add.

Bill Cipher

Mutant-Transformer?

Alias

- One-Eyed Demon

Quirk

- Dream Demon

Literally what the name implies with Nigh Omnipotence adding more to his already created Demonic power. One of the strongest students in the class has to hold with all-knowing intellect and witty skill.

Jason Voorhees (Meyer)

Transformer

Alias

- The Toymaker

Quirk

- Monster in The Closet

Jason can transform into a state of horror, mostly due to negative influence, in which his darkest intentions, emotion, and powers are fully-fledged. In this form, his powers are greatly enhanced. However, in this form, he is highly aggressive and quick to anger, making him a threat to anyone around him. His red burgundy hair changes to its true color (white), his honey-colored eyes become a growing green color, his arms become rotten and his nails become sharp enough to cut through the skin. When his appearance changes so do his toys, they turn from merely fun playthings to little monsters that can hurt and kill.

Jack Letterman

Emitter

Alias

- Laughing Jack

Quirk

- Monochromatic Clown

Laughing Jack is a magical being, with incredible dark magical powers, being able to teleport in an instant in a puff of pitch-black smoke, turn himself invisible, and being able to mutilate the bodies of his victims. Jack is also able to create nightmares and visual hallucinations and can use telekinesis to move objects with his mind, making his victims seem crazy.

Liu Woods

Mutant

Alias

- Judgement Day

Quirk

- Undead Voices

Liu possesses the ability to lack physical weaknesses, such as pain, need to rest, vulnerability to environmental effects. He doesn’t feel pain and when attacked, his body can regenerate rather fast. Being clinically dead, his brain and body are immune to most powers that affect living beings. But like his brother, he holds a deadly killer instinct but to the point, it has manifested into a split personality.

Disclaimer: This is an AU we’ve been working on forever and keep putting it on a back burner. Four of these characters are our own original characters along with an extra character we decided to add since we thought was a badass idea. The story may not be posted up for a long while due to it not even close to completion and still in the works of planning. ~ Your Anon Muns

#something is brewing #creepypasta crossover #Crossovers #bnha #story planning #creepypasta #bnhaxcreepypasta

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jynzandtonic · 4 years

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Who are your favorite Adam writers for each character?

Anonymous said: Who are your favorite Adam writers?

..................

Hi, anons!

First off, I apologize for both the tardiness and the length of this post. Oops.

So, I’m going to out myself a bit on this. I’m… new here. New to “fandom” tumblr, new to fanfiction, new to all of it. I’d very actively disengaged from all social media in the past half-decade with the exception of some outdoor-related instagram shit. I knew fanfiction existed, like, ~as a concept~, but I had no idea it was actually ~out there~ until six months ago. As you might imagine, all this was a really fun discovery.

Most of the fanfic I’ve read is… Mandalorian reader-insert. Or Cassian. Or Poe. Or fic for one of the zillion different Star Wars ‘ships I like. Homies… I’m a nerd. I’m a big, big nerd. I also have a huge thing for Pedro Pascal. There are three particular writers in the SW and/or Pedro fandom I consider just… fucking phenomenal. I’ll happily give recs if that’s up your alley.

I haven’t been reading much recently—I’ve been working on longer fics and figuring out how to do this here web-bloggin’ thang—and I’ve honestly not read a lot of AD character fanfic in general (which is a cryin’ shame!). The two first Driver reader-insert blogs I ever followed were @driversmutbucket and @ohiobluetip back in mid-February. Needless to say, they’re both TOP-FUCKIN-TIER. Chef’s kiss. Whipped cream and sprinkles on top. Oh, and just to note, I blame @ohiobluetip and @kowalskibro-adamdriverblog for dragging me into this fanfiction mess.

With that as a precursor, here are some writer friends for you to scope out xo:

A pal recently recommended a few Sackler pieces by @thetorturerwrites which were an absolute fuckin’ treat to read. Their narrative voice is lucid, incisive, and nimbly-controlled—maintaining reaaally tight, evocative second-person throughout without ever becoming myopic. Seriously good shit, y’all.

I’ve been so charmed by @direnightshade’s kind-hearted and evocative prose. She writes well-defined, instantly-recognizable characters—including a wonderfully tender Charlie and a devilishly charismatic Flip.

@umbrielchip000 has been writing some delightful and inventive HCs for a wide smattering of characters that always leave me smiling. Always. Oh, and grade-A shitposting, too. 11/10.

My darling @ellelaconiwrites has a Charlie series in the works that’s made me sooo goddamn soft, and @okk--maaan is doing a whole CHARLIE WEEK right now! Are we spoiled, or are we spoiled?

My dear @ktellmeastory has written loads of filthy Sackler goodness, including a *whisper-scream* on-stage, mid-performance, sneaky-fuck oneshot (aaaah!). K is also a pioneer of Toby Grisoni filth. Bless her. If Girls left you craving a resolution to Sackler’s storyline, @hrh-selene-r has a great piece that picks up where Season 6 left off, too!

Despite my former rude comments about werewolf ballsack fur, I did just start reading resident monsterfucker @callmehopeless’s ‘Honeyed Eyes,’ and found werewolf Clyde absolutely heart-tickling. @ducktapewriting, @insatiable-ivy, and @kathorax are all Clyde darlings, too—check ‘em out!

@patersonn-kylo writes filthy, filthy, (often) hurt/comfort-oriented ficlets that make me scratch my head and wonder ~how can somefing be so tender and so dirty at same time!?!? how possibel?!~. I’ve also been enjoying @ohdamnadam’s engaging, sexy HCs.

Until very recently, I’d not seen fanfic for Ronnie, Dan, or Rick. I absolutely don’t mean it wasn’t out there—I just hadn’t come across in my limited experience! I am SO, SO BEYOND PSYCHED that these characters are getting more action (lolz, pun sorta intended) recently, and it’s a blast to see the different characterizations writers have for them—including many of the aforementioned authors. I know I’ve not been the best with keeping up on messages/comments recently, but do feel free to @ me with any Ronnie/Dan/Rick content! It truly makes my day when I see it *snuffles* <3

By now, you all likely know I don’t write for Paterson, and it’s not a function of disliking his character—quite the opposite. Mistress G (@ohiobluetip) writes a soft, sweet, kinky, dirty, desperate, darling switch!Paterson so deliciously that I… I simply have no fantasies left unfulfilled to write. It just checks every fucking box for me. I feel like I’m getting custom smut every time she posts; it’s ridiculous. I’m sure you follow her, but if you don’t… Who am I kidding. You follow her Also, PAPI GARUPE? AND DADDY/PROF ZACHARY ADAMS? *screech*

I’ve been seeing oodles more written for Sevier recently, which is so goddamn fun! In particular, I appreciated @umbrielchip000’s thoughtful and refreshing characterization of ace!Sevier.

I’ve given some Kylo/Ben recs before which you can find here, including my lovely friend @noodlecupcakeswritings.

There’s so much clever, sexy writing out there… and there are so many passionate, hardworking creators making it all available for readers. I feel I’ve barely scratched the surface. If you’re a writer, your efforts are so appreciated! xoxoxo

#ask catch up #about jynzandtonic #author recs #I am real sorry this is so late and also I think I followed about 200 people total when I got this ask and most of those were starwarz blogs #lolololol am nerd #am bad at interweb #am sorry #am happy you are here and my friend

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not-poignant · 1 month

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I get the impression that there’s some tough times over there so I’m sending all the love and support I can x

There have indeed been some tough times, anon <3

It's just a few things converging all into this year (including my ongoing tumour/cancer surveillance to make sure my head/neck tumours aren't growing or that I don't have any new ones), on top of training an intense little enthusiastic smart puppy who we discovered has pretty serious Separation Anxiety and then instigating slow and tedious separation training which is exhausting (imagine having ADHD and then having to get up every 2 minutes around 10-30 times a day to go to the door to desensitise to it and ask me how your hyperfocus is holding up sadlkfjas).

He's wonderful, but he's also currently in puppy jail (the lounge behind baby gates lmao) because he's just discovered that it's fun to chase our elderly cat, so I think I'm back to having to leash him when we go outside into the back garden.

Tbh between overworking on the writing front for about a year, raising Toby to be a responsible little canine dude, some interpersonal stuff (those three words are doing some real heavy lifting), and some health stuff, the death of my uncle in December (on my Mum's side, and one of the few family members who I was close to), and the state of the entire world right now, I'm just very much done with it all a lot of the time and taking breaks wherever I can get them.

Today is a work day though, I've got some editing on the table, I want to do more Relaxation Training with Toby (I was hoping to do some trick training as well, but instead I'm waiting for his brain to calm down enough that he just disengages from Maybe (miss elderly cat)), I was hoping to cook tonight (we'll see), and the weekend promises to be pretty busy!

Anyway, there are good things too! I'm just... sometimes very sad or depressed or being sucked down a whirling vortex of despair at the moment, and that makes it harder to appreciate the good things. The love and support are so very appreciated anon. I am doing my best, as I suspect we all are! <3

#asks and answers #personal #honestly i'd sum it up as 'life has not been kind lately'#also there's no easy path through separation anxiety #it is what it is #but it's a challenge because this is the first time i've ever owned a dog #and so i'm learning about dog #but also learning about complex dog at the same time #administrator gwyn wants this in the queue

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wellamarke · 5 years

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@humanschallenge Day 4 ‘naming day’

this is thoroughly inconsequential and silly but I had fun :’)

•••

The baby is covered with a soft yellow blanket, one of the many Flash had produced as a celebration of having her hands back under control. Niska looks down at the new arrival, and nods to herself. Good. The child looks healthy. She reaches down to lift one tiny hand, checking that all the fingers are present and correct. Immediately her own finger is taken captive, the baby’s fist closing like a vice. Again, good. That’s a healthy grip. She doesn’t pull away.

From the bed, Mattie watches her with amusement. “Getting acquainted, Aunty Niska?”

Niska looks up at her. “We’re not doing that.”

“Hmm, I think we are, but talking’s a little way off yet, even for Turbo-Baby.”

“Turbo-Baby?” Mia echoes from the foot of the bed.

Mattie grins. “I forget you haven’t been here. Well, before we had a name, we had to use something, and Niska would keep going on about synthetic hybrid DNA and all that…”

“So there is a name now?” Max asks, intrigued. “I thought you were still arguing about it.”

Leo and Mattie share a glance.

“Argue?” says Leo sweetly. “Us?”

“Constantly,” says Sophie with a frown. “But go on. Tell us her name. Who won?”

“It’s not about winning, Sophie…” Mattie says, in the pious older-sister tone she’s been prepping for the upgrade to pious mother tone. “And we are going to tell you, but Dad and Toby are running late.”

“You can text them it,” says Sophie. “Come on.”

Leo grins. “Up to you, Mattie, but as far as I’m concerned, Niska’s the one whose face I really wanted to see.”

Niska gives him a Look and disengages the baby’s grip on her finger.

“You’re naming her after Niska?” Sophie says, brightening. “That’s cool. Much more badass than Hope.”

“No, Soph. Alright. Let’s do this.”

The new parents grin at each other. Everyone else waits, filling the spectrum between excited curiosity and thinly-veiled irritation.

Leo lifts the baby carefully from the incubator and sets the bundle down in Mattie’s arms.

“Everyone,” says Mattie grandly, “Meet Thomas.”

This news is met by a few slow synth-blinks and a small surprised sound from Sophie, who now seems even more impressed.

“Cool! There’s a girl in my class called Michael. Like in Star Trek. Names should be genderless, that’s what Mrs Kilburn says, I’m definitely calling my kid Sophie even if…”

Mattie giggles. “Sophie, stop for one second.” She puts her finger on her lips and nods her sister’s attention away from the baby and over to Niska, who is on her third or perhaps fourth blink of acclimation.

“A boy,” says Niska eventually.

“Yes,” says Leo.

“I mean, adhering strictly to the gender binary, for now,” Mattie amends. “You could still get your way at some point in the future, I suppose, Nis, but until we hear otherwise…”

“Until we hear otherwise, you took a fifty-fifty guess and got it wrong,” Leo crows. “The Violet Queen is fallible after all.”

“Don’t call me that,” says Niska, although she doesn’t sound quite as cutting as she might. Shrugging loose all pretence at dignity, she adds, “I’d even prefer Aunty Niska.”

Mattie chuckles, and looks down at her son. “You see, I knew she’d come round.” She nods to where her phone is buzzing away on a nearby table. “Somebody get that?”

“It’s Dad,” says Sophie, picking it up. “Dad? You’ll NEVER guess.” She pauses. “No. But Dad, the baby’s a boy.”

She rolls her eyes and sets the phone aside. “He says his grandchild is ginger and that’s what matters.”

Amid the laughter, Mia leans forwards. “How will you tell Laura, Mattie?”

Mattie’s smile takes on a mischievous element of guilt. “We already called her. I didn’t want to spring the ‘Tom’ thing on her in case she hated it.”

Mia smiles back. “It’s a nice gesture. Have you decided on any other names? Tom Hawkins, Tom Elster...?”

“Hawkins,” says Leo quickly. Mattie glances at him, surprised.

“That name can die with me,” he adds. “It doesn’t stand for anything good.”

“You could just be a Hawkins too, you know,” says Mattie airily.

“Is that a proposal?” he asks, arching an eyebrow.

“If you want it to be. I propose that all of you take ‘Hawkins’, actually, though, if you don’t want Elster. Well, all except Her Royal Highness the Violet Queen Aunty Niska Schaeffer.”

If looks could kill, Thomas would be an orphan by now.

#c4 humans #humans challenge 2019 #leotilda #turbo baby #mattie hawkins #leo elster #niska elster #sophie hawkins #mia elster #listen im very much here for girl power but i also think this would be comedy gold #bc no way did niska know for sure #and thanks elise for the name idea way back when

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whattoreadinsteadofdrinking · 5 years

Text

birthday party/week recap aka this post is long af

This week was really intense for a lot of reasons, and despite having slept for 12 hours last night I woke up tired and cranky and full of the bad kind of regret feelings that usually I associate with drinking, only now I am associating them with other things, like being honest and vulnerable, so I’m gonna write it all out. Heads up that this will be long, boring, and you probably don’t want or need to read all of this since it’s just a bunch of rambling and my attempt to get my thoughts straight so I can have a more balanced day.

I knew this week was coming up and I knew it would be a long one. On Thursday, I was scheduled to be a guest speaker at a fundraising banquet for a program that gets scholarships for low income students so they can leave our public school system (which in my area, is basically a systematic way to keep poor kids poor) and into private schools where they have a great chance of success. I was chosen to speak because I used to work for the public schools here, and while I believe wholeheartedly in public schooling, it only works if the wealthy actually pay their goddamn taxes instead of opting out of it. Our schools in the public sector here are so bad that I had 8th grade students who could not read. I mean really could not read at all. I could write a lot about that but I won’t.

I’ve been practicing my speech but the thing is that it’s a topic I’m really passionate about and it makes me emotional. As I’ve written about on here before, I began really drinking when I began teaching, so in the past, the way I dealt with the emotions this brought up was to have a beer (read: 5 beers). Talking about my experience in the public school system over and over, to myself, and then preparing to do it in front of a hundred people, was A Whole Lot. And then on Thursday when it was time to do it, I almost cried at the end when I was sharing about the progress one of my kiddos has made in my current (private) school. It was a good speech and was received well, and I don’t feel bad about getting that “oohhhh she’s close to tears” voice in front of people because let’s be honest people CRY SOMETIMES, but my boss made a weird comment about it at work the next day and now I am paranoid that I sounded like an ass who couldn’t get it together. Her comment singlehandedly took what felt like a victory and turned it into something I am a little embarrassed by. I am aware that I am the one letting her comment have that much weight but I can’t seem to un-feel it. I can think through it and realize it doesn’t matter and her opinion doesn’t matter but I can’t un-feel how unhappy it made me to hear that, if that makes sense.

The theme of “being vulnerable in front of others” from that night was just a huge carry-over from Wednesday, when I shared some really upsetting and frank truths about my journey in group. It was hard but needed. I don’t regret it, and everyone else was sharing, and honestly it felt like a huge weight off my shoulders to be that honest with people about where I’m at, but like. Telling people you’re an addict is hard. And you can’t take it back. They will never un-know it now. They will know that about me forever. I feel good about having said what I said and simultaneously I feel like Toby from the Office during that scene when he accidentally touches Pam’s leg, realizes he’s exposed himself in a humiliating way, and announces that he’s moving to Costa Rica. Then runs and jumps the fence of the office park and runs away into the night. I want to jump the fence and run into the night and move to Costa Rica. That’s how being vulnerable with others makes me feel.

So Wednesday, vulnerable at group, Thursday, vulnerable in a speech in front of a hundred people (many of whom are my coworkers, friends, and superiors at work), and yesterday was my birthday. I planned a birthday that I wanted rather than the one I thought I should have-- i.e, I didn’t invite some people from my friend group who upset me or who I feel do not respect my boundaries. I also invited people from a bunch of different areas of my life, which, while not a big deal in itself, felt a little like taking the compartments out of my social scene because many of them have not met each other before. I was feeling good about it until my one friend asked when J was coming and if I’d had a text from him asking about where we were. I replied that J hadn’t texted me. He kept asking questions til I said, “well, I didn’t invite him. It’s nothing personal, we just aren’t that close.” My friend looked really taken aback because this guy is a close part of our mutual friend group. What he doesn’t know is that J is a creep who continues to infringe on my boundaries by asking me personal and inappropriate questions, sharing things with me that I do not wish to know, and not taking “no” for an answer when he asks me on a date (I wrote a REALLY long post about this situation a while ago. It continues to be sucky and terrible.) Our other friend, who is basically the most smiley human being on this planet, began frowning at me, so I clarified by saying that when you have a lot of friends, the downside is that you have to choose who to invite to your birthday party out of a big group and so I only invited people I felt closest to.

I want to just tell my friends that this guy is a creep but they are men, and no offense to them, but I already know that they are the kind of dudes who are not going to understand why having to repeat “no” to a guy over and over can be triggering. And I don’t owe them an explanation for that or for any reason why a man may be unsettling to me. I am not Gandalf, I do not need to be their wise guide through the lands of “This is What Misogyny Is And How It Complicates Women’s Lives” Middle Earth.

Anyway they gave me some weird looks and now I am nervous because they told me they told this dude about the party. So I’m waiting for him to confront me on that. Yay.

Then I was dancing with my friend and she spun me around and I accidentally lost my footing and fell fully backwards onto the guy behind me. It hurt my back. Everyone saw. It was embarrassing. Dancing has been a way for me to practice being more in my body and vulnerable, a thing I chose to do as I started this sobriety thing, both to take up time and connect with others. Falling over while dancing, in front of literally all my closest friends, felt like a metaphor for this entire week. Because it turns out that being vulnerable sometimes feels awesome and works out great, and sometimes ends up with you looking like an idiot in front of people who matter to you, and the hard thing about being vulnerable is that you have to accept both outcomes. You have to be ready to fall on your ass, in public, on your birthday. You can’t just have the sunshine-y smiley fun times, and have those mean anything, without risking looking like a fool.

I used to cover up the times I felt like a fool by drinking. Or, I would drink to feel connected to others and not lonely and disengaged enough that I didn’t feel the need to share who I was, and avoid ever feeling foolish at all. Now it’s Saturday, I slept for 12 hours, I am fed and hydrated and ready for the day, and my brain is just running in cirlces inside my head shouting “YOU LOOK LIKE AN IDIOT! EVERYONE THINKS YOU’RE AN IDIOT! GOOD LUCK FACING PEOPLE NEXT WEEK! JUMP THE FENCE AND MOVE TO COSTA RICA! ABORT SOBRIETY, ABORT FRIENDSHIPS, DON’T GO DANCE CLASS TOMORROW, STAY QUIET ABOUT THAT RUDE GUY AND APOLOGIZE TO EVERYONE TIL THEY REALLY CAN’T STAND YOU! WOOOOOO!”

But. but. I am gonna quiet my brain down. I am gonna cook stir fry and listen to a Beatles album. I am gonna post this long-ass post, and truly may God bless you if you’ve read this far because for heaven’s sake I can’t imagine how bored you are, and let all the feelings go. I am gonna call my sister and go for a long walk. I am gonna continue to see my friends and not apologize for anything I’ve done this week because you know what? I DO NOT NEED TO BE SORRY FOR BEING A HUMAN BEING. I don’t need to be sorry for sharing my story of teaching, and having an emotional reaction to what is a huge horrifying injustice that keeps poor people of color from having the same chances in life as white suburban kids. I don’t need to apologize for sharing my story in a group that is specifically about sharing our stories. I don’t need to apologize for keeping space between me and people who refuse to respect boundaries. I don’t need to apologize for falling down while dancing (except to the dude I landed on, lol.) I don’t need to live life being sorry for being me. I may FEEL sorry and like I owe people a debt for being in their life or taking up their time or whatever, but I know that that feeling isn’t based on truth. and a part of getting that truth to feel real is, letting myself be human, sober, and move on.

xoxo Sarah

#stillsober #birthday #vulnerability #long post #really long post #super long post #can't emphasize enough how long this post it #not sorry #not apologizing #transparency #weekly recap #writing is my substitute for drinking #this is not as satisfying as a beer #but it will be better for me #appreciate my friends and followers

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dndbabes · 5 years

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Queen Aerisi II: Electric Boogaloo

want to get caught up? click this link

Naivara does recap.

Initiative time!

Roscoe stands in front of a prisoner, the jailor tries to hit him but misses. Roscoe retaliates. He does not stun the creature, but he DOES... get punched real hard.

Ash tries to toss hair dye at the jailor. He misses. Tobi frees the dwarf prisoner, and fails to hit the jailor. The Hadrosaurs sit. Spade wants them to move.

Naivara holds her action to throw an alchemist’s fire. Roscoe waits until he gets punched again. Tobi almost gets punched, Naivara misses her alchemist fire throw. Roscoe gets punched. Ash misses. Tobi ands the Hardosaurs hold their actions.

Naivara goes giant constrictor, which has blindsight (Thank god. Bad news, it’s only 10 ft.) Roscoe gets punched, Tobi misses both his attacks. Naivara manages to hit the jailor! He’s grappled!!! Ash kills him, finally, and ends our suffering.

Tobi releases the human woman, then heals both prisoners. The dwarf is named Toldar, and the human is named Desna (though I don’t think the party was introduced to her formally.)

The Queen passed through here with 3 bird-looking people. we head out, most of the party on Hadrosaurs. The wind is getting intense; Snowball and Tobi are lagging behind, but it’s fine. They make it through.

4 air priests await us, armed and ready. Initiative! Hadrosaurs go first. Only one gets up to a priest. Ash misses. Spade is asleep. Tobi hits a priest twice. Snowball gets hit once, Tobi gets hit twice.

The others hit the hadrosaurs. One priest hits snek Naivara with a witchbolt. Hadrosaurs are Still Here. Naivara hit the priest that casted witchbolt... and breaks his concentration. (This is what she does now, ya’ll.)

Roscoe stabs a priest once and wakes Spade up. The hadrosaurs attack and do some domage. Ash hits with his short sword, killing a priest. Tobi hits a priest, who is not yet unconscious. Imagine that.

Tobi and Spade are both missed. The snek is also missed. Roscoe kills 2 priests, then damages the last one very badly, who Ash kills. Spade takes the head of a cultist as a “Ball”. Tobi very firmly yells “NO!”.

We continue on to (probably) fight da Queen. We see her, in a chamber that’s 120 ft wide, 100 ft long. There’s a giant, swirling thundercloud flanked by 3 pillars, each of which has a birdman on it. At first glance, it’s hard to tell whether they are dead or alive.

In front of the cloud, we see the undead Queen flanked by 2 Air Myrmidons. Aerisi talks to us, thanking us for freeing her from the Nagpa. Apparently, he planned to lead us down here. She taunts Naivara, who licks her own giant snake eyeball in retort.

Roscoe casts Dominate Monster on one of the elementals. It works! And we roll initiative!

The Queen goes first. She says “If you just married my idiot brother, you wouldn’t have taken my kingdom from me!” then throws lightning at Naivara, Tobi, Spade, and Ash. We all fail, but Ash has uncanny dodge. Tobi and Spade are both down immediately. Hadrosaurs are still up.

Roscoe flies up and stabs the Queen but misses. He tries to stun her on his second strike, fails, and he flurry of blows. Misses one attack. Tobi fails a death save. Spade passes. Snowball moves to the side so he’s outside of AOE. Ash heals Spade + Tobi. (Ash is our main healer this fight. You know a fight’s bad when.)

He then heals himself. The hostile Elemental hits Naivara. The hadrosaurs remain. Naivara gets hit again. The other Elemental goes to hit the Queen, bc he likes Roscoe, as everyone should. (I think he misses tho) The hadrosaurs get nat20′s to hit!! Halved but i’m so proud!

The Queen moves away from Elemental friend, taking an attack. She goes through Roscoe, forcing him to make a wis save which he passes. She goes more transparent, and his attacks go through her. Roscoe goes near the one of the Aarakocra. Spade firebolts the Elemental but misses.

Tobi hits the Elemental twice, then disengages and moves behind a hadrosaur. Naivara constricts the Elemental. Ash attacks it, too. It breaks free of the grapple, moving, and all opportunity attacks miss.

The Queen reappears, letting out a horrifying scream that hits everyone but Spade. Snowball disappears, his HP reduced to 0. Roscoe goes unconscious and drops Windvane.

Spade grabs it, Tobi blasts the Queen with the wand of magic missile. Naivara polymorphs into a Giant Ape. She moves under the Queen.

Ash heals Roscoe.

One Elemental hits Naivara, now that it’s no longer dominated by Roscoe. She’s still a giant ape, she gets hit twice more. The second one goes after Spade, who is still barely up.

The Queen casts a 20 ft radius sphere. Everyone except Roscoe passes, so only he takes damage. A bolt of lightning from the sphere hits Naivara. She goes next, however, and hits the queen with her big monkey hands. She knocks out the Queen’s concentration!

Roscoe flies up to the Queen, and stuns her. Spade firebolts the Queen, then runs. Tobi yells for Naivara to toss him up to her, and she fastball specials him. He hits her on the way up, then again on the way down, smiting both times. The Queen is still up, but looking real low.

The Elemental hits Naivara a bunch... and her concentration on Polymorph breaks. Roscoe goes down.

The other one splits it’s attacks between Naivara, Tobi, and Roscoe.

Roscoe goes down. Naivara and Tobi aren’t hit. Roscoe is next, then the Queen.

Roscoe rolls his death save.... NAT 20. He hits her and KILLS HER, SAVING THE DAMN DAY.

Both Elementals go back to their home plane, through the still open portal.

#dnd #dungens and dragons #dnd5e #dnd blogging #dungeonsanddaddies

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rabidbehemoth · 6 years

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Sarah/Jareth fic idea

Oh god this got lodged in my brain SO HARD today I just have to get it out. Stop me if it’s been done...but honestly I think it’s happening no matter what. Spoilers/plot ides below the cut.

Sarah left the Labyrinth behind ten years ago, but the magic wouldn’t leave her.

She is thrust into fantastic Labyrinth-esque daydreams which manifest as seizures. They’ve only recently begun as she’s searching for a medical residency and is at a turning point in her life. Aspiring to be a pediatric surgeon to help children, partly out of compulsion to compensate for her selfishness as a teenager. Can’t drive safely. Seizures increasingly interfere with her life--her professor can’t recommend her for a residency under the circumstances. She knows the Goblin King can help her--he’s causing them--but it’s too dangerous to summon him (words have power). After nearly getting herself and another (Toby?) killed in a car crash while seizing, she knows she must take action or her life cannot continue. She writes him a carefully worded letter asking him to leave her alone. Addresses it to “The Goblin King, Underground” and throws in her mailbox feeling like a loon.

To her amazement, he writes back. Denies responsibility for magical seizure outbursts but offers to make a deal. (“Do you really wish to know the cause? What’s it worth to you? I’ll tell you then, but not now. There are conditions that must be satisfied first. Be careful what you wish for.”) He’ll help her in exchange for mere correspondence. Encloses an enchanted diary since snail mail to the Underground takes ages.

She declines and buries diary in bottom of dresser. But her problems escalate. Now other professors are backing out. If she can’t secure residency at the world-class children’s hospital near her family, what has she been wasting years in med school for? Eventually she writes him back with her own terms, choosing her words carefully. They barter. Negotiations seem roughly equal.

The seizures seem better controlled and everyone believes she’s participating in an experimental treatment. But Sarah becomes increasingly dependent on the diary, finding him fascinating beyond merely dealing with the magic in her life. But every time she tries to disengage, something stops her. The seizures return.

Eventually the writing escalates to meetings. He is never insistent, always patient, which gives her warning bells. She knows she’s playing with fire by interacting, and that she keeps making the same bad decision over and over. Can’t help it. He starts taking her to fantastic places in the Underground, her own world, other worlds, and in-between.

Continual deal-making and power exchanges become reminiscent of BDSM, without any sexual component (for example, he tells her to stand very still at a ball or something, and she can’t interact with anyone or she loses and is punished). Games. She finds herself liking them more than she should.

Gradually the games escalate, and at Sarah’s behest, grow sexual. They fuck. It’s kinky. Every time she fucks him she loses something important--she senses so--but she doesn’t know what and it isn’t enough to make her stop. She can’t stop.

She comes to realize that she’s been giving away pieces of her mortality. She’s been gradually pulling away from her own world, less and less able to interact with her regular life (coma? Or just failing to maintain school/job/relationships?).

Before she knows it, she’s an immortal (or semi-immortal) Queen of the Underground.

Ending plot twist: As promised, Jareth reveals the source of her magic-induced seizures. She caused them, not him, though she never stopped suspecting him. She was calling her future to herself. He knew all along, has been catalyzing the change and waiting. She should never have made a deal with him. He tells her he loves her, but she knows it’s not true. He assures her he’ll feel however she wants him to feel….forever. But the look in his eyes is not love. It is something else entirely.

....

by the GODS I’m gonna have a stroke over this. Just...if anything major is amiss, please leave me a note. Feedback would be fabulous. ;_;

#labyrinth #sareth #sarah/jareth #my fics

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