#larp writing

[thepookainthehat]

Dungeon Buddies #2

I'll admit, I'm not the world's greatest artist. But I have fun with it at least.

#larp #larp writing #comic strip #dungeon buddies

[griefabyss69]

Right Where It Belongs

Written for @steddiemicrofic!

[ AO3 ] [ Tip / Commissions post ]

‘HOLE’ wc: 404 | rated: E | cw: None

Steve's POV of Legend Has It + a little further 😈

Whatever the hell had possessed Steve to answer Eddie's question by gently taking his hand and making tender love to it with his mouth has decided to stick around, apparently.

The side of him that goes a little nuts at the opportunity to eat someone out didn't care that he was about to wholesale simulate oral sex on his good friend's hand – and not even for a joke, there's no inebriated guffawing here.

There's only Eddie's lips, wet and bitten and open on the type of moan he usually only ever hears from himself.

There's only his own mouth, his tongue still fucking the tight ring of Eddie's fingers, flicking the underside of them as if it’s inside of someone's pussy.

And he's getting into it – too into it – his cock giving intermittent reminders that it exists every time Eddie's eyelids flutter shut or he gasps around a swallow… or when he fucking cums right in front of him, in his jeans.

He stares at where Eddie's grinding his palm down into his crotch, only looking up to catch the tail end of his orgasm face, drinking in the hot red flush over his skin.

Shit, either his oral skills are telepathic or Eddie's got sensitive hands.

"Oh God," Eddie groans, and Steve wants to make a joke about that, ease the tension a little, but he's too slow to pull his mouth away from Eddie's knuckles.

Steve clears his throat awkwardly, and kisses Eddie's wrist, trying for an "It's okay that you came in your pants, I thought it was really hot" kind of moment while Eddie's got his eyes covered with his free hand.

"I'm so sorry," Eddie mumbles, and Steve liked the embarrassment, but can't stand the shame.

So he places Eddie's hand on the couch between them and goes for his zipper, the sound making Eddie's head perk up.

There we go.

"I'm sorry too," Steve says, meeting one unnecessary apology with another.

He pulls his cock out, hard and bare and ready, not touching it yet as Eddie watches, teeth sinking into his lip.

"This is the other part of it," he says, shifting on the couch to give his hand room so he can cup his balls. "Making someone cum with your tongue is fucking great."

"Yeah," Eddie breathes, folding down to get his mouth close to Steve’s cock, looking up at him. "It is."

#griefabyss69 writing #steddiemicroficjanuary #steddie fanfiction #steddie fanfic #I don't think I could rest another night without posting this so two fics in one day for you all!!! #I finished it right after the LARP AU update :' ))) big day for bisexual sex

[bolithesenate]

wait!!! i never showed yall this masterpiece did i?

✨Larp'alor Jaster Mereel Master Jereel in all his historically accurate glory✨

#back from the days when i drew Jaster as more of a twink #but the idea still stands #this man could larp his way into the jedi council and they would not know what happened to them #still one of my fave ever plunnies that hit me #random boli thoughts #art for my fic #my art #me writing #jaster mereel #master jereel #i think i have another larp'alor pic somewhere else lemme go look for that too

[radioactivepeasant]

Free Day Friday: Viper continuation

Picking up from Here

Thrax scarcely recognized the city anymore. In the five years since his banishment for questioning the research into dark eco, he'd sort of assumed nothing would change, not really. But the Haven he crept through now was barely half of what he'd left behind. The slums were gone, replaced by gleaming modern architecture and locked behind force fields. He'd thought it was to keep the displaced rabble out until he saw the first metalhead lounging on a filthy street corner. Until he saw the crushed remains of the Stadium, the Grand Hotel, the museum-! The Palace District of Main Town was destroyed.

How far Praxis must have fallen before the end! Thrax found himself, to his surprise, hoping the old fool had met a hideous death at the hands of Damas’s pet demon. The count was right, he was an abomination, but that was more Praxis's fault than the monster's, to his mind. Praxis made it out of some kid who didn't get a say in the matter. In his own way, Thrax felt sorry for Jak. But sympathy for demons didn't get you far in life.

Bitterly cursing the cold, Thrax pulled his scarf higher and found himself turning down an alley in search of things to burn. He should have been home by now. Well, not home, his old penthouse from his days in the Guard had a support beam impaling the top three floors now. Somewhere better, perhaps, in New Haven. He'd even have accepted military barracks if it came with the proper pay and respect! That had been the promise, that was to be his reward: all that Praxis had stripped from him restored. And all he'd had to do was kill that weakling Damas.

Only, Damas wasn't a weakling anymore. He was as harshly pragmatic as Praxis had ever been. Ruler of a land of barbarians! It was madness! Honestly, Thrax would have been relieved to have Haven destabilize and assume control of the city. But now...now, he doubted Haven had anything close to the manpower that would require. No wonder assassination had been suggested instead!

And he'd failed, pure and simple.

Thrax was no fool, he knew his glorious homecoming was contingent on him holding up his end of the bargain. Still, he couldn't help a sullen thought that he might have succeeded if Veger hadn't sent the monster straight to Damas’s doorstep like a housewarming present.

There were two other people huddled around a barrel at the end of the alley, burning garbage for warmth. They didn't acknowledge him at first, until the light flickered off his tattoos. One of them swore and kicked at him.

"Get out of here!" The kick unbalanced him and his friend caught his elbow. "KG scum! Metal-lover! Go back to hell!"

Something grated high above their heads. The sound of a boot on a slate shingle. Even with the heat of the fire in his face, Thrax suddenly felt cold. What forgotten instinct warned him not to look up? That he had no time to look?

The shingles cracked.

Thrax ran.

For once, he was grateful for the grueling, brutal training Damas forced candidates to endure before he allowed them to enter the desert alone. A Havenite -- gods, when had he stopped thinking of himself as a Havenite? -- would never have been able to clear the fallen masonry, or the burnt-out husks of hellcats that littered the streets. A mantis-head took a swipe at him from the shadows of a fallen archway, and Thrax lost his footing as he dodged.

He landed hard, skidding down a short drop that had once been part of the road. In the two seconds required to pick himself up, Thrax saw what his instincts had been warning him about.

The monster. The child-soldier. Jak.

He leapt from the awning of what used to be a racing memorabilia shop, landing with a predatory grace that momentarily froze Thrax. His creepy talking Teacup Mine-rat hunched on his shoulder -- everyone said there was no such thing as Mine-rats having a teacup breed, but they were the only animal he'd ever seen with those proportions and that nauseating shade of orange -- watching him with those beady little eyes. In an almost careless move, the rat pointed out the mantis-head that had knocked Thrax down. The monster shot it in the head after only glancing in its direction.

The spell was broken. Thrax ran down the cracked and sunken crater that the road had become, desperately scanning the horizon for a place to hide. He was too far from New Haven -- not that the elite would have any compunction to help him when he'd failed his mission -- and he could see metalheads and those Krimzon robots blocking many of the avenues he could have used for escape. Stopping to shoot them would give the monster time to catch up.

Thrax knew what the abomination was capable of. He'd seen what happened to his co-conspirator. Dropped like a stone as they tried to flee, obsidian claws buried in the base of their skull while watched by the pitiless eyes of whatever evil spirit the boy had become. Would those same claws paralyze him, too? Drag him back to the desert to die or worse? Or would death be swift?

No, no he couldn't think like that. He had to escape. He had to hope for a way to kill the thing. Thrax charged into another alley, hoping against hope that a door would be open or unlocked. If he could get inside, his chances of survival would dramatically increase.

The Precursors, however, did not favor him that day.

The alley ended at a wall of twisted rebar and half melted plastics, fused together with foul acids secreted by the metalheads. A panicked whine escaped Thrax's throat as he whirled, already knowing what would be behind him.

But there was nothing.

That did not calm his nerves. Where was the creature? Thrax's eyes rolled back and forth, scanning every shadow. His breath came in shallow pants as he backed up, fumbling for his morph gun.

Then came the sound of boots on shingles again.

He had forgotten to look up.

Jak dropped silently, driving his knee into the fugitive's back. Thrax fell with a cry, gun clattering from his hand and onto the ruined cobblestones. He was under no obligation to bring Thrax back alive -- they'd gotten most of the information they needed out of the monk, Nadab. Damas had given him explicit permission to kill the would-be assassin if the situation warranted it. But at the same time, Jak had a suspicion. He was catching on to a greater trend of treachery within Haven, and he had a feeling Thrax knew who was behind it. All he needed was confirmation.

"Do your worst, abomination," Thrax gasped, clawing for any shred of courage he had left. "I do not fear death."

"Captain."

Thrax faltered. "What?"

Jak flipped him over so that their eyes met. His eyes were cold, and in the darkness, Thrax wondered in a daze how they could look so much like Damas’s.

"It's Captain Abomination. If you're going to insult me, do it properly."

The rat snickered and nudged his head encouragingly.

"Now you have a very small window of opportunity here," Jak growled. "You tell me who put Nadab in contact with you, and you get a chance to give up your beacon with a shred of honor intact. If you have a shred of honor left."

"This is a limited time offer," Daxter warned.

Trembling, Thrax repeated, "I do not fear death!"

Jak smiled, but there was no humor in it.

"Yes you do."

He was right.

#fic prompts #writing prompts #free day friday #continuation #viper au #jak and daxter #jak and daxter au #background dadmas #Jak is here to LARP Assassin's Creed and he's having a great time #cliffhanger because frankly i haven't decided whether or not to kill Thrax #meanwhile Jak has ignored fifty percent of the missions Ashelin insisted he do #he's already on a mission for his dad leave him alone #jak and daxter oc #krimzon guard oc

[thewitchqueen281]

I just don't understand why he doesn't consult his legal or pr team on literally anything.

if I had the money to afford those I'd have them shoring up literally every single thing i said ever

(also for the sake of others I do understand its actually massively inflated ego)

#elon musk #the muskrat #literally like #imagine having more money then god #and deciding to just like #not do shit with jt #or do incredibly stupid shit #not even fun stupid shit #like id make an in depth larping dnd camp actively for the community with free food and drinks once a week #is that stupid? yes #is that nerdy? yes #but its DEEPLY fun #basically i think elons a bitch with no imagination #like literally get a hobby #get off rhe skinner box and paint #write #literally touch some grass

[peachypunchh]

so they probably won't film jrweek (jrwiweek? jrweeweek?) without condi there, right? so whats going to happen while the council is all in LA?

#jrwi #jrwi show #personally i think that they should use the setting to their advantage and larp as their suckening characters #they'll probably just hang out and film some one-shots though #i feel so bad for condi i can't believe canada wont let him escape #instead of making multiple posts or putting more words in posts i just write essays in my own tags lmao

[poisonousscribe]

𝘗𝘦𝘳𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘦, 𝘰𝘳 𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘦, 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘴𝘦 𝘺𝘦𝘵 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘷𝘶𝘭𝘯𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘣𝘺 𝘯𝘰 𝘧𝘢𝘶𝘭𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘰𝘸𝘯. 𝘌𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘢𝘺, 𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘮𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵, 𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨.

𝘐𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘷𝘪𝘷𝘦, 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦. 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘭, 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯’𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘰𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘰𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘱𝘶𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘪𝘯 𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘤𝘦𝘳𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘥𝘪𝘥.

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘒𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘚𝘩𝘢𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘴 𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘳𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘯𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘶𝘭𝘧𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘳𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘤𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘣𝘭𝘺 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘣𝘵 𝘤𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘥𝘶𝘦, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘰𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘮𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘵𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘎𝘰𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘗𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯 & 𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺. 𝘕𝘰𝘸 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘯𝘰 𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘮 𝘪𝘯 𝘴𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘥𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘷𝘢𝘭𝘶𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘰𝘣𝘫𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘴 𝘰𝘳 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘭𝘦𝘥𝘨𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘳𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘵 𝘢𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘴𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘌𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭 𝘚𝘦𝘢 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘝𝘢𝘶𝘭𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘗𝘢𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘯 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘴. ──────────────────

🪙 No Heist Too Great: Neither Heaven nor Hell’s coffers are safe from being emptied….

🩸A Patron’s Gift: Embrace your patron’s blessings and unravel the strange origins of the blessed artifacts

🕯️ Warlock RP free with EVERY class!: Play with complex power dynamics in a safe environment! 🔒Custom Divine Patron: The King in the Shadows

──────────────────

You are tethered to a patron much like a witch or warlock, a bargain struck either by you or by someone on your behalf. Regardless of how you ended up in the service of the King in Shadows, long years have passed and now you are considered one of his trusted ‘Ferryman’. A title for servitors entrusted with the task of gathering the realms most priceless artifacts and secrets and sealing them within the Divine Vault. But the limits of your skill are being tested as the demands of your patron grow and the artifacts grow more dangerous... ──────────────────

#dnd #dungeons and dragons #fantasy #pathfinder #ttrpg campaign #writing #queer ttrpg #dnd campaign #fantasy larp #book #booktok #dark romance #dark fantasy

[shebrakesforrainbows]

Meta crack Security Breach AU where the Afton ending is the canon storyline, but after seeing Gregory completely wreak havoc in the Pizzaplex, Peepaw Afton literally just gives up. No last hurrah, he just decides he's too old for this shit.

He and Vanessa move out from under the Pizzaplex and into a shitty apartment. One day Afton stabs a random guy out of the blue who ends up being the owner of a run-down grocery store. He assumes the guy's identity in the eyes of the law and takes over as the manager.

Freddy, programmed with absolutely zero filter and sporting a bank full of undesirable knowledge, escapes with Gregory and raises him as his son, until at 16, Gregory gets a job of his own at the same grocery store.

Nothing but shenanigans ensue.

#this is an inside joke with my coworker #he fucking larps as afton and freddy at work and i laugh so hard i turn red #we have fucking lore for it and everything #you have to be there to get it #god it's so funny #crumb for the beckory shippers: tony is a regular customer there and flirts with gregory #i think i'm gonna write a crackfic about this #five nights at freddy’s #vanessa a. #peepaw afton #vanny #gregory #fnaf gregory #glamrock freddy

[ckret2]

People sending nice asks made me wanna draw Bill + I've been doing research on freemasonry & Shriners to flesh out my headcanons for the Royal Order of the Holy Mackerel.

I like playing around with Bill's "involved in every conspiracy theory in history" thing in a way that reinforces the fact that those conspiracy theories are garbage and not to be taken seriously. "Bill's worked with the Freemasons, does that mean they're helping him take over the world?" No, of course not, the Freemasons are a big club of regular guys who get giddy about roleplaying that they're part of a secret society. It's a country club for people who don't know that they want to be LARPing.

Bill keeps shambling up to the local lodge in some poor sucker's borrowed body and the dudes inside go "oh this guy's vibes are rancid." He wouldn't be able to convince three Freemasons to stage a takeover of the local school board, much less the world.

#(I'm overexaggerating the LARPing aspects of freemasonry for comedic purposes) #bill cipher #human bill cipher #gravity falls #about my writing #bill goldilocks cipher #my art

[lesjasmine]

i just skimmed through bev jo’s wordpress because of your pinned post and ??? this is from a 2017 article:

“No one chooses her race, age, or class background. But heterosexuality and Lesbianism are clearly chosen. We’re born into het and male cultures, but we are not born het.”

Also her in the comments of that post:

“A Lesbian is a woman who chooses to love other women. It is all a choice. We believe being a Lesbian is our natural inborn state, to love our own kind, but most women accept the het lies against their own hearts, and so teach themselves to be “attracted” to men, just as many teach themselves to enjoy or think they enjoy being beaten, scarred, humiliated, etc. But most feminists do recognize that being a sado-masochist is a choice and that it’s possible to unlearn destructive impulses that are not ours to begin with. So of course women can choose to stop being a masochist or stop being het.”

do you think being lesbian is a choice?

Did you read my caption... In my caption I CLEARLY explain I do not agree with the majority of what bev jo claims.... Notice how I only emphasize reading that one post I mention.

#I did agree there are a ton of women with personality disorders who larp as lesbian when they don't even have the capacity to love women #hope this clarifies everything #I get sent a ton of 'lesbian' writing and pick and chose things I f with #This does not mean I support the author in all their views #I make sure to mention that in the post so please read thoroughly

[perfunctory-satisfaction]

when taylor said i was tame i was gentle till the circus life made me mean! when taylor said dont you worry folks we took out all her teeth!! when taylor said WHOS AFRAID OF LITTLE OLD ME!!! WHEN TAYLOR SAID WELL YOU SHOULD BE!!!!

#taylor swift #taylornation #tw taylor swift #please just save your ''she writes like a 5 year old 🤓👆'' comments for someone who gives a flying fuck because it aint me #we are lovers here if you wanna hate make your own post #okay but that one post thats like ' ''the asylum where they raised me'' girl you mean the christmas tree farm' nvnvndnkdjek #yeah thats funny #also 'we declared charlie puth should be a bigger artist' like girl what. what are you talking about lmfao #this is my post i can larp as a hater if i want to #the tortured poets department #ts tpd #whos afraid of little old me #bangerrrr i was like mildly iffy on it at first but its hands down one of my favs at this moment #also florida!!! #another banger indeed #ive been listening to the first half of the album cause my gf wants to listen to the second half together since we did with the first half #and theyre pretty much all bangers imo #just listen to the tortured poets department okay its really good

[env0writes]

Impure Pilgrimage, 5.5.24 “Nui Toa Rising"

@env0writes C.Buck   Ko-Fi & Venmo: @Zenv0 Support Your Local Artists!   Photo by my friend Mika

Isaro! How far, oh, will you go To bend on lent time from tomorrow Borrow The lives of these wizards Combatants of blizzards Atop their fire-breathing lizards

Swordsman! How far, oh, will fight war’s man You deign to speak of my grander plan? Sand Is what these lives account for All of the lords do not see the coming war Flee these phoenixed fires with blade-brandished boor

Isaro! Reshaper of the world on which we row Why are we cast adrift in space and sorrow? Sow Discordant seeds to rip the land asunder Allied yourself with the Lord of Wind and Thunder? My doubt? Unfounded? Truly, kin-of-mine what’s left to wonder?

Swordsman! Be shaped in the world on which we row anew, began You hold too fast to who you were with flame and blame and then Scan At the horizon of opportunities against the dark and light Shadows claw at destruction all in sight All things can burn, even you, against our legion’s might

Isaro! How far, oh, why oh, leave me to sigh To die Rely On you? I’d sooner cry at the Elemenai’s tower Where more than me, than you, holds power My Lord, I’d ask forgiveness – it is no longer yours to give to allow for

Swordsman! Set your sword away, Your actions, let me stay Sway Your thoughts that I have trained over years Reveled over beers Do not succumb to these doubts and fears

Isaro! No longer though Shall you show Go Far from this world you have brought us to No more are these views for you Betrayal is not in my blood, do not let yours stain me

#writeblrcafe #poeticstories #poetryportal #twc #spilled ink #fic poem #elemenai #isaro #env0 writes #flame swordsman #poetselixir #wutispotlight #writtenconsiderations #alt lit #burningmuse #epic poem #larp poem #live action role play #role play #dnd poem #conversational poem #creative writing #Impure Pilgrimage #twcpoetry #writerscreed #abstractcommunity #savage words

[sophieakatz]

Thursday Thoughts: Playing the Best Version of Myself

I’m not intending to permanently turn this blog series into a “Sophie listens to podcasts and talks about the Starcruiser” thing, but… this week I found myself once again listening to a podcast episode about Star Wars: Galactic Starcruiser. It was The No Proscenium Podcast this time, and the episode was titled “Last Call at the Sublight Lounge.” One of the panelists, Kathryn, said the following about Halcyon passengers:

“I believe that a lot of the people on the ship were roleplaying that idealized version of themselves… Maybe you’re braver, bolder, more confident, more willing to stand up for what you believe in. Maybe it’s a version of yourself that you want to wish into being, but you’ve never had a chance to articulate it before.”

Funnily enough, this wasn’t the first time I’ve heard someone express this idea about the Starcruiser. On the final night of the show, I met up with a bunch of the performers after closing time. Emotions were running high, understandably, but a lot of those emotions were positive. There was so much love and gratitude in that space – for each other, and for what we had created and accomplished. Everyone kept talking about how much we’d grown because of the Starcruiser. Late in the evening, one of the performers attributed that growth to how we’d created a space where everyone who participated, everyone who came to play, could come be “the best version of yourself” – and playing as the best version of yourself changes you forever.

It gave me pause, when that performer said it, and I’m thinking about it further after hearing Kathryn bring it up again – because when I entered the Starcruiser as a guest, I didn’t think I was playing the best or idealized version of myself. I fully intended to not be myself. Sophie Katz knew too much about the Halcyon and its characters. I spent six months running around that ship, making sure that everyone else knew everything they needed to know about where to be, why they were there, and what to do while they were there. The beats of the whole two-day show are imprinted on my brain. So I thought that in order to have fun, and to avoid ruining anyone else’s fun with metagaming, I had to separate my guest-self from my writer-self.

Shira Alderaani Khesed was a character I made up almost two years ago. I wrote a poem about the destruction of Alderaan in Star Wars, and afterwards I fleshed out the character behind that first-person perspective. She was a woman without a homeworld, the daughter of Alderaanians who just happened to be off planet on their honeymoon when the Empire destroyed their lives. And as far as I could tell before my voyage, playing Shira would be about as far from acting as my real self as I could get without outright sacrificing my morals. Shira was a mechanic; she’d never had the good fortune to be able to pursue art as a career. She was cynical and cowardly, weighed down by the trauma she’d inherited and unable to imagine a better future – in direct contrast to my real-world optimism. She didn’t have a family or community to support her; her late parents kept her intentionally ignorant of her culture, believing that would protect her from her people’s genocide – unlike my real-life parents, wonderful and alive, who raised me to take pride in my culture. I wouldn’t have called Shira my ideal self; I certainly wouldn’t wish to be her or live her life!

I thought I’d successfully separated my real self from my Starcruiser-self.

But the performers on my voyage were quick to prove me wrong.

I mentioned last week that some of the performers dropped hints that they knew me. Gaya said I looked familiar. Raithe said he knew I understood what was going on better than anyone. Lenka outright added a bit to my backstory, saying she remembered how I helped repair the ship before this voyage.

There’s another example of this that I should mention now.

Captain Keevan’s path did not cross much with mine, but at one point late on the first day, I was standing with a friend in the lower concourse when the captain came out of the dining room. She approached us and asked how we were doing, mentioning she’d heard that I’d had some issues with Sammie the mechanic. I responded in character, explaining that Sammie had asked me to do something that I wasn’t comfortable with (lying to First Order Stormtroopers, which from Shira’s cautious-and-cynical point of view was a good way to get killed).

The captain told me that I shouldn’t have to do anything that made me feel uncomfortable or unsafe. Half joking, I looked at my friend and said, “Does that mean telling my friends to not sing anti-First Order fight songs?” (Which, yes, is another thing that happened. Video evidence here. Sophie loved that scene; Shira did not.)

“Well,” said Captain Keevan, “something like that could be a useful distraction, at times. I find that some people work well on the front lines, and their actions make it possible for others to do the important work they need to do in the background.”

“I do well in the background,” I said.

And she smiled and replied, “And I know you’re good at keeping things on schedule.”

As she walked away, I realized something about Shira. I’d thought that by making her a mechanic, I was making her unlike me. I’m not a hands-on hard-science building-things sort of person. I’d even been a bit nervous that someone might ask me something technical that I wouldn’t be able to answer.

But as Lenka had pointed out, as a mechanic, Shira was someone who had helped prepare the ship for this voyage. And as Captain Keevan had pointed out, Shira was someone who worked well in the background, supporting the people who were visible on the front lines.

In other words, Shira was the me I aspire to be, as a professional creative writer – not the person in the spotlight, but the person who makes it possible for other people to do well in the spotlight. The person who builds the world, who takes care of the details in the background, and who, if I’m doing my job right, goes unnoticed. You don’t notice a mechanic unless something breaks; when things go smoothly, you praise the captain. Similarly, you don’t notice a writer unless the dialogue is bad; when shows make you laugh and cry, you praise the actors and directors. That’s how it is. That’s the space I work well in and take pride in. Sure, I want people to know what I can do, and I want to get credit when I do a good job – so that I can continue to do this work that I love and make a living with it. I don’t dream about being a big flashy hero with crowds chanting my name. I want to be quietly essential.

I realized that Shira had an opportunity here – to learn to be that quiet, essential background player.

And as the show progressed, moments kept coming up that developed her story in that direction. When Lt. Croy ordered that a restraining bolt be put on beloved droid SK-620, Shira whispered to Sammie that he needed to go through it, despite the boos of the crowd, to keep the ship safe. The next day, Shira helped lure Lt. Croy and the stormtroopers downstairs to give Lenka and Saja Fen a chance to rescue SK. During the heist, Shira didn’t get one of the many “noisy distraction” jobs; instead, Raithe secretly passed Shira the gem, and she stood far away from the action, quietly keeping it safe while Captain Keevan ordered Raithe to turn out his pockets. Moment by moment, act by act, decision by decision, Shira was learning how much of an impact she could have on the galaxy from the background, even if – perhaps even because – most people didn’t know she was there doing the work that needed to be done.

Everything culminated in a scene that caught me off guard just as much in reality as in character. Shira wound up in the middle of the atrium, with a whole crowd of people’s eyes on her, telling Lt. Croy a series of objectively terrible lies.

It would be impossible for me to exaggerate how uncomfortable I am with improv. I’m fine with public speaking – I’m honestly pretty good at it – but I always prepare a lot in advance. If you’ve ever heard me say something cool, it’s because I spent at least ten minutes beforehand planning it out. I did not plan for this moment. And so, in that moment, even though I objectively knew that no real-world harm would come to me, my fear and Shira’s were one and the same. All I wanted to do was run away.

But I didn’t run away. I kept talking – babbling, really – because I had to keep Croy’s attention on me, so he wouldn’t turn around and see Raithe sneaking up to the mezzanine to steal the coaxium. Because that’s what Shira would have done, after everything she’d been through on that ship. She would play her part. She would make it possible for other people to do the more obviously important and visible job. And, as soon as the job was done and it was safe to do so, she would run away… straight towards Raithe, who promptly handed her the suitcase of coaxium. He knew he could trust her with it.

And me? I want to be trusted. I want to be someone that people can rely on. I may not literally want to be Shira Alderaani Khesed, but I want to have the kind of impact she had on the story unfolding around her, just by being me, hard at work in the background. Building worlds, preparing experiences, and keeping everyone around me on schedule. Relied on and appreciated by the people who matter most. Quietly essential to a life-changing experience, and given the chance to be so again, and again, and again. That’s the best version of me.

You wanna know the best part? Those two days I spent as Shira was not the only chance I had to be that best version of me. I now understand that the role that Shira played on the Halcyon was the role I played with Star Wars: Galactic Starcruiser. I see it now more clearly than ever before. We don’t often get the chance to see ourselves so clearly, and I am so grateful to this cast for helping me see. They gave me such a gift. They gave everyone who set foot on that ship the gift of getting to be – and to learn that we are – our best selves.

I know what I can do for others – for a creative team, for an audience, for the world. I want nothing more than to do it again, and again, and again.

Let’s do it again, together.

#thursday thoughts #writer #writblr #star wars galactic starcruiser #starcruiser #halcyon legacy #galactic starcruiser #immersive theatre #themed entertainment #writing #larp #roleplay #immersion #immersive experience #star wars #no proscenium

[radioactivepeasant]

Snippets: Free Day Thursday- Viper

Following the prompt from the poll: Haven finds out Jak isn't there for them. We pick up right after the boys fight Veger's robot in the mines and come up at the edge of New Haven.

"This place looks as bad as my old bedroom back home," Daxter scoffed. His keen eyes darted this way and that, looking for any sign of their fugitive.

"Jak! Over here!"

Jak tensed at Samos’s voice. He didn't sound surprised to see them. Onin might have warned him he was coming. Onin...she would be a problem if not dealt with. He'd have to consult with Damas about her.

When Samos called him again, sounding less sure of himself, Jak realized he hadn't reacted at all. Samos doubtless expected him to leap to attend him, as he had been thoroughly trained to do.

Did he want to blow his cover?

Hm. No. Not yet.

Jak turned on his heel and for a moment his heart leaped.

"Keira!"

Samos was forgotten as he rushed towards a shimmering wall that divided the waterfront from New Haven. A force field? Since when did Haven have force fields?! Jak made a note of it. Damas wanted reports; he was a captain now. He had power. That meant he needed to do things right.

"Jak!" Keira's entire face lit up. "I told you, Daddy. I told you I could feel his energy!"

She slapped her hand against the force field, ignoring the sting.

"You're alive-! Jak, I'm so sorry! I- I tried to get into the trial, they wouldn't let me in the building-! Or, or Tess, or Sig! They arrested us when we tried, didn't let us go until they'd taken you away!"

A warm glow spread through Jak's chest. Someone had fought for him. Keira had fought for him! And Tess, and Sig! In a city of vipers, he still had true friends.

Jak placed his own hand on the energy field, feeling the dull burn of its eco as he spread out his fingers over Keira's.

"Thank you," he whispered. "I don't blame you three. Not for any of it. Not for anything. I...I missed you."

Keira sniffled. "I missed you, too," she croaked, "What's it like out there? They say it's...it's nothing! That there's no way to survive! But you look-"

She cut herself off and blushed.

"What's really out there?"

Jak looked up at Daxter and smiled. Daxter nodded back. He didn't know what Jak was going to say, exactly. He'd never been a talker -- he'd really really never been a talker -- but Daxter had seen how proud of their new home Jak got. He couldn't help wanting to know what the big lug would say. Would he talk about the beach he loved so much? About Damas?

To his surprise, Jak only stared earnestly at Keira and whispered back, "Freedom."

Keira closed her eyes. "Freedom," she sighed. "I...thought I had that. Not so sure, now."

"That's why I came back."

Jak took a more guarded posture, casting his eyes about.

"I can help you. But I need your help, too."

Daxter opened the little communicator they'd stolen from the dead metalheads and retrofitted into a small holoprojector. The face of Thrax rotated above the plate, tattooed and scowling.

"You seen this guy?" he asked, waving the holo, "Name's Thrax. Real disreputable character."

Samos blinked at them in shock. "Jak, please, there isn't time! The passages under the palace, they must be terribly important!"

Jak spoke over him, raising his voice slightly. "He's a fugitive from justice. Wanted for treason. I'm under orders to bring him back, dead or alive."

"Under orders?"

Keira's face twisted with concern.

"Whose orders? Ashelin's?"

Daxter scoffed and slid down to sit more comfortably on Jak’s shoulder.

"As if! We have new friends. And they respect us! Heck, they actually like us!"

"And we respect them," Jak added, "So people trying to murder the man who saved my life don't get to walk away. Not from me."

Keira's jaw was tight. They both knew how she felt about him killing hu'men. One day, maybe she would let herself understand that it was no different from the enthralled Lurkers her father had sent Jak to kill when he was far, far too young to have blood on his hands. One day she would have to turn around and face that truth head-on. But Jak was beginning to understand at last that as long as Samos kept her within reach, it would be hard for her to slip the blinders off. It had taken exile for him to be free of his.

"I'll...I'll keep an eye out, and let you know if I see anyone like that." Keira swallowed hard. "It's been...I've been trying to get Veger's shield walls down. He cut Torn off from the city council hall, trapped him down on the waterfront. I think it's-"

Her voice trailed off, then, almost too quietly to hear,

"It's like...divide and conquer."

Anger hissed between Jak's teeth. "Of course it was Veger. He's had his hand in everything, hasn't he?"

He slammed his fist into the force field.

"He's the one who blew up the palace! Five hundred people dead, and for what?! So he could get to some catacombs underneath?!"

"And," Daxter said grimly, "so he could get the guy descended from the last ruler out of here. That guy is high on delusions of grandeur. Real heroes throw him off his groove."

"Catacombs?" Samos broke in, finally seeing a gap in the conversation that he could wedge himself into, "There must be something important down there for him to go to such lengths! Well, you're just going to have to find whatever it is before he does!"

"Oh I am, am I?" Jak asked.

Somehow Samos failed to hear the edge of danger in the boy's voice. He prattled on, patronizing as ever.

"Now, first you'll need to find another way into this section of the city. Take the sewers into the Port, then find a way north to reach us."

When the boys stayed still, looking at him through half-lidded eyes, it finally seemed to occur to the old man that he couldn't just give orders and expect them to be followed blindly anymore. With a touch of chagrin, he added, "And Jak...we're...sorry, for what happened. We should have stopped Veger."

"Yes." Jak turned his back. "You should have. Maybe you wouldn't have war on your doorstep if you'd acted."

"War?" Samos questioned, "With the metalheads?"

Daxter rolled his eyes. "Stumpy-boy, metalheads are about to be the least of your worries."

Jak took a few steps back, eyeing the buildings around him. Then he nodded to himself, got a running start, and launched up the side of the nearest row house.

Winds bless the guy in the youth barracks who'd taken the time to teach him free-running.

In no time at all he was on the roof with only a slight straining in his muscles to show for it. The shield wall only extended about a storey above them. Fair enough, they'd just have to follow the roofs to a higher building and cross from there.

Daxter flipped his goggles down over his eyes and clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth as he scanned New Haven.

Pah. "New Haven". More like New Main Town. All he saw were the rich elite who had survived Veger dropping the palace on their high class district. Where were all the former inhabitants of the North Slum and Water Slum? Shoved into the ruined Main Town or crowded into the waterfront, he had no doubt.

"By the forges, I really hate this place," Jak whispered beside him.

"I don't blame ya, pal," said Daxter grimly. "Not even a little bit. C'mon, let's find Tess. If anyone knows how to find our guy, it's her."

Thrax could run. But there were only so many places he could hide.

Part Two planned for tomorrow

#fic prompts #writing prompts #jak and daxter #jak and daxter au #free day thursday #background dadmas #Keira Hagai #keira gets some of Samos’s lines because she deserves them more #every time i wonder if I'm just Samos bashing i watch the cutscenes #and then i realize that no I'm being rather charitable to the moldy stump #samos hagai #samos is the worst #viper au #jak has power and authority for the first time in his life and he's so determined to use them correctly #he's going to send damas a six page report full of literally every observation he can think of including what the shops are selling #damas thinks its adorable and keeps it in a drawer with a form Mar scribbled on as a toddler #Jak is here to recruit allies and LARP some Assassin's Creed

[snixx]

ok im sorry but i saw ur aro abed post and now i need to come into ur inbox and be absolutely insane about it because oh my god i actually cannot handle this

like coming out of the hunger games fandom and then the byler fandom where the main largely accepted opinion in fandom (including my opinion) was that katniss and and peeta and mike and will were allo and in love w/ eachother and now being in the community fandom like im actually going insane

bcs yeah a lot of ppl think trobed are romantically in love and i think romantic trobed is cute too but OMG like a widely accepted hc among fandom is that aro trobed in a qpr, like SO MANY PPL THINK THIS its actually insane and it makes me so happy and even tho my best friend is more annie coded than troy coded platonic trobed is literally so us abd im losing my mind ok i dont even know what im saying anymore im absolutely losing it

so yeah um oops in short: ARO ABED AND QPR TROBED FUCKING REAL

yes. yes. yesyesyesyesyesyesyes. i love my romantic trobed buT I LOVE QPR TROBED SO MUCH. ARO ABED MY BELOVED

#sorry im answering this so late btw i got sick and slept for 24 hours straight (woke up at 4:30pm to give a math test but went back to sleep #right after) #summer child 🍃 #community #happy valentines day btw loml #aromantic #aro stuff #also speaking of will. if that man were aro he would literally be me ok #aro interpretation of will and byler is literally me and my ex best friend. #like best believe if i could spend my whole life playling cringefail LARP games with my best friend i would #i would make her paintings and write her songs every day. but she doesnt care about anyone but her bf soooooooo wtv 😮‍💨 #rinkomania fight was something we've literally had WORD. FOR. WORD. #but its too early to go there today LOL anyway

[writercoracain]

i just think it would be neat and fun if the lady of the wood came to my apartment and took me away. i just think i'd like that.

#fantasy writing #sapphic #wlw post #renaissance faire #larp stuff #it would just make me happy idk