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plant-flwrs · 3 years

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Eternal Spring // wolfstar

Chapter One: Calholme

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series summary: Remus was fine being alone until a mysterious and loud man crashes his motorbike into Remus’s life.

a/n: hi!!! i have a series!!! i’ve got a couple of series and chapter stories in my drafts, but i’ve never really had the courage to post them. i have put so much into this story, though, and i really hope you all like it :) leave me some feedback! i’ll probably post more once i know that its not a complete and utter flop. also, i’ve posted it on my ao3 so you can go read it over there too <33

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It was a drowsy, subdued place, in Remus' opinion, every moment of the year except for spring. Where he grew up, and where he currently resided, the entire town took a green glowing hue for the season. It was cold in the mornings, so when Remus went outside to spread chicken seed on the dewy grass, he put on a sweater. It warmed up as the sun rose, and from the time it took the sun to travel from the horizon to the middle of the sky, Remus was comfortable in a t-shirt and loose-fitting jeans. When the sun was at its peak, Remus might start to sweat through his shirt, maybe going as far as to change into shorts if he was outside, which he usually was. He couldn't stand to be inside during spring.

The gravel driveway that led to a dirt road was sprouting an abundance of weeds and weeds that looked like flowers. The trees captured light, glowing, instead of the way they seemed to absorb and trap light in winter. Remus's backyard was a large forest, and Remus had never taken the time to check where his property line ended, so as far as he was concerned, the entire forest was his. If you went deep enough in any direction, you would come to a clearing where the knee-high grass dove into some grass that only tickled your ankles. After the ankle grass, there was an unnaturally blue and unnaturally large lake. Remus' mom had told him that the lake was so blue and so large because it was natural, that no person could ever make something so beautiful, and Remus found himself agreeing as he got older.

With his mother and father gone to live somewhere where it was spring weather all the time, living on a vast farm with no animals and a huge lawnmower that his father comfortably sat on every weekend to trim the fields, Remus now lived in his slightly renovated childhood home. It was only slightly renovated because it was a great deal messier and almost every surface was covered in coffee or tea stains and a book. Remus also got a television that he rarely used and turned his old bedroom into some sort of reading room/ garden. So, slightly renovated.

Past the gravel driveway littered with weeds and imposter weeds, past the dirt road that served as a crossing and sometimes rest area for the wild animals in the area, was the more populated town. Calholme had two public libraries; three hardware stores, one of which sold exclusively fishing supplies; a psychic who did palm readings and sold handmade jewelry and was rumored to have built the house she did aforementioned things in herself; three gas stations, one on each side of the outskirts of town, and one right in the center; two banks, one of which was relatively new that not many people frequented due to either a lack of trust for banks or simply because it was new; a multitude of fruits and vegetables stands with products grown in the area, delis in which the products ate the grass not 20 miles away, and bakeries that sent a sweet aroma into the air; a record shop that doubled as a coffee shop, candy store, and sometimes a furniture store when the records weren't selling too well; a car repair shop called Matt Mocks's garage that also repaired tractors and other broken farm equipment, and if the right guy was in that day, you could get your television repaired, too; and any other storefront that the simple people of Calholme thought they needed. They were quite resourceful in that sense.

So, down one end of the road was Calholme, and down the other were a few scattered cottages and large farmhouses, and even further down was a paved road that brought Sirius Black into town.

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Remus had opened the window in his kitchen and stood in front of it as he waited for his tea to steep. It was that wonderfully chilly morning, so he shivered a little as the cold air clipped his crooked nose and sharp chin. He wrapped his long arms around his body to give some sort of comfort but found his lack of sustainable body fat and bony arms were more of a hindrance than not. Sighing and turning away from the window, he retrieved a cardigan that was draped over the couch, shaking off some loose crumbs before putting it on and returning to the window. He passed the sink on the way, a large white ceramic hole in the counter that looked more like a tub than a sink, and filled up a cup of water for the plants on the window sill. The house was in disarray, as usual, but Remus kept his plants alive. Most of the ones on the sill were herbs that he cooked with, with one or two flowers mingled in. If he kept the window open all day during this time of year, butterflies would come to the flowers and find themselves fluttering around the kitchen until they could find the window again. Occasionally, they just make themselves at home.

Window plants watered, arms covered and no longer shivering, tea fully steeped and mixed with the right amount of milk and honey, Remus stood in front of the window again. He could hear his chickens clucking by the other side of the house, and the rustle of the trees, the faint hum of a tractor miles off as people started their day. Then, he heard the roar of a failing engine. Not long after that, he heard the harsh sounds of metal scraping and a yelp of surprise that soon turned into groans of pain.

Remus ran to the door, tripping over his discarded rainboots, then running his shin into a coffee table, then shouldering the wall before falling on his face after tripping on some more shoes. When he finally got to the door, the chickens were louder, and so was the groaning.

His driveway wasn't too long, but it was still long enough and curved enough so that the house couldn't be seen from the road. The gravel crunched under his feet, eyes surveying the weeds, hands warmed by the mug he had forgotten to put down and somehow, miraculously, had not dropped on his way out.

There was a lump that may have been a human body or may have been a Greek god that had fallen down to the earth. Besides this was a discarded and seriously fucked up motorbike. A few feet away was a duffel bag with its contents spilled out onto his driveway. Telling from the skid marks, Remus guessed that this Greek god had lost his footing, or maybe hadn't seen a pothole, and veered into his driveway for somewhat of an easier crash than what would have been in the woods. The marks also told Remus that the driver was coming into town.

"Are you alright?" Remus tried, taking the groans as a sign of life and creeping closer to the body.

"Oh, fuck," they groaned, "fuck, fuck, fuck."

"Do you need help?" Remus knew it was a stupid question, one with the answer right in front of his face, as they began to writhe around the ground and get their wits about them.

Remus moved over to the scattered possessions, setting down his mug and gathering the various items back into the duffel. He ignored the magazine with David Bowie on the cover, ignored the criminally small shirt that had tears in the collar and Remus knew would make the Greek god look even more godlike, ignored the eyeliner pencil, and politely folded things when necessary before putting them away.

"Where the fuck am I?" the body had moved into a sitting position, feet on the ground and legs bent at the knees. There were rips in his black jeans, blood seeping into the denim, and a tattered hole in the sleeve of his leather jacket that also left red dripping onto the gravel. His face wasn't too scuffed, just some road rash on his cheekbone and jaw. Greek god confirmed. Fallen from heaven, straight from Olympius, carved by the hands of Zeus himself.

He was strikingly pale, which made his eyes and hair striking as well. His eyes were a deep blue, blue like Remus' lake, and his black hair was long and cut into a choppy sort of shag with lots of layers. He looked disheveled, obviously, because he was just in an awful motorbike accident, and Remus was staring at him.

"Just outside of Calholme," Remus almost called him 'sir', despite the fact that he hadn't called anyone but his teachers and his father 'sir', and this boy was obviously close to Remus' age. But the boy had a commanding presence, one that made people want to call him 'sir', and tremble with nerves as they did so.

Shuffling a bit, still sat down, he surveyed the damage. No longer groaning nor writhing, he was somehow even more attractive. His brows were furrowed-in pain, concentration, just pure Greek god sternness? Remus could not tell- as he pulled at the new holes in his jeans. He didn't wince, but he did scowl, and his fingertips ran through his blood for a moment before sighing. He twisted to look at his arm, and he winced then, but only because of his beloved jacket.

"Motherfucker," he mumbled, taking care to slip off the arm of the jacket and pinch the torn edges together as if they would magically stitch together.

Remus realized he was still holding the boy's duffel, so he dropped it gently on the gravel between them.

He cast his eyes up to look at Remus for the first time. "Thanks," he said softly, pulling off his entire jacket now.

It was cold, and Remus was wrapped tightly in his cardigan, and this boy was bleeding, his motorbike dented and silent even though he had never taken the keys out of the ignition.

"Can you walk?" Remus asked, surprising himself with the nervous tremble in his voice. Remus didn't talk much during the day, besides to his chickens and the lake and the flowers and the butterflies, and occasionally to the stray cat that would make the long trek from the neighboring properties. This boy was a little different than talking to those things.

He struggled to his feet, easing gently on his knees and not putting his scraped hands on the gravel. He bent his legs, only grimacing a little, and said, "Yeah."

"Do you want to come inside? It's warmer."

The boy craned his neck, looking at the heavily forested area around him, his bike, and Remus. He looked at Remus a little longer than these other things and nodded briskly.

Remus grabbed his mug and turned to walk up the driveway, listening to the crunch of the boy's footsteps behind him. They were strong and sure, despite the trail of blood he was leaving.

"This your house?" The boy said from a few paces behind Remus once they got close enough to see it. He sounded neutral, not apprehensive or suspicious of Remus, but not grateful or relieved. Remus found it a little unnerving, especially with his back to him. He shivered and turned to face him, nodding and opening the front door.

#wolfstar #Remus Lupin/Sirius Black #Remus Lupin #remus lupin fanfiction #remus lupin x sirius black #remus lupin fanfic #remus x sirius #Sirius Black #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black x remus lupin #wolfstar fluff #wolfstar fic #domestic wolfstar

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boukenboy · 3 years

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#17: セブンスドラゴン2020 / 7th Dragon: 2020

The year is 2020. The world is under siege by murder hornets, political unrest, a pandemic, and swarms of ferocious dragons. The fact that only one of the above is fake speaks to how much of a dumpster fire this year has been. Personally, as an "essential worker" who runs a coffee kiosk, some of the behavior that I have witnessed with regards to masks and general safety has taken what little faith I had in humanity and ground it into dust. I have been gaming - and drinking - much more than I ever used to, and while it has saved me money in the long run, I sometimes feel guilty with how much I've dove into this hobby. But who cares, really?

I discovered 7th Dragon 2020 through a random late-night Google search: I occasionally dig around the Japanese side of the internet for research on what games I'd like to play next, and the moment I realized that this game was set in post-apocalyptic Tokyo, in the year 2020, I knew I had to play the absolute hell out of it, regardless of quality.

Art imitating life? We love to see it!

As stated above, 7th Dragon takes place in Tokyo, Japan. You begin by creating your main character, choosing a class and appearance. What really surprised me, however, was the sheer amount of voices you can choose from - I'm not really an anime fan, but according to the game's official website, quite a few famous voice actors lent their talent to the game, and they're all full of personality. Want to make a foul-mouthed gothic lolita? You can. A beefcake with the voice of a 10 year old? You can do that too.

The game features 5 different classes to choose from: Samurai, Destroyer, Psychic, Hacker, and Trickster. Out of these five, I decided to make my main character a Trickster - all classes in 7th Dragon are essentially a sort-of "two-in-one" deal, and in the Trickster's case, their skills are divided between gun and dagger skills, and they both do very different things. Daggers tend to focus more on applying various debuffs to enemies - such as poison, silence, and so forth, while with guns, you'll be avoiding enemy attacks, employing counters, and inducing critical attacks. With the proper set-up, gun Tricksters can then apply constant damage with a possibility of avoiding enemies entirely. To round out the party of three, I then chose to make a Hacker and Destroyer.

Destroyers are your main brawler class, but with an interesting twist. Their abilities all revolve around applying what is called a D-Counter to enemies - certain attacks increase this value, and you can only perform the more devastating attacks once you raise this to the appropriate level. D-Counters wear off over time, too, so it is important for this class to keep up offensive pressure in order to be effective.

Alternatively, you can develop them to become more of a tank: Destroyers possess a stance that draws enemy attention. Once attacked, they'll respond with a powerful counter - this is obviously a great way to protect your squishier party members, and it is extremely satisfying when you successfully bait enemies into destruction. Later on, you'll learn more specialized counters that will allow you to ignore enemy damage entirely, but there's a catch: you have to predict what type of attack they'll use - will they try and bite you, use their claws, or cast a spell? You'll have to pay attention to not only monster anatomy, but to attack patterns, too.

Hackers are the main support class in 7th Dragon: they have the bog-standard buffing spells, but I have to give special recognition to the developers of 7th Dragon for going out of their way to come up with some unique abilities that I have yet to see in any other game. For example, Hackers can set-up a "safety net" that will automatically revive fallen party members at the end of a round, but it is required to be casted at the beginning of that turn. Know a boss is about to end you with their strongest attack? Cast it and hope for the best. They can also decrease the amount of turns your party suffers from status effects, and even increase the rate at which your auto-skills activate.

They can, true to their name, also "hack" into enemies. I haven't played with these skills as of this writing, but it involves the Hacker inducing a status effect of the same name, and then causing all sorts of shenanigans. Other classes possess abilities that can make enemies weak to hacking, which reduces the amount of set-up required. In my case, I decided to focus on the support abilities due to the gaps in my party's defenses, but I can easily see how a more offense-focused Hacker can be a huge asset in battle.

As stated earlier, 7th Dragon 2020 takes place in Tokyo after a sudden and cataclysmic invasion by hordes of enigmatic dragons. Their ultimate objective is unknown, as they do not speak or interact in any manner that is not hostile. You play as a member of the government organization Murakumo, lead by an alarmingly busty woman known as Natsume. Determined to take back the country, you are then sent out into various Tokyo neighborhoods, warped by the dragon's magic, in order to discover the true nature of your nemesis.

I really enjoyed how little you know about the reptilian threat: it reads almost Lovecraftian - these beings are beyond human comprehension, and have the ability to warp reality as they see fit, resulting in some fantastic environments. One of my favorites is the sky-high giant sphere of railroad tracks in Ikebukuro - traversing it feels like you've really stumbled upon some twisted version of our own world.

Along the way, you'll encounter the members of an organization known as SKY - initially the villains of the game, you'll eventually become allies in their search for the one with what they call "the power." If you have played any RPG at all, I'm sure you can figure out just who that is. There's also a large variety of secondary characters, but overall, the game's plot isn't very innovative, but it's serviceable. What surprised me, however, was just how dark some scenes were. In one instance, you cooperate with the Japanese military in order to stop a massive dragon-made cannon, only to watch dozens of your fellow soldiers die in front of your eyes.

7th Dragon isn't afraid to kill off your friends, either - there are sections in the story that are utter bloodbaths. Certain characters the game seemed to favor early on are promptly killed off at random, and the way the survivors react to the trauma of losing their companions is a major story-point that resounds throughout the later chapters of 2020. I was surprised as to how the allegiances between the cast shift as the game progresses - their relationships, and the way they evolve was, to be honest, way more intriguing than the main plot of, "Dragons are bad."

7th Dragon also features a base development system, in which you'll use materials gathered from defeated dragons to add new weapons to shops, create more residential spaces for refugees, and unlock optional side-quests. You can also recruit Hatsune Miku, because of course you can. Why wouldn’t you? Doing so unlocks a remixed soundtrack featuring said vocaloid, but nothing else. It's a curious addition to the game, and the re-done tracks are pretty cool. Unfortunately, the side-quests in 7th Dragon tend to have poor rewards and vague objectives, so I abandoned doing them around halfway through the game.

I can see fans of the Shin Megami Tensei and Etrian Odyssey series finding a lot to love in 7th Dragon. Creating a party that works well together is extremely satisfying, especially given the high level of challenge the game has during boss battles. The plot isn't anything impressive, but the ensemble cast and the blood-soaked shenanigans more than make up for it. I can confidently recommend this game to anybody who seeks a marginally less horrifying version of our current apocalypse. But who knows? If 2021 brings us dragons, I can only pray they eat me first.

#gaymer #review #jrpg #7th dragon 2020 #7th dragon series #etrian odyssey #shin megami tensei #smt #psp #sega #hatsune miku #apocalypse #gaming blog #game review #retro gaming #retro game

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bomberqueen17 · 4 years

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replies on arachnophobia and heartless chickens

mikkeneko replied to your post “post-processing”

Eviscerating a chicken and just... not finding a heart in the ribcage makes me nostalgic for all those various fetch quests where you're sent to collect 10 Wolf Heads or something and yet the drop rate is only 50%. WHERE ARE THE OTHER HEADS.

So the thing about ok TW for like, well, eviscerating I guess, don’t read the rest of this answer if you’re gonna be grossed-out about organs which is frankly an understandable thing to be eviscerating is that you mostly do it by touch, right, because you only cut a pretty small hole in the chicken and then you have to go in with your hand and disconnect all the connective tissue and what not. So you get this handful of organs. Most of it is sort of... I mean it’s just squishy. (Actually this lot had gravel in their esophaguses a lot which felt super fucking weird.) But some of the organs have pretty distinctive textures. So you can easily find the liver, which is a dark color and very obvious, and the gizzard, which is a big muscular ball and very solid, and the heart, which is smallish but usually quite firm? well this batch of chickens almost all had really flaccid hearts, idk what else to call it. I spent much of processing day trying to come up with a country song about a flaccid heart. So anyway it’s easy to find hearts, except this batch, they were so goddamn squishy i actually almost missed a couple more of them.

(The other catchphrase of the day, for some reason, was “low-quality enema”, but I don’t recollect why that was, already... So I think it’s that the band name is The Flaccid Hearts and the debut album is Low-Quality Enema, that’s how this goes, right?)

waxscoralpants replied to your post “post-processing”

As someone with like, maybe moderately severe arachnophobia? Now I'm wondering how mine compares to others'. People who just react without judgment and help us deal with it are a godsend so like, thank you on BILs behalf

Ha, aww.

I actually devote a fair amount of psychic energy in my daily life to, like. Understanding people’s viewpoints, quirks, foibles, etc. There’s something to be said for encouraging someone to overcome an irrational fear, sure, but there’s often even more to be said for just taking care of it so they don’t have to be upset. Obviously BIL has worked hard in his life to overcome the arachnophobia, he’s obviously a generally rational person who’s devoted a lot of effort to bettering himself and the like, he’s clearly aware of his limits, and it’s super, super obvious there’s only so much he’s going to be able to do with this phobia. He was gearing up to deal with the thing on his own but like. Why? It wasn’t going to hurt me. I asked him if he’d been hurt, when he made the noise, and he said “It’s more that I’ve taken psychic damage”, and he was kidding but he also wasn’t kidding.

That said, I also immediately texted my mild-to-moderately arachnophobic other sister who’d been providing me with breathless updates about the spiders on her deck (but not letting me come over and remove them for her! I offered that like, instantly when she first texted me!!) and told her I’d just had to save BIL from a spider so big I needed to use a bucket, and she was like why would you tell me this and I was like to prove i can do it, i’ll totally come over and she was like no I’m attempting to coexist and i was like whatever.

#mikkeneko #waxscoralpants #spiders #farm life #tw animal husbandry #tw animal slaughter

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rodgersandhypnostein · 4 years

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Gypsys, Tramps and Thieves Part 1 - Mister John Acton

Thursday, 8th of May, 1817.

Pemberton, Kent.

Another week, another village to perform and be gawked at. If there’s one thing I know to be true after 20 years in this life, it’s there are two types of attention: good attention and bad attention, and all me and my family have ever gotten in our lives is bad attention. It was bad enough to come from an Irish family born in England, where we’re treated like second-class citizens. It’s funny how even the poorest, baddest people feel as if they’re superior just because they were born English, and are even treated better by others! As if being born Irish wasn’t enough of a bad situation to be in, me and my family are travellers! While I’m proud of my heritage, and I suppose my lifestyle as well, I know that it’s not an ideal combination to have. So all my life, I’ve only ever been seen as the poor, uneducated Irish gypsy, to be laughed at by the kids and looked down on by the adults. Sometimes I think to myself how nice it would be to just live a normal life, in one place I can call my home, respected by my peers, where I don’t have to worry abou-

‘Bradán, will you get your head out of that book and get out here. Your brothers and I have been busting our arses to set up for the next show and you’ve been sat in here, doing fuck all’, my father, Seamus. He and I never really seemed to get on - he says that I think too much of myself because I learned to read, and I’ve never been good enough in his eyes.

Begrudgingly, I got up with as little visible annoyance as I could muster, with an obedient ‘yes father’. Now you know what I do for a living, me and my family run a travelling show. We can do anything! We can read your palms, contact your loved ones beyond, and can even control your very own mind. Yeah, we basically go from village to village scamming people for their money. We each have our own roles to play, my mother’s our ‘psychic’ she can tell your future and speak to the dead - for a steep price. My sister is the typical ‘gypsy beauty’, meant to draw in horny single men and entice them with her dancing. My brothers are the ‘strongmen’, they can lift anything, break anything and seduce any woman they want. My father preaches from the bible, and sells various concoctions to cure any ailment. And as for me, I’m the stage hypnotist, I get the pleasure of hypnotising people to act stupidly, a small moment of relief from my day.

Unsurprisingly, our reputation always seems to get to each village and town before we do. We always have someone telling us that we’re crooks and hethons, doomed for eternal damnation. But desire and curiosity always win out in the end, so we never seem to go without at least a decent amount of money. Horny men will always want to see the half-dressed girl shaking and gyrating on stage, and the older variety of said men will always waste their money if it means that they can have a chance of growing their hair back, before listening to the preacher, to atone for their night of sin.

As I was helping my brothers set up the stage for the show, two men, seemingly the village’s most eligible, and dare I say attractive, bachelors were having a walk together, and were heading right towards us. Of course they never approached us directly, they would never risk damaging their status by being seen with us. But I could hear them talking amongst themselves as they walked past.

‘Lord! It seems those menaces have decided to plague our village with their dastardly tricks’ One of the three, a shorter man with a decent build, but who had a nice and round bum.

‘John, don’t be so loud, they may hear us. These aren’t the kind of people we want to provoke’ another man said, in a distressed whisper. He was also fairly attractive, with short, straight blond hair, somewhat shorter than the first man, with a less muscular build to him.

‘Mark, don’t worry. They can’t understand a word we say, they don’t speak English. They can only speak in that barbaric Irish language. They never had that hideous tongue bashed out of them in school, because they never went to school. You have nothing to fear’, said one of them, who seemed to be the leader of the group. He had dark, curly hair with a beautiful bone structure and build. He obviously was every woman’s first choice for a husband in the village. And with that, they fell out of hearing distance. Twats.

Nothing else really happened that day, other than a few of the local women coming to stare at my brothers’ muscles, with them reciprocating by putting on a little for the women. But I couldn’t get what those two had been saying about me and my family. They were talking about us as if we were wild animals. The nerve of them to act as if we couldn’t even speak English, how insulting could they get! And they were meant to be the gentlemen of the village! But there was nothing I could do except daydream about what I could do to them.

Saturday, 10th of May 1817

Pemberton, Kent

Well, today’s the beginning of our week-long freakshow. The show hadn’t even been on for an hour before we got our first naysayer. It was one of the men who had been insulting us during their walk. As luck would have it, our little John fellow was the local priest in this parish, and had taken offence to our heathen practices.

Normally we would ignore this type of people and continue with the show. And that was what I was planning to do, until a truly ‘dastardly trick’ popped into my head.

I walked over to the gentleman, putting my plan into action. ‘Excuse me, Mister?’

‘Acton, Mister John Acton, the priest of this parish. And as priest of this parish, I can’t stand by and allow my flock to be tempted by your unholy deeds’. He replied, rather aggressively, but that was to be expected.

‘Of course, Mister Acton. I can perfectly understand why you would be inclined to think that way. But that’s not necessarily what we do around here. In fact, I use my hypnotism to bring people’s inner soul and spirit out, so they can be brought closer to God. We’ve always been of the belief that we can never truly know the wisdom of our creator, but with an open heart we can begin to understand it. I can give you a demonstration if you’d like’ Absolute rubbish. All of it. But I needed him to believe it had something to do with God for him to agree.

‘All right. I’ll try it if it can help me understand God’s power and wisdom, but not here, I can’t let the parishioners see me agreeing to this.’ He gave in. Perfect. The fly enters the spider’s web, unaware of what’s in store for him.

‘Of course not. We’ll do it in private, besides, only God should know of your devotion to him.’

We began walking to the family carriage, and couldn’t help but get semi-hard at the idea of enslaving the first of the many attractive men in this village’.

‘Alright, Mister Acton, if you would sit yourself down there. Very good. So to begin I’ll just ask you to keep close attention to his pendant, as I slowly swing it from side to side, not breaking your gaze from it. Very good’.

Now it begins, and I want to bring this man slowly to his downfall, as a bit of revenge for the insulting words he said yesterday. This is something I’m taking great pleasure in.

‘Now, as you concentrate more and more on the swinging of the pendant, your mind will be left more and more open for me to communicate with, and soon enough, God’s wisdom will be within sight’. This continued for a while, until I could clearly see that he was beginning to go under slightly.

‘Alright, I can see that your mind is opening more and more to my words, so I shall begin opening it. I will begin to count down from 10, and with each count, you will become more and more relaxed, and at 0, you’ll fall into a deep trance’.

‘10, getting more comfortable in your seat’

‘9, your body feeling almost weightless’

‘8, your breathing is getting deeper and deeper’

‘7, you’re beginning to sigh with relaxation at each breath’

‘6, your mind is beginning to lose control of your body’

‘5, you can’t help but increasingly hard from the relaxation’

‘4, you can’t help but rub your bum across the chair, for stimulation’

‘3, you’re slowly getting addicted to this relaxation and pleasure’

‘2, you’ll do anything to feel this relaxation and pleasure’

‘1, you’ll serve me in any way I command, to continue feeling this pleasure’

‘0, now sleep!’

And with that, the priest’s short, thick frame slumped over slightly in the chair, with a hard cock and arse on display, with a small, dreamy smile on his face.

‘When I snap my fingers, you’ll awaken and do anything I ask. I will also be able to bring you back to this state whenever I utter the words ‘butt boy’. Do you understand?’. Now that he was firmly under my control, I was going to have some fun with this man.

‘Yes’ he replied in a sleepy voice.

‘Yes Master, you need to say’ My cock instantly sprung to life with that command, realising the commanding potential I have.

‘Yes Master’, he replied in a pleasurable voice, no doubt because he obeyed my command.

‘Very good, slave. Now the first thing I want you to do is strip. God never intended for us humans to wear clothes, and thus to prove your faith to him, you must show him your rejection of such an unnatural practice’. Well, that and because I wanted to see that juicy arse in all its glory.

‘Yes Master’. With that, my newest slave began to strip down to his bare body. He then sat back down into his chair, but not before I got a glimpse of his perfect bum and decently-sized cock, pity it will never be used however.

‘Now, John. As you may be aware, the penis is the source of all human life. It is thus the closest to God we will ever come. Therefore, just as God should be worshipped and adored, so should the human penis. Luckily for you, I’m willing to let you do that on mine. You don’t have to fear anyone finding, it’ll be our little secret.’

‘Yes, penis must be worshipped’ He repeated, sliding down onto the floor. He then proceeded to pull my dick out of my trousers before lovingly gazing at it.

‘In fact, it’s been said that one of the best ways of showing your adoration of the male penis is to use your mouth. So go ahead, start licking it.’ Unsurprisingly, he obeyed. His licks began small, only using the tip of tongue for short licks. However, as he continued, and began to enjoy it more, he started using the whole surface of his tongue, licking from the tip to base, up and down.

‘Very good, you’re making it very happy indeed. Another way to show how much you love the male penis is to wrap your whole mouth around, and like how you licked, go up and down. I can promise you this will make the penis very appreciated.’ And with that, I began to get comfortable in my chair as the once zealous priest began blowing me.

Even though he was new at this, the young priest showed a lot of promise in giving head. I have to admit, my cock has never leaked this much from a first timer’s blowjob. I could certainly get used to this. Although, after a while my mind began to wander to his thick arse, and I suddenly felt the urge to fuck something, and with that mind, I gave my next order.

‘Stop slave, I have one more thing to share with you. My penis is feeling so good because of your worship, and it has decided to give you a gift. Now, the penis is the source of life, and it has been known to give life and purpose to a select few boys who choose to dedicate their lives to its service. I’m perfectly willing to bestow this gift onto you, should you choose to dedicate your life to me. Do you accept?’

Now was the make or break moment. It’s one thing to get a boy to give me a hummer under hypnosis, but another thing entirely for him to surrender his life to worship it. Even though he is firmly under my control, I’m not even sure if he’ll accept.

‘I do, Master.’

Sighing in satisfaction and victory, I began to strip my clothes, showing my new servant all he has to look forward to. I ordered him to crawl over to the bed, taking the opportunity to watch his arse moving as he crawled.

Now is the part I’ve been waiting for, ever since I saw his big bum yesterday afternoon. After days of lusting after the young priest, I’m finally going to have him all to myself.

Although my dick was fully lubed with my slaves spit, and would be perfectly adequate to slide between those cheeks, I couldn’t resist tasting him. I ravenously began eating his arse. His hole tasted divine, I could have spent the whole night licking it, getting more and more addicted to the taste. But I had to stop myself, so I could enjoy the feeling of his hole wrapped around my dick.

If I thought the taste of his hole was divine, it was nothing in comparison to the feeling around my dick. It was a tad too tight, but that problem will soon be dealt with. As soon as I could fit my entire dick up there, I went into a horny craze. Soon, all that went through the both of our minds was fucking. I didn’t care if anyone could see or hear, I just needed to fuck this boy’s brains out.

This went on for what felt like hours, until finally, I came. My cum felt so nice and warm in his arsehole, and I could tell he enjoyed the sensation, and would soon be wanting more, which I’ll gladly give. I knew right then and there that this power over men is far too addictive for me to give up, and I made a resolution to myself that before the month was through, all the men in this village, both single and married, would feel the pleasure of my cock in their arse.

#rodgers and hypnostein #gypsys tramps and thieves

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myonmukyuu · 5 years

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SIFAS mini guide: countering stamina drain for songs that aren’t easy-mode

or how not to die in early game SIFAS

Edited 2/28/20. After playing tons in JP I’ve ascended.

Hello friends, I’ve noticed than a lot of people have been having issues with SIFAS - namely y’all keep getting hardstuck early because you keep running out of stamina during tougher live shows. Believe it or not, you’re NOT forced to grinding out easy mode for macarons until you’re tough enough! With the power of team building and a galaxy brain, you too, can take down intermediate songs with weak baby teams!

I’m no expert, (after all I can’t read Japanese) but I’ve taken the time to write up a quick run-down on what you need to know to not die. If there’s misinformation, let me know bc I’m still learning too!

This guide covers:

Benefits of being Alive

How Stamina works

Live Show Appeals (this is why people keep failing btw)

Dealing with Appeals and not getting DESTROYED

Blade Subunit Switching

I’m going to assume that you guys know how to team build and set subunits. (If you don’t I’m happy to explain but this post is MEGA long).

Benefits of Being Alive

Before I get into the nitty gritty of things, I want to point out why you should try for this kind of approach for liveshows. When your team is weak and you’re challenging songs that are tougher than recommended, any mistake could cost you the liveshow. Personally I find this makes the game more thrilling but if you don’t there’s also another good reason!

Basically, the drops (macarons and stuff) from S-ranking an Easy song is complete garbage. However, surviving an Intermediate song with even a C or B-rank is A LOT better. It really helps you farm drops a lot faster, allowing you to unlock that new costume even faster! Also the beat maps aren’t boring.

Of course this approach doesn’t let you automatically challenge every difficulty at the very beginning, but it does help you push your team’s ceiling!

How Stamina Works

In a live show there is a passive stamina drain. It doesn’t matter if you completely nail the song as each note will deal some stamina damage by default. If it doesn’t make sense, think of it as the Idols becoming worn out over the course of the song.

So if they perform while their stamina is in shambles this happens:

To mitigate the constant drain of stamina you need to start applying strategy, and you have a number of options:

Level up your idols’ stamina stat to increase your team’s maximum (definitely helps but won’t cure your tendency to get obliterated)

Use Gd (Guard) type Idols for the passive stamina reduction (viable!!!)

Use Idols with defensive skills: Heal; Damage reduction; Shield. (also viable!!) Edit: Heal, and Shield are the most valuable of the three

On top of this, your Voltage output is drastically cut when your stamina becomes orange (smol debuff) or red (you die irl).

So basically focus on using defensive Idols to increase your survivability?

Nope! That’s not all there is to it. Even if you stick to a subunit entirely made of healers, you likely won’t make it through a tougher song. Why? well I’m glad you asked!

Live Show Appeals

During a live show, you’ll given multiple chances to do Appeals. If you’ve been playing blind, and are also illiterate in Japanese you might’ve not noticed Appeals at all. Basically, they’re like time sensitive challenges that reward or punish you for failing.

If you succeed an Appeal? Bonus score! Bonus notes that don’t drain stamina!

If you fail? You take a massive hit to stamina.This is the live show killer that most new players are intimidated by. On a more difficult song, failing to succeed an Appeal can easily chunk a third of your stamina (or more!!), usually immediately failing the show if your stamina is low. You could try healing this damage off, but more often or not your defensive subunit won’t be able to break even. So to avoid failing? Just succeed the appeals!

While playing through a song you might find some weird notes that glow purple. They’re denoted with a START and an END. This is an Appeal and the Start-end indicate the time frame that you must complete the Appeal’s challenge in.

Also at the topmost bar on the live show screen, you’ll notice streaks of pink among blue. This bar represents the song’s progression. The pink represents the parts of the song that an appeal will be active in, and for how long.

The objective for an individual appeal can be a range of things including:

- Getting X amount of Voltage

- Getting X amount of Voltage using your Special

- Getting X amount of Y notes (hitting Great or above for example)

- Hitting notes with X different members (basically alternate between subunits to achieve this.)

The best thing about it is that Appeals are always the same for a particular song (though story songs might differ). Here’s Kach's resource of all songs and their translated Appeals for reference. You can also check a song’s Appeals by clicking song info and scrolling to the bottom.

Appeals in Psychic Fire as found in the song info.

Dealing with Appeals

The first thing you’ll probably notice about Appeals is that they’re very time sensitive, and sometimes your subunit is too weak to complete the challenge in time (so you get eliminated).

The easiest way to deal with most Appeals is to whip out your Special skill. Consider saving your SP if you notice that an Appeal is about to begin. Not only do some Appeals require your SP skill to succeed, but the raw Voltage gain will more often or not be the make or break for higher Voltage requirements. Also, the earlier you complete the Appeal, the better as remaining notes become bonus notes which do not drain stamina (yay).

Some Appeals have SP-boosting notes that help you recharge faster - it’s good to remember if these are available to take advantage of.

Again, make sure you’re prepared for the upcoming Appeals or you may receive nasty surprises!

Sub-unit Switching

Cool, so now we know that in order to avoid our dooms we must succeed the Appeals of a song. But is doing that so simple?

You might find that completely using a Voltage-based sub-unit (or one that isn’t specialised at all) to clear Appeals will result in your complete and utter destruction because the passive stamina drain combined with the orange/red stamina bar debuffs will render your team so weak that they will fail all upcoming Appeals (which effectively erases your existence from the universe).

So we gotta Sub-unit switch smart!

The easiest thing to do is to set up a sub-unit that focuses on Guard or other defensive skills outlined earlier and swap them with your Voltage/Skill/Special-oriented sub-units when it’s time for Appeals. Typically a Guard-oriented idol doesn’t have high voltage output and it’s very difficult to recover from Appeal stamina drain even with a team of healers.

EDIT: The way you organise your subunits really do depend on the song. Sometimes you’ll need SP focused ones, or even Sk focused. Gd is always good to have just in case something goes wrong. However I wouldn’t say to only bust out your Vo during Appeal times. Experiment with how long you can use Vo until you need to switch and utilise it to the best that you can! If you have UR Initial Ruby, it’s very likely stamina won’t be a problem for you until later in the game.

Things to Keep in mind:

It’s up to you to find the perfect balance between high Stamina and high Voltage. Sometimes you survive very well, but your safe-playing nets you a pathetic score. On the flip side, sometimes your Voltage greed results into you dipping in Red stamina. Sure you don’t die, but your Voltage output gets nerfed greatly.

Guard Idols passively increase Damage reduction, but at the cost of decreasing Special recharge-rate which can be pretty bad if you’re relying on your SP skill to win you the appeal. So swap mindfully.

Personally I find Damage reduction and Shield more useful than Healers as Healers can’t usually outheal the stamina drain I receive this early in the game.

EDIT: myon u dumb b, damage reduction isn’t very useful!!! just because you watanabe let you down with the heals that one time...Healing is useful and Shield is the best! (especially when Ruby is involved)

Wow this ended up a ton longer than I expected. Hit me up if anyone has any questions or if I said something completely wrong!!

#love live #love live all stars #sifas #myon falls into idol hell part 2 #i cant believe this ended up so long #ive had to explain this a couple of times so i decided to write it out !#feel free to make any corrections #as you can tell im having a FIELD DAY with all stars LOL

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fantroll-purgatory · 5 years

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Tethered AU (Us spoilers)

Saw Us, loved it, had this idea kicking around in my head for two trolls and wanted to get it out with my precious half hour of free time.

I FINALLY saw Us, after about a million years of wanting to, and I’ve gotta say that I’m surprised that we haven’t gotten any Cherubs for this concept yet. I hope we get some. But anyways this is a FANTASTIC troll. I honestly probably won’t have much to say besides praise throughout this review, because like… yeah.

AU Details:

Deliberately kept sketchy since the movie didn’t elaborate much either.

The Tethered live in sea-accessible caves on a conquered planet of the Condesce’s. The result of a seadweller experiment that involved deliberately splitting an egg and taking one of the resulting trolls belowground and injecting them liberally with burgundy blood in the hopes of forging a psychic link through which their aboveground counterpart could be controlled. Unfortunately, since this experiment was largely carried out with upper class bluebloods, their Tethered were psychically susceptible to the link and instead found themselves helplessly puppeted around. Disheartened, the seadwellers abandoned their monstrous experiment, that they might at least serve as adequate food to the feral lusii that lived in the abandoned breeding caverns.

Troll 1: RADIMA AVISCH

Jordan Peele was clearly trying to go for a “Red Queen” thing with the two women’s names, so I created Radima’s first name from Romanch for “queen.” Her second name comes from “giavisch,” the Romanch word for “desire,” which is one of the meanings of Adelaide’s married name, Wilson.

Queen of Desire is a great name for this character and a character inspired by Adelaide in general. One of my favorite parts of the movie was definitely the dual sympathy and criticism of Adelaide and this hits that note well.

Age: 18 Sweeps

Strife Specibus: pokerkind

Also kicks like Joey’s in Hiveswap.

Fetch Modus: PAS DE DEUX

Items must be put in two at a time and can only be retrieved as such. Sometimes items will “trade partners” and eject with a different one than it started with (the reasoning for new pairings is unknown).

Blood color: Mutated teal

Has burgundyblood psychic susceptibility, theoretically.

Symbol and meaning:

Teal bunny based vaguely off Limini, Bergun’s original sign.

Something like this maybe?

LIMINI - THE ABIDER

To abide, of course, meaning to acquiesce your will… Very fitting. Trolltag: therandomMinornote [TM]

In the trailer, Adelaide’s snapping is a little off in rhythm, which is odd since she’s a ballerina. Radima, similarly, does not fit in, and it shows in the fact that her trolltag’s cadene doesn’t match the traditional two-word format. It’s from a lyric of Janelle Monae’s “I Like That,” which appears on the Us soundtrack and is itself a nod to duality and varying from the norm. Furthermore, the abbreviation [TM] is once again her trying to mark herself as sufficiently “real.”

Quirk: Sorry, I’m not one for small talk.

Only odd in that she has no quirk at all. It unsettles other trolls.

Special Abilities (if any):

Passive psychic link to Bergun in which Bergun is propelled around is Radima’s emotions are sufficiently elevated. Potentially an example of a “success” from the previously mentioned experiment.

Lusus: A massive wolpertinger.

Radima seemed distant from it every since an incident in which she wandered off at about 3 sweeps old, and flinched whenever she saw it. Seemed palpably relieved when it was killed by another, bigger lusus.

Personality:

Warm and loving to those she trusts, friendly but reserved to those she doesn’t. Radima seems to lack the zeal for widespread social change characteristic of her fellow tealbloods. She prefers to keep to herself and moderate a local library, where she can help others learn of the world she calls home.

Interests:

Ballet, books, music, gardening. Has a very strong aversion to water and the beach.

Title: Thief of Life

Pretty self-explanatory; she knocked out and replaced Bergun when they were 3 sweeps old. While she keeps to herself, she is relentlessly driven.

I am almost tempted to make the obvious Heart-Mind suggestion considering the fact that those are more related to concepts of identity than Life and Doom, but Bergun/Red definitely are so community-motivated that they sidestep the internalized issues/struggle of Heart-Mind. Life is about essence and growth and she did steal Bergun’s developmental energy very literally, so it’s Fair And Fitting. that’s a lot of words to say I agree.

Land: Land of Smoke and Mirrors (LOSAM)

The land is full of references to magic, from puzzle-like mirrors to adorable fluffy bunnies. The fumes threaten to choke her if she doesn’t figure out how to restore life to the planet to sap it of its excess carbon dioxide.

Dream Planet: Prospit

Radima could not think of a way to live a happy life without hurting another, and the resulting fear is directly because she cannot believe it was a destiny she was allowed to thwart. She knows that Bergun MUST come for her.

Appearance:

Radima uses black and teal in excessive amounts, as if to say “how do you do, fellow tealbloods???”

Troll 2: BERGUN ZWILIG

She named herself. A short version of Burgundy (the blood color she’s believed to have), AND one of the names of a former Swiss municipality (Bergun/Bravuogn), a double-named place. Last name derived from the German word for “twin,” which may seem on the nose but Adelaide’s maiden name is “Thomas,” which means the same thing in Aramaic.

She presumably named herself, which makes it seem even more likely that she would think to pick something obvious like Another Word For Twin.

Age: 18 sweeps

Strife Specibus: scissorkind

Fetch Modus: NUTCRACKER

She needs to crack the cards open, which puts captcha cards at a worrying premium. If she exerts too much force she may also damage the item inside in addition to the card itself. Bee – caarefuul –

Blood color: Teal

Presents as burgundy, same as the other Tethered.

Symbol and meaning:

Burgundy bunny based vaguely off Arsci, Radima’s original sign

Something like-

ARSCI - THE MEDIC

That’s a fun one.

Trolltag: distonicInsurgent [DI]

Both a reference to her dystonic voice and her dystopic circumstances. Insurgent is obvious but it also carries the root for rising up, which is great.

Quirk: Oonce – uupoon – aa – time –

Doubles audible vowels and breaks up her words with harsh breaths.

Special Abilities (if any):

Passive psychic link to Radima. Unclear if there’s any utility there.

Lusus: None but the feral, flayed rabbit lusii that roam the caverns.

The serve as effective guards, terrifying caretakers, and – if one can get the jump on one – a wholesome meal. They’re a reference to the Hare of Inuyaba, who used deception to cross what should have been an uncrossable barrier and was flayed alive when the deception was revealed. The actual myth resolves with the rabbit being healed after someone showed it kindness, but in this case it only serves to highlight the brutality of the underground.

Personality:

Bergun was born aboveground and continues to be a tealblood to her bones, inciting rebellion with harsh and terrifying speeches.

Interests:

Murder, ballet, sewing (making the jumpsuits for herself and the other insurgents is extremely grounding for her because it’s one of the few things she has that has nothing to do with Radima), sign language (a specific one crafted by the Tethered, unmappable to existing Alternian languages)

She also has a love for Rebellion. And maybe fantasy stories. One of the things Red clings onto is stories from her childhood, since she isn’t given the chance to read any more after she is taken, presumably. You could probably give her a love for that, too. Storytelling.

Title: Page of Doom

Once again, self explanatory. Bergun was dragged underground by Radima, and while she herself was subjected to doom, she allowed it to simmer for 15 sweeps before the resulting backlash erupted from underground. She is herself the inevitable force Radima fears so much.

Land: Land of Tethers and Tightropes (LOTAT)

In a cruel twist of fate, Bergun’s land is covered in ropes, which are stretched across cliffs high above the valleys below, the Land so covered in fog that she can’t see the bottom. This is the highest above ground she’ll ever be. But is the quickest way to reach the denizen by cutting the rope and seeing where the fall takes her?

Dream Planet: Derse

Which she herself is a destiny for Radima, Bergun’s own arc is about rejecting the rules put in place for how the Tethered ought to behave.

Appearance:

I was just thinking the burgundy jumpsuit, and the same sprite as Radima’s but for fatigued, but I am very open to suggestions!

I love all of this and as I said, I feel like I didn’t have many suggestions. This is just an all around great troll and a fantastic interpretation of the characters in Us. Thank you for sharing!

-CD

#rustblood #maroonblood #burgundyblood #mutantblood #tealblood #submission #shoutyourporpoise #cd review #review #radima avisch #radima #avisch #bergun zwilig #bergun #zwilig #tethered au

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vortexofdeduction · 7 years

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Dungeons, Dragons, and Neurodiversity

So it’s not surprising that D&D documentation says nothing in about mental illness. Of course, there’s nothing to stop you from giving your character a mental illness for roleplay reasons (whether that’s to experience mental illness or to show other people what your illness is like. Side note: I say mental illness here since most things I list fall into that category, but technically I mean any kind of neurodiversity). However, I’ve been thinking that it would be really interesting to add some game mechanics for various mental illnesses. Note: these are obviously not Adventurer’s League legal, but feel free to use them in your homebrew games (credit would be nice, especially if you share my rules somewhere else). I included several well-known mental illnesses that I thought would work well in D&D. When I could, I tried to strike a balance between positive and negative features so that nothing is too game-breaking. Feel free to tweak as needed, and please provide feedback if you have suggestions of what to change and/or what to add. Under the cut is a list of mental illnesses and their mechanics, as well as the mechanics of coping mechanisms.

Overall things to consider:

How did your character get their disorder? Some people are just born that way, others are affected by mental illness as the result of physical or psychological trauma. Trauma in the world of DnD could be like trauma in our world (abuse, survivor guilt, etc.), but there is also potential for DnD themed trauma (mind-controlled and forced to harm loved ones, trapped in a dungeon for an excruciatingly long time, etc).

How does the disorder affect their personality? For example, people with anxiety disorders may be more anxious and nervous in general, and people with autism may talk a lot about their special interests.

What are their coping mechanisms? Coping mechanisms can can help temporarily ease the negative effects of mental illness. Players and DMs must discuss what coping mechanisms are appropriate to the character but also keep the game balanced. A few examples of positive coping mechanisms:

Medicine: can be bought from most stores in between campaigns (or any time the character can go to a store). Each disorder has its own medicine that diminishes all effects of your illness (positive and negative-- sorry that’s how medicine works) for a certain amount of time (usually one day) until the next dose is needed. However, it’s quite expensive and working as a freelance adventurer probably means you don’t have insurance to cover it. Also, there may be side effects. To be extra realistic, include a withdrawal mechanism which means you just can’t go on and off medication whenever you feel like it.

Meditation: spend a few minutes calming yourself in order to diminish negative effects of your illness. This cannot be done during combat (kind of hard to meditate when you and your friends are being attacked)

Support from friends: have one or more of your party members make a persuasion or performance check as they attempt to cheer you up. On a natural 1, your symptoms temporarily worsen. On a successful check (DM determines DC), the negative effects of your illness are diminished.

Some coping mechanisms are negative and thus have unpleasant side effects in addition to diminishing the negative effects of your illness. For example:

Self harm: make an attack roll against yourself using a melee weapon and take the damage you roll.

How do they feel about their mental illness? Do they hate it, have they gotten used to it and just come to accept it, do they think it makes them stronger, etc.

Do they have comorbid disorders? The more mental illnesses you add to one character, the more complicated it gets to keep track, so you probably don’t want more than 3. But hey, that’s between you and the DM.

OCD

The character may have one or more types of OCD permanently, and/or they may temporarily gain a type of OCD after certain situations. Suggested situations that may cause a character to have OCD: head trauma (waking up after being unconscious or dead), psychological trauma (e.g., watching a friend die), taking psychic damage. However it happens, the character gets an OCD type from the following list. The character may choose to make a wisdom save to try to resist. The first time it is DC 20. The DC decreases by 5 with each successful save and increases by 5 with each refusal to try to resist. (Players can decide whether their character is more likely to resist or to give in and whether the character knows what will be the effect of trying to resist.) The character no longer has that OCD type after the save DC is 0. If the save DC raises to something practically impossible (e.g., 35), the character may permananently have OCD, or the player may need to work with the DM to determine what can reduce the DC (perhaps look at the Coping Mechanisms section)

OCD types

Second-guessing: for every ability check, the player must make two rolls and take the second roll. This doesn’t apply in cases where the player has advantage or disadvantage.

Cleanliness: each time the character takes damage, they must spend their next turn in combat (or the next 5 minutes out of combat) cleaning themselves. No action, movement, or bonus action may be taken. The character also has advantage on perception or investigation checks related to "dirty" things (dirt, slime, blood, etc.)

Scrupulosity: the character is obsessively concerned with morality. The character switches to lawful alignment (good/neutral/evil stays the same) and must act according to a strict set of moral/religious rules. Clerics, paladins, and any other characters bound to an oath or a deity may become so concerned with upsetting their god or breaking their oath that their abilities related to their god or their oath (e.g., a cleric’s spells) may be less effective

Need to tell: the character has disadvantage on any deception checks and has a chance of blurting out information that should be kept secret.

Repeating: the character is compelled to repeat certain actions (DM determines which actions this affects). For example, the character may cross a bridge, feel like once wasn’t enough, and go back to the other side and cross the bridge again. To determine how many times an action is repeated, roll a die (DM determines which dice type).

Lucky/Unlucky numbers: roll two d20 dice (reroll if the number is 1 or 20). The first number is the lucky number; any ability rolls of this number automatically succeed as long as success is not impossible (e.g., a lucky number would succeed a DC 30 check to unlock a door, but fail at an attempt to pick a lock that cannot be picked). The second number is the unlucky number; any ability rolls of this number automatically fail (treat the roll as a natural 1).

Hypochondria: the DM picks a disease. The character now believes they have this disease. The symptoms are psychosomatic, but they do exist. The disease is not contagious. The disease can be cured by several successful persuasion checks from other party member(s) (follow the same decreasing DC rules as stated earlier for OCD types, but don’t increase the DC at any point) or any spell or potion that can cure a disease.

Counting: every time the character sees something countable (treasure, creatures, etc.), they are compelled to count. This could be time consuming and inconvenient. However, the character is better (faster and more accurate) at counting than someone without this type of OCD.

Autism

Poor social skills: the character's charisma score can be no higher than 5 which means the modifier is -3. Note: this does mean those points can be used for other attributes. The character also has disadvantage on any checks involving reading people (e.g., an insight check to tell if someone is lying)

Special interests: the character gains the equivalent of the ranger features Favored Enemy, Natural Explorer, and Fighting Style. Basically, choose an enemy, a terrain, and a fighting style and you are especially good when dealing with these things. For rangers with autism, the DM and player should work together to figure out appropriate features, either different ranger features or different autism features.

ADHD

Attention deficit: to maintain any sustained action (concentration spells, rituals, etc), the player must make a DC 10 wisdom save each turn of combat (or every few minutes out of combat) or lose focus. For players who can cast concentration spells, this replaces the DC 10 constitution save for concentration checks.

Hyperfocus: 3 times per long rest, the player may choose to take take two actions instead of one during a round of combat. After a short rest, one charge of this ability is regained.

Fidgeting: all that fidgeting around has gained the character a permanent +2 increase to their dexterity score.

Phobia

Fear: the character is afraid of a certain type of enemy (e.g., goblins), object (e.g., traps), type of magic (e.g., necromancy), or fighting style (e.g., archery). Whenever possible, the character will avoid the feared enemy or object or anything/anybody using the feared magic school or fighting style. The character will have disadvantage interacting with (using, attacking, etc.) the subject of their fear.

Knowledge: the character has advantage on any ability checks related to the object of their fear. For example, if the character is trying to identify a creature’s tracks, the DM may make another roll in secret and take the higher roll because the tracks are of the feared enemy.

PTSD

Traumatic memories: the rules for PTSD are similar to Phobia, except that the fear comes from a specific traumatic memory rather than an irrational fear. Also, a character with PTSD may have up to 5 triggers (taken from the categories mentioned in the Phobia section).

Flashback: instead of having disadvantage on interacting with one of their triggers, each time the character interacts with one of their triggers, roll a d4. On a 1 or 2, the character has a flashback. In combat, this takes up their turn. Out of combat, this simply means the action is not performed. Flashbacks cause characters to lose concentration.

Hypervigilance: while conscious, the character cannot be surprised.

Bipolar disorder

Mania: at certain times (DM’s choice, player’s choice, random dice rolls, or predetermined triggers decide when and how long mania occurs. DM decides which of these methods to go by.), the character goes into a manic state. During this state, the character may complete every action twice as fast. This applies to actions in combat, any out of combat actions that take a significant amount of time (e.g., ritual casting), and sleep (better than a trance; no “quiet time” needed, they can get right back to work). The character also has an elevated mood, meaning they have advantage on any saves against psychic damage and/or being charmed. They also have advantage on any saves against attempts to be demoralized (e.g., if an enemy tries to intimidate them). However, they are more reckless and thus have disadvantage on any ability checks involving dexterity or relating to impulse restraint.

Depression: immediately after the mania ends, the character enters a depressive state for the same length of time as the mania was. The low mood means they have disadvantage on any saves against psychic damage and/or being charmed. They also have disadvantage on any saves against attempts to be demoralized (e.g., if an enemy tries to intimidate them). For every turn in combat, first roll a d4. On a 1, the character focuses on past regrets and thus misses their whole turn. Before making an ability check, the character or another party member must motivate the character by making a wisdom save or a persuasion check, respectively. On a failed save/check, the character’s self confidence is too low to carry out the action. The character also needs twice as long to sleep.

Dissociative Identity Disorder

Alters: create several different (but significantly different) character sheets, one for each alter (note: it is helpful to pick 4, 6, or 8 alter. More than that is a lot. If you choose a different number, you may need to make a table in which some alters are represented by more than one number). At time intervals as determined by the DM, roll a die to see which alter surfaces. (Optional rule: instead of choosing at random, have the player and DM discuss ahead of time which alter should surface when.) Use that alter’s character sheet. Apply the xp and loot gained from each session to all alter.

Schizophrenia

Hallucinations: at certain times (DM’s choice, player’s choice, random dice rolls, or predetermined triggers), the character experiences a hallucination. The DM rolls on a random encounter table (can be a regular random encounter table, or a table full of encounters that that specific character is likely to hallucinate). The character believes the hallucination is real and acts accordingly until either the hallucination finishes (after a predetermined amount of time) or the character succeeds on several wisdom checks to determine it is a hallucination (following a decreasing DC mechanism like with OCD).

Delusions: the character is living under one or more false beliefs, or delusions. These delusions have a significant impact on the character’s way of life, despite the fact that they are not true. Any attempts to convince the character that they are delusional will fail. However, the character may sometimes be convinced to act in opposition to their delusions.

Disordered: the character’s thought and speech patterns are often disordered and may be confusing to other people. The character has disadvantage on ability checks relating to attempts to communicate with others (persuasion, intimidation, etc).

#dnd #dnd 5e #d&d #dungeons and dragons #neurodiversity #mental illness

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waytoomuchanalysis · 7 years

Text

Metal

Hey there! Below the cut is a fanfic based on this post > http://asksamstuff.tumblr.com/post/150391772469/sam-wait-come-back

This is a submission for a Sam-based contest by @asksamstuff . Hope anyone who reads this enjoys!

Word Count: 2044

Warnings: Torture scene with a lot of stabbing but it isn’t that descriptive because I’m bad at descriptions.

Sam, being no stranger to unexpected actions from Dean (especially when he had had a few too many beers), was only slightly startled when he looked up from his H. G. Wells book to find that a spoon was being held a few inches from his face.

“Bend it, psychic wonder,” Dean said. He sounded surprisingly articulate for having been at the bar for hours.

Sam closed his book and set it down on the white blanket of his hotel bed, then looked past the spoon at his brother.

“Dude. Did you take that from the bar?” he asked.

Dean continued to insistently hold it in front of him. He looked awkward, sitting on the edge of his bed and leaning out towards Sam to keep the spoon in his face.

“Doesn’t matter, just use your tele-whatever and bend it,” Dean replied.

“Telekinesis,” Sam corrected automatically. “Which I don’t have. You realize that was like, ten years ago, right?”

Dean scoffed and shook the spoon at him.

“I get it, we’re old. C’mon, just try.”

Sam couldn’t help but wonder what his brother was trying to do. Surely, he couldn’t want him to still have his powers. There were no positive connotations between those abilities and Dean. The only feelings there were confusion, betrayal, and fear.

Maybe Dean was trying to reassure himself, trying to confirm that some old worry from so long ago was stupid. That didn’t seem like him, though. He usually worked furiously to shove those kinds of things to the side for as long as he could and tell himself, and Sam, that nothing was wrong, that they would move on from it. Just like Sam was doing now, actually. Convincing himself that this was just a harmless rambling of his drunk brother. It wasn’t a demon or a hallucination trying to trick him into reawakening the abilities, which were long gone, anyway. They’d laugh about it, afterwards.

Bend the spoon. Yeah. Sure.

“If I try, will you take the spoon out of my face?” he asked, trying to sound good-natured about it. Dean shrugged and nodded.

Feeling like an idiot, Sam focused all of his attention on the spoon. Although he told himself he didn’t need--or want--to know, deep down, he did wonder. How could he not?

Moments went by, and the spoon stayed in its sturdy, curved formation. Sam leaned back and shrugged.

“Guess not,” he said, then stood up. “I gotta go get a lore book from the car.” He grabbed the keys to the Impala from where Dean had set them on the nightstand--a rare occasion--and walked out of the hotel room.

-----

The spoon incident was the last thing on Sam’s mind the next night. Something had been dropping people in Winter Park, with a pattern centered focused on patients that were discharged from a local hospital.

“Frickin’ Florida,” Dean had remarked. “Could just be some whack-job.”

Unfortunately for Sam, it had been a whack-job; a demonic one, who had tossed him through a screen door and tied him to a chair.

Like that was anything new.

Unfortunately again, Dean wasn’t around to help. The victims in the house that they had stormed after the demon targeted them were safe with Dean, who Sam made promise to get far away before he came back. Dean had protested, like he always did, but reluctantly took the two mothers and their son away to safety.

“Sam Winchester,” the demon drawled. Its vessel was a woman named Marie LaFond, who worked as a surgeon at the hospital, but hadn’t shown up for work in a few days. She was an average height, and had long black hair and soft, unassuming features. Bad memories there.

She walked around to the back of Sam’s chair and snatched the small knife he was using to saw at the rope that he was tied up with. He craned his neck to check his progress on the rope and sighed. He’d barely snapped one thread before she had taken it.

Marie held up the knife triumphantly.

“I know all about your tricks,” she told him. “You and your brother are quite the celebrities down below.”

“I’ve heard,” Sam muttered. In response, Marie sneered and, with a deft flick of her wrist, slashed him across the face with his own knife. Sam flinched and took in a sharp breath of sulfur-tinged air. For a brief moment, there was no pain, but as his nerves caught up with the shallow gash, it stung like a papercut from his cheek to his jawline. The blade had barely touched him at all, but of course, he kept his knives sharpened.

Marie admired the small amount of crimson blood that now decorated the weapon, then flicked a bead off onto the hardwood floor.

“Most demons can only dream of slicing up a Winchester,” Marie told him. “Lucky me.” She paused.

“Of course, with how soft Crowley’s gotten, most of us are itching to kill anyone, let alone a hunter. Lucky me, again.”

Sam watched Marie as she prowled around the room, still holding his knife. He yanked at his bonds. They didn’t give an inch.

Keep her talking.

“For being the King, Crowley sure doesn’t get much respect from his subjects,” he observed.

Sam eyed Marie as she gestured wildly. She blinked, and her blue eyes were replaced with the pitch black eyes of a demon.

“Crowley couldn’t rule over a litter of puppies!” Marie snarled. “He’s just lucky we’re waiting for--”

She took a breath and smiled sweetly. With another blink, her eyes went back to normal.

“Waiting for?...”

Marie bent down so that she was eye-level with Sam.

“Oh, wouldn’t you like to know. I’ve said too much already, Sammy. Wouldn’t want to spoil the surprise,” she crooned, then stood up and plunged the knife into his arm, right under his shoulder. The cold steel bit into his flesh without warning, and he yelled out in surprise and pain. The pain increased as Marie yanked the blade out. Sam swore and looked at his arm to assess the damage. Blood was leaking out, staining the sleeve of his shirt, but it didn’t look like she had hit anything important. She had picked a good spot to start stabbing him. He wouldn’t bleed out until she wanted him to.

Marie showed him the knife, which was now dripping with his blood.

“Much better,” she enthused.

Dean, any time now, Sam thought, right before the knife came down again. This time, it was his outer thigh. Marie pulled the blade slowly towards her, ripping his skin and muscles apart. Sam let his head fall back and screamed as the pain and the knife tore through him.

“I’m not gonna make this fast, so don’t get your hopes up,” Marie said. She pulled the knife out.

“I’ve been waiting too long to have some fun.”

-----

Dean’s knuckles were white as he gripped the Impala’s steering wheel. Jamie, Sarah, and Cole--Marie’s next victims--were safe at Sarah’s dad’s house in a different part of the city.

“This is why we don’t come to Florida,” Dean muttered, not caring that no one could hear him, or that the statement didn’t make any particular sense. The only things he was concerned with were getting back to Sam, and cursing himself for letting his brother talk him into leaving in the first place. He didn’t turn any music on. It was just him, the hum of the engine, and the dial tone as he tried to call Sam for what felt like the hundredth time. Cas hadn’t been answering, either.

“Come on, man, pick up.”

It went to voicemail again. Dean tossed his phone onto the passenger seat and put his hand in his jacket pocket, then flinched as he felt the object he had placed there earlier. He put his hand back on the wheel.

He was almost there. Sammy would be fine.

-----

Sam’s hair had fallen into his face, but he didn’t have the energy to toss it out of the way. After cutting him open in three more places--maybe four, but he had lost count--Marie had left him alone for a while. He didn’t know if she was contacting another demon, or scouting for new victims, but whatever she was doing, at least it gave him a reprieve from new injuries. His body felt like one big minefield of pain. He couldn’t tell which wounds were where anymore, or if any of them looked like they were serious. More serious than typical stab wounds.

That was almost funny.

Marie’s shoes clicked along the floor as she walked back into the room. Sam looked up at her. The manic pleasure that had been painted across her face when she left was gone. In its place was disinterest.

“Alright, you’ve been a fun pin cushion,” she said, “but I’ve really delayed for too long. Someone’s gonna kill me if they find out I didn’t just stick you through the heart or cut your throat as soon as I got you all trussed up. I’m gonna go with option two now, though.”

Sam grit his teeth and pulled at his bonds again, with no luck. Marie considered the bloodstained knife she had taken from him, then dropped it to the ground and pulled a large, wickedly curved dagger from an inside pocket of her jean jacket.

“Wait,” Sam said. “Don’t.”

“Sorry, Sam, but you should know better than to plead with a demon. Honestly, I’m a little disappointed,” Marie told him. “Unless you have some last minute information that I might want…”

Sam searched frantically for anything, any piece of information that she could use or bring back to Crowley, but he didn’t know anything. For the first time in quite a while, he was completely helpless.

“Mhm. Thought so.”

Sam’s heart pounded as Marie traced her dagger over his throat and used it to tilt his head up towards her.

“Look at me when I’m killing you,” she said.

The dagger dug into his throat. Sam could barely hear Marie over his own heartbeat, but he could barely make out her next words.

“I’ll go find your brother, next.”

-----

The door of the house slammed against the wall. Sam was deafened as something exploded from within him, and Marie was tossed backwards like a rag doll. Her knife flew from her hand and lodged itself in the wall adjacent to the one that interrupted Marie’s flight and crumpled her body to the floor. The ropes binding Sam to the chair shredded into pieces, and so did the chair.

After the disorientation of whatever had just happened, Sam found himself on his knees on the floor. Splinters of the chair dug into his hands. The first couple stab wounds, which had clotted earlier, were bleeding again.

But the door broke down before the explosion…

Dean was standing in the doorway of the house, taking in the damage that had just come from nowhere. His eyes trailed over Marie’s limp form, the knife in the wall, and the remains of the chair, then came to rest on Sam.

Without a word, he reached into the pocket of his jacket.

A pang of fear shot through Sam. Dean had seen what he had done and was going to kill him, here and now.

No. That was ridiculous. Dean had refused to kill him for doing more than tossing a demon across a room.

Dean held up a thin metal object so Sam could see it. It took him a moment to figure out what it was.

The spoon that Dean had insisted he try to bend earlier.

And it was bent.

Dean scanned over the room again. Marie was starting to move. Sam dreaded what his brother was going to say about what had just happened.

“Didn’t need my help, after all,” Dean finally said. “Hey, you’re bleeding pretty bad. Let’s get you patched up.”

As if it had been waiting with bated breath for Dean’s reaction, Sam’s body finally realized that he was losing blood, and he collapsed. He didn’t have far to fall, but he felt Dean catch him before he could hit the ground.

“I’m not upset,” Dean said. “About the powers.”

Thank God.

-----

#asksamcontest #supernatural #spn #sam winchester #dean winchester #first fanfiction lol wut #contest entry

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alovelyspark-blog · 7 years

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MARCELO JIMENEZ’S TAPES

IN CHRONOLOGICAL ORDER --- (found in the assignment & the consequence)

ENTRY #16

After months of secrets, subterfuge, and indoctrination, they brought me into their fold. This place is... elaborate to say the least. Despite the modernistic visage, the research they have been doing here seems to date back to over a century ago. This place has history and from what I can grasp, this facility is only one branch of many. Institutions, powerful families; their reach seems grand, and therefore the possibilities for me seem equally as rich. Clearly my own unique methods at Beacon have piqued their interest, and I am most grateful for the opportunity.

Most of what the researchers have been working on, however, seems archaic by today’s stands.

They told me budget is of no concern; results are the only thing that matter. Juggling duties here and at the hospital seems manageable, but Ruben... Comparatively insignificant, but even at his young age his studies are remarkable. Perhaps one day he will even assist me with my work here.

ENTRY #31

After surviving the fire incident and subsequent abuse from his parents, it’s a miracle Ruben can function at all.

His work comes from a place that isn’t motivated by fear or money or social standing... his motives are more... pure. I would say that he is obsessed with the chance to re-live and re-mold reality so he can be with her again.

His scarring is heavy, both physically and emotionally, but he longs for his lost sister.

His love for her borders almost on an incestuous level, but as long as it provides motivation, so be it.

ENTRY #120

His demeanor has turned far too aggressive and his techniques even more perverse. Da Vinci would dissect corpses to further his anatomical studies, but what Ruben has done goes beyond... Demanding his subjects be “aware” as he dissects them to truly see how the mind reacts. He’s more of a butcher than an artist.

But we must remain scientists above all. I had taught him from a young age that the end shall justify the mean, but I could not have predicted things to be this extreme.

Mobius has learned of his involvement, due to my carelessness. I’ve asked they bring him on board to assist in development. Perhaps offering him better facilities and support will refocus him and stave off his gruesome proclivities.

ENTRY #133

Ruben’s experimentation has demanded more and more subjects and, sad to say, they’re suffering as much as - if not more than - his previous patients. Fortunately, Beacon and this city offer no shortage of expendable subjects. I should feel guiltier than I do, but my Hippocratic Oath was abandoned long ago. The scientific and medical potential of the work is too great to be denied.

Mobius has also offered me a respectable amount of... compensation. Promoting me to director at Beacon is not something to be taken lightly. First, however, they want me to have a reputation, publishing studies in various journals. Repurposing some of Ruben’s research towards patient evaluation seems viable. I doubt he will even notice.

ENTRY #154

Despite our powerful benefactors, with this much collateral damage, it’s only a matter of time before people start to take notice.

KCPD has been dropping by. A female officer, I don’t remember her name... Regardless, the police are not something I should be involved with. Mobius says they will take cake of it and make an effort to ensure KCPD leave us alone.

Then there is the report from the Krimson Post, Ivan... something-or-other... He has become a personal annoyance. He barely qualifies as a tabloid journalist, writing cover stories about tales of church sacrifices and other nonsense, but now he’s being persistent about the missing patients claim. I’ll be damned if he is the man who bring Beacon down...

It seems that Ruben could be useful for other forms of problem solving. Perhaps I can interest this reporter in an “exclusive interview.”

ENTRY #188

They grow impatient with our progress and demand briefings on the development process. At first stressing the results, but now they work off of a timeline based on their needs - typical bureaucrats.

I’ve been pushing Ruben, but he’s retreated further, doing his research at home and refusing to come to the lab unless it’s directly working on our STEM prototype. I am feeling uneasy and no doubt Mobius is looking on us with question.

ENTRY #201

Ruben has no idea what he’s done. It’s not surprising that he doesn’t care, either. He was never motivated by fear of Mobius...

The STEM prototype works, but only when connected to Ruben. I’ve checked the details and he customized the whole system to only operate with his own brain-wave pattern. I left him alone with the device for far too long, trusted him too much and despite all my knowledge in the field it’s past the point of fixing. I can’t just flip a switch.

And that’s not the worst of it. They know, as well. I’m not going to take the blame for this. I will drag him here and make him fix it. I can’t imagine what they will do to him if he doesn’t...

ENTRY #209

I saw what they have done to him, and I am appalled. To think the young boy I mentored is now this... a mass of grey matter in a glorified test tube. Could they have been planning this all along?

And what have I become in all of this?

They’ve managed to keep his mind alive by simulating an artificial body. His consciousness is being confined to a mental straight jacket, a gear in their infernal machine. They have even stricken his name and humanity, referring to him by an anagram, “RUVIK.” A crude joke, as if spitting on his grave.

I almost felt the urge to smash the case and end it right there... but my anger was quickly replaced by scientific curiosity. Ruben’s legacy will live on; I will spearhead the next step. I will create something of my own out of this tragedy.

ENTRY #215

They’ve refocused the efforts of the other programs to support our research. STEM priority has seemingly overridden other departments’ individual research. Chemical and botanical studies are focused now on tempering, priming subjects for their inevitable connection.

Now that the prototype is up and running, experiments continue. Upon their return from STEM integration, patients are interviewed extensively. While their particular pathologies inform their experiences, there are commonalities. They all experience the same setting, the same occurrences. The “world” they inhabit becomes larger with every new visitor. This suggests that shard of each user’s consciousness are left behind inside the STEM, creating a community. It’s as if, internally, a new world is being built.

ENTRY #229

Patients emerging from the STEM are becoming more erratic. Their pathologies seem to be amplified by the experience now. Even worse, patients now seem to experience each other’s psychological trauma. It’s as if the user’s deepest fears linger within the encephalon of the system, even after the session is over.

The most concerning thing are their most recent statements. Every single patient claims to see a hooded figure slowly approaching them. Could it be him? His consciousness existing as a ghost in the system?

My curiosity has never been piqued like this. I want to know. I want to see what they see. But it’s too risky... for now.

ENTRY #231

I’m afraid that the fragile mental states of the subjects are limiting our studies. Mobius wants us to move past Beacon patients and on to more “stable” people. They want to get STEM closer to its intended use.

Would they see the world in the same way? Would a “sane” mind weather the psychically draining experience?

I had that dream again. I entered the STEM myself...

ENTRY #232

I revisited the Victoriano Estate yesterday; it’s a vestige, a mere husk of what was bound to be such a home of promise. Mobius reaped nearly everything of value when we took on the research ourselves, but Ruben’s notes indicate he was involved in something else.

There were plans for another STEM prototype... data about using receptors to transmit the brain function wirelessly to unaware users. It’s borderline parapsychology, but these schematics, and the scientific backup provided, seem sound...

What was he planning to do with such a thing?

There’s only one way to find out for certain, but I must continue these experiments in private, away from their prying eyes. I will not let them know... lest they take this from me as well.

ENTRY #239

Something else is even more harrowing... our subjects are... dying. They come out from STEM abruptly passing with looks of horror in their eyes. The one that do survive are catatonic; babbling incoherent masses that we can’t properly interview.

We’ve done nothing to the process to cause this change. It must be the ever-growing collective consciousness of the STEM system. These patients seem unable to take the strain of exposure. We need more “sane” subjects, perhaps to cleanse the system. At its current state, the system is unsustainable, something Mobius will not approve of. This time, only I am to blame for this.

Our new prototype in Beacon is almost ready. When it is, I will start its conversion to the wireless system. Even if the original STEM experiments go awry. I will show my worth to Mobius with its next generation.

ENTRY #246

Today was something truly surprising. He was one of the last groups of test subjects... Just another patient I expected to babble and maybe even die. Patient 105: Leslie Withers.

Ruben had singled him out as a useless subject... but he must have known. He knew I would read his notes. What else was Ruben lying to me about?

But this Leslie... he emerged cognant, calm, and able to report fully what he’d experienced inside. His unique pathology allowed him to successfully navigate his STEM experience with little repercussion.

They know nothing of his existence, but no doubt he is the key. If we all share the consciousness, then with him I too should be able to experience the STEM, potentially even suppress the more unsavory aspects of it.

With him I can be the master of the very technology I helped create. Mobius will see my worth and let me rise even higher in their ranks.

ENTRY #264

They’re coming for me. I don’t know how, but they know everything. They even know about Leslie. There’s no use hiding this anymore.

I’ll enter the system and my return will be proof that all of this was worth it. I can of course convince them that it wasn’t for me, it was for their goals!

There are just the final tweaks left. Once I finish, I will put Leslie in the STEM with myself and activate it. The wireless signal should ring out in the near distance. I can’t speak for those unfortunate to be around, but like I always said, the ends will justify the means.

Finally Mobius will see that I am one of their chosen ones. Ruben is but a ghost. I am their savior. Their plan is nothing without me.

#the evil within #CANON.#SAVE.

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theroseandcrown · 3 years

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The Rose & Crown: Chapter Fourteen (Part One)

Rating: M Chapters: 14/24

Summary: The Doctor explains the concept of a bootstrap paradox and sends the TARDIS to a very familiar place.

Read this story on another platform: Archive of Our Own Fan Fiction WattPad

“Has it always been this cold in here?” Clara asked as the Doctor led her through the threshold of the TARDIS.

He raised his brow at the question, concentrating all of his energy on delicately guiding her towards the seat as if she would shatter at any moment. “Ah, yes. I’ve been meaning to fix that,” he lied. He helped to situate her on the cushioned chair then headed through the door into her flat once again. “Make yourself at home, I’ll only be a minute!” he called from outside.

She took this momentary time to herself to scan the familiar room for anything that might have been out of sorts since the last time she was on board. So many memories, this place, she thought as she reminisced every encounter both within the ship and wherever it had taken her. It had become a part of her heart, the missing piece to the puzzle that was her existence. She couldn’t imagine what her life would’ve been like had the Doctor not shown up on the doorstep of the Maitland household that day. She wouldn’t even be alive if it weren’t for him. Her consciousness would have forever been lost inside the digital world for all of eternity without him there to pull her out of it. The woman she used to be was consumed by the never-ending desire to travel the world, filling the pages of her scrapbook with her extraordinary journey into self-discovery and exploration. He offered her the universe.

Upon her observations, she noticed the work table, normally reserved for engineering all of his oddly structured gadgets and inventions, had been repurposed as a drawing board for several dozen different sketches and mathematical calculations. Her curiosity got the better of her and she stood to gain a better look at his project. Sifting through the pages, she encountered numerous models of planets and solar systems charted throughout the galaxy. Each location had been given a precise numerical equation and symbol beside it. “What have you been doing in here?” she called to him.

After a few moments, he re-entered through the door holding a travel bag full of maternity clothes and the warmest throw blanket he could find. “I wasn’t sure what you would need,” he gestured to the articles in his hands. “I hope these will be sufficient.” He placed the bag on the floor and began unfolding the blanket.

“What is all this?” she asked, holding the drawings up to the light.

“Ah, I see you’ve discovered my battle plans,” he answered, gracefully placing the blanket over her shoulders.

“Have you been scheming to start a war I don’t know about?”

“We’re already at war, and I intend to stay one step ahead of it.” He moved to the table and spread the pages out in front of him. “According to the charts lining the walls of Quynn’s battle-room, these are the exact locations of her bases of operation.”

“Wait, hang on. Did you seriously memorize all of this from just one glance?”

“Of course I did. What else did you expect me to do while she tangentially rambled on about herself, make tea?”

“What are you planning to do?”

“In order to gain an advantage over her forces, I’ll need to disrupt the inner workings of her infrastructures. Even if it means I have to take them out one by one. The weaker her hold on the planets she controls, the easier it will be to bring her down.”

“And this is what you needed my help with? To go into battle with you? Have you seen me lately?” she gestured to her appearance.

“No, no. Your job is much more important. And far less dangerous,” he assured her.

“What did you have in mind?” she asked. He reached into his pocket pulling out a pair of small audio devices and held them in front of him. “Let me see if I’ve got this right,” she began, hesitantly taking one from his open hand. “You want me to stay here on the TARDIS while you charge straight onto the battlefield, alone?”

“Precisely, I need you to be my eyes and ears. We have no idea what could be out there, what dangers we may face. This is the best alternative we have for keeping you safe.”

“And what about you? What if you end up getting yourself killed out there?”

“The TARDIS safety features will be activated in the event of my death. She will take you back home and dematerialize, hiding herself away so that she doesn’t fall into the wrong hands.”

Clara sighed and brought her fingers to her temples in mild frustration. It certainly wasn’t the first time she considered his reckless plans to be positively suicidal, and it wouldn’t be the last either. “And what about the TARDIS, isn’t she still being tracked? Won’t they know we are coming?”

“Ah, I’ve thought about that.” Heading to the console, he pressed a few buttons on its interface then grabbed a handle-like apparatus and pulled it towards him. The time machine suddenly began to shift its power as the emergency lighting activated and flashed all around them.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m switching off the safeguards, turning off the navigation computer.”

“Right, okay. And why are we doing that exactly?”

“If I had to guess, I would say Quynn has been tracking our movements via a tracer attached to the nav-com. It must be broadcasting our time vortex signature directly to her and she’s been using it to follow us through the wake we leave behind. I’m simply interrupting the broadcast. The TARDIS is equipped with certain safety measures to ensure that flight is still possible in the event the navigation computer became damaged. Remember, we’ve done this before. We plugged you into the TARDIS telepathic interface.”

“You mean the squishy thing?”

“Clara. This is the most advanced ship in the entire universe, equipped with more scientific technology than any other race in the galaxy will ever possess. She’s a living breathing machine able to psychically translate millions of languages directly into your mind. The sheer complexity of her very existence and capabilities would take me an entire lifetime just to explain to you.” He removed a panel from the console revealing the gel-like material that formed its telepathic interface. “And yes, the squishy thing.”

“Doctor,” she started as she watched him head to the table and proceed to look over his plans. “Exactly how do you intend to take out her forces? We’ve seen their defences, their weapons. We know how powerful they are. Let’s just talk this out a bit. Do you honestly think you’ll defeat them all by running straight into battle armed with only a screwdriver?”

“Every army has its weakness, the key is simply finding it before they discover yours.”

She sighed concededly and began to accept that his mind had already been made. “Are you sure about this? What if Quynn is there waiting for us? What if this plan of yours doesn’t work? What then, Doctor?”

He sighed and turned around to face his companion. The emotions he protected inside himself had begun to bleed out. The more he tried to bandage them, the larger the wound had become. The greatest truth he had always been haunted by was the fear of failure both in himself and anyone who had ever counted on him. The fear of failing his title when challenged by the never-ending threats that seemed to find him at every turn. And yet, there wasn’t a single thing that could compare to the fear of losing the one person he loved most of all. The fear of not being able to protect her from the dangers of the universe, nor even himself. As she looked upon him with considerable apprehension in her gaze, he couldn’t help but feel defenceless against each passing moment as if it would be her last. Attempting to raise her spirits with calming conversation seemed even more irrelevant the closer they came to fighting back against the unknown dangers they now faced.

“I wish I could tell you there is nothing to worry about, that I could guarantee our success. For all I know, this could very well be the single most devastating risk I’ve ever had to take. As hard as it has been for me to admit, you were right. Whatever your fate may be cannot be avoided nor can it be predicted. But that doesn’t mean we have to sit here and allow it to happen without a fight.” He approached her slowly, suddenly breaking free of the petrified state that kept him bolted him to the floor. His words became more intense as he drew closer to her. “I will not allow the mistakes I’ve made define who I am or what I am capable of. There are people out there suffering and it is all because of me. The universe is being torn apart. History as we know it is being rewritten. It all comes down to one small moment, one fixed point in time occurring over and over again. Every action that has been taken, every word that has been said, even this very conversation. It has all happened before. A continuous loop. An infinite amount of scenarios all leading to the same outcome.”

She suddenly felt so small in front of him as he towered over her, trapping her between himself and the console. “I don’t understand,” she started, almost too afraid to speak. “What do you mean this has happened before?” She could sense the tension rising between them at their closeness to each other. She felt both cornered and protected all at the same time, a strange combination of uncertainty.

A grin formed on the Doctor’s face at the question. It had been far too long since he was last able to explain the laws of time and the universe to anyone. He removed himself from her personal space and quickly headed to the upper platform. The thoughts in his mind were bursting their way out in all directions. “Every causal loop is caused by an unchanging self-originating constant, some thing that must exist simply because it has to. Time travel can be a very tricky, very dangerous thing if you don’t know what you’re doing.” She watched as he hurried along the railing and stopped at the familiar stone bust of a man which sat on a small table near one of the bookshelves. “Take, for instance, Ludwig van Beethoven here,” he employed her, delicately placing his arm around the shoulder of the bust as if they were long-time friends.

“The composer?” she asked with mild confusion.

“No, the astronaut. Of course the composer! Now, let us also imagine there is a man who has a time machine.”

“I’ll give it a go.”

“Up and down history he goes getting into scrapes. Another thing he has is a passion for the works of Beethoven. And one day he thinks to himself, ‘What’s the point of having a time machine if you don’t get to meet your heroes?’ So off he goes to eighteenth-century Germany before the very thought of a musical masterpiece was even a figment inside the composer’s mind. But when he gets there, he discovers Ludwig has fallen upon dark times and refuses to ever compose another piece again. This didn’t happen, by the way. I’ve met Beethoven. Nice chap, very intense, loved an arm-wrestle. No, this is called the Bootstrap Paradox. Google it. The time traveller panics, he can’t bear the thought of a world without the music of Beethoven. Luckily, he’d brought all of his sheet music for Ludwig to sign. So he copies out all the concertos and the symphonies then promises to give the composer back his inspiration if he passes off the music as his own. Ludwig accepts and history continues with barely a feather ruffled. Until one day those copies reach the time traveller’s future self which prompts him to travel back in time to meet his hero. A never-ending loop. But my question is this, who originally put those notes and phrases together? Who really composed Beethoven’s Fifth?”

“You’re doing that thing with your face again,” she informed him through her puzzled expression.

“What ‘thing’?”

“That look you give when you’re trying to explain something that makes my head go fuzzy.”

“It’s called a smile, Clara. It’s what people do. Or so I’ve heard.”

“Right, wouldn’t want anyone to see passed your clever disguise. Anyway, what exactly does Beethoven have anything to do with us?”

“Nothing, and everything!” he exclaimed, heading down the stairs towards her. “All this time I’ve been blaming myself for picking up the phone, for believing myself to be solely responsible for what has happened. But I’ve realized my focus has been concentrated in the wrong place. In the end, it doesn’t matter who wrote the music. Only that it exists.” He felt himself being pulled towards her as he approached. The force that bound them together was unmistakable. The connection shared between them could never be simplified to emotion alone. They were two parts of the same mixture. No matter what they had experienced in the past, there was an unbreakable trust keeping them bound together. A trust he could see in her eyes even then as he stood as close to her as physics would allow it. “Whatever has happened to us may never have a true beginning nor an end. The only certain thing is the existence of the constant that binds us together. A constant which now rests between us, quite literally.” He smiled and peered down the length of his companion to where her body met his own.

“So you’re saying all of this is her fault? That she has trapped us in this loop, or whatever it is, forever?” she asked, placing a hand on her middle.

He snickered and rested his hand atop her own. “Not even born yet and already a trouble maker,” he teased, maintaining the grin on his face.

“She must take after you then,” she replied with a smirk.

“If we ever make it out of this alive, I’d expect we’re going to have our hands full.” He made his way towards the console’s telepathic interface.

Clara felt her smile begin to fade at his words regardless of how harmless his intentions were. There was more truth to that statement than she even realized. A great cloud of doubt arose over his hubris in their success of this potentially suicidal mission. What if he was right? What if none of what they were trying to accomplish would even matter in the end? There was no way of knowing if this plan of his had already been tried and failed a hundred times before. No way to know if they would be altering their daughter’s future or simply allowing it to happen. What if there was no way out?

The Doctor rubbed his hands together in preparation for their departure to the first location on his list, then hovered them over the interface as he looked to her for support. “Are you ready?” he asked nervously. The reluctance in her nod was as transparent as the room they stood in. He couldn’t help reminiscing over the liveliness she once displayed towards him whenever they found themselves embarking on a new adventure. It was as if the fire inside of her had been left to die out. He took a deep breath and slowly lowered his hands towards the gel-like interface.

“Doctor, wait,” she spoke, freezing him in place as she placed her hand upon his forearm. “We’ll do it together.”

He braved a smile her way, then closed his eyes and dipped his fingertips into the cool substance below. He concentrated all of his thoughts towards their destination, allowing his mind to focus on a singular image. His senses began to paint a picture of the tangible dampness of the controls, the feel of its material on his bare skin, the grip of her fingers around his arm, the rhythm of her heart beating through the palm of her hand. He tried to ignore the distractions surrounding him and his concern for his companion’s wilted form. To land safely at the correct location, his mind must first be completely relieved of any attachments he held inside of his aching hearts. The gel forming around his fingers connected to every fibre of his skin as if they were the same being. He thought about where they needed to go, what they needed to accomplish, and above all, the importance of being successful in their mission. As he focused on the image of the planet in his mind, sending it through the interface like coordinates on a map, his thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the strong vision of his fetal daughter calling to him through her mother’s touch. His mind was redirected towards the love he shared for her and his determination to save her so that one day he would be able to hold her in his arms.

His eyes flew open at the sound of the time rotor starting up. The mechanisms inside the centre chamber began to ascended and descended back into itself. A look of concern passed over his face at his lack of concentration during the interlinking process. There was no way of knowing if the destination had been correctly received by the interface. The only certain thing was that the TARDIS began to materialize into action as her signature time-travelling clattered chorus sounded all around them. He hastily shifted his focus toward his friend. The look of surprise confined in his expression at their departure was matched only by her uneasiness of what they were about to encounter once they had landed. “I’m suddenly having my doubts about this,” he admitted.

“Well, the TARDIS seems to think she knows where she’s going,” she countered, trying to remain positive.

“One can only hope.”

#12th doctor #doctor who #doctor who fanfiction #twelfth doctor #the doctor #dr who #dr who fan fiction #dr who fanfiction #twelve/clara #clara oswald #whouffaldi

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mortivern · 6 years

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Vera wanted it to just be the two of us walking back to the shrine, but it didn’t feel right to leave without her if she was going to be playing one of the flutes (another thing Lillie and Kio have in common!). Around sunrise we hitched a ride on the Charizard to Vast Poni Canyon, but it’s such a treacherous path that we had to do the rest on foot. We didn’t make it to the base of the altar until sometime around 3 PM. The sun was still high in the sky. Lillie said that we should wait until the moon had risen to go up to the altar and play the flutes. Vera said that was perfect, because I needed practice. She’s actually a pretty good teacher. More patient than I thought she’d be when laying out the basics. But once she’d laid the groundwork for what she thought I should know, she was demanding and insistent, stopping me mid-song to correct the way I held my hands, my posture, flat notes.

Probably for the best, in any case, that I didn’t play my flute like a complete idiot in front of a legendary Pokemon. Vera and I were sitting on the very topmost steps of the Altar of the Moone looking out over Vast Poni Canyon. I could make out the shapes of the house boats in Seafolk Village, and to the east the snowy shroud of Mount Lanakila. The ocean was all kinds of shades of purple and red and gold, and there was a stiff, cool breeze coming off the waves, and the air smelled like fruit and earth. And in that moment I almost teared up a little! Alola was so beautiful, and in this short amount of time it has really felt like another home to me. The least I could do was try to stand up against something that sought to take its light away.

When night fell I stepped up to the right side of the altar; Lillie climbed over to her pillar on the left. Vera watched from the top of the stairs, her arms folded tight. She had told me not long before she was skeptical that an amateur like me could summon a legendary Pokemon with some crusty old flute, but she still looked worried. Part of her must think it’s true. Lillie and I looked to each other, nodded, and started playing the song we rehearsed. She’s actually super good, and didn’t waver at all while she was playing, unlike me. I was worried I was going to fuck it all up because I’m not some kind of professional. When we finished our performance, the stone pillar began to crumble. A beam of prismatic light shot out of the pillar and illuminated the pools of water on the altar. Lillie’s bag flew up of its own accord; Nebby rose higher and higher into the air until we could no longer make out its figure. A minute later the light shattered, leaving behind a gigantic bat that gleamed with the brightness of the moon. Lunala, I remembered from one of the books in Malie Library. I couldn’t believe it. My shitty flute playing actually summoned one of the deities of Alola. Holy fuck.

The air around us grew thick and still after that. Guzma and Lusamine appeared out of nowhere, landing in a crumpled heap on the stairs near Vera. Lusamine reached her hand out and screamed for us to run, that it was coming this way and we needed to get out of its way. A tremendous pressure filled the air as a hole tore in the sky and a giant black mass of pyramids climbed out of it. Its eyes were shimmering rainbow diamonds. Immediately Necrozma and Lunala charged at one another, streaking across the sky, tangled in combat. They crashed into the shrine, hard, just minutes later. Necrozma had its claws deep into Lunala’s body, and I worried Necrozma was going to kill it until I saw it began to meld its body with Lunala’s. I’ve never seen anything like it. What stood before me was a distinctly bat-like body, equipped with massive and terrible arms on its back, and Necrozma’s multicolored brain-eye thing on its head. It attacked me with no provocation.

Andre leapt forward without me even saying anything, placing himself in between this creature and me. I felt myself tear up a little then, too. I directed him to land a Malicious Moonsault, which seemed to do a chunk of damage. I remembered reading that Lunala was a Psychic and Ghost type, so I figured that Necrozma would have taken on at least one of those types…right? I had no idea what I was fighting. That monster knocked Andre to the edge of the altar and made a mess of most of my team, but we were able to beat it back until it fainted. I was hoping that it would split from Lunala at that point, but it stayed intact and began to sink into a wormhole that had opened up beneath it. When it disappeared, it left behind it a thick purple haze and it was pitch black out. Necrozma had gone, and it had taken the light of Alola and one of its legendary Pokemon with it.

The Ultra Recon Squad people were there, Phyco and Soliera. They were arguing with Lusamine, who had apparently requested their help again. Vera was standing off to the side with Lillie, looking dazed. I was walking over to Lusamine when Soliera called out about my Z-Ring. Said that Necrozma probably came here because I was someone who was able to “wield the power of the light.” When I asked if they meant my Z-Crystals, they said yes, and that someone as capable of handling myself as that should be able to ride their Lunala through Ultra Space to find the world that Necrozma retreated to. They didn’t seem to want to push me to do it, but they didn’t need to—I readily accepted. Vera shouted out “What?!” I told her that I had to, that I didn’t really have an option, that Alola deserved this much. She reminded me that Lusamine’s husband disappeared into a wormhole and was never seen again. I told her it didn’t matter, that this was more important than just me. She told me what a stupid and dangerous idea she thought this was, then stormed off to the other end of the shrine. I donned the same kind of ridiculous-looking outfit that Phyco and Soliera were outfitted in. They summoned their Solgaleo, a huge metal lion, which allowed me to ride on its shoulders. A wormhole parted the air in front of me. I looked down at the Ultra Recon Squad, at Lillie and Lusamine huddled awkwardly together, at Guzma giving me a stupid double thumbs up, and at Vera, who was still standing a ways away from the rest of the group with her back turned. She had a point. This was pretty reckless. But she still could have said goodbye before Solgaleo launched us into the wormhole.

We blasted at incredible speed through these bright tunnels of…light? Space? Time? I’m not really sure. The first time we ended up in one of the “wrong” wormholes was wild. I didn’t realize that there were just like, infinite universes out there? Deserts, beaches, mountains…Lunala dropped us off in a few of them before it built up enough strength and momentum to carry us through to a place called Ultra Megalopolis. Two additional Ultra Recon folks met us there and let us know that Necrozma was brooding on top of the tallest building in the city, and that everyone else in town was hiding in fear. They said something about Necrozma not being whole? That it lost a part of itself sometime in the past, and now lived in constant pain as a result of it? Something about their ancestors having gotten too greedy about the light that Necrozma gave them. I wasn’t sure, but if Necrozma had a piece of itself missing, it would make sense that it would go off in the world searching for itself…destroying things behind it if need be.

I ascended the Megalo Tower, where I saw the Lunala-Necrozma fusion staggering around the tower. All of a sudden its head split open and some sort of crystal came out of its body. I threw my arms up just in time to block my eyes from the intensely bright blast of white light that followed as Necrozma took on an entirely new form in front of me, that of a shimmering dragon with multiple sets of bat-like wings. An aura like the one that surrounded the totems flared around it as it waited for me to approach it in battle. Tesla was up first, hanging on tight with her Focus Sash and returning with a Thunder Wave to help level the playing field a bit more. Next was Andre, who threw a Darkest Lariat at it before it knocked him out. After that were Rosemary and Maxine, who each got in a hit before also falling. I was worried that Necrozma would decimate my team before we could even get it down to half health, but Aria really showed up for us. Using her Foul Play move in conjunction with her Quick Claw, she leveraged Necrozma’s massive attack stat against itself and brought the beast to its knees. It almost seemed to melt off of Lunala, and disappeared into the black void that surrounded Ultra Megalopolis. Lunala began pouring out light, sending it soaring through the wormholes. I hopped on its back and we soared back through space and time to Alola.

Lunala—Nebby?—dropped me off at the Altar of the Moone, then took off in the direction of the rising sun. Vera came bounding over, almost tripping on herself before she pulled me into the tightest hug she’s ever given me. She looked like she hadn’t slept at all. She managed to get out “I wasn’t sure if you were going to make it back. I’m sorry,” before letting me go. Phyco and Soliera said they would stick around Alola, maybe hit up the island challenge themselves, but mostly they wanted to soak up those famous Alola rays as well as explore Z-Moves. Lillie and Lusamine said that they would take Solgaleo back to the Aether Paradise to help nurse it back to health. I was apprehensive as soon as Lusamine said that, but with both Lillie and Gladion there, she shouldn’t be able to do anything like she had before. She reached out her long, elegant fingers and dropped a handful of Beast Balls into our hands. They were specifically developed to help catch the Ultra Beasts, she said. You know, the ones that she set loose in the world by forcing open wormholes that she had no idea what to do with. But moot point. She and Lillie headed out. That left Vera and I at the altar. She kissed my cheek and said I was very stupid but very brave. We started out way down the stairs and back to Vast Poni Canyon to the point where we could pick up Charizard rides again, then flew back to Hapu’s gran’s house. She insisted on feeding us heaps of food and went quickly to work setting up the guest bedroom for us. Vera told Hapu’s gran she’d stay up for a cup of coffee and talk with her a while before hitting the sheets.

I was grateful for the distraction, since I could see gran’s eyes shining with questions. I crawled back to the bedroom and fell immediately asleep. Immediately. People could wait for my stories until I woke up and was sure that I hadn’t dreamed everything that just happened. I’m still not so sure myself. But I hope it was real. That was too awesome not to be.

#pokemon #vera

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trishgibsontx · 7 years

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psychic attacks / how energy works THROUGH people / and the fact that the ONLY power is LIGHT.

photo by Weimin Wang

I will begin by stating the obvious: dark is the absence of light, and nothing else. if that is not obvious to you, then let it be. it will change the way you interpret people and situations in life. essentially, there is no such thing as darkness.

that said, there is a consciousness of energy alone. this consciousness, in 5d form, can take 3d form. when this happens, there is a container: typically a human (on occasion however, we hear crazy things like possession of dolls and inanimate objects — I won’t go there in this post as it will digress greatly). as the absence of light/love exists in the ego realms, humans are natural containers for a range of energy — ranging from light to “dark”. in order to survive, one must either 1) break their ego and access light from within or 2) refuse to break their ego and access light from others. there are variances and nuances and grey areas throughout the human race in terms of what we carry at different times and why. however the fundamental and basic bottom line remains: there is no such thing as dark.

so, how is it that dark manifests as “powerful” darkness in the form of evil acts like psychic attacks and worse? there are too many examples for me to type, especially given my work experience (in which I see how it all works — when I look at a person, I see every person connected to them, and those connected to them, and what the potentials are for the absence of light to affect them psychologically and physically — I see exactly where that light or lack thereof lives, and WHY). I will later in this blog post start with hypothetical examples. the examples are, however, largely based on very specific first-hand witness to very real examples. I want to be clear by saying that I am not citing specific people or their specific situations as they relate to my work. I honor each experience, protect it, and contain it without mention or discussion — even on an anonymous basis. other examples that I will also share later in this post will be from my own life, in which I will be far less hypothetical.

let me first start by saying that my first-hand experience and black and white understanding, time and time again without fail, and proven through my work and personal life, is the fact that each person on our planet is born at a “set point” or intrinsic potential for a particular amount of light. much more about this can be found in my eBooklet “we are not attacked because we are flawed…”. anyhow, each of us with our intrinsic and RELATIVE set point, no matter how low or high (again, irrelevant to each of our personal potentials for inner growth and happiness – it is only by comparing and contrasting this from different perspectives that we perceive “better” or “worse”), is paired with free will. free will is an entirely different animal. free will aka conscious or conveniently unconscious decision-making, the barometer upon which we will either thrive or suffer. when we look outside of ourselves to better our life, we suffer. when we look within ourselves to better our life, we grow. no matter our set point (please read power versus force by Hawkins to better understand individual human calibrations — it is an intro to much of what I am writing about here), it is when we pair it with free will that things change. for example, the Universe will “judge” us based on our individual and relative capabilities and what we DECIDE based on ego/free will.

so let’s say “I” have a naturally high, higher than median average calibration, an incredible gift of perception, and a natural ability to create a powerhouse of good in the world — this would mean that I come from a natural frequency of love, and that was just what happened when I landed at birth in term of my natural calibration or electromagnetic field frequency (again, just like an electronic, we each have one!). but, let’s say that I got lazy because of my human ego. I took my gifts for granted, and I took my natural frequency of love for granted. perhaps the initiations that were presented to me at birth (to transcend my ego and even raise my frequency) became excuses instead of triumphs. this is known as WASTED POTENTIAL. and so I hang out with my head barely above water, never accessing the natural gifts that the Universe has set up for me. I operate at about 5% of my set point frequency and never do any work to move beyond that. this is the ultimate sin by the way, wasting gifts that the Universe has bestowed upon us. then let’s say there is another person who came in with a more median calibration. not as high as mine. they did not come in from a natural frequency of love or joy (and again this is relative, like the mosaic of our planet, so “high” or “low” does not matter and is not judged but rather simply discerned) but they used free will in terms of transcending their ego. they didn’t just keep their head above water, or make excuses, rather they passed some of their “tests” that their soul set up for them prior to or at birth. the ultimately decided to and were able to access nearly 100% of their natural calibration. though their set point never changed, they transcended karma and, relative to their purpose in this life, they lived it. the difference between “I” above and this other person, is that they chose to look within and create from a positive free will aim. their “reward” would be multi-fold. I won’t go into specifics for fear of examples being taken out of context. but you can believe that we pay the price when we take for granted, do not do the work, and feed externally versus internally; and we are rewarded when we do the work, feed ourselves internally, and transcend ego. the latter example combines positive free will with our overall human container (which contains a calibration set point) and whether we are naturally at a 200 or an 800, we are living at our relative 100%. someone living 100% at a 200 intrinsic set point is more powerful and more at peace than someone living 5% at a 800 intrinsic set point. the only common denominator / affector here is again: FREE WILL (relative to innate calibration/frequency).

free will can be discerned based on intention. often times I work with such wonderful people, and they blame themselves for things that have absolutely nothing to do with them (always, always early life training! and I have to remind them: if you are going to judge yourself, judge your INTENTION. it is in our intention that our free will rears it ugly or beautiful head, and so much can be seen as a result of that. if it is our intention to see another person suffer simply because we believe that they are lucky or have more than us, and that by them suffering perhaps we have a shot at more light (major lack mentality), we create more and more of an absence of light. if it is our intention to see another person thrive simply because we understand the law of relativity as it relates to each of us, and that there is no such thing as lack even if we perceive someone else to have “more” in some way, we create more and more of a container of light within us. and we are capable of expanding more and more toward our 100% light body. intention is everything. which leads me, in part, into the subject of this blog post: psychic attacks / how energy works THROUGH people / and the fact that the ONLY power is LIGHT.

we can only be successfully psychically attacked when our conscious or unconscious mind AGREES to the vibration of the attack. and, even then, the attack is a blessing as it will ultimately reveal where we need to purge what is not in alignment with ourselves. we can not feel bad unless there is something within us that needs to purge/leave. feeling bad is a psychological (conscious or unconscious) condition. nothing more. and it doesn’t mean it is our fault, either. we must investigate to discover how xyz belief (again — conscious or UNconscious — very important to note what unconscious looks like!) got there. once we can do this, and fish-hook out said belief, we can relieve ourselves of the attack. that said, we can and do often suffer the short-term effects of a psychic attack (due to the reasons I mention above). what is a psychic attack? a psychic attack, simply, is another person’s perception of their own LACK projected onto another person. PERIOD. when the ego has become so damaged by whatever training, programming or poor free will associated with keeping it damaged, it looks to feed from the outside. unconscious manifestations of lack become conscious, and that energy becomes the focus of the attacker. the attacker will seek out LIGHT. both consciously AND unconsciously. this is where it can get tricky for people to spot/pick up on. there are many people like me, who can not even begin to think bad thoughts for another person, and therefore zipper their higher self right over their human self — confusing the two. I’ve done it a million times over. I’ve looked at a person, seen their dark spots, but before I could even fully acknowledge them, zippered their higher self (which they have not actualized at ALL — either out of free will or another reason) right over their human self. all of a sudden, I have set myself up, because this person sees something that they lack — and they want it! when someone is completely cut off from their higher self, it is too late to even attempt to assist them or fill in their blank spaces. they will find anyone they can to project their unwanted qualities onto, and it will always be someone who carries light. however, there is a specific gateway/loophole/access point to keep in mind: conscious or unconscious beliefs that do not line up with the person’s core of which they intend to draw from/attack. if we are carrying these out of alignment thoughts or beliefs, somewhere, anywhere, we can (temporarily) become a feeding frenzy for a psychic vampire. even if we HAVE cleaned up most of our unaligned beliefs about self, a person of such extreme lack will gravitate toward us. if they can not get to us specifically, they will feed/host off of anyone associated with us.

I shared a story in my “hostile envy” blog post about experiences I had with women early on in life. it is worth reading to get a feel for what I am explaining here. that experience taught me so much, and helped to give me a heads up about what real energetic lack looks like for the rest of my life, as I observe others who appear to want to be in my life for whatever reason. the basis of that post, and the basis of my point here, is that someone in lack is not always the most obvious case (well, not to us, and often they ARE obvious to those around us!). this can make it difficult once we let them into our life even the tiniest bit. they may appear, on the outside, to be sensitive, creative, fun and have it all together. the basic human eye or brain can not always detect lack, because those in extreme lack are often masters of disguise at hiding it. the one way that they hide it is by wearing the energy of others. yes, wearing the energy of others.

I once had an intuitive reading with someone and she said to me about a particular energy I was curious about in my life “if she could bathe in you, she would”. this is what it feels like energetically. it may make zero intellectual sense. but once the energy begins to manifest, which I will get into below, it is undeniable. those who hide their lack use others, essentially bathe in them, and in this way mask their darkness aka absence of light.

a person of extreme lack has no other option, after they have bypassed free will to fill their own container of light, than to wear others unless they be discovered for what they actually are. these people are leeches, grifters of sorts. you will find them at spiritual events (one of their favorite spots!!), churches, socialite events and the like. like drug addicts, they need a constant supply of energy. and they will get it through any means. what we MUST keep in mind, is that our energy exists beyond the human 3d level. so when we feel something “funny” in our gut, we MUST honor it. because our intellect can not begin to rationalize the behavior of a psychic vampire. internet and social media is a great metaphor to explain how each of us is made. we each have transmitters and receivers that run rampant all over the grid of our planet. there are millions of aspects to each of us, and we can’t possibly understand all of them. we do not know, all of the time, how our battery is being charged or used by others, or what aspects of our frequencies are supporting energy we either want everything to do with or nothing to do with. we must keep in mind that like a computer, each of us has a firewall and a server and a bandwidth. those of us with high frequencies and positive free will are targets for those who, as I explain above, are simply lazy. often inconspicuous, psychic attackers absorb us in many ways. one example is by intention alone. if we are not aware of our own cognitive beliefs, conscious and unconscious, an energy vampire will unconsciously spot that and use it. intention carries a signal and, like a computer or phone message, will attach to our own psychological unfinished business. they will also try to befriend us, constantly want to give us things or exchange not only time but material items. for example, they will try to get us to pay for things. or they will ask for very innocuous things from us. I once had a person who became so obsessed with me asking me for the most RIDICULOUS things: basically ANY item at all from me. energy vampires will also want you to eat their food, wear their clothes or material items, and get their hands on any of your 3d “stuff’ possible. if they can not get what they want in that way, they will shift tactics. they will gossip or worm-tongue you. it will start off light, until they can rope in a person or two just a little bit, and they will use that energy to fill their dark pit. this gives them just enough fuel to keep going. when this is not enough, which it will never be, they will seek to emotionally charge you. either through the above, or directly confronting you to poke you emotionally so that you bleed in some way. you will be left confused, wondering what happened. and how it happened. and what you did. if this does not work, and even if it does, they will still seek fuel…

once upon a time, I had met a serious case energy vampire. I had an initial aversion to this particular person. they seemed “ok”, especially on the surface, but something in my gut said “no”. in retrospect, they had “crazy eyes”. I couldn’t tell if they were in love with me, or if they wanted to kill me. those kind of eyes. I continued to cross paths with them and never felt the pull to connect. then, they friended me on social media. social media, by the way, is a massive portal of negativity. I will not even elaborate on the harmful portals associated with it, and that will be another post at some point. but here’s the bottom line: imagine something that allows for trillions of signals and awarenesses from billions of people at once to focus at random (or not). we are constantly averting that which we do not want and trying to move toward what we do want while navigating this very intense ball of energy (our phone! our computer!). social media and the internet is a psychic vampire’s greatest love. it is here that they can make themselves known, present, either to us or to anyone who knows us. back to the story — they friended me on social media. I thought nothing of it. after all, there was no glaring “proof” as to the core of this person and I had a knack for zippering higher selves right over human selves. they hoovered me for about a year or so, probably with every aim in mind to meet me again in person, working through mutual acquaintances any way they could. this was of course not obvious to me at the time. after some later evident wear and tear on my field, through the gateways/portals of the internet, we crossed paths in person for the first time. this time was intentional on my part, and I had overlooked any possible motive or intention of their energy. HOWEVER — and there is always a however in retrospect — I did notice a very creepy energy associated with family members of this person. because of what I do for work, there are certain “facts” that I just can not ignore or get away from. I remember seeing a family member of this person online (thanks online “suggestions”) and knowing that this person (the obsessive energy vampire / psychic attacker, focused on me) was severely abused and had pushed that memory into their unconscious. but it was clear as day to me, who did it, and what. just to digress for a moment, this is the hardest thing for me about being intuitive. the first time it happened I was in a restaurant working as a hostess, and this doctor came in with his little girl. I knew immediately he was molesting her. I felt helpless. I had no proof. but I KNEW. it is impossible to explain. anyhow, I had a similar “knowing” about the context of this person who was focused on me. but, sometimes I have to write the knowings off because I get SO much information about people – information I am not asking for and do not want. but in retrospect, it showed me the gateway as to the evil, dark, and light-absent nature of the energy associated with and through person who would become so focused upon me…

in short, they became obsessed. I felt it. and 3d signs began to show for me! my sign is cockroaches. when someone has done something to me in the form of a psychic attack, a cockroach will appear right in front of me. it happens like clockwork. it is my totem animal of guidance. and, I have an aversion to roaches. major. like most people. one day, there were 3 cockroaches that crossed my path in the most unlikely of places. the obsessed person was on my mind, as they had put their efforts into overdrive to be in contact with me. and stalk a person I had dated. and try to see me. and try to get their acquaintances to see me (super witchy shit). and there were these roaches, letting me know, “shut it down”. at that moment, I began the clearing (more on that later — how to clean the energy of a psychic attack) process. and that is when this obsessive person turned it up a notch. they began a 24/7 campaign of obsessive contact with everyone they thought I ever might know, have known or be in contact with on any level. all hours of the night (I am serious), they began connecting with anyone who had ever been associated with any of my social media accounts. following, liking, commenting like a crazy person. it was so outrageous, that I began getting calls and texts from friends about this person. this had been the case all along, their overt actions toward me online, but just in a much more mild tone before I cut off personal communication with this energy vampire. once I did that, they went into a full-blown addiction. it is akin to what I see energetically when I work with people who have dated narcotics addicts. I could not believe that in just 48 hours, the person who was so focused on feeding off of me, had contacted dozens of people from my high school (without knowing where I was from, though I now realize it’s not that hard to find out) including family members whom I was not even connected to online. as the screenshots of this person’s behavior rolled in, I was stunned. this was, by far, the craziest addiction to drawing light from a person that I had personally experienced. friends and acquaintances of mine were generally concerned, and on edge for their own personal security. I spoke with a few of them about it after they reached out to me, and I was told by more than one person that they were surprised I would ever associate with such a person — that their darkness aka absence of light was so palpable to them. these people, of course, had a high energy, perception, and were extremely intuitive. because the person was not focused on them directly, it was also easier for them to see than it was for me. it’s always clearer that way.

the oddest (or not) thing was, as the light hit the reality of the above scenario, I encountered another 3 cockroaches. this time, however, they were in very poor shape. one walked by me with only one wing, and it was falling off of the body. another one was half dead near the garbage, barely moving, and the 3d, most disgusting one, was on my ceiling where the ceiling meets the wall: have you ever seen a cockroach poop!? me neither. until that night. it was as if I had been under siege, and these roaches were letting me know I had exorcised this energy from my life. as this massive, poopy roach looked at me from the corner of the ceiling, it slid down the wall slowly and in a falling fashion — yet still hooked to the wall. each time it feel, mouse-sized turds released from its body. I was stunned. I have never seen anything like that before. and the symbolism was so. clear. it was over. I had processed this “thing” out of my body and out of my mind.

around this time, and maybe prior to the final 3 roaches making their appearance, I got a few intuitive readings on this. I also spoke with my clinical therapist about it. she let me know that she had seen this behavior many times, and that it was a classic dissociative and obsessive behavior seen when one person can not accept parts of themselves and in effect tries to “become” another person to escape their unconscious pain. I knew this for others I had worked with, but hearing it regarding my own situation felt different. this made me feel so badly for this person who was doing this to me. but, I could not ignore the level of overt, shameless bully in them, or the level of unscrupulous and dark focus they had. I would not enable this behavior with empathy, I had to protect myself. and I was instructed to do anything I could to stay away, protect myself, and alert those close to me as to the behavior. the psychics, whilst knowing nothing about why I had asked for an intuitive reading in advance, picked up on this person IMMEDIATELY. I felt like, why is this so obvious to everyone but me!? well, that is my soft spot — the area I need to learn and grow in more — the area that says “we are all equal” when in fact, I know we are NOT all equal energetically. I was being forced to build greater firewalls, be less trusting, more discerning, and also to pick up on more nuanced and subtle hallmarks of mental illness. each psychic I spoke with said that this person was trying to become me. literally. they saw the entire situation, head to toe. it was baffling. and, the energetic consequences of the situation were still rampant. I had a responsibility to myself, and to others whom I would assist in the future who would be in the position that I was then in, to see this entire thing through and understand it top to bottom.

I made sure that the camera in my front window was working. I made sure that this person could not get to me physically. I decided only to alert a few people about the situation whom I felt needed to know. I put light around it and, fortunately, I had a couple of amazing people around me who saw it all along so clearly. there were some who did not. and probably can not ever, because they have something in common with the lack energy that was pursuing me. c’est la vie. their free will was still an option. months later, I saw the consequences of this person’s actions and intentions toward me. without too many details so as to not escape any unneeded energy their way, they had grifted nearly a dozen people I knew into their communication. it was in this way that they felt they still had access to the source (me). some of these people fell prey, and learned their own lessons associated with this energy. and I let them go. one of the benefits of experiencing a psychic attack is that it is like sunshine after a snowstorm. it melts away all that is like, all that might stick to it. and we are left with a super clean slate. it is just emotionally painful sometimes as the slate cleans. and, needless, as there are neutral casualties of this kind of war. but those casualties are not without their own free will, so how much of a casualty are they really?

my lessons: I didn’t cause this. I used to have a lot of beliefs around everything being my fault. from the day I was born. one of the reasons that this happened was the Universe’s intention for allowing me to master knowing that this had nothing to do with me. there is a line I will never forget, that my therapist has said to me repeatedly, and it was the first line she ever spoke on our very first session on my very first day with her: “a person’s obsession with you has NOTHING TO DO WITH YOU”. I remember sitting in that chair, I had told her nothing about my life, I was already afraid that she didn’t like me, and I had no idea why she had said that. that central theme, however, has unfolded retroactively with many different shades and truths since the moment she said it. and so I learned that lesson. and, as we learn a lesson during a psychic attack, it loses its power. I also learned my power through the experience. no one pursues and attacks something unless it is something that they want and/or need and either can not or will not get it from themselves. I had already known that the only power in existence is light, but it reinforced how true this is due to the gravity of this attack (again, some details have been left out here).

most interesting about the above attack is how the energy was able to move through and pervade others — however, the only “others” it was able to pervade, were those whom in some way MATCHED the psychic vampire at the helm of it. just like I, too, had a role. I had to match it in some way. and there was some belief in myself, unconsciously, deep down, that still needed to be released. and it was. but still, seeing how insidious and rampant energy is and how it can travel has been mind-blowing. I explain this to my patients in the contexts of their own lives, but explaining it here is more difficult because I am having a one-way conversation. a huge point of this post is to let you know that whatever we have unresolved within us will seek to be resolved — often by unwanted forces. so picking up on that is key. also key, is knowing that once the lesson has been transcended, there is no food/light left for which to fuel said attack. we must protect our light by knowing ourselves on the deepest levels possible. energy is working through all of us, all of the time. it can be as strong as an entity possession, or as light as a dirty look.

here is a hypothetical example of the way that darkness will live in a light body. I already explained how it got there — conscious or unconscious beliefs. actual possession/voodoo stuff as I said earlier is an entirely different post. when someone is raped or severely physically attacked, the mind and spirit will often have to leave the room so that the body can survive. when this happens, the darkness of the attacker is able to then bypass into that person’s actual 3d body by averting their conscious awareness. they have to be unconscious at that point, in order to psychically survive the incident. let’s say I see someone who is pure natural light, their preset is love and joy, yet they are carrying something so contrary. something happened in order for that to occur. and, depending upon their free will combined WITH their natural preset, that will determine where that energy goes and if it is able to be transcended/transmuted outside of their physical body. because the spirit and conscious awareness of that person had to leave their body during their abuse or attack, it is my job to make it safe for those forgotten/rejected aspects of self to come back. I can ONLY work with those who have a high degree of positive free will/malleable ego, who seek to draw from within and not repeat the pattern of the attack which draws from the outside inward. the first thing that happens is my natural preset, much like an internet server, will match closely the natural preset of the person I am working with (I make sure this is the case before I even see them). once this resonance is in place, the energy that does not match has less of a nest within that person. as I begin my process of making it safe for forgotten aspects of that person to return to their body (transcending time and space, a very specific CBT that I do), they are able to raise their frequency as a result of their combined natural preset and free will. depending on the situation, this may be an immediate return to self or it may take months. it doesn’t matter, as the end game is the same. there is a return to self, and the darkness that feeds is forced to transcend or return to sender (that part is up to the Universe). during conversation, the entity or wraith that has found its home inside of a human body will squirm, and the person I am hypothetically dealing with will FEEL IT. when they make conscious and unconscious connections during our discussion, the energy has less and less of a chance of surviving on a minute to minute basis. when I go into straight energy work mode, they may fall unconscious and I may see an entire being — like a shadow in the shape of a person — leave their body. once we bridge the psychological with the energetic, there is no space for unaligned energy to live.

when I referenced the cockroaches example on a personal level, that is the “proof” of purged unaligned energy leaving my electromagnetic field/life. it is also very bittersweet when I see a roach. because it is my “evidence” of where time and space collapse and the entity both appears and leaves simultaneously. something has, indeed, been both taken from me and returned to me at the same time. it is a point of awareness for me to learn from all in one moment. as you digest all of this, you might find your own totems that are similar. it is in these moments that we also understand that there is only light.

if we can all do what it is our job to do, learn and grow from within while pulling from within and expanding from within with no exterior attempts to bathe in light (this is different from gathering and collaborating with like-minded energies, both on a psychological and intrinsic set point frequency level), we will notice that the only absence of light that can be experienced is a ploy from the Universe. it does, of course, show up, and much of it in tangible form. but, there is a job to do. and that job has everything to do with human evolution. anything derived from outside of us is short-term, unsustainable and un-lasting. anything derived from outside of us is force. and force has its expiration, according to the cockroaches in my life. true power is sustainable. the only power is LIGHT.

The post psychic attacks / how energy works THROUGH people / and the fact that the ONLY power is LIGHT. appeared first on The Medical Intuitive Blog: Energy Medicine & Reiki Therapy By Elaine™.

from Trisha Gibson http://www.themedicalintuitiveblog.com/2017/08/12/psychic-attacks-energy-works-people-fact-power-light/

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