You woke up to the sleepy haze of
unconsciousness fogging your mind, eyes peeling open despite your best efforts
to fall back asleep.
As you turned in bed, the sheets slid over
you, and you tried to not disturb the sleepy body next to you.
You tucked your hands under your pillow and
admired the peacefulness as Tom’s chest rose and fell quietly. Subtle snores
escaped his slightly parted lips that were the only noise in the spacious
Your eyes left Tom’s face and trailed to
look out the window behind him and you watched the trees slow-dance with each
other in the wind. You sighed contently, enjoying the stillness of the night.
With life as crazy as it is right now, it wasn’t often that you could stop and
live in the moment; times like these were few and far between.
Forced ourselves to wake up at 5 in the morning to watch the sunrise even after driving 10+ hours the day before and barely getting enough sleep. We drove up to Clingmans Dome which is the highest point in the Smoky’s at 6,600 feet. This was the sight that greeted us a few minutes after we walked up to the tower view deck. The clouds and the fog made the scene all the more dramatic and magnificent.
Ha egy férfi vonzónak talál, vonzódni fog hozzád, és kész: a szimpátia, a szeretet és a nemi vágy megmagyarázhatatlan, nincs köze semmilyen külsőséghez. Ha egy FÉRFI nem látja meg benned a NŐ-t, akkor hiába fogysz, hízol, vagy szépítkezel, lehetsz bármennyire dekoratív, soha nem fogsz tetszeni neki. Hát ne akarj másmilyen lenni, mint amilyen vagy! Mert lehet valaki csinosabb nálad, lehet valaki okosabb,
vagy fiatalabb, de sohasem lesz olyan, mint TE. A megfelelő ember az akinek, pontosan azért tetszel, mert nem vagy olyan, mint más, a valódi énedet fogja értékesnek találni! Minél közelebb kerül hozzád, annál jobban fogsz neki tetszeni és minél jobban beléd szeret, annál szebbnek fog látni téged, napról napra… anélkül, hogy változnál.
Few things in Jughead Jones’ life had ever been secure. So he’d decided, a long time ago, to opt out of having a crippling sense of anxiety at all times, and to stick to the things that were secure. Archie (until the last summer, that is). The Twilight Drive-In Theater - home, job, passion project - until even that closed down. Pop’s Diner, which remained, and where he’s taken to spending even more time than usual now that the Drive-In was closed.
The point is, Jughead had a lot going on in his life. But he didn’t care about any of that. Job, a roof over his head, even, to a small extent, his best friend - it all faded into fog when he looked into a girl’s blue eyes and heard her bright laughter.
Betty had always been there - a bright fixture in his mostly shadowed world, but a light that had always seemed inextricably linked to Archie. And Jughead didn’t fall for girls. Not ever. Mostly because they seemed to move and exist in a world of family, security, gossip, and pretty dresses that didn’t even come close to touching his world of books, classic films, and of course, loneliness. No, Jughead had forged his path, and except where it touched briefly with Archie’s, he defended it, kept it away from others.
But. Every time he turned around now there was Betty. Brave, bold, brilliant Betty, who hid so successfully the fragility bred into her by a cruel family - and Jughead understood all about families who fail you and try to break you. She had the face of an oldschool movie star - Lauren Bacall, maybe - but underneath the classic cheekbones she could toss off a movie reference or a comic-book joke quick as you like, and her brain - God, he loved watching her firecracker energy piece clues together.
(So, I’m taking it slow today to rest after being glued to my computer all yesterday, but as promised, here’s a D&D imagine! Many, many thanks to the wonderful @221b-locked for making this possible, and I hope you guys enjoy!)
Imagine the Egos playing a “friendly” game of Dungeons and
Dragons. Host stumbled across a podcast of people playing one day while
browsing for things to listen to, and he quickly fell in love with the entire
concept. He got Amy to help him order all the necessary supplies online and
finally convinced the others to give it a try.
Imagine the Host being the ULTIMATE Dungeon Master. He has
every detail meticulously planned, each path and every sudden turn. There are
plot twists and locations he can describe down to the very last detail. But he’s
also quick on his feet, ready to improvise should the party diverge from his
intended story. Two minutes into their first game, the entire table is so into
it that they totally forget they’re just sitting around a table rolling dice. He
even sometimes employs his abilities to create subtle effects like the sounds
of clashing swords and clanking armor, the heat of a dragon’s fiery breath, or
the thick fog of a haunted forest.
Imagine Bim Trimmer being the best at creating new
characters, so they all go to him with their ideas, hoping that he can point
them in the right direction. He’s imaginative enough to keep things
interesting, but he also knows how to help other players reach their full
potential. He likes to play as druids, and he’ll even bring a few of his plants
to the table “for effect.” (Really, he just likes holding them when things get
intense.) He’s typically pretty quiet, not being the one to make decisions, but
Bim has a great eye for the details that are important and keeps them all
recorded in a notebook for when the party might have need of them.
Imagine Dr. Iplier refusing to play anything other than a
cleric. He’s so intent on being the one to keep the others in one piece, and no
one argues with him. He’s excellent at performing in the place of his
character, so much so that half the time the other Egos forget where Dr. Iplier
stops and his characters begin. Not only that, but he keeps the party together
when things start to get hairy. He acts as sort of a voice of reason when Bim
is panick-screaming, Dark is threatening to slice everyone in half, and Wilford
is charging off on his own. Host refuses to start a game without the Doc at the
Imagine Google being ridiculously good. He exploits every
strength, memorizes every detail with perfect accuracy, and may or may not know
the precise movements with which to roll a nat 20 (“Though he would never use that knowledge to his
advantage,” the writer says with more sarcasm than should be humanly possible
by Google’s calculations). So, if he wants to participate, Host makes him read
the parts of the NPC’s—Oliver usually obliges when the others get upset because
Host won’t let them play. However, he’s the only other Ego that the Host will
hand over the reins to. As a DM, he’s skilled and extremely knowledgeable but a
little unimaginative, but he’s fair, ruthlessly so.
Imagine Wilford Warfstache, the Bard (move over
Shakespeare), who will readily use his abilities to create any musical
instrument imaginable to play as he sings along. He’s good at making up lyrics
on the spot to suit the situation at hand, just for fun. But he’s also a merciless
fighter when it comes down to it. He’s not much for strategy, but his gut
instincts are invaluable in any situation. His characters typically range
across the board, no one is ever like another. It’s why he plays, the chance to
get into another character and play things out the way that they would. And
Warfstache definitely has a set of sparkly, pink dice that he uses, but he has
to constantly keep replacing them because whenever he gets a bad roll, he
shoots them with pin-point accuracy, effectively killing both the dice and the
Imagine Dark being enthralled with the idea of testing his
abilities by being encouraged to
manipulate the others into thinking he’s someone else. It’s almost (no, it’s definitely) disturbing how in-character
he can become, especially when he plays a character that is absolutely nothing
like himself. He enjoys playing as angelic paladins with rosy cheeks and
leading the party with his breath-taking skills of strategy. Host doesn’t
typically like Dark, far from it in fact, but he has to admire his ability to
use each of the party members in a way that optimizes their chances of
surviving to the very end. But once (once)
they decided to let Dark be the DM. It was a bloodbath, slow and painful,
picking off one character at a time. Even Google couldn’t survive, and they all
agreed never to let that happen again. Dark just shrugged it off and agreed. “It
wasn’t much of a challenge, anyway.”
Imagine King of Squirrels playing once, only once, as a
Beastmaster Ranger with a squirrel army at his beck and call. Needless to say,
an army of fluffy creatures didn’t fare well against the dragon, and King
refuses to ever play again.