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pseudobabble · 2 years ago

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My Really Lukewarm Take on Damien Chazelle’s Babylon

Subtitled “Playing Jenga With The Devil: Or, The Price You Pay For Once Upon a Time In Hollywood AU Fix-It Fanfiction”. I touch upon Whiplash + Once Upon a Time in Hollywood at some length here too. Whatever

At a certain period of time, in certain circles, there was a recurrent phenomenon of people who made a big deal out of liking “film” but seemingly had no real grasp of the medium or major contributions to it beyond the most recent (How are you going to have a release from within the last calendar year on your Letterboxd favorites?) or the least arcane of the canon (Citizen Kane, Scarface, Psycho—Film Appreciation community college level core. Not to knock community college). What these people had a preternatural grasp on, though, was what made a bad movie—and it wasn’t uncommon to come across people who professed a deep, significant, undying love for cinema and who could not name a movie they liked that wasn’t a significant part of recent pop culture, but who could at length describe everything wrong with movies like Troll 2, Manos: The Hands of Fate, Birdemic, The Room. It got to a point where it seemed like there were more people who defined their love of film by their capacity to recognize when things were bad. Pointing to the obvious faults and flaws in low-budget movies, frequently made by non-Americans, where there were obvious and glaring lilts in conversations, plot movements, and character motivations, somehow constituted a keen sense of film criticism, even though a lot of it felt more like when a child knows that the gifts Santa supposedly brought had the same wrapping paper that their mom used for her coworker’s Christmas gift. To sit with a movie and enjoy it is to buy into an illusion, to let a lie happen to you. Sometimes the lie works. Sometimes it doesn’t. It’s variable. Some lies are obvious to everyone. It doesn’t take a detective to figure out that Santa didn’t conveniently have that same roll of paper, and likewise it doesn’t take much sage wisdom to understand that a first time filmmaker working with a limited budget and minimal proficiency (and weighed down by overconfidence) will have a harder time pulling the wool over your eyes than people with filmic pockets deeper than most graves, understanding of what works due to years of immersion in the field, and a steady level of what they are and aren’t capable of.

I don’t know if this category of person still lingers in the dredges of YouTube and Letterboxd, living life through the lens of 2011 like girls who are still devoted to One Direction members. I also don’t necessarily lack understanding of their thought process: negatives always stick out more than positives, and there’s a sense of community and unification in all collectively laughing at the same elements of something. The problem ends up being that in that collective experience, it is at the expense of someone’s expression. Remember, a lot of these same people have huge aspirations of making it big as a filmmaker, possibly the next Snyder or Fincher or Aronofsky. I think John Krasinski actually said something really lame about this that Paul Thomas Anderson told him:

He recalled an incident that happened at his house where during a discussion about a film, Krasinski casually remarked, “It’s not a good movie.” Anderson quietly explained the actor as to why it is important not to label films as good or bad.

“He so sweetly took me aside and said very quietly, ‘Don’t say that. Don’t say that it’s not a good movie. If it wasn’t for you, that’s fine, but in our business, we’ve all got to support each other.’ The movie was very artsy, and he said, ‘You’ve got to support the big swing. If you put it out there that the movie’s not good, they won’t let us make more movies like that,'” Krasinski revealed.

Praising the Phantom Thread director, the actor said Anderson is “defending the value of the artistic experience.”

Crazy how you can afford to not be cutthroat after several Oscar noms. What a nice guy!

The thing about the bulk of these people is the most they’ll accomplish (if they ever do this) is filming an unmemorable short of worse quality before either dropping out to become a pothead, switching majors to something their parents are more approving of, or maybe persevering, making a few other shitty shorts, hacking it out through the bottom slums of the film school industry wherever is closest to them, writing Letterboxd reviews where they rate the movie out of five in the review despite the star rating being a native function. Maybe they will make YouTube videos reviewing the newest Netflix and Marvel releases. But I don’t think these people end up miserable about their fate. They acclimate. People stretch and shrink and contort to the box they find themselves in. Especially if they lack drive and discipline—if they’ve invested nothing more than time, shed no blood, sweat, or tears, then departure from one’s fantasy is really easy because they didn’t really do much to bring it forward. They imagined a glimpse of it, and that was enough. There’s nothing wrong with that. That’s what a movie is at the end of day—you concoct a fantasy. Sometimes no one else gets let in to your dream and careers die before they’re even born and entire galaxies no one will ever know about go down with them.

Sometimes, though, other people will make movies about characters who are super motivated, totally slavishly devoted to their craft and the idea of being the best at it. Even if it’s something as banal as slamming sticks against a drum set, over and over again until your palms are torn open and blood is all over the drums, but it’ll come right off, and all over the drumsticks, and you’re not sure if there’s some kind of finish on them that prevents staining or if end of day they’re just plain old porous wood that will let your blood seep into its crevices, bright red right now but you can just see it turning brown, because that’s inevitable—as inevitable as your attempt towards greatness, and as futile, too. And because every movie about art is really supposed to be a movie about the filmmaker in relation to filmmaking, this is about how you will break your own bones, hurt your own body, ruin your relationship with the hot girl who works at the theater you go to with your daddy because film is just that important to you.

But also, sometimes the idea of that and the presentation of it is a lot more romantic and grand and big than the follow up, and sometimes you make a movie about that because the caring is what you know people care about, and not what happens after to people who care too much about the wrong things, because nobody really thinks they care about the wrong things and if you say afterwards in an interview “I think there's a certain amount of damage that will always have been done. Fletcher will always think he won and Andrew will be a sad, empty shell of a person and will die in his 30s of a drug overdose. I have a very dark view of where it goes” no one really thinks twice about how the movie is kind of weird and in bad faith then.

Because really then the entire movie is build-up to a moment, and everything before is preordained because the characters are just your puppets to get a specific moment out of them. Everything is carefully, perfectly arranged, like a tea party, but you want bad things to happen. You want your stuffed animals to be horrible to each other, and you want a hint of gruesomeness—think of bloody hands being submerged into an iced pitcher, the diluted blood when he takes his hands out being evocative of Andrew being rendered into submission by his want. Think of a 19 year old boy, bruised and bleeding after running from a car accident, getting blood all over a drum set for the second time in the movie. Think of the tableau Chazelle paints in his description of what happens after the movie: for some reason, he wants someone to suffer. Not really because of something they wanted at a point; remember: he decided they wanted that, because it made it easier to justify their suffering. And that suffering culminates in a shared glance across a stage, and that’s the point of the movie: disrupting a live jazz show for a look of vague approval, and eventually you die after. Every moment of this is a blip on the radar for everyone else.

A lot of specific sequences and events that have been documented to history are, to us, preordained because we know how they go. A lot of stories share the same arc, the same premises, the same kind of order. Sharon Tate will have never not been murdered on Cielo Drive; for whatever reason, in Once Upon a Time In Hollywood, Tarantino offers her a reprieve, along with the rest of her housemates. Why? Tarantino obviously doesn’t have any particular fondness towards women. But he makes sure to show her off, safe and sound, not even necessarily rescued but glossed over by her would-be assailants at the very end of the movie, after the forces coming after her have been vanquished, after the brute who vanquished them has been safely carried off to the hospital for minor wounds, with the promise of bagels in the morning and a command to his only friend—and thus his best friend—to go to bed, enjoy his night with his spooked wife. But instead Rick’s invited to have a drink with Tate, and Jay Sebring, and everyone else. Tarantino didn’t need to make a statement on the fate of the characters after the movie—waning careers, marriage troubles, or hospitalizations aside, everyone’s alive and fine when the credits roll. But for some reason he decided to describe Rick Dalton’s revitalized career after the movie ends. Tarantino’s not a director known for empathy or being kind to his characters or giving characters in his movies space to live—but Once Upon a Time is an exercise in all of those things. Even the bloodbath towards the end could be far more gruesome or unwarranted, and it’s easy to sneer at just how excessive it does feel until you remember that those are fictional representations of the people who actually did kill Sharon Tate, and while the movie is in part about the possibility of preserving a life, it’s also about comeuppance. Cliff’s comeuppance is in his history of brutality making him the perfect candidate to fight off three unruly teens; Rick’s comeuppance is his career finally taking off after participating in the spaghetti westerns he so harshly slandered. Tate’s comeuppance is getting to live, and getting to see herself in a movie. You get the idea: Tarantino’s only being harsh in his just deserts as is requisite.

I want you to imagine, as I have frequently since seeing Babylon, Damien Chazelle sitting in a dark room with Once Upon a Time In Hollywood playing, and seething thinking about what a waste so much of it is—why is it so slow? Why isn’t Brad Pitt the lead? Why isn’t Margot Robbie in more of this? I want to see Margot Robbie naked, she’s so hot in Wolf of Wall Street. Why hasn’t the Manson family actually shown up yet? Who’s that blonde girl with the big tits? Why isn’t this movie more 60s? Why isn’t Charles Manson in this that much? Why isn’t he celebrating the beauty and magic of cinema? Where are the drugs? Where are the hippies? Why isn’t there more jazz music?

Whiplash is a good movie. This seems to be a fluke attributable to the performances in it and the simplicity of the plot in comparison to La La Land—which isn’t at all complex, it just isn’t about a 19 year old college student who wants to be the best little drummer boy in the world. First Man is the first ever AI generated movie, featuring a goodie bag of small roles from a lot of C, D, E, and F list actors. Clint Eastwood was originally supposed to direct it. It probably would have been better if he had. None of these three films, nor the one film that preceded them, could have prepared anyone for Babylon, a movie about a day laborer (?) a rising starlet (?) an italian larper (?) Jeff Garlin as Harvey Weinstein (?). There’s a lot, it’s a lot.

The components of the movie are overbearing and earnestly not worth dissecting. What’s more compelling to me is Damien Chazelle eviscerating Robbie and Pitt because he doesn’t really get to see them get eviscerated in Hollywood. The actual propulsion and process of the movie and the landscape and trajectory it takes you through really doesn’t matter because it’s less a film and more of a woodchipper. There’s an input and an output. Input: Actors. Output: their demise, all caught on film.

What also sticks out to me significantly, too, is the “so bad it’s good” movie seems to be a relic now—everything mediocre now always has a slick sheen to it, a polish, a once-over and special attention that the previously mentioned laughingstocks would never have gotten. Babylon is something of a drain to watch because of its utter humorlessness—what happens when the fuck-up isn’t even that fun to gaze at anymore? What happens when there’s nothing to jeer at?

I don’t think Chazelle played well with others as a kid. He isn’t very nice when he sees someone else playing with a toy he wants, to the point of taking it and breaking it. Now no one has the toy, but Chazelle has the satisfaction of knowing he made something bad happen.

Film is illusory and you can make the same car crash happen a thousand times but it’s a simulation and synthetic and even if it feels real or doesn’t feel real, no matter the staging or the framing, it’s not a real thing that’s happened. It only goes so far as you buy into it. Who’s buying into Babylon? Letterboxd contrarians desperate to formulate a hot take? Chazelle, because he’s decided to?

The problem with Chazelle is the same problem with most other 3rd generation/Millennial era filmmakers: what’s left when everything is homage? What’s left when everything is pastiche? You take acknowledgement of the canon and break it down like Legos because end of the day, who cares about creating a new canon? People obsessed with it won’t even let their own stuff in—which is why Tarantino worships Pauline Kael instead of Welles or Truffaut. The 2nd generation of filmmakers never anticipated the 3rd taking their work as seriously as they had once taken the previous masters. No one can indict them for that, but what happens when the guy looking up to you isn’t all that younger than you? Tarantino himself is already just playing with the toolset left to him. Chazelle’s just doing the same. The only difference being they’re both playing with it at the same time and one has clear comprehension and mastery and the other is just really really interested in fucking around with what the other one built.

Do you think Leonardo DiCaprio feels left out because he wasn’t in Babylon? Or do you think he’s more worried about global warming? Or dating another 25 year old? Do you think Miles Teller is relieved Damien Chazelle abandoned him for Ryan Gosling, or do you think he’s too busy enjoying being the new face to the military propaganda film complex? I think he’s probably grooming his mustache. Who cares

#babylon #once upon a time in hollywood #damien chazelle #quentin tarantino #whiplash

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franckdoutrery · 11 months ago

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L’homme de la Saint-Sylvestre

Au jour de l’An, les habitants de la Nouvelle Zélande ont le privilège (dont ils jouissent d’ailleurs tous les autres jours) de voir le soleil se lever bien avant nous. L’astre surgit à l’est et inonde la mer d’une « aurore aux doigts rosés », selon l’expression du vieil Homère. Aussi sont-ils les premiers à entrer dans le Nouvel An, sans avoir jamais fait quoi que ce soit pour mériter cette faveur. C’est l’heure à laquelle ils sortent dans les rues pour faire un charivari avec tous les ustensiles de cuisine qui leur tombent sous la main : casseroles, bassines, marmites, qu’ils cognent comme des grosses caisses de fanfares, afin de chasser les mauvais esprits. Ceux-ci s’enfuient la queue entre les jambes (des queues et des jambes d’esprits, j’entends) et sans demander leur reste.

Pendant ce temps, la Terre continue de tourner autour de son axe incliné, permettant aux océans et continents d’accéder au Nouvel An au gré des longitudes. Les derniers à tourner la page du 31 décembre sont les habitants de l’archipel d’Hawaï, perdu depuis toujours dans l’Océan Pacifique. Or le monde étant rond comme une pastèque, il eût suffi que le méridien de Greenwich se déplaçât de quelques degrés vers l’est – disons d’une tranche verticale du fruit –, pour que les Hawaïens soient les premiers à amorcer le Nouvel An. Mais comme l’évangile leur fut jadis prêché par le Père Damien à Molokai, ils se consolent à l’idée que « les derniers seront les premiers ».

Entre ces deux extrémités du globe et les décalages horaires qui s’ensuivent, l’homme réveillonne de la façon la plus diverse. Les anciens Aztèques (du moins ceux de Jacques Soustelle) croyaient que le Soleil, qu’ils appelaient Quetzalcóatl, menaçait de disparaître tous les quatre ans à minuit, si on ne lui sacrifiait quelques milliers d’hommes. Ce qui ne se fait plus. Du moins pas au Nouvel An. Désormais l’homme boit du champagne et embrasse ses semblables sous le gui. Parfois il met le masque de Fernandel ou de Poutine, sort cotillons et serpentins et danse une folle farandole. D’autres fois, pour une raison connue du seul Danois, il se déchausse, monte sur une chaise et attend le douzième coup de minuit pour en descendre. (Où l’on voit qu’au Danemark, l’homme ne monte jamais sur une chaise sans ôter ses souliers ; suivons cet exemple édifiant !) Ailleurs encore, comme en Russie, il ouvre portes et fenêtres pour laisser entrer le Nouvel An. Si le premier passant franchit le seuil en avançant le pied droit, l’année sera faste. Sinon, gare au mauvais sort !

Et que l’homme ne mange-t-il pas à la Saint-Sylvestre ! Une cuillerée de lentilles au Portugal, une carpe farcie dont il garde les écailles porte-bonheur en Pologne, un raisin sec à chaque coup de minuit en Espagne, un gâteau de riz au lait truffé d’une amande en Norvège, des fruits ronds qui favorisent la prospérité en Italie, des lamelles de thon blanc à Hawaï. Et que ne boit-il pas ! Outre du Roederer ou du Veuve Clicquot, il sort de derrière les fagots des Pétrus millésimés, des Châteaux Margaux, voire des alcools forts, des eaux-de-vie titrant 60%, des chartreuses, des fines ...

Et puis il y a les étrennes ! Depuis au moins quinze jours, l’homme se soucie de son prochain. A preuve, il s’interroge sur le cadeau à offrir à son grand-père, qui n’en a plus pour longtemps et dont il espère hériter la montre à gousset et la veste en velours côtelé. L’ancêtre pourrait recevoir une cravate italienne en soie, mais c’était déjà la surprise de l’année dernière et il s’en est servi comme ceinture de pyjama. Un passe-montagne, voilà ce qu’il lui faut, vu le peu de cheveux qui lui reste ! Un bonnet crocheté avec toutes les couleurs de l’arc en ciel. Mais chut, c’est un secret ! Et que recevront les enfants ? Un bilboquet par ci, un cheval bascule par-là. Un meccano peut-être, ou un Nain jaune ? Car l’homme se souvient du sage soufi disant : « Ce que tu donnes est à toi pour toujours, ce que tu gardes est perdu à jamais ».

Sitôt les cadeaux déballés, on passe aux résolutions. Car il en faut à chaque réveillon. Dans une nuit où les spiritueux déteignent volontiers sur le spirituel, l’homme en formule qui ressemblent tantôt à des vœux de confessionnal, tantôt à des serments d’ivrogne. Pour perdre du poids, il promet de faire du sport. C’est ainsi que dès demain, installé confortablement dans son canapé en cuir caramel, il regardera la finale de rugby à la télévision. Et pour pouvoir serrer sa ceinture d’un cran, il ne touchera plus aux friandises. Ni aux mignardises. Il se couchera sans dessert mais avec une pastille contre les reflux gastriques ou une tisane d’une haute valeur dormitive. Et dans son rêve, il entrera dans l’année nouvelle par une porte dérobée, qu’il franchira du pied droit.

Et c’est ainsi qu’Allah est grand.

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cresvalkyrie · 2 years ago

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Had an idea for a FFXIV x Rejuv crossover AU...

Well, it’s more like they’re irl MMORPG players, but the story is mostly presented through the eyes of their in-game characters/avatars. I’m not entirely sure how to go about this, but I’m gonna give it my best shot and try to guess which class/race each character would play as that’s in line with their personalities.

I’ll start with my own OCs, since I know them the best lol.

Both Orion and Hauyne would play an Au Ra character, which are basically humans with some draconic/reptilian traits, to reflect their original verse’s status as “dragons”. Orion would be a Xaela (black scales) and mains a Samurai, while Hauyne would be a Raen (white scales) and mains either Dragoon, Paladin or Reaper depending on her mood.

I think Ren would probably play as a miqo’te (idk why but him being a catboy suits him XD), specifically a Keeper of the Moon (large, rounder pupils and fangs). He’ll probably start out as a Warrior, but switches over to Dark Knight and eventually settles for Gunbreaker for the late-game content.

Melia would play as a Midlander Hyur, which is pretty much regular run-of-the-mill humans. She’ll play a Healer class, particularly the White Mage job.

As for Venam... actually, I’m not too sure which FFXIV race she’ll play as. Maybe a Plainsfolk Lalafell (the game’s version of dwarves), as a joke? I would also say that male Viera is a good contender, but I’m not entirely sure if she’ll go for a “cutesy” or “effeminate” looking avatar. But she’ll definitely enjoy maining a Ninja character.

Aelita is really easy lol. She’ll go for a Wildwood Elezen (pretty much FFXIV’s version of elves) character, and will be maining a Monk. She did dabble in the Red Mage job for a bit, but it just didn’t click with her so she went back to her old job and hasn’t changed it since.

Saki is a no-brainer: Dunesfolk Lalafell and Machinist job main. Chaos incarnate, this one.

Adam would probably play a Hellsguard Roegadyn (aka the game’s giants) or a Highlander Hyur character. I’m not too sure which job he’ll main as, but I’ll hazard a guess and say it’s Warrior.

Valarie is a bit of a tough choice... another Wildwood Elezen, maybe? For her class, she’s most likely maining a mage job. My bet is on Summoner, though. Maybe a Dancer, too?

For Ryland, it’s gonna be of an inside joke but I get the feeling he’ll play as a male Viera. And I don’t know why, but he mains a Bard and probably also likes to roleplay as the “lone wolf” character in-game.

Erin is quite easy too, lol. She’s definitely a Keeper of the Moon miqo’te, and mains a Black Mage if not a Reaper.

Huey... hm. Tough choice, but I think he plays as an Au Ra character as well. Probably a Black Mage main too.

Reina, like her brother, plays a Keeper of the Moon miqo’te character. She’s most likely a Summoner, but I can also see her as a Red Mage.

Amber is most likely another Au Ra player lmao. She definitely has Red Mage vibes.

For Lavender... a Midlander Hyur or a Wildwood Elezen? She just can’t decide, so she’s constantly switching between the two races lol. Also a Sage or a Scholar main, since she’s quite bookish.

As for Kanon... he probably won’t go for something very outlandish so a Midlander Hyur character for him. Possibly a Scholar or Summoner main? Hard to tell. I just know he’ll play a mage class.

Alexandra would play as a Xaela? I think. She’s definitely a Summoner for sure.

Damien’s character is also a Xaela, but he mains a Dragoon with the meanest looking glamour you could come up with using the pieces available in-game. Very intimidating and off-putting, but is surprisingly a nice person once you get to know him better.

#ramblings #interceptor oc: hauyne #reborn oc: orion #pokemon rejuvenation #ffxiv au

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akalei · 3 years ago

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Love Is Strength

I'm not dead and neither is this au! So sorry for the absence, has it been about a year now? yikes! With the return of the new YJ season, I of course had to bring back this au. So thank you all for being so patient and I hope you enjoy this installment! (also if you want to be added to the tag list pls send me an ask or dm, it's much easier for me that way than scroll through comments tsm!)

@ozmav

@kelelamentia

@resignedcatservant

@imfreakingmagical

@northernbluetongue

@tinybrie

@constancetruggle

@foofoocuddlypoopsgavesokkaapples

@queen-of-the-trash-planet-tm

@mooshoon

@hypnosharkrebeldreamer

@mystery-5-5

@vixen-uchiha

@persephonebutkore

@weird-pale-blonde-person

@wargraymon0709

@be-happy-every-day-please

@shreky-boi

@worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry

@7-sage-7

@thesunanditsangel

@ilovefluffbutsmutisalsogreat

@emeraldpuffguide

@aegyobutpsycho2

@bluefyoto94

@toodaloo-kangaroo

@zotinha456

@readeracctagmepls

@user00000003

@neakco

@nathleigh

@emjrabbitwolf

Marinette always thought that falling in love happened in a moment, she believed in love at first sight, first kiss, anything that came out of a fairytale. She thought she fell in love with Adrien the moment that their hands touched when he handed her his umbrella. However, love is much more complicated than that, falling in love is subtle. You never really know exactly when you fall but you always know that those feelings have to be love.

At least that’s the conclusion Marinette reached one afternoon while patrolling Paris as she looked over at the dark-haired, green-eyed boy standing next to her. Over the last couple of months, life, in a nutshell, had been complicated - there was the Agreste trial, the increase in activity with the Light and not to mention high school being...well high school. Without having her partner right by her side but instead in a place where she couldn’t just swoop in and help him took its toll on Marinette. Marinette gnawed on her lips as she stared out into the Parisian skyline, honestly, she wasn’t sure if she’d survive if it wasn’t for-

“What are you thinking about?”

Marinette glanced over at Damian who had a dark eyebrow raised in question, unlike herself, Damian hadn’t adopted a superhero persona and was more or less dressed as a burglar.

An interesting combo with her Ladybug suit, she giggled at the thought, “just thinking about how I wouldn’t have stayed sane these last couple months without you.”

Damien cleared his throat and turned back to the busy streets down below. “You would’ve been fine.”

Marinette bit the inside of her cheek to stifle the giggle bubbling in her chest at the sight of Damien’s pinkened ears. “I’m not sure about that,” she sighed, “I’m only human after all.”

“But you have all your friends, your teammates, what difference do I really make?”

Marinette placed her hand over Damien’s, she felt the boy tense at her touch but he did not turn to face her.

“You make all the difference in the world.”

Damien didn’t believe in things like love. Love brought weakness and Damien could never permit himself to be weak. His family taught him that, they also taught him to believe in loyalty, loyalty to the League of Assassins, to his mother, his grandfather, and now his father. So he was quite perplexed as to why he couldn’t get this girl out of his head. She was one of those idyllic heroes, someone who wanted to do good and be praised. A hero who never felt the allure of the darkness or understood tragedy like he did. He thought that someone like her was of no consequence, that she would be a waste of his time, but he was wrong.

Damien doesn’t remember when exactly it happened, maybe it was because Dick and Tim constantly invited her over to the mansion or when he would get dragged along with his "brothers". But the more time Damien spent with the girl, the more he wanted to understand her. She was so different from him, she was kind, merciful, and she loved fiercely. She loved and Damien thought that made her weak. But he was wrong, she was strong. So strong, to the point that he began to fear that she might break, as he watched her face challenge after challenge. She didn’t though, she stood tall and won.

Damien’s mind continued to wander as he watched the civilians go about their afternoon. Her hand, warm on top of his, he isn’t sure if what he feels is love but, she taught him that love wasn’t a weakness.

No, Marinette taught him that love can be a strength.

#maribat #ladybug young justice au #lyj #daminette #marinette x damian

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insidious-rp · 4 years ago

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⊱ 𝑰𝑵𝑺𝑰𝑫𝑰𝑶𝑼𝑺 ⊰

「 ͏ Inspired by The Vampire Diaries, The Originals, The Legacies, American Horror Story ͏ 」

OC roleplay // Literate // 19+ mun & muse // Supernatural City AU // All Orientations // Based on Mewe // Modern Setting in New Orleans // Welcomes Asian descents & Internationals // Black Market System

⊱ Event #1: Hide & Seek ⊰

Date: 04/04/21 to 04/09/21 (total of one week OOC but the game only lasts from 6pm-12:00am in New Orleans timezone on a single day IC.) Event IC Description: Though New Orleans is a safe haven for supernaturals, just outside the boundaries of the city, the darkness plots and schemes.Over the course of ten years, the mysterious force has killed many, but has also taken those that are deemed more useful as captives. As spring begins to bloom, it sends a “gift” : a dark witch that has been held as a prisoner for five years. Now possessed and soulless, the dark witch steps into the city to disrupt the peace and lure out the supernaturals that managed to find refuge in the city.

They enter the city as a flamboyant magician, supposedly invited by Andreas University to give an astonishing performance. At first, the performance seems harmless — impressive, like any other magic show. However, things take a turn when the magician divides the audience up for their greatest trick. Everyone is given a tarot card and just as they turn their cards, they are teleported to different locations within the university. At first, they are impressed but suddenly they hear a voice overhead, realizing this is more than just a performance. The clock strikes 6pm and a foreboding gong resonates throughout the entire university.

The participants finally look at their cards; they realize it’s a game of life and death.

Game Description: For the game, there will be four groups with nine participants. These are the individuals that are teleported to the same locations within university. Some groups may have more individuals added due to the odd member count of the roleplay. All species are included and welcome to participate. Those on a hiatus are not included but welcome to join if they’d like! Simply ask the admin to add you into a group or mingle around the groups yourself as you see fit.

Roles have been assigned but you are welcome to discuss changes and switch around if you would like. Each group will have two wolves and eight lambs. You may create OOC group chats to discuss the details, although we would advise you to avoid from planning in depth as it’s meant to be a game. Please note that your characters do not know who the wolves are IC except the ones that are assigned wolves.

The muse who is assigned the role of the wolf will must seek out the white rabbit released by the magician before getting caught by lambs and this must be done before midnight. One of the wolves in a particular group catching the bunny will automatically save the other wolf in the group.

The goal of the lambs is to prevent the two wolves in their group from finding the bunny before midnight. Four lambs are required to stop a wolf. It can be any four lambs from any group, but you must capture the wolves of your group to save yourself. [For example, if you’re a member of group one, you may assist in finding the wolves for group two, but the wolves of group one must be stopped to keep you from losing the game.] Four lambs must encircle the wolf and put up their tarot cards. Each card will stun the individual and make them weaker until they are frozen in place by the fourth card. Please also note the tarot cards can not be read by anyone else that is not the owner! It will appear to be a regular tarot card if anyone else that is not the owner looks at it.

There are a total of four bunnies, one for each of the groups. The bunnies are quick and mischievous, making them difficult to catch. They can not be killed or manipulated by magic as they were created by the magician. [The bunny will be controlled by the admin. During the ongoing threads, the admin will make updates on the locations of the bunny.]

If the lambs fail to stop the wolves before midnight or if the wolves fail to find the bunny before midnight, whoever loses will be transported to a randomized location outside of New Orleans the minute the clock strikes midnight. If they are a supernatural, they will begin losing their memories and powers the longer they are outside of New Orleans as they are subjected to powers of the dark force. They must do what they can to return to the city of New Orleans as quickly if they do not wish to become captives to the darkness. [ If the side you’re on fails or chooses to fail via plotting, you may choose plot to have your muse teleported out of the city and struggle to return and begin to lose their memories. How long they remain outside of the city and how they return is up to you. The teleportation outside of the city also does not affect your existing threads and connections unless you want it to. There are multiple ways your muse could find their way back to New Orleans. Your muse could teleport to a city with a muse that is their worst enemy, forcing them to work together and make their way back. Perhaps they have an unlikely savior come to rescue them with an invisible mask. Be as creative as you would like. To clarify, this “punishment” is more to allow your muse a chance to explore how they would live their life outside the city and therefore, when the punishment ends is up to you. The purpose of this “punishment” is to allow you to write more freely outside the restraints of New Orleans. If by all means, you do not want to participate in this consequence at all, you can simply not take it. ]

During the game, the entire location in Andreas University can and should be utilized. The “lockdown” begins at 6pm after the sun has set. The muses will only realize that they can not leave the university when they try to exit, which will result in them being sent flying back.

Wolf: We’ve all heard of the big bad wolf, right? Well that’s not this story. It seems as though the little lambs are a bit tired of being preyed upon. You’re the one they will be looking for. Run. Hide. If you wish to live, find the bunny before the clock strikes midnight.

Lamb: How does it go? Little lamb with fleece as snow. Well not for much longer. Those horrid wolves will cause your demise. Capture them by midnight if you wish to live. Save yourself. Use the magic this card holds. And remember sheep travel in flocks so you’ll need the power of four.

Group 1 [Teleportation Location: Library]: Akira Saito (lamb), Aria Wang (lamb), Sidney Wright (lamb), Moon Harin (wolf), Xiu Wang (lamb), Freya Deveraux (lamb), Benjamin Choi (lamb), Alain Rousseau (wolf), Wesley Park (lamb)

Group 2 [Teleportation Location: Cafeteria]: Arsene Kang (lamb), Elizabeth Rosette Hwang (wolf), Damien Sage (lamb), Jade Fiore (lamb), Julius Dontious (lamb), Clara Song (wolf), Cho Hak (lamb), Arsene Fauvel (lamb), Kim Nari (lamb), Aurora Caine (lamb)

Group 3 [Teleportation Location: Science Lab]: Lee Jaehyun (lamb), Maeve Moon (lamb), Cillian Connars (wolf), Seyoon Jo (lamb), S Lars (lamb), Angela Seo (wolf), Cheol Mun (lamb), Hermione Russo (lamb), Maki Atto (lamb)

Group 4 [Teleportation Location: Gym]: Xavier Killian (lamb), Tobias Huang (lamb), Eric Suh (lamb), Jesper Lee (wolf), Liko Zhang (lamb), Cecilia De Polignac (lamb), Hana Ryu (lamb), Seongil Ryu (wolf), Cress Park (lamb)

#oc rp #krp ads #mewe rp #literate roleplay #oc roleplay #events

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bobasheebaby · 4 years ago

Note

For the Fanfic Writer Questions: 3, 12, 16, 17, 26

Thanks for the ask @lolablackwrites!

3. What do you think makes your writing stand out from other works?

My run ons? lol. No, seriously I love my run on sentences and don’t give a fuck!

I’d say that I’m not afraid of making it hurt, my emotions tend to punch even myself in the face as I’m writing. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve had to stop cause I was crying it hurt so much.

12. Tell us about a WIP you’re excited about.

Looks at everything I’ve been ignoring for weeks uhhhhhhhhhh

Okay I have a few things that I’m excited about and I really need to get back to (or start).

First @choiceslife and I got a crazy idea from an ask I got for some steamy Bastien that rolled into us using our MC’s from Lovelink, making them twins and causing chaos in Cordonia.

All On the Line my Austin/Damien series might be getting steamy soon if I can shake this block off.

Immortal Soul, my first Romance Club series, also a Soulmate AU (my first) and yes it’s a side character romance cause dammit stop blocking my MC from the hottest characters and lemme at Geralt!!

I have a few ideas for some baby Sage chaos I need to work out and get started. One idea where she gets into Liza’s makeup and gives Butt a makeover and the other idea that is partially based off my life and partially because @darley1101 was watching Dinosaurs on Disney Plus. Liza shall totally be teaching Sage “not the mama” (and yes I did the same with my son when he was tiny).

I also have an original idea, False Charity, I’m excited about.

16. Any guilty pleasure trope(s)?

Friends to lovers, the pining!!!! I love to destroy myself with reading a food old mutual pining slow burn.

17. A trope you’ll never, ever write for.

Honestly never say never when it comes to me and my crazy ass muse, but that being said I’m not likely to go historical AU.

26. Is there anything you’ve wanted to write, but you’ve been too scared to try?

I have a million ideas sitting in my notes but I wouldn’t say that fear is what’s holding them back, more like time and inspiration, and currently the writers block of the century. (I’m lucky if I get out more than a few hundred words at a time and mostly haven’t written anything.)

35 Questions for Fanfic writers

#lolablackwrites #e answers #writer asks

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coconut-cluster · 5 years ago

Text

Hogwarts AU: Yule Ball (pt 3 - the ball)

FINALLY!! I am so sorry this took me so long to finish, but it is here!!!

Part 1 (logicality) | Part 2 (prinxiety) | Hogwarts AU: Sorting

Patton, as his mom told him he would, has an undeniable affinity for magical creatures.

From the fierce protectiveness of the Occamys to the sweet little faces of the Demiguise, he just loves watching them, and learning about them, and it’s only about them that he has enough stamina to read for hours on end (he’s never mentioned that last one to anyone except Roman, and only after the Ravenclaw admitted, while on the verge of tears, that he had trouble reading the assignments from their History of Magic classes because the long passages seemed to swim before his eyes - Patton taught him how Damien makes outlines for a similar problem, told Ro about his personal foible of inattention, and they finished the assignment together) - Patton simply never tires of the subject.

He’s fondest of Nifflers, and spends hours helping Hagrid caring for some, but even though he normally adores their mannerisms, it turns out that staying around creatures that are notoriously attracted to shiny things while holding a metallic-wrapped package from his parents is not a very good idea.

Needless to say, he almost gets his and Damien’s dress robes stolen by a creature with thieving jazz hands.

With only - thankfully - a small swatch of the paper torn from the package before he manages to shimmy the squawking critter off his arm, Patton waves goodbye to Hagrid (as best he can with the robes held high, far above his head and any stray Nifflers), bumps the hut door open with his hip, and practically sprints back to the castle - the Ball is in a few hours, and Damien has been lamenting to him for days about their lack of dress robes, so he’s doing his best to hurry through the snow to get back to where his twin is no doubt waiting.

He does stall, though, to look out over the water beyond the castle - it’s not frozen, unlike the lake, and it seems to glitter even under the clouded sky and its own darkness, somehow reflecting the snow that’s dancing in the air this afternoon. Patton slows to a stop and watches the flakes land gently on the mounds already decorating the school grounds. Even as the chill penetrates his cloak, he smiles to himself.

Just as he thought, Damien is waiting just past the entrance to the West wing where Patton comes in a few moments later, his arms crossed and freckles somehow darker in the cool light drifting through the window.

“Are they finally here?” he says evenly, but Patton sees the sparkle in his eyes as they land on the bundle in his brother’s arms.

“Yup!” Patton brandishes the package like a gift and bows, holding in his laughter until Damien gives a small snicker as he grabs it gingerly, like he’ll break the cloth inside if he snatches it. Patton gives a grin that’s only a little smug and says, “I told you Mom would send them before the ball, worrywart.”

“She got rather close, didn’t she?” The gold paper falls to the floor as Damien tears it off and examines the package’s contents with a raised eyebrow, though he doesn’t look upset. “ No matter, I suppose.” He hums contentedly. “I’m assuming yours is the blue one.”

He pulls out the robes in question - they’re a rich baby blue, bright against the golden vine appliques on the collar. They have a faint scent of sage and rosemary, a faint scent of home, and they’re fantastic.

Patton takes them from Damien’s hands and marvels at how soft the fabric is, fingers tracing the vines as his brother analyzes the black robes and golden-yellow vest left in the package.

“How do you think they’ll look?” Patton asks suddenly, piercing the awed silence of the otherwise empty hall - Damien raises an eyebrow again. “Like, on us- do you think they’ll look okay?”

Damien gives a huff that pretty clearly says “duh,” but in that refined Damien way, as he stoops to gather the fallen paper at their feet. “Of course they’ll look ‘okay’, Patton, they’re very expensive. Quite nicely tailored, too,” he adds, mostly to himself. Patton doesn’t respond right away; Damien glances up and narrows his eyes. “If Abrowski tells you otherwise, I’ll turn his glasses into spiders.”

Patton shudders at the thought, frowning at his twin. “Please don’t do that. I really don’t want the ball to be ruined by creepy crawlies everywhere.” Now it’s Damien’s turn not to respond, and Patton squints at him, even as they start down the hall and Damien tries to walk ahead of him. “You know, I think you’d actually really like Lo if you just talked to him!”

“I have talked to him,” Damien says offhandedly, “and he’s an insufferable idiot.”

“He’s not an idiot and you know that.”

Damien just sniffs, offering a stiff shrug when Patton fixes a reproachful scowl on him. “Fine. He’s not an idiot. But he is insufferable.”

“Are you sure you’re not just jealous?”

He nearly chokes on laughter as Damien stops mid-step to glare at him, eyes aflame.

“I’m going back to my dorm,” his twin spits, clearly ignoring Patton’s beaming grin, and stalks the other way down the hall without another word. Patton didn’t expect anything else. Oh well; he’ll apologize later (and try not to laugh during it, or else Damien’s glare might not be the only thing aflame).

Alone again, and robes in hand, he starts down toward his own dorm - he has a ball to get ready for.

---

The last person Roman expected to ask for help getting ready for the Yule Ball was Specs McGee, but here he is, watching Logan Abrowski argue with the Ravenclaw doorknocker, robes in hand and fists clenched at his sides.

“Logan, I can answer the riddle for you-” he tries - it’s been ten minutes since they reached the door to the common room - but Logan glares daggers at him, so he shuts his mouth and goes back to leaning against the staircase railing.

The Slytherin turns back to the door, pinching the bridge of his nose. “A room,” he repeats slowly, “that-”

“That you cannot enter,” the eagle-headed knocker finishes with a sigh. “A room that you cannot enter.”

“What room can you not enter?” Logan mutters to himself, arms crossed tightly over his chest. “A room with no door, perhaps, but then there’s windows or just force...” He mumbles incoherently.

Roman can feel his patience and time running out - only an hour to the ball, and he’s not even in the common room yet - as he makes exasperated eye contact with a painting farther down the wall, a lady in a gauzy lavender dress and ridiculously curly hair who looks quite peeved about his choice of companionship at the moment.

And, as if on cue, Logan groans, pushing his glasses up into his curls to rub his face. “I’m going to scream,” he mutters into his fingers. “I’m going to scream and the entire school is going to think I’m being mugged by a dementor. Roman, do you-”

“Mushroom.”

“What?” The eagle knocker gives a delighted caw and the door swings open; Logan blinks at the entryway. “What?” Roman grabs his wrist and drags him through the door before he can malfunction and accidentally topple down the stairs.

“We have one hour,” he says swiftly, “and it will take me at least thirty minutes to get my dress robes on and looking nice, so we need to hurry.”

Logan’s mouth is still agape as they ascend to the Ravenclaw dorms, but at least he’s moving.

When they reach Roman’s dorm, which is strewn with loose papers and quills that’ve been worn to disuse (there’s also some paint, but that’s only on his desk), the Ravenclaw rushes to slam the door and examine his robes for imperfections as they lie on his bed, smoothed of any creases atop his navy sheets. “There’s a divider by Oliver’s bed, go get your robes on, go, go, go!” he says, shoving Logan toward the other side of the room.

“Roman, we- stop it!” Logan swats his hands away. “We have an hour!”

“Don’t you want to get down there ten minutes early?”

Logan pauses and stares at the ground, lips pursed. Finally, he sighs, giving Roman a halfhearted shove and disappearing behind the cedar divider. “I don’t know why you even asked me to help you,” he grumbles, just loud enough for Roman to hear, though his voice lacks any genuine malice.

Roman isn’t quite sure either, to be honest. He couldn’t ask Virgil - obviously - Patton wouldn’t give him an honest opinion if his robes looked awful, and Damien might be too honest (or he would lie just as much as Patton; neither option is appealing), but Logan... Logan is clumsy with sappiness and, well, emotions,yes, but he’s tactful - most of the time - and Roman knows he can trust him, even he isn’t exactly a fashionista. So he asked Logan to help him.

(Logan had looked pretty honored by the invitation under that careful, blank exterior, for all it’s worth; and it is worth very, very much.)

Eager to take advantage of as much time as possible until Logan starts grumbling again, Roman quickly sheds his robes and uniform and pulls on the basic layers of his outfit for the ball - a simple button down shirt, black pants, and his shimmering gold tie (he might have to get Logan to help him with the knot) - before gingerly lifting his crimson robes from the bed. The golden embroidery glints even in the dim light drifting through the tall windows; he feels a smile pull at his mouth just looking at it.

“Are you done yet?” Logan’s voice floats across the dorm, flat and impatient.

“Are you?” He gets a short, affirmatory grunt in response. How did he do that so quickly? Nevermind, it doesn’t matter. “Just give me a second!”

Roman pulls on the robes as fast as he can without risking a tear, then turns to the mirror by his bed to inspect the look.

His hair is, as always, wavy and perfectly swept to the side (aside from one dastardly lock that insists on falling into his eyes every so often); he actually didn’t do a bad job of tying his tie, though it won’t hurt to get Logan’s scrutiny on the knot, and his pants are free of wrinkles, which means the week and a half of pressing them flat every day worked as planned.

And his robes... they’re lovely, truly, a deep red that somehow manages not to clash with his auburn hair, and gold thread trails across the ends of his sleeves and hem in wispy curls. He’ll have to send his moms some candy from Diagon Alley as a thank you.

“I’m done,” he says quietly, eyes still grazing his appearance. He feels confident likes this, he feels good, he feels- well, he feels brilliant. (Maybe not in a smart way, but if the stars can be brilliant without a brain, he’s sure he’s allowed the title as well, at least for this night.)

He catches Logan’s emergence from behind the divider in the mirror and spins to face him, arms held in the air as if to say ta-da, head high. “What do you think?” he says loftily, a noble king awaiting the input of his court.

“You look acceptable,” Logan says with a nod and a placid look - had it been anyone else, Roman’s heart would have plummeted at the lack of fanfare, but from Logan, it just makes him grin.

“Why, thank you! You don’t look too bad yourself, Specs.”

And it’s true - Logan’s robes seem black at first glance, but in the late afternoon light, Roman can see their navy color, a perfect hue to replicate the night sky; perfect in tandem with the silver constellations stitched onto the robes’ hem, which stretch a considerable distance up the fabric. Bare wisps of metallic thread seem woven into the robes themselves as they glint with every shift in Logan’s stature - with a silver tie replacing his usual green-and-gray one, Roman has to wonder if someone in Logan’s family actually does work in fashion.

Logan glances down at his outfit, giving a noncommittal hum, though Roman sees a proud smile tug at the corners of his mouth. “I suppose so,” he relents after a few moments.

They both fall silent for a second, until Logan clears his throat and looks up, spine straight once more. “Well, we have plenty of time left - as I told you we would, might I add - so what’s next on your preparation agenda?”

“Oh.” Hm. He didn’t think he’d be satisfied with his outfit so immediately, so he hadn’t exactly... made an agenda. “Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh...”

Logan waits as he carries on the single syllable for a full minute before closing his eyes and giving a nearly imperceptible sigh. “Have you finished the Astronomy homework? Perhaps we can work on that until we need to leave.”

Roman blinks at him. “I wasn’t aware you came here just to torture me, Logan. That’s very rude of you.”

“Get your book out, Roman.”

“Dang it.” He trudges to his desk and pulls out the dark book in question, flipping open to the passage they’d been assigned to read and write a paper on - at least it’s mostly charts - as Logan drags a chair from another desk over to Roman’s. Roman glances at the clock above the dormitory door, which says forty minutes to eight o’clock. He does some quick math in his head.

Thirty minutes until they leave, forty minutes until the ball, and then four hours to keep feeling brilliant.

He can manage forty minutes.

---

There are ten minutes until the ball starts, and Virgil is going to have a nervous breakdown.

“Finished homework, put my clothes away,” he lists out loud, running a hand through his hair as he paces around his dorm and Patton nods along, perched on the edge of Virgil’s bed, “locked my trunk, drank some water, put- my dress robes! Patton, my dress robes, where-”

“You’re wearing them, Virge.”

“Oh.” He pats down his body, feels the linen under his fingers, and nods. “Right. Okay. Good.”

He glances around the room, checking and double-checking and triple double-checking for any remaining objectives to be completed before he can go downstairs - the window is shut, bed made, desk cleared... he’s okay? Is he good?

“Are we good?” he asks. Patton looks around and smiles.

“I think so, kiddo!” The Hufflepuff stands, brushes off his robes, and offers his arm to Virgil as his nose scrunches up with a grin. “You ready to have some fun?”

‘Fun’ isn’t exactly the word Virgil has in his head for the situation - he’s thinking more along the lines of ‘anxiety’ or ‘unbridled panic in anticipation of inevitable catastrophe,’ which probably doesn’t even count because it’s, like, seven words, not one, whatever - but nevertheless, he offers his friend a shaky smile, linking his arm with Patton’s. “I guess.”

They depart from the safe stagnancy of his dorm and the Gryffindor common room, down the stairs (which still make Virgil’s heart race, just a little bit, though only when they move - but they’re still tonight. He takes it as a good omen). Other students are about one the first floor; some chat idly with their friends, but a good majority of them seem as put together as he is, rushing around and wildly adjusting their robes and hair and makeup. He breathes a sigh of relief that he’s not the only mess tonight.

Patton must see the tension in his posture dissipate, because he bumps their shoulders together and gives Virgil a small smile. Virgil, for the first time all evening, smiles back.

And then they’re at the doors to the Great Hall, which sit wide open; through them, Virgil can see icicles hanging from the vast ceiling, dripping down like crystals from a chandelier, and the floor is covered with a light carpet of snow that seems swept away from the center of the room. A snow-laden tree towers at the front of the hall.

Virgil pauses in the doorway to take it all in, and stays there when his eyes finally land on the pair just a few tables away from his and Patton’s spot.

Logan looks positively bored at the table, posture stiff and gaze a galaxy away, though his fingertips tap a restless rhythm on the tabletop - people have never seemed his forte, so to be surrounded by them probably isn’t his ideal evening. But at his side is a ball of energy who glances around the Hall every few seconds, eyes wide with awe and admiration, and though there’s no chill to the room, Virgil feels frozen in place.

Roman is a pop of red against the cool blue of the Great Hall. His robes, a smooth crimson, somehow only make his hair more outstanding than usual, and Virgil can see trails of gold snake across his sleeves from where they rest with his arms on the tabletop; a gold tie at his throat shimmers and shifts under the icy light as he looks around the Hall. His face brightens with a laugh as Logan makes some dry comment- and then his eyes find Virgil’s, and they just light up, and he’s standing and dragging Logan behind him, and then it wouldn’t even matter if there’s a chill because Virgil’s face is flushed with heat.

“I’m so glad you’re finally here!” Roman greets with a smile as he reaches where Virgil and Patton are still hovering in the doorway, though he seems to address mostly Virgil (no matter; Logan’s gaze find Patton at last, and any plaint he had prepared quite clearly dies in his throat). “Logan wanted us to be ten minutes early, but I couldn’t stand one more minute of Astronomy homework, so we’ve been here for a good twenty. I was just about to make a scene, get some liveliness in here!”

Virgil manages a laugh that sounds only a little choked. “The scene would have been Logan killing you as soon as you made a sound.”

“Yes,” Roman admits, his grin not wavering, “with a little showmanship worked in. For the people, you know,” he winks, and Virgil’s stupid laugh isn’t even a little voluntary (at least it isn’t anxious) - Roman’s smile just brightens.

Virgil’s smile is not so bright when Patton cuts in.

“Oh, Damien’s here!” The blond waves excitedly to his twin slightly down the hall, and Virgil bites back a groan - he blissfully forgot Damien existed in the craze of the evening, but it slipped his mind entirely that he’d actually... well, be here. He can’t say he’s pleased to be reminded.

“Pat,” Damien greets as he reaches the doorway, black and yellow robes sweeping behind him; he gives Roman a genuine smile, and Virgil is only glad to see Logan’s glare matches his own.

“Where’s your date?” Patton asks his brother, either unaware of the tension around him or simply ignoring it, but Damien squints at nothing in particular before answering slowly.

“I don’t have one, per se-” Virgil would snicker if he didn’t sense an incoming wave of mischief, “but I have some accompaniment, if that’s what you mean. I don’t plan on staying long, so I’ve decided to... humor some acquaintances for the time being.”

Yeah, there’s something shady about that.

As if on cue, footsteps sound in the hall, followed by suppressed giggles and hushed whispers, and just as Virgil braces for the worst, he realizes there’s more than one voice - and, sure enough, around the corner come four very short figures.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Logan mutters, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Dames,” Patton says slowly, his face adorned with a careful smile, “those are first years, are they not?” He waves as the students in question grin at him.

“Yes, they are. I’m not a fan of romantic endeavors,” Damien explains briskly, “or platonic, for that matter, but I do so love ordered chaos, and my acquaintances here,” he returns a smug smile that the nearest first year - a girl with smart brown eyes and caramel curls - gives him, “were interested in helping the cause.”

“They’re first years,” Logan mumbles into his hands, which cover his face. “You can’t- surely that’s against the rules.”

Damien gives him an all-too-patient grin. “Fourth years and above can ask younger students. Besides, even if they couldn’t, look: they’re first years. There’s four of them. Four times one is four, like a fourth year, so they’re allowed here as long as they stick together.”

Roman nods approvingly at the math, but Logan looks ready to murder someone, and Virgil is not far behind him.

“Hi, Logan!” the caramel-curls girl bobs excitedly, either oblivious or uncaring about his weary, weary expression. Logan just waves back.

“Henrietta, Poppy, Ezra, Victor, let’s go.” Damien ushers the first years forward into the Hall, and says, as politely as a mother leaving a chaotic PTA meeting, “We have some things to attend to,” as they depart.

(Virgil swears he hears a warning about releasing something too early, but he has neither the energy nor the patience to think about it in detail.)

“Well,” Roman says, as if that sums up the interaction perfectly.

“Do we dance now?” Patton cuts in excitedly, effectively glossing over the last three minutes (and Virgil has a feeling that he’s simply gotten used to his brother’s prim chaos), hand already in Logan’s, whose face is flushed pink, as they finally drift from their spot in the doorway.

“I don’t see why not. You all were lucky enough to miss the whole champions spiel-” Logan makes an annoyed sound in the back of his throat, which Roman ignores, “-so I think we’re free to put those ballroom dancing instructions to use now.”

Patton beams and is off like a shooting star, pulling Logan to the middle of the Hall where a cluster of couples linger in swaying stances and quiet conversations, effectively leaving Roman and Virgil alone in his wake.

“You look really nice,” Roman says after a moment, much more quietly than he was a minute ago, and Virgil has to wonder how much of his saturation is just a performance. That wondering is promptly cut short as he comprehends the comment.

“Oh,” he responds, like the articulated, functioning human being he is. “Thank you. You- uh, you look great, too. Very great- good. You look good.”

Roman’s mouth quirks into a crooked smile. There’s a single wave that’s errant from the rest of his hair as it falls into his eyes, just a little - it is, without a doubt, the second cutest thing ever, right behind, like, Virgil’s owl, or maybe the stupid grin on Roman’s face right now. Regardless, it distracts Virgil just long enough to make him completely miss whatever Roman just said.

“What?” he asks as Roman blinks expectantly at him with those stupid emerald eyes.

(They’re not stupid, he knows, but he’d really like them to be when they crinkle at the edges as Roman laughs.)

“Do you want to dance?” the Ravenclaw repeats. He offers an upturned hand to Virgil, which he takes after only a few seconds of blank staring and suppressed blushing (he’s not sure the ‘suppressed’ part is actually working out, but whatever).

They linger on the edge of the dancing crowd - if you could call it that, since they’re all just... swaying, kind of, which makes Virgil a little more confident in McGonagall’s ballroom dancing lessons - as Roman’s free hand falls to his waist; Virgil finally hears the soft music drifting through the Hall as he’s guided through those ballroom steps to its rhythm. The quiet piano mixed with the comfort of Roman’s hand in his and the Ravenclaw’s surprisingly smooth dancing tempts him to close his eyes and allow the feeling of floating on thin air to take hold completely.

“I’m glad we got to come here together,” Roman says suddenly.

Virgil snaps out of his trance and offers a small smile, lacing his fingers with Roman’s. “Me, too.” And he is.

Even if he wishes he hadn’t added “as friends” to his invitation, wishes he’d just left it as a proposal for Roman to accept or reject in its original context, wishes he’d had the courage to just come right out and say “as a date” when Roman asked for clarification, even if he wishes he could just up and say “I want to hold your hand like this all the time,” that he wants to look at Roman Walsh as openly and adoringly as his dads or Patton and Logan look at each other, he’s glad he asked. Because Roman is one of his best friends, and being here tonight, with him, is a comforting joy that Virgil is genuinely grateful for; he’s glad for the here and now.

He’s glad to have Roman as a friend before anything else.

---

Logan has never been one for romance - or strong emotions of any kind, for that matter - but to say he’s enamored would be an understatement.

Maybe it’s the lights, their reflections in the icy decor shining a silvery blue that makes him feel like he’s in a different dimension than Hogwarts and its usual warm hues; or maybe it’s the music and the people surrounding him, jubilant, smiling and lilting and sweeping across the floor (as much as teenagers without a breadth of dancing lessons can sweep, which is to say grace is hardly a virtue common at the school) with flushed faces and brilliant smiles.

Or maybe, and this is the theory Logan favors and the one that sends stutters through his chest- through his heart, maybe it’s just Patton.

Just is an egregious word in the context, of course. Nothing about Patton deserves such an understating supplement. But when Logan looks at him - he has to look down, just a little bit - and sees the freckles that dot his nose and cheeks like stars (which is a cliche, he knows that, but it’s the only comparison he can think of to match the awe he feels when he sees them), watches his wild wavy hair fall into his eyes, notices how his smile looks the slightest bit crooked because he only has one dimple, Logan’s head and heart flood with so many feelings at once that all he can amount to describing is just Patton.

And tonight is no different; tonight might even be worse, at least in the not-knowing-adequate-English department, because they’re dancing together in the middle of the Hall, and even if Logan could manage to tear his eyes from the radiant smile right in front of him, he’d find them there again in seconds since Patton’s robes are the brightest in the room (not counting the girls’ dresses, but Logan’s never exactly had an eye for girls anyway). So he stands there - Patton, just as he suspected, has a brilliant past with dancing, and leads the steps with little effort required from Logan - lips pressed tightly together to avoid smiling like an absolute idiot (though he breaks more than once when Patton laughs, or smiles a little brighter, or actually just exists in general, Logan is not strong enough for these conditions), his hands in Patton’s and his mind completely blank of any possible word that could keep his image of stoic and smart and composed when he opens his mouth.

“Oh, look at them,” Patton breathes, and Logan is back from his beat-skipping heart’s excursion (not completely, but enough) to follow the Hufflepuff’s wide gaze. He searches for a second, fingers interlacing with Patton’s without a thought as they pause their dance, and finally spots Roman and Virgil sitting side by side at a table across the Hall, faces bright with laughter. Logan hums under his breath.

“Aren’t they the cutest?” Patton simpers with all the adoration of a cooing parent. “Ro was so torn up about not having a date and Virge was just worried out of his mind, I’m glad they came together- even if they’re just here as friends,” he adds, almost as an afterthought, with so little conviction that Logan is immediately reassured he hasn’t been misinterpreting Roman’s lingering stares at their Gryffindor friend.

“I’m glad to see Roman actually enjoying himself,” Logan says, and Patton turns his hazel eyes back to him, curious and expectant. “He was very unquiet about the state of his dress robes earlier- he’s usually unquiet about his outfits, of course,” Patton nods knowingly, “but he’s worked himself up about tonight so much, I was starting to worry he’d make himself miserable all evening.”

(Now, as Logan looks over, Roman’s robes are actually draped carefully over the back of his chair - just as Virgil’s dark purple ones are - and his sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, hair swept back wildly as if he’s run a hand through it, face alight with a smile at whatever Virgil just said; he looks the most relaxed and carefree that he’s been in weeks.)

“The cutest,” Patton repeats with a sigh, and Logan finds he’s looking at the pair again, though he pauses a second later. “Well, maybe not the cutest.”

Logan gives an amused chuckle. “Oh? What changed your mind?”

Their little dance starts up again, though their fingers stay interlocked, as Patton gives a smile that hints at smug. “Us.”

“Us?” Logan repeats, and the word makes his heart flutter, because ‘us’ is him and Patton and vice versa and together as one, pronouns and hands joined, and that’s not the most romantic line to have been thought into existence, sure, but it fills him with adoration all the same.

“Yeah! We’re the cutest,” Patton says in a sing-song voice, flippantly unaware of the internal chaos his declaration brings Logan, “but they’re a close second.”

And Logan can’t think of a good response, a worthy response to such casual affection, so he just throws himself into their dance, twirling Patton and smiling when the Hufflepuff gives a delighted cheer. That perfect laugh rings around him, and it’s not freckles or wild waves or a single dimples and a crooked smile, it’s everything, it’s him, it’s just... Patton.

He’s not one for romance, no, but if this is how a romantic tale begins, or has begun, or whatever’s in between a prologue and the start of an adventure, then he’s sure he can make an exception.

taglist: @randompeople301 @rebeyerfdog @neonbluetiefling@ultimate-queen-of-fandoms2 @prismartist @lesbianturtle@cristalmystery @dewdrop828 @felicianoromano @flix-net@stressedandstuddied @madsk3tch @mrtacothethird @occasional-lamp-doodles @lhumya @definenormalifyoucan @the-sanders-sides@max-is-tired @follow-pheonix-inside @starfly302 @happily-ever-roman @datoneidiot @marshmallow-the-panda @the-office-cat @unlikelynightmareconnoisseur @gryffindorofcabin21

#hogwarts au #prinxiety #logicality #logan sanders #roman #virgil sanders #patton sanders #janus sanders #sympathetic deceit #my writing

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jess-the-vampire · 5 years ago

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Mind if you make a family tree for your characters?

i mean the closest thing i have is this:

but adding 50 other characters (By giving everyone their grandparents, and then adding parents to everyone else), some of which have not been designed yet, doesn’t sound like a good idea

it’s crowded enough as is and mostly unimportant to know about for the main story

all you really need to know is everyone’s parents and that set up for the sake of the au

the stories of the bonus’s characters parents are parts of their characters, but making everyone an elaborate family tree with all the canon and non characters is not really necessary and requires me to have to design new characters i haven’t even talked about yet.

if you know the main cast (Star, tom ect), you already know who they’re related to. making everyone an elaborate family tree is way too much work if you just want to know what families they belong too (I’d have to add the entire queen line, and star’s confusing extended family several different times and it ain’t worth it)

if you need a brief answer to the ones with no tree:

ash and cole’s parents are dead

sage’s parents are unhappily married

angel’s mother is sick though both his parents tend to think he’s a troublemaker and a reckless prince and constantly apologize for him

mel lives with her mom since her dad passed away

bernard is adopted

fae’s family is poor and rather large

and as a bonus Damien’s birth parents died in a car crash that lost him his leg.

and outside of angel and mel, i’ve never drawn their parents

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zazujoy · 5 years ago

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@artemiswolf-septimusheapfan

Okay so fair warning: this au makes absolutely no sense at all. Also there’s some spoilers. Anyway . . .

Mark is Septimus - missing for a long time, gets trapped in time for a while, has super special abilities

Joan (Dr. Bright) is Jenna - mostly because I want the sibling relationship with her and Mark/Sep, also because they’re both the only person in their family/friend group without powers, also also because I still want Joan/Owen to be a thing

On that note, Owen (Agent Green) is Beetle - they’re both nerds who work hard and are kinda awkward and spend a lot of time pining after Joan/Jenna

I’m really torn between making Damien Simon or Merrin. I think I’m leaning more towards Merrin, because they’re both little punks who aren’t actually that talented, but they have dangerous powers and cause a lot of problems.

Marcia is Wadsworth, because if you ignore all the awful stuff Wadsworth has done, they’re basically the same person

Frank is Marwick, because like. Military Trauma ™.

Chloe is Aunt Zelda because I can definitely picture her living in a little cottage and making a lot of quilts and being bad at cooking. Also this way I can still get a cool Chloe/Frank friendship.

Sam is definitely Syrah, because of the whole time thing and also just a general vibe. Also I love Sam/Mark, and I feel like Septimus/Syrah was at least sort of a thing at some point. But Syrah/Sam gets a better ending in this au because her canon ending is BS (sorry, Ms. Sage, but it’s true).

I have no idea what to do with Caleb and Adam, because I want to include them, but I don’t see how they fit. I can make Caleb Edd or I can make Adam Jo-Jo, but I definitely can’t do both of those things because that would be Bad.

#Sep Heap #tbs #Joy to the World

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ms-sakurai · 6 years ago

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XDDDDD Damien in Far Cry 5. Ja man... wieso nicht? Ich sage das ist ne geile Idee für ein AU!!!

Armer Damien xD ob er überhaupt weiß, wie man richtig ne Waffe bedient?

Obwohl ich mir vorstellen kann, das seine Vermittlungsfähigkeiten etc durchaus nützlich sein könnten, wenn es im Gegensatz zum Spiel dazu kommen würde.

Ich denke, wenn man ihn zusammen mit William reinwerfen würde, dann fängt es an interessant zu werden.

#answered #purple-anxiety-blog #thats an interesting concept #far cry 5 #damien the mayor #Damien in Far Cry 5 Au

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eclipsewarrior101 · 3 years ago

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Omegaverse Au Headcanons

Am au isea me and @psychosistr talked about.

Negaverse steelbeak belongs to @psychosistr

Negaverse Don Diego is the only one in his family who is an omega. His mother was a beta. His father an alpha. He holds no shame of his son being an omega.

Normal verse Andy takes heat blockers to hide his heats of hides in his room with sage

Negaverse Andy was an omega but he smells like an alpha thanks to the dark magic. If he lets his guard down enough he will smell of omega

Negaverse Sid never understood his heats and being in the slave market he was taught to ignore his heats and think they are bad. So…when he first had them at 13-16 it was so hard.

Negaverse Diego was very wary when Andy saved him and he had his first heat…Andy helped him by giving him food and water and meds to help him.

Normal verse Andy once locked himself In his room til his heat stopped. 3-6 days later.

Negaverse Matrix was so awkward when he got his heats…his brothers both alphas gave him meds to help him when they got bad

Negaverse Andy once freaked out when he got In heat around steelbeak and refused to leave his hideout. (no one knew he was an omega…at least, he didn’t think they did)

Negaverse Andy (mafia) hated the fact he an omega. His father and beauraguard treated him like a weak pet and he showed his pissed off side. He had very strong strength for an omega.

Negaverse Diego was scared of his heat due to goosewing making him go through it and not having meds. So to clarify, he got sick due to his heats not controlled and the experiments. He from then on felt heats were bad. Took Andy a few years to help him

Negaverse Sid thought heats were a sin and he would ho to hell. ( dumb caretakers)

Negaverse matrix when he had his first heat was allowed to not work for a few days. His older brothers protected him

Negaverse Sid when he hit his heat when he dated damien was given meds and rest. Damien didn’t wanna take advantage of him…so he let him rest.

Negaverse Andy when actually showing his omega side is like a cute puppy wanting love. He gets embarrassed if he knows he’s he blushing hard or knowing his omega dude is or could be be showing.

Normal verse Andy could tell @psychosistr steelbeak was an omega by accident and won’t tell him or anyone he knows.

Normal verse Andy always smells of peppermint and sage… to rid of the smell of heat cycles.

Negaverse Andy found out by accident steelbeak is an omega. He promised to not.

Negaverse Diego will NOT tell anyone when he’s in heat. He will say he’s sick then try to ignore it. But Andy knows and helps him

#alpha omega beta au #omegaverse headcanons #ocs

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akalei · 4 years ago

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Today’s The Day

I’m not dead and neither is this AU! Thank you all so much for the love and as always I hope you enjoy and please feel free to send me asks for more info :)

@ozmav

@kelelamentia

@resignedcatservant

@imfreakingmagical

@northernbluetongue

@tinybrie

@constancetruggle

@foofoocuddlypoopsgavesokkaapples

@queen-of-the-trash-planet-tm

@mooshoon

@hypnosharkrebeldreamer

@mystery-5-5

@vixen-uchiha

@persephonebutkore

@weird-pale-blonde-person

@wargraymon0709

@be-happy-every-day-please

@shreky-boi

@worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry

@7-sage-7

@thesunanditsangel

@ilovefluffbutsmutisalsogreat

@emeraldpuffguide

@aegyobutpsycho2

@bluefyoto94

@toodaloo-kangaroo

@zotinha456

@readeracctagmepls

@user00000003

@neakco

@nathleigh

@emjrabbitwolf

Today was THE day and Marinette was a complete mess. She barely slept but still managed to miss her alarm. While getting dressed she not only banged her knee on her desk but also fell down the stairs.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng was a complete and utter mess and she was only a bystander.

“Marinette, why don’t you sit down and have some breakfast?” her mother asked, looking at her daughter, concerned as she got up from the ground.

Marinette bit her lip as she glanced over at the empty bowl and plate of croissants on the table, “I don’t know Mom,” she placed a hand on her stomach already filled with knots, “I’m too nervous to eat.”

Sabine shook her head, “I know you’re worried about Adrien but there’s nothing more you can do to help him,” she reached out and kissed Marinette’s forehead, “just have faith and eat.”

Marinette raised an eyebrow, it wasn’t like she didn’t have faith in Adrien or his Justice League approved lawyers, she just doesn’t trust Gabriel Agreste to keep things lawful.

Thankfully she was interrupted by a knock on the door, “sit down Sweetheart, I’ll get it,” her mother said as she lightly patted Marinette on the shoulder. Marinette did as she was told but didn’t touch the croissants.

“Marinette, Sweetheart it’s your friends from your club!” Sabine called out. Confused Marinette turned around to face the entryway to see Dick, M’gann, and Connor in her house.

“Today’s the day,” Dick said with a smile, “are you ready?”

All Marinette could do was just stare at him, it even took her a minute to realize her mouth was open, “what are you guys doing here?”

“We came because we were worried about you,” a voice said, belonging to a young man with forest green eyes who was standing apart from the rest of her friends.

“D-Damien?” Marinette squeaked, surprised to see him here. The boy didn’t give more than a shrug in response, his attention on anywhere but her.

“Are you done with breakfast Mari?” M’gann asked glancing at her empty plate, “because all of us were planning on watching the broadcast together in our hotel room,”

Marinette was still in shock, unable to form a complete sentence. Why in the world would they be here? It wasn’t their problem-

“We came because we’re friends,” Marinette glanced over at Connor, who always seemed to answer her unsaid questions, “we wanted to support you, both of you.”

Marinette felt the tension leave her shoulders, and she smiled, “Thank you,” she stood up and tugged her bag over her shoulder, ready to go, “I mean it.”

* * *

Marinette was overwhelmed, first by the size of Dick’s hotel room, and then by how many of her friends came to show their support. Perhaps she and Adrien weren’t as much of outsiders as they believed they were in the Justice League.

As soon as the broadcast started Marinette had plopped herself on the edge of one of the seats within the hotel room. She sat tall and rigid, her nerves as clear as day to Damien who had settled in the seat next to her. Damien didn’t pay much attention to the TV screen, his eyes trained on Marinette and her ever-changing expressions. As the court case progressed, Marinette’s knee bounced in anticipation and she gnawed on her lower lip with nerves. Caught between concern and annoyance Damien placed his hand on her knee to cease its bouncing.

Surprised, Marinette tore her gaze away from the screen to look at him. Her face red with embarrassment, “Sorry,” she apologized, her lower lip still caught under her teeth.

Damien grunted in response and left his land resting on top of her knee, keeping it from bouncing. Marinette quirked an eyebrow, unsure whether or not he was annoyed with her or just concerned in his own way. Soon the court broke for recess and the live broadcast switched to commercials. Without uttering a word, Damien pulled Marinette up by the hand and led them outside of the hotel room.

“What’re you-?” Marinette started to ask but trailed off as Damien stopped in front of a vending machine. He angrily fed it some euros and punched buttons, after, the machine spat out a bag of chips.

“Here, I know you haven’t had anything to eat,” he thrust the bag of chips out to her, “and you’re beginning to stress me out.”

Marinette gently took the bag from him, “sorry and thank you,” she smiled at him.

Damien wouldn’t meet her eyes, “no problem,” he leaned back against the vending machine, “anyways who is this guy to make you this worried?” he looked back at her almost reluctantly, “is he your boyfriend?”

Marinette’s eyes widened and she let out a small laugh, “no, no we’re not dating,” she paused to figure out how to phrase their relationship, “he’s my partner, my person.” She opened the bag of chips and popped one into her mouth, “We met when we were 13 as civilians and had no idea that we were partners,”

Damien’s brow furrowed, “what do you mean you didn’t know?”

Marinette smiled, “just that, our master told us that we could never reveal our identities. That we could never trust anyone with that secret,” she shrugged, “and at the time we were so overwhelmed with everything going on we didn’t second guess the rule.”

“Sometimes it’s easier not to trust others,” Damien said crossing his arms across his chest, “you’re safer only trusting yourself.”

Marinette shook her head, “I disagree, when your fighting to protect others and risking your life,” she paused to catch Damien’s eye, “you don’t want to be alone, you want to have others supporting you and you have to be able to trust that they’ll have your back. And if that isn’t an option, you have to trust that they’ll make sure everyone else survives.”

There was a gravity to Marinette’s words that Damien wasn’t expecting. He knew that she was a hero, like his father, his brothers, like everyone in that hotel room but he didn’t realize how serious she was. She wasn’t a hero because it looked cool, she was a hero because she wanted to protect everyone even at the cost of her life. Uncomfortable with the sudden realization he changed the topic, “back to Adrien, how did the two of you go from not knowing anything to becoming partners that you’d risk everything for?”

Marinette huffed out a laugh, “we had to grow up,” she popped another chip into her mouth, “we learned what being Miraculous holders meant, that we were cosmically linked and the responsibility that we have to bear forced us to reevaluate what was important to us. And after what happened with the invasion, Adrien and I were done with secrets. If we were to be heroes we were going to do it our way, on our terms.”

“So what happened to land the two of you in this situation?” Damien asked, “I know bits and pieces from Tim and Dick but-” he trailed off.

Marinette folded her half-empty chip bag, “well, it’s a bit complicated. Adrien’s home situation was never the same after his mom died. His father pulled away from the public eye and Adrien was completely isolated in his own home. He was only allowed to go to school after some major convincing from our friend Chloe Bourgeois who is also the mayor’s daughter. And even then if he didn’t live up to his father’s expectations he was immediately confined back home. Long story short he was being abused and thought it was normal,” Marinette looked up from the chip bag, “and then we found out that his father is Hawkmoth,”

Damien’s eyes widened.

“So to the public today is all about exposing Gabriel Agreste’s shitty parenting but for the League, the Team, for me it’s about ensuring that he’s safe.”

Damien nodded, not knowing what else to say.

Marinette just smiled as if sensing his unease, “We should get back, don’t want to miss the verdict.”

Damien followed Marinette back to the hotel room. He watched her stare at the screen, hands wrinkling the chip bag. But his mind was elsewhere, when he first met the girl he thought he had her all figured out. It was in his training to observe and read people, to determine if they were threats or not. And Marinette seemed like an idealistic hero, just like the other kids he met through his father and brothers. Sidekicks who were training to be heroes because of a dream or because they somehow obtained powers. Kids who didn’t know the harsh reality of the world they live in, the reality that Damien had been trained and prepared for since his birth. He thought Marinette was one of those sidekicks, perhaps a little less idiotic but she was so kindhearted, so idealistic. But he was wrong, about many things. About Marinette’s strength, the reason why she’s a hero, and about her partner. Damien didn’t want to admit it but the little rich boy he had written off as a joke, as a poor excuse of a hero was actually a lot like him.

“It’s over!” Marinette shouted and startled Damien. He looked up at the television screen to see Adrien with a look of relief on his face, and a scowl on Gabriel Agreste’s. The entire room erupted into a ruckus and suddenly, Marinette pressed a kiss against Damien’s cheek. Shocked, Damien lifted a hand, and lightly brushed his fingers against his cheek. He looked down to see Marinette with a big grin on her face, wondering what the hell had happened.

“Adrien won, we won!”

#ladybug young justice au #maribat #daminette #lyj

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