#special challenges that come with the apartment life. because everything was pretty much fine except when they were leaving

[coquelicoq]

forget about raising a child, i just had my friend and her toddler stay here for less than 12 hours (most of which were spent asleep) and i'm exhausted

[puppypeter]

✨ All fics are complete! ✨

He Loves Me Cause I’m Cute, He Thinks I’m Pretty Funny | 2588 words 📱

He watches it back one more time after it posts, checking for typos in his subtitles and captions, and has to laugh again.

Steve fucking Rogers? His brain thought he could pull Captain America, literal superhero and America’s favorite sweetheart?

“Hello I’m a 35 year old amputee living in New York and I think that I could get Steve Rogers.”

OR

the one where bucky posts a tiktok and steve is utterly smitten.

Summer Slipped Us Underneath Her Tongue | 10712 words 🧳

Bucky is a tour guide who enjoys sharing the rich history and culture of each city they pass through with a bunch of early-20's college students who just want to know the cheapest place to get drunk.

Except for Steve, who asks Bucky for a personal tour around his hometown.

The rest is, as they say, history.

You Make My Heart Skip A Beet | 3853 words 🧑🏼‍🍳

“I made soda bread.” Steve lets out the 6’2” supersoldier equivalent of a squeak. “Oh, I love soda bread,” he says eagerly, rolling forward on the balls of his feet like he does when he gets excited. “My mom used to make it all the time when I was growing up.” The tips of Barnes’s ears turn red, and he mutters something that sounds suspiciously like, “I know.”

Ollie Meets Bagel | 5517 words 🥯

He was a skater boy, Steve said let's get bagels, boy.

Steve wants to start doing this twenty-first century thing properly. He gets help in the form of skateboarding, skateboarders, bagels, and Sam Wilson.

Taxi | 5113 words 🚕

Bucky Barnes was, he hoped, a good taxi driver.

He's so good, he actually tries to return lost property that ends up left in his car and... well. It has some unexpected consequences involving a National Icon.

Enough said.

Leg Day | 12157 words 🏋️‍♂️

“So talk to him,” Sam says.

“I can’t,” Bucky groans. “I can’t, Sam, I. He just.” He fluffs his hair up and stares at Sam, distraught. “I want him to bench press me.”

“Okay, so it’s serious,” Sam interprets. “Got it."

(Or: The one where Sam is Bucky's long-suffering roommate, Bucky is a hot mess of a millennial, and Hot Steve spends far too much time on the Lat Pull-Down machine.)

Love In Aisle Four | 2127 words 🛍️

When Bucky needs to swing by the supermarket after a long, hard day of work, the last thing he expects is to meet a cute grocery clerk named Steve…

Coming Up Easy | 45515 words ✍🏻

“Listen, I was just thinking,” Steve says, his face open, eyebrows raised in a tentatively hopeful expression. “Why don’t you come stay at my place for a while? I’ve got an office that I barely use, and a change of scenery might do you good, right? Help you beat that writer’s block?” With a crooked smile, he adds, “I promise I’m not a serial killer.”

While Bucky would normally crack a joke about how that’s exactly what a serial killer would say, right now, all he can do is blink at Steve in surprise, heart tripping over itself in his chest. Steve wants him to come and stay at his place. In Massachusetts. Just the two of them.

"Oh," Bucky croaks. "I- Wow."

“I mean, no pressure,” Steve says hastily. “Totally fine if you don’t wanna. I just thought I’d offer, in case it might help, y’know?”

“Yeah.” Bucky ignores the little voice in his head that sounds an awful lot Nat and Becca, telling him he’s setting himself up for heartbreak. “I mean, if you’re sure, that would be amazing.”

Anywhere The Wind Blows | 8845 words 👨‍🚒🎖️

After a catastrophic fire that shakes him to his core, Steve Rogers quits his job as a Brooklyn firefighter and relocates to a cabin in the remote Canadian wilderness, wanting quiet and solitude and to maybe never have to speak to another human being ever again. He gets his wish, more or less, until a recently injured Bucky Barnes is discharged from the Army and rents the cabin next door.

The Safer Course | 7918 words | Part 1 of Won’t You Be My Neighbor 🏡

When Steve moves to the suburbs in 2033, he intends to retire from superhero life.

He does not intend to fall in love with his pain-in-the-ass neighbor.

Every Year I Have You | 7064 words | Part 2 of Won’t You Be My Neighbor 🏡

Steve set the bar pretty high, as birthday presents go.

Bucky is determined to outdo him when July 4th comes around.

Beneath The Mistletoe | 21203 words 🎄

Bucky had a bet with his sister that if he didn’t have a boyfriend to bring home for Christmas by the time he was 25, he had to give her $200 and go blonde for a year. But now he's 25, it’s nearing December, and not only is Bucky as single as ever, but he’s also running low on cash. He doesn’t exactly want to bleach his hair, either.

At least Steve is willing to upgrade their relationship from best friends to fake boyfriends.

The Settler | 52203 words 🍞

“What do you want to do?”

Steve pauses and looks at them.

What he wants is to stay with them. He doesn't have any family left, they all died before he even joined the war and became... this. Captain America turned whatever he is now. But Natasha and Sam have become his family over the years. Not just because they're on the run together, fugitives and vigilantes, but way before that too.

He doesn't want to leave that.

But he knows that, realistically, he can't stay with them and they can't stay with him.

So he looks at them with a smile and lies. “I don't know.”

OR; In which Steve retires and finally finds a place to call home.

You Can’t Put Your Arms Around A Memory | 1148 words 🐈

"Alright, Bucky," Steve slows his steps, watches his neighbour stop at the bottom of the next flight of stairs. There's a canvas bag in his hand that Steve didn't notice earlier, cream coloured with the figure of a sleeping, black cat painted on it. "Have a good day."

He thinks Bucky's cheeks pink up a bit right then and there, but Steve can't tell. He's too distracted by his pounding, foolish heart, by the way Bucky smiles bashfully, and ducks his head. The way he seems like he wants to stay.

To Believe In Tomorrow | 3959 words 👨🏻‍🌾

Bucky's mornings at the community garden get a little more interesting when the new guy shows up.

Maybe This Christmas | 24873 words | Part 1 of Maybe ❄️

Bucky’s not going home for Christmas. But it’s fine. He’s spending Christmas alone in his apartment, but it’s cool. He’s not feeling up to seeing his family after his accident anyway, plus he has to work. He’s totally fine with it. But then he runs into Steve, literally, and suddenly his Christmas isn’t looking so empty after all.

-----

Hurrying was a bad idea. Bucky’s foot hits a patch of ice and slides out from under him in what would have been a comical cartoon banana-peel-like trip, if it wasn’t happening to him, and he braces himself to hit the ground. This is going to hurt.

“Fuck,” Bucky screeches, but as he lands on his back, it’s not the cold hard concrete he expected, but a solid mass beneath him. Oh god, Bucky thinks as he realises he smacked into the person behind him and took them down with him.

Maybe This Year (Will Be Better Than Last) | 133868 words | Part 2 of Maybe ❄️

Last year, Bucky Barnes met Steve Rogers. Well actually, he slipped and fell on him. What followed was the best Christmas either of them had ever had. But what happens when Christmas is over and life returns to normal? What happens after the Christmas miracle?

-----

Bucky should have known. He did know. When things seem too good to be true, they usually are. And Steve is the best thing that has happened to him in a long time, possibly ever, so of course it couldn’t last.

Maybe This Time (I Hope I Get The Chance To Say Goodbye) | 34561 words | Part 3 of Maybe ❄️

Steve and Bucky Barnes are happily married. They've made it through some hard times and come out stronger and happier, together. Then Steve gets called on to come out of retirement for the most important mission of his life and everything changes. Everything.

-----

“Have yourself a merry little Christmas…” Steve starts singing along softly, and Bucky chuckles, before leaning his head onto Steve’s shoulder, always happy when he’s in Steve’s arms.

“From now on, our troubles will be miles away…” Bucky joins in.

Dancing round their living room, just as in love as ever, their troubles seem light-years away, if not non-existent.

Sadly, they’re closer than they think.

The Unexpected Gift | 9504 words | Part 1 of When Winter Comes 🐕

Steve Rogers is fine.

After ending a long-term relationship with Sam Wilson, Steve moves back to New York. He's tired and lonely but depressed? No. At least, that's what he thinks.

From the window of his apartment, he watches a dark-haired man and his service dog sitting in the park, wondering what his story is.

The Winter Storm | 2218 words | Part 2 of When Winter Comes 🐕

"If I could give you one thing in life, I would give you the ability you see yourself through my eyes, only then would you realize how special you are to me."

After Bucky and Steve confessed their feelings for each other, life has its own twisted way to challenge the most profound love.

One January Night | 4213 words | Part 3 of When Winter Comes 🐕

Before going back to work, Steve Rogers still has things to learn: 1- Depression is a bitch and the battle against it isn't an easy one. 2- Dating a person with disabilities comes with its share of challenges.

Bucky Barnes Has His Shit Together (And Other Lies He Tells Himself) | 14159 words 🔒

You’d think a guy who owns one of the most successful bakeries in Brooklyn, has a million-dollar smile and that antiquated good ol’ boy charm, blond hair and blue eyes and biceps for days, would know what’s what.

But don’t let that fool you: Steve Rogers is a mess.

Obvious | 917 words ☕

"Oh, I have a prompt! So, it makes me laugh how painfully obvious Steve and Bucky's feelings are to everyone when they're in that pining, slowburn, does-he-doesn't-he phase. But imagine Steve and Bucky working in a coffee shop together and constantly bickering, nudging and playfully flirting with each other. And all the employees and patrons are so invested in their relationship and just want them to kiss already but no one realizes that Steve and Bucky have been married since they got out of HS."

[cherrynojutsu]

Title: Like Silver

Summary: A companion series for Like Gold.

It’s challenging to finish up discharge summaries and operative reports when one’s vision keeps blurring, as it turns out. And when one keeps pressing fingers to their lips in disbelief. A poetic sort of procrastination, indeed.

Blank period, canon-compliant, Sakura-centric, some expanded plot points from Like Gold, fluff and pining, eventually becomes a smut fest with feelings.

Disclaimer: I did not write Naruto. This is a fan-made piece solely created for entertainment purposes.

Rating: M (eventual nsfw-ness)

AO3 Link - FF.net Link - includes beginning/ending author's notes

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Chapter 2/?: A Poetic Sort of Procrastination, Indeed

Sakura saunters home late in the evening, admiring the stars above her in a daze of spring air and clutching her tote bag to her shoulder as if her very life force is tethered to it.

In the flurry of emotion, she completely forgot about returning her library books, but she doesn’t give a damn.

She drudged through her entire pile of paperwork, though it was an almighty effort requiring every ounce of her discipline. Even after Sasuke left, she kept tearing up and just gawking at the impossibly beautiful gift he’s given her, affection requited bubbling up inside her ribcage and unleashed into the air she breathes like some sort of ambrosial perfume she can finally afford to bask in. She has always known there is a softer side to him, that there is much more beneath the surface than he lets on with his laconic demeanor, but this is something else.

It’s challenging to finish up discharge summaries and operative reports when one’s vision keeps blurring, as it turns out.

And when one keeps pressing fingers to their lips in disbelief.

A poetic sort of procrastination, indeed.

She hangs her tote on its entryway hook and carefully removes the box inside once she reaches her apartment. After she’s padded her way to her bedroom, she flips on the two lamps before placing it tenderly on her bed.

Sakura briefly contemplates taking the lid off then and there, but she knows she really should shower first, because otherwise the evening is going to quickly spiral away from her, whirlpool of tender feelings that it already is.

It’s the quickest shower she’s ever taken in her life; berry-scented soap floods her body and seems to take forever to rinse clean in her haste, although it can’t actually be more than a minute or two in reality. It’s also the quickest she’s ever toweled off and changed into pajamas, scurrying back to her room and grabbing the first pair she lays eyes on from her dresser drawer.

Once she has shimmied them on, she opens the box again, and just looks.

It still exists - it doesn’t disappear or dissolve as a figment of her imagination - so she picks it up with careful hands.

It is so, so pretty, exquisite in a way that makes her heart hammer relentlessly against her sternum, a catharsis in her chest sweeter somehow than anything she’s ever experienced.

It’s unavoidable; her eyes well with tears again, because he said he had it made for her. Not found in an antique shop off the beaten path or some happenstance market who knows how many miles away. Not just something that reminded him of her.

Made for me.

Which means he thought of this himself. Silk that shifts colors like the Uchiha crest, fastidiously stitched petals, and a cherry blossom tree, carved light wood that is startlingly similar in tone to the accents here in her bedroom.

And the way he looked at her, after, a storm of silver and obsidian that took her breath away.

And he kissed her.

Sakura doesn’t know how she’s supposed to fall asleep tonight, deliriously happy as she is, or how she’s going to spend any of her free time from here on out not staring at this supernal treasure. She strokes the wood with careful fingers, bringing the carving upwards for closer inspection. Every inch of it is gorgeous; she is especially enamored with the pink and pearlescent stitching, coruscant in the low light. She assiduously counts the slivers of bamboo, too, and follows the rivulets of fine branches stretching upwards to the boundaries of the framework. Upon her inquest, she notices an impossibly tiny etching, faintly whittled on the interior of one of the slats of bamboo. Tai Ro, it says; she assumes that must be the craftsman’s signature. She wonders where it came from, which far-off land Sasuke traveled through to commission something so resplendent.

She has never seen anything so bewitching, except maybe silver flecks.

Tearing her gaze away from the fan, Sakura eyes the vanity by her balcony door, an idea brewing.

It’s an aged piece, of a bygone style featuring small drawers on each size and a sunken point in the middle, from which rises a large circular mirror. A framed copy of their original Team Seven portrait sits pushed against the framing, right in the center. She placed it there because she enjoys seeing it as she gets ready for the day. It’s a good memory, one of her favorites, sentimental in a way that makes her heart swell, after everything. A pale wooden hairbrush also sits perched atop its surface, given to her by her mother forever ago while she was still at the Academy.

“I found it in the market today, just after swinging by to pick up rose food from Ino’s mother. It’s old, an antique, but I think it suits you, my dear,” she’d said, ruffling her hair, still long at that point and chattering a mile a minute in the overbearing way she has always tended to. She’d brushed her already combed locks in the manner that Sakura thinks all mothers must with their daughters, even when they are starting to become too grown for that sort of thing. “What I wouldn’t give for your hair! So unique; you should have something lovely to brush it with. You’re already such a pretty girl, but someday you’re going to bloom, and when you do, heaven help the boys.”

There’s a cherry blossom on it, too, adorning the back simply with five perfect petals.

When Sakura moved out of her parents’ house, she chose the tones of her bedroom accents, inclusive of the frame, with it in mind; she’d been using it for years by then, and had developed a fondness for pale wood rooted in familial nostalgia. Most of her actual furniture in the room is secondhand, of an older variety and painted with a white stain to make them somewhat match - she prefers things with a little bit of history, has since her mom gifted her that hairbrush - but the few frames and wall-mounted shelves are lighter washes of wood.

Many of the surfaces in her apartment are cluttered with books and other knick knacks she has accumulated through the years, but she tries to keep the vanity’s top clear, almost like an altar, an ode to the things she finds lovely atop it to give her hope with which to greet the day.

Still clutching the gift tenderly in her hands, Sakura ventures over to it.

She holds the fan close to the frame as well as the brush, comparing the color, near an exact match, a fresh memory making her heart swell in a completely different way, a way she had previously thought was maybe unrealistic.

She’ll get a stand for it, she decides, and display it in the spot the frame currently sits; it would look perfect there, the curvature echoed above it in circular looking glass, a hairbrush of a similar stain beside it. Then she’ll be able to gaze at it every morning and evening. There is no way something this precious to her could ever be stored away in a box and only seen on special occasions; it’s the same reason she struggled with the idea of hiding his letters away in one.

No, Sakura is resolutely sure that admiring it will be a daily ritual.

She can relocate the photo frame to her bedside table, maybe, next to An Introduction to Electrocardiography , or perhaps to her living room, though it doesn’t really match the wood out there.

That gets her thinking. We’re... together now, right? He’s kissed her, and she really hopes he will again, surprisingly soft lips against hers, an aroma of woodsmoke, and butterflies unleashed in her stomach. Maybe she should put the frame on the shelf in the main room. He might come over, sometime; it would be good to have it visible, situated in a place where he can see it.

With the utmost care, she lays the fan on the surface in front of her. Sakura combs through wet locks, coaxing out tangles with an old gift and appreciating a new one with watery eyes. When she’s finished, she carefully clutches it again and admires it atop a lavender comforter for the better part of an hour, alternating between mentally mapping its fine stitching within the confines of her hippocampus and paging through her book of Sasuke’s letters in a way that is more than fond, affection freed from her chest after so very long. The jubilance crests to a sense of omneity as she does so, moon glow filtering in by way of the gauzy white curtains that shield the balcony’s glass door.

She absolutely can’t wait to see him tomorrow. She sincerely hopes she’s not dreaming all of this.

She is so enamored with it that she doesn’t even drink her customary evening tea, her being warmed in an entirely different manner she is as of yet unaccustomed to, better than earl grey or some variety of dessert. It’s immensely difficult to pry it from her own hands when the time comes to do so.

Always is the last word she thinks of before she succumbs to slumber, curled up in soft colors and hoping he has found somewhere comfortable to sleep. Treasured memories emanate from objects old and new, brewing together before a looking glass where she’s placed them for safekeeping and admiration.

XXX

When she awakens in the morning, Sakura jerks upright in bed, turning to her vanity to ascertain if it was all a dream, cozened in by her subconscious as she slept.

It wasn’t. The fan is still there, precious and so enchantingly beautiful, dawn flavoring the memory of Sasuke’s return just as sweet as it had tasted yesterday with his lips on hers.

She brushes her hair again, working at the task way longer than necessary and trying not to cry out of sheer happiness. She feels so light, as if being pulled upwards by a latterly existent force of gravity, theoretically possible in terms of relative physics and with the right circumstances, but never actually experienced.

Birds are singing on the balcony when Sakura finally steps outside, snacking on seeds from her bird feeder as she gives her fledgling plants a drink before leaving for work.

It is such a lovely morning.

XXX

Sakura makes it through work as if encapsulated in a brand of inertial navigation system, floating as if she’s a bizarrely sentient cloud from patients to test tubes. She feeds the mice and records the brief observations she usually does on Wednesdays, and then a Genin is being brought in with a linear fracture in their tibia, twisted wrong and impacted during training. She gives instructions to nurses, too, taking care of smaller tasks in between, part of her feeling like she is barely there.

Well, not barely. She still keeps her wits about her and heals people; she takes pride in what she does. She just… daydreams a little, too, sage, smoke, and silver occupying her spare moments, flitting in between the corridors of her head as she flits from exam room to exam room.

She’s sitting at her desk, eating an early dinner and working on a new pile of paperwork before her next appointment arrives at five thirty, when one of Naruto’s clones bangs on her window.

Her gaze shifts to the glass at the familiar boisterous whining of her name - “Sakura-chaaaaaaan!” - and she rises to open it the rest of the way, allowing him entry into her office, an easy grin coming to her lips.

“Naruto!” A million thoughts run through her head. He has to know Sasuke’s back at this point, right? Has he seen him? He must be so happy.

Cyan bores into her, and he grins as he steps down. “Sakura-chan, teme’s back! Can you believe it? Though I guess you knew since yesterday.”

Sakura’s cheeks warm at the implication of that, wondering how he knows this information, but her friend is plowing onwards.

“Anyways, wanna have an original Team Seven reunion dinner on Saturday night? Or maybe Sunday night? Kakashi-sensei said Saturday would be better for him, if it works for you. And we should also make it a housewarming party for teme, but Kakashi-sensei says DON’T tell him that, or he won’t agree! It’s a surprise.”

Laughter erupts from her chest, rich and joyful, because it is crystal clear in that moment that Naruto is as elated at Sasuke’s return as she is - okay, maybe not quite on the level that she is, but close - even through a clone. “Of course, we should! I don’t have anything planned for Saturday night.”

Her teammate grins, all infectious happiness in the way that is so utterly characteristic of him, eyes crinkling at their corners. “Good, great, awesome! Be sure to mention it to him when you see him at seven. I’m sure if you suggest it, he’ll definitely agree.” Sakura blinks in surprise, cheeks staining darker. “Man, this is gonna be so great! Team Seven is fucking back ! I can’t wait to get a mission! It’ll be just like old times. I gotta tell Hinata-chan, too!”

She can’t help it; she smiles so wide that it hurts her face, tears paying her another visit. Sasuke’s back. He’s really back. And-

“Well, anyways, I’ll leave you to eat your dinner, Sakura-chan, but we have to force him to be social. I can’t wait to spar! But also, we gotta have a picnic, and no tying me to the pole this time. We could even challenge Kakashi-sensei to get off his ass and give us another go at the bell test. And, and! We should have a movie night. And go drinking! I’ve never seen teme drunk. I bet he’s a lightweight, and he’ll probably say all sorts of embarrassing shit! And-” Naruto’s clone’s expression turns unexpectedly serious, blue eyes suddenly narrowing in a way that is all-seeing and a tan finger suddenly pointing at her accusingly.

“-I mean social outside of you and him, Sakura-chan! Don’t think for a second that you’re gonna escape my questions later, when my brain isn’t fried from staring at that stupid scroll Kakashi-sensei has me slaving over. I want answers. ”

And then Naruto’s clone disappears in a puff of smoke, leaving her blinking in a strange combination of bewilderment and somehow, shyness, too.

And ebullience. Mostly ebullience.

She stands there grinning like an idiot for a long time. She can’t wait to see him at seven.

[justanotherpersonsuniverse]

Game Master Akuma AU by  crisisdparity

Xavier Duchamp was rather proud of himself. What he had before him was an absolute masterpiece of a campaign if he did say so himself. The product of over six months of study, research, and rebalancing efforts followed by two weeks of discussion with his five players to hash out schedules, meeting times, characters, backstories, potential character arcs, and getting them set up with a messaging app that was really good for sending discrete messages between the GM and the players. Valentine and her boyfriend Justin were onboard in an instant. Within days, he’d greenlighted their Half-Elf Bard of the College of Glamour whose spell list was 100% Illusion spells and Half-Orc Fighter (Eldritch Knight) who was focusing entirely on Abjuration as Rena Rouge and Carapace respectively. Olivia had spent a few days coming up with a Halfling Rogue and debating subclasses with him until settling on Scout. Along with some discussion over how her special magic item’s stunning and paralysis effect would work with Sneak Attack, the campaign had its Vesperia. Jeanette had gone back and forth with him for a week looking at various homebrew subclasses for her Gnome Artificer before they both agreed on one particular Master Tinkerer entry that would be balanced and do the character justice. And with that they had their Ladybug. Even Matt was on board with a stealthy human Chat the Barbarian using the Path of the Beast. The class choice was something Matt had insisted on (and that Xavier would have suggested anyway just for the high hit point totals given Matt’s history with characters dying) and he’d even come up with a backstory that Xavier felt was quite compelling compared to Matt’s usual efforts. Morally ambiguous, likely to be tempted by promises of power, but with a great deal of story potential to work with. Which was a relief. Getting a new player into their group to replace Matt was not something Xavier really felt comfortable with. There were too many unknowns with introducing a new person, far too many for him to risk his masterpiece on an unknown factor. He knew Matt. He could work with Matt. Despite the history. He’d put everything he had into this. Every known Akuma ever fought by the heroes had been made into a boss-tier foe. He’d carefully documented each and every power the heroes had shown to craft special legendary magic items based on the Miraculous. Hawkmoth and Mayura themselves were going to be the final bosses of his campaign. In response to criticism about the difficulty of his campaigns (he tried to make them fair, but still challenging enough to be memorable), he’d made several guest NPCs based on every other hero that had ever been called upon, statted out like player characters that might show up in a pinch to help. He even had a genuine Deus ex Machina that he was ready to use to get the players out of a truly impossible jam if they found themselves in one. Not always, but a few times at least. Enough to get them to the point where they wouldn’t need it anymore. —– It was thirty minutes in, right in the middle of exposition from the Guardian NPC, when Xavier got his first message on the app. Matt/Chat - Chat’s going to wait until everyone breaks up and follow Ladybug stealthily. Xavier/GM - Starting party conflict on the first session? Not what I’d advise, but it’s your character. Go ahead and make your Stealth roll now. Matt/Chat - <photo> 17 Xavier/GM - Yeah, that beats everyone’s passive Perception easily. You’ll sneak off handily without anyone noticing. —– “Jeanette, Ladybug is grabbed from behind by an unknown assailant. Roll to resist the grapple.” “Geez, already? Okay, what did my assailant get for their grapple? How screwed am I?” Xavier pretended to roll a die while consulting the message from Matt. “19.” “Okay, difficult, but not undoable… Crap.” “What’d you get?” “Nat 1…” “Hah! I rip off her earrings and claim them for myself! The Wish is mine!” “Seriously Matt?! What the hell?!” “Because it’s payback time! Payback for every character of mine killed in these hellish

campaigns!” “Oh, come on! You’re not the only person whose had a character die at this table! <GM> runs some pretty challenging campaigns, but they’re always fair!” “What about the time he killed Allric the Allmighty in a single round of combat?” “Dude, you tried to Leroy Jenkins straight into melee with a 4th-level Wizard that had a CON penalty. Even at full health you had like 10 hp.” “14!” “Not much better, dude.” “Guys, it’s fine. I can handle this. Okay, Matt. Chat the Barbarian managed to get the earrings-” “Yeah, Ladybug screams bloody murder when he rips them out. Good luck getting out of this in one piece.” “The moment Rena hears Ladybug scream, she bolts for the sound.” “So does Carapace.” “Vesperia too.” “-and with their current locations and movement speeds, I assume you’re all using the Dash action?, you’ve got maybe one round to decide on your Wish before they’re all over you, so choose carefully. And be aware that I plan to grant whatever you wish for in the worst possible way, just as I would if any of the others pulled this.” “Rena screams ‘What the HELL, Chat?! We’re supposed to protect the Miraculous, not use them for our own selfish purposes! Didn’t you listen to the Guardian? Such actions always bring misfortune upon those who misuse the Miraculous!’” “Because I am Chat, avatar of Destruction and I WISH THIS WORLD NEVER EXISTED!” There was dead silence at the table. “Matt… What… just… WHAT?!” “Hah! You like that?! How does it feel now that the shoe’s on the other foot, huh?!” “What the hell is your problem, Matt?!” “My problem? MY problem?! Do you know how much time I’ve spent making characters for these shitty campaigns only to have them turned into paste in one session?!” “Because you made primary spellcasters and played every last one of them like a barbarian, charging in headfirst without thinking! All of us breathed a sigh of relief when you revealed that your character finally matched your playstyle!” “I HATE BARBARIANS! THEY’RE BORING! I SHOULD GET TO PLAY CHARACTERS THAT CAN AT LEAST CHUCK FIREBALLS!” “THEN MAYBE YOU SHOULD STOP RUNNING THEM FACE FIRST INTO ENEMY SWORDS!” “NONE OF YOU COULD EVER HANDLE THE FACT THE I MAKE MORE AWESOME CHARACTERS THAN ANY OF YOU, SO YOU JUST LET THIS DOUCHEBAG KILL THEM OFF SO YOU WOULDN’T GET OVERSHADOWED BY HOW AMAZING I AM! WELL NOW I KILLED SOMETHING YOU ALL WORKED HARD ON, SO SUCK IT! I’M DONE WITH ALL OF YOU FOREVER!” “MATT! HEY! GET BACK HERE YOU JERK! MATT!” “Crap, I think Olivia might actually kill him this time…” “It’s going to take all of us to stop her from getting arrested at least.” Xavier just watched numbly as the rest of the group ran out of his apartment. Over six months of work. Gone in less than an hour. He’d given so much to making sure this would work. He’d apologized to Matt at least twice for every character of his that had died to get him to come back. He’d agreed to demand after demand just to keep a familiar face on board, never dreaming he’d pull something like this. He’d nearly gotten fired from his job trying to rearrange his schedule to fit with everyone else’s. They’d somehow, miraculously, gotten the whole day with no other obligations among any of them and decided to make the first session a true marathon. They’d meet in the morning after breakfast and eat both lunch and dinner at the game table before calling it a night late in the evening. It was barely 10:00 in the morning and the whole campaign he’d slaved over for months was kaput. He never noticed the butterfly landing on his custom Miraculous-themed Game Master screen and being absorbed into it. “Game Master, I am Hawkmoth. Few people appreciate the kind of effort that goes into making something truly grand and memorable. I shall give you the power to bring your entire world to life and in return, I ask only for a few simple things.” This was wrong. Hawkmoth was the worst of the worst. The kind of person who would be at home among all the final bosses he’d ever made for his campaigns. Heartless, manipulative, cruel. “Not

enough? Ah, but what is a game without players? How would you like to have the Miraculous heroes themselves run your great campaign? Surely they would be far more appreciative than those ungrateful peons that left you alone with nothing but the broken remains of your efforts.” He knew all these things, but the allure of bringing the world he’d spent so much time on to life… What creator could ever turn down an offer like that? “I, the Game Master, accept… Hawkmoth.” “Excellent. And in exchange, you shall bring me one of two things: The Miraculous, or the identities of their wielders.” “No.” Hawkmoth was silent for a moment. “I beg your pardon?” “I said no. I am the Game Master. I make the world. I craft the challenges. I decide the rewards. But I do not do anything for anyone. If you want these things, get them yourself.” “If you refuse me, it shall be very unpleasant for you.” “No. As Game Master, I decide the limits of all powers within my realm. And I decide that you have none over me.” And with that, he unleashed his creation over all of Paris, drawing everyone and everything within into his sphere of influence. —– Ladybug blinked the spots (ha) out of her eyes as the flash of light died down and looked at herself. She didn’t remember transforming, but she was clearly in her spots. Except her red and black superhero uniform didn’t usually look like it was headed to a steampunk convention. Looking around, she tried to figure out what had happened and her eyes landed on a familiar belt and pants combo. Problem. Whoever this was, their groin was at eye level for her. She looked up. And up. To find a grinning Chat Noir, sans anything resembling a shirt and having put on at least a foot of height and apparently a hundred pounds of pure muscle, grinning down at her. “How’s the weather down there?” Chat Noir chuckled as he flexed his unfairly attractive muscleman physique. “I WILL END YOU!” the heroine snarled, already 100% done with whatever new insanity Hawkmoth had cooked up. Characters: Ladybug - Gnome Artificer (Master Tinkerer - Homebrew) Chat Noir - Human Barbarian (Path of the Beast) —– Vesperia had to admit, as Akuma attacks went, this was pretty dope. She was currently a halfling. A halfling! If it wasn’t for her fantasy ensemble being yellow and black, she’d have thought she stepped straight out of Lord of the Rings. Of course, fantasy setting or not, there were still things she’d have rather left back in the real world. Like racism. And stigma against mixed couples. Not directed at her, but rather at the two walking down the street next to her. “You know, people are staring…” she said as she craned her head to look at her companions. “Let them,” the Half-Elf Rena Rouge (who looked like a cross between a musician and a belly dancer) said from her perch atop the shoulders of the heavily armored (and surprisingly buff) Half-Orc Carapace. “They’re just jealous because their boyfriends can’t carry them everywhere.” Characters: Vesperia - Halfling Rogue (Scout) Rena Rouge - Half-Elf Bard (College of Glamour) Carapace - Half-Orc Fighter (Eldritch Knight) —– Ryuko blinked as she studied the apparent snake-man-thing before her who claimed to be Viperion. She lifted a hand to study it and found what appeared to be bronze scales covering every inch of her skin. She sniffed herself, smelling the sharp tang of ozone. What was she? And why did she appear to be wearing wooden armor? Characters: Ryuko - Dragonborn (bronze) Druid (Circle of Storms - Third Party) Viperion - Naga Sorcerer (Divination Magic - Homebrew) —– Polymouse giggled as her friends ran over her. Okay, she’d freaked out a little to find a swarm of mice (with hair like hers no less) crawling all over her surprisingly mouse-like body when she’d come to in the middle of some forest somewhere. But she’d gotten over it pretty quickly. It helped that her new friends were adorable. It might help more if she could figure out where she was. Or find another person. Characters: Polymouse - Kobold

(rodentlike) Ranger (Swarmkeeper - Reskinned) —– Purple Tigress sighed as she felt the hair (fur?) on the top of her head being shifted around and twitched her new catlike ears in mild annoyance. “Are you quite done?” “Almost!” Pigella’s cheerful voice answered. “Your fur is so comfy!” Tigress sighed. Of course Pigella would end up being a fairy, and having her normal cheerful enthusiasm cranked up to previously unimagined levels. “I love you dearly, but if you start shouting 'hey listen’ I will stick you in a bottle.” “Aw, I love you too! Hey, what’s that?” “I think it’s my character sheet?” Characters: Purple Tigress - Tabaxi Paladin (Oath of Glory) Pigella - Fairy Cleric (Order Domain - Reskinned) —– “According to my analysis, we have been placed into what appears to be a Dungeons and Dragons campaign under 5th edition rules,” Pegasus stated in a mechanical monotone. “I am apparently a Warforged Wizard using the School of Conjuration whose spells create portals to bridge dimensions and summon or banish my intended targets. You are what is known as a Simic Hybrid, with the class of Monk, following the Way of the Drunken Master.” “Aweshum,” King Monkey slurred, his generally human appearance clad in monk’s robes marred by his monkey-like hands and feet as well as the monkey tail swishing behind him. “Why do you keep slurring like that? According to my sensors, your gourd is filled with only water.” “Gotta keep up appearanshes!” King Monkey grinned as he continued faking drunkenness. Characters: Pegasus - Warforged Wizard (School of Conjuration - Reskinned) King Monkey - Simic Hybrid Monk (Way of the Drunken Master) —– Hawkmoth studied the dark red horns growing out of his head in the mirror. The change in appearance was disconcerting, but he felt a rush of power in this new form that he’d never felt before. “Hmm… perhaps I can work with this…” “Speak for yourself…” Mayura muttered off to the side, ruffling her peacock-like feathers in annoyance as she tried to glare at the beak on her own face. Characters: Hawkmoth - Tiefling Dark Lord, Warlock Patron, Contracted by Lila Rossi, Volpina, Queen Wasp, and many others. Mayura - Kenku Assistant to the Dark Lord, Creator of Monsters —– “Oh, come on!” A figure in a cyan and white hooded robe complained as they waved a similarly colored umbrella around angrily. “Everyone else gets to be part of this adventure, why can’t I join them?” “Because you’re too OP. You’d completely break everything and remove all challenge from the adventure.” “But sitting around is no fun at all!” “If you like, I can put you in the position of the main quest giver. Your job would be to direct them towards their enemies and means of becoming stronger.” “That’s it?! I’m on 'mysterious hooded figure’ duty? Boo! Why can’t I fight with them?!” “Because you’re too OP. But if you insist, I’ll allow some Deus ex Machina interventions.” “YES!” “Five.” “I’m sorry?” “I’ll allow five interventions at your discretion to aid them when they are in peril. Once you have come to their aid five times, I will allow no more meetings save to impart quest information.” “That’s it?” “Yes. Choose your interventions wisely.” “So… if I manage to save one for when they fight Hawmoth and Mayura in the final battle…?” “Then I would allow you to join them of course.” “Score!” Characters: Bunnyx: Mysterious Hooded Figure, Deus-ex-Machina (5) Game Master: Akuma Lord of the Miraculous Campaign —– Addendum When the Game Master is finally purified and the damage reversed, it turns out that he took the effort to trap all of Paris in a temporal stasis bubble so that no matter how long passed inside no more than a few moments passed outside. Meaning that after what seemed like months in the bubble, it’s basically less than a minute after he was akumatized when everything is put back. All his friends, minus Matt, come back in bringing a new person named Zack that they vetted themselves to take Matt’s place in case he pulled something like what he did. And while he

has a similar playstyle to Matt, he’s savvy enough to know what kind of characters that is suited for and he loves playing barbarians. They all sit back down and restart the game they were all looking forward to.

—-

oh wow- that’s- wow. good job dude, seems like you worked on this a lot. Next time You should post this on your own account though, as this isn’t getting tagged or anything. Thank you though, you did a good job with this.

[silenceofthecookies]

Henlo Cookie UwU! Happy to see your askbox open, hope you get many good requests! I need some of that motivation to dive into the Magi manga u so graciously let me borrow, so I am going to ask for a scenario with Kouen and his beautiful goatee UwU, maybe an arranged marriage, but him and fem!reader actually fall in love? It's a bit unexpected for both of them since they were just seeing it as a duty, but a nice extra. Happy writing, enjoy your week off and much much love and much UwU!

Henlo Hazel! And I’m happy to see you in my askbox UwU. I’m really looking forward to you reading the manga! I’m expecting updates on feelings, though the most interesting things are in the second half, obviously 😉 For now, enjoy Kouen and his terribly weak goatee game! ❤

Word count: 1823

Warnings: Suggestive themes

“Do you, Ren Kouen, take L/N Y/N to be your lawfully wedded wife?” “I do.” “And do you, L/N Y/N, take Ren Kouen to be your lawfully wedded husband?” “I do.” “Then by the power bestowed upon me by the Kou empire, I hereby pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss the bride.”

The first kiss held no emotion at all. Neither did the vows. Everything felt forced, just like the marriage you had gotten into. Not that you expected anything different. You and Kouen had been forced into a political marriage, you as the eldest princess of your kingdom, and Kouen as the crown prince, who would need a wife for when he ascended.

You had only met once before the marriage. The emperor of the Kou empire and your father were discussing the alliance, while Kouen was showing you around the palace grounds. He had been indifferent, uninterested and he seemed everything but happy. You couldn’t blame him, you weren’t too excited about this either. Though you were happy that Kouen was a handsome young man, and not some ugly old creep.

The party was stiff and formal, as you had expected. The wedding took place in the Kou empire, where you would now be living. Only a few nobles and family members from your country had showed up, so most of the guests were people you didn’t know. Kouen greeted them all with either a serious face or a confident grin, and he introduced you to every one of them. You were sure you wouldn’t be able to remember all of their names. The party wasn’t really on your mind at the moment, and neither were politics.

It was with your now husband, and what he would be expecting of you, mostly of the first night. You knew what was supposed to happen, but you did not feel ready for it at all. You had read many stories talking about the romance of sharing a bed with the person you loved, and the fact that you had to share this special moment with a stranger made you sick.

The party lasted until late in the night, and it resulted in quite a lot of drunk people. One of them had been one of the Kou princesses, Kougyoku if you remembered correctly, who had started talking to you. It was a little awkward because she was pretty far gone, but you could feel she meant well. She told you little things about Kouen, things you ‘should know as his wife’. How he would work until late at night, how he enjoyed reading and playing chess to pass his free time. How much all his younger siblings looked up to him, and how much of a respectable man he was. Before she got much further, one of her servants gently coaxed her away from your side, and apologised on her behalf for her intoxicated state.

Not long after that, the party ended and you follow Kouen to the bedroom. You were so nervous you could throw up, but you tried to endure it. Kouen held the door open for you, and you stepped inside.

“Your clothes are over in that closet. If you need anything, call the servants. I will be sleeping in my room down the hallway.” You stared at Kouen in disbelief. “But shouldn’t we… ehm…” “You’re uncomfortable, right? Don’t pretend you’re not, I’ve noticed your behaviour at the wedding. I refuse to take a woman against her will, wife or not. Get used to life around here first, then we’ll see about consummating the marriage.”

You stared at his back as Kouen left your room, unable to react. About a minute after he closed the door behind him, you collapsed and started crying, unable to contain all the feelings you felt. Fear. Had you been so obvious? Would there be consequences? Doubt. Were you not good enough? But also happiness. He would not take you against your will. You would not be forced to spend the night with him. You would spend the night in your own bed, without a stranger next to you, doing things to you.

Once you had let out most of the emotion and sorted the bulk of your thoughts, you got changed into your nightgown and lied down in the bed. After all the stress from that day, and the emotions from that night, you were both physically and emotionally exhausted. The comfort of your new bed took you by surprise, and it didn’t take long before you fell asleep.

The next morning, servants woke you up, helped you get ready, and your new life as a princess of the Kou empire, and wife to Ren Kouen, began. You were required to join him and his siblings during mealtimes, but apart from that you got a surprising amount of freedom. You were no hostage for your country, but you still expected a more restricted approach, certainly since Kouen seemed to strict. Then again, he had already shown you he respected you, at least until a certain degree.

For the first few weeks, you and Kouen barely talked to each other at all. There was some conversation during mealtimes, mostly to keep up appearances, but there was no spark, no affection, no love. Once mealtimes were over, you minded your business, and Kouen minded his. He never asked you to sleep in his room, nor did anyone else question it. It wasn’t like he was unfriendly to you, and neither were you to him. There was just very little interaction coming from either side. It was an arranged marriage after all, this was just your duty. Neither of you seemed very much interested in each other, until one night in the library.

You had been in the Kou palace for a little over a month, and you knew the place like the back of your hand. It was late, but you were far from tired. To chase away the boredom, you decided to head to the library to find a book to read until you got sleepy. Once you entered the library, you noticed the two eldest princes. Kouen was sitting on a chair next to a table with a chess board on it, and Koumei was walking away from the table.

“Come on, Koumei. Just one more game?” Kouen grinned. “You always say one more game, and then you insist on another one after that. I’ve had enough for today, brother. I’ll be retreating to my room. Good night.”

Koumei walked past you on his way out, and nodded to you as a greeting before he left. Kouen sighed, although still grinning, and looked at you.

“Good night, Y/N. What brings you here at this hour?” “I wanted to read a book before going to bed.” “I see… so you’re not tried yet?” “No…?” “You wouldn’t know how to play chess, would you?” “Only the basics, but I do, actually.” You were a little proud to admit you knew how to play chess. Maybe a little too proud. Kouens grin widened at your answer. “Then, why don’t you play a game with me?” You instantly regretted your answer, and the pride behind it, but it was too late to back down now. “Very well, one game.”

One game turned into many. Kouen beat you every game, but you learned from his strategies and got a little better every time. About 5 games in, most of the formalities and indifferent treatments had been cast aside and you finally managed to see Kouen as the person he was. Confident, curious, smart, strategic and most of all, someone who loves gloating at a win, even if it was against an inexperienced player. And on the rare occasion that you made a good move that ruined his strategy? He would actually scowl, which was an oddly cute look on the crown prince. The games continued for a good while, before drowsiness finally caught a hold of you.

“Perhaps we should end our game here for tonight?” “We’re mid-game, how come?” “Because you seem to be falling asleep right where you’re sitting.” Kouen said with a serious face, though he couldn’t help but grin at the end. “Maybe then you should make your move so we can continue this game. That would ease the boredom. I get thinking about your move, but you’re really taking long this time.” “I made my move 3 minutes ago, Y/N. Did you not notice?” You stared at Kouen, and he grinned back at you. Feeling your cheeks heat up, you huffed and got up. “Fine, we’ll end it here for tonight. Good night, Kouen.” “Good night, Y/N.”

Getting up the next morning was more of a challenge than expected. You had stayed up much later than expected because of the games, and now you were feeling the results of your actions. Maybe taking a nap somewhere around noon would be a good idea. Or straight after breakfast. That also sounded good.

“Well well, look who’s finally woken up.” Kouen grinned as you sat down next to him. “Did your defeat from last night keep you awake?” “Oh no, not at all. Though I suppose you slept great, gloating about how you, an experienced player, beat a novice at every single match?”

The table was deadly silent, with the exception of Koumei. Knowing what was going on, a single snort from him was heard before he continued eating with a smile. Kouen stared at you with his piercing glare, before actually laughing. The sound of his laughter sounded like music to your ears, and the way his eyes closed while laughing made your cheeks feel warm.

“Then why don’t we change that? My study, tonight after dinner. I’ll show you that no matter how good you get, you still won’t be able to defeat me.” “You’re on.” “Good.”

Kouen grinned at you one more time, before continuing to eat his breakfast. You had no idea why you agreed to getting your ass kicked some more at chess. It was probably his laugh, the sound and sight of it were now burned into your brain, and you were hoping to see it again soon.

As you walked back to your room, set on getting some more sleep now you knew you would probably be up late again tonight, you went over what just happened one more time. Mostly over what you felt during that conversation. The want to spend another night with him like that, and the heat you felt in your cheeks when he actually laughed. You had a good idea what this was, you had read enough books about it, but you wouldn’t call it love just yet. Maybe a crush would be better. You barely knew him after all, but you had a feeling that wasn’t going to be the case for long.

[blouisparadise]

We recently received a request for enemies and lovers recs. We already have an enemies to lovers fic rec list here, but after looking at that list, we realized we had much more to add to it and therefore decided to make a part two.

Happy reading!

1) I Couldn’t Get Away From You | Mature | 5185 words

Suddenly in the heat of the moment, Harry’s eyes turned darker as he pushed Louis’ back more and more towards the wall. “Fine.” He plants his lips on Louis’ and begins to roughly kiss him, soon enough turning it into a make-out session.

“Fuck you, Styles,” Louis moans and grips onto Harry’s shoulders, hands trailing up to the taller’s hair and gripping that as well.

“We’ll see about that.”

2) There's More Than One Place To Call Home | Explicit | 8416 words

Harry never asked for much from his neighbors - he didn't care about barking animals during the day or loud talking during the night.

The only thing he needed was silence when he was writing. And that was the only thing his new neighbor wouldn't give him.

Deciding to confront the loud guy who lived next door, Harry found himself ringing his doorbell one night. And that decision just may be the best thing that's ever happened to Harry.

3) Make A Run, Cause Some Rebellion | Explicit | 8824 words

As a general rule, kitten hybrids are small and disinterested in what other people want them to do, slightly evil and at least a little manipulative. Louis prides himself on being all of those things to varying degrees, but especially on being uninterested in what other people tell him to do. He’s still human goddammit, despite his pointy ears and penchant for curling up in the sun and taking naps.

He’s going about his daily business, knocking things over where he sees fit and leaving a trail of mess in his wake. As exasperated as it makes Liam he’s used to it by now, having shared a flat with Louis for almost three years now, and if Louis whines enough he’ll even clean up after him. It’s a great life, really.

With the exception of Liam’s stupid, broad shouldered, entirely too big mate, the one who always comes over to watch sports with him. Louis hates that guy. His hair is always greasy and he brings weird hipster beer with him when he comes that tastes like shit. And he won’t even let Louis have any of it, either. The only reason Louis even knows what it tastes like is because one time he stole a bottle from the fridge and fled to his room before Harry could catch him.

4) Something To Prove | Explicit | 9425 words

Louis is the first and only omega to work at Red Valley Medical Center. Despite being more than qualified, he still faces prejudice for his career choice everyday. From patients refusing his treatment to condescending alpha doctors intervening with his work, practicing medicine in Boston is more challenging than Louis had ever thought it would be.

5) Where Do We Go Now | Explicit | 10617 words

Louis goes off to college ready to start a fresh life away from the oppressive alphas of his pack.  The odds aren't in his favour when his new dorm mate turns out to be an alpha.  Louis hates alphas.

6) Enjoy The Ride | Not Rated | 11103 words

The one where Louis, an omega more than tired of being treated as lesser than alphas, is forced on a road trip by his beta besties only to meet Harry who might just be the alpha he never knew he wanted.

7) I Didn’t Fall For You (You Fucking Tripped Me) | Explicit | 20681 words

These days Louis tends to steer clear of dating alphas. He’s dated too many knotheads in his time, and he’s ready to just focus on school and his friends and his pet monitor lizard, of course.

Too bad the alpha next door won’t take a hint and stop using the worst pick up lines of all time on him. He’s really got to stop laughing with him--and talking to him and walking to class with him and letting him bring him coffee and tea and gifts for his lizard and watching Netflix together and...

8) Written In The Stars (That’s You And Me) | Explicit | 22632 words

Louis pushes himself up on one elbow and stretches enough to just barely trace his fingertips over Harry’s jawline. Harry’s eyes drop to track his movements as he does it again. “D’you feel that?” he whispers.

To him, it feels like all of the universe’s magic lives just beneath his skin when he touches Harry with intent. It feels like something special. Louis watches Harry’s lips part and wants to touch that too. He almost does, but then Harry shakes his head. “Feel what?”

6) Middle Ground | Explicit | 23516 words

Note: This fic has been locked and can only be read by AO3 users.

Harry moves to a new town for work where he meets the enigma that is Louis Tomlinson.

10) When It’s Late At Night | Mature | 25597 words

The Late Late prompt that we all need to get through this excruciatingly hard time.

11) Supposed To Be | Explicit | 26100 words

The Geek Charming AU where Harry's a film geek, Louis' a popular jock, and they both need each other to get what they want.

12) Magical Soup | Explicit | 28850 words

Slytherin prefect Louis Tomlinson's seventh year at Hogwarts takes an immediate turn for the worse when he's made to be potions partners with Harry Styles, Hufflepuff's resident heartthrob and class clown.  Louis has always considered Styles to be a terrible show-off who coasts by on his charm and good looks, but the more they work together, the more he questions that idea.  As term goes on, will Louis be able to admit to himself that he might actually like Harry Styles after all... and maybe, just maybe, as more than a friend?

13) Building Me Up (But Buttercup, You Lied) | Explicit | 31007 words

Harry’s mouth felt dry just saying those words. What he had with Louis was so much more than a simple ‘fuck buddies’ situation. It was slow kisses in the morning between soft sheets and shy smiles, it was holding hands in the afternoon while walking and eating ice cream. It was breakfast for dinner, laughing and licking honey from each other’s lips as they shared goals and even some secrets, it was happiness, it was glow.

To Harry, what he had with Louis meant everything. Until Louis decided it meant nothing.

14) You’ve Set On Me | Explicit | 31100 words

Louis' in an obscure band. Harry's an international popstar. Their paths aren't meant to cross, not like this, but when Louis' band signs on as Harry's opening act, both Harry and Louis are forced to confront the open wounds of their shared past.

15) Nicotine | Explicit | 32245 words | Sequel

"We're two different types of people, Liam. He likes sex and drugs, I like theater and tea. Trust me, we'd never date." Except they would, they do, and neither of them plans on letting go anytime soon.

16) Let Me Feel Your Heartbeat | Explicit | 34572 words

Harry is 98% sure Louis hates him. So he feels like his bewilderment is justified when the omega offers to help him through his rut.

17) Close To Nowhere | Explicit | 34589 words

Louis and Harry are psychics who kind of hate each other. They go to Tennessee to investigate a haunting.

18) Make This Feel Like Home | Explicit | 42032 words

The house on West 28th Street in London is twice the size of Louis', more expensive than the price of all of his house and car payments combined, and is falling apart at the seams.

19) Strangers in Love | Explicit | 42207 words

Louis wakes up to find himself in a marriage with the last man he thought he'd ever end up with.

10) Why Can’t It Be Like That | Explicit | 63567 words

A fashion AU with a royal twist, where Louis doesn't need a stylist, Harry's thrilled to have a real life Barbie doll, and they're both very wrong about each other.

21) I Want You So Much (But I Hate Your Guts) | Mature | 83648 words

AU in which Louis gets accepted to play for the Manchester University Alpha-Beta Football Team. The only problem: Louis is actually an Omega. He is determined to make it big in the football world, though, and he can't do that bound to an Omega team. With the help of a faked doctor's certificate and some pretty strong suppressants he is ready to fight for his dream.

That Harry Styles (Alpha, second year and youngest football captain of the A-B team in ages) doesn't seem to like him complicates matters, though.

22) For Reasons Wretched and Divine | Explicit | 94655 words

Note: This fic is locked and can only be read by AO3 users.

Ten years ago, Harry Styles was just a nerdy kid with one friend and a debilitating crush on the captain of his school’s football team. He thought the stars were smiling down on him the day he and Louis Tomlinson were paired for their end-of-term Literature project. But because Harry’s life is decidedly not a fairytale, the budding friendship quickly leads to the least happy ending of all time.

Now, Harry Styles is a household name. Barely twenty-seven with two Grammy nominations to his name, the singer-songwriter is poised to take the music industry by storm with his highly anticipated third album. So, what happens when the best producer in the business is also the only person Harry’s vowed never to speak to again?

23) You Drive Me Crazy (But It Feels Alright) | Explicit | 102306 words

Note: This fic has mentions of BH.

“Harry is not short for Harold,” he corrects, his voice as thick as molasses. He lowers his eyes to Louis’ sequined lapels, rubbing one between two fingers. “Is this small or extra small? It looks lovely.”

Louis breaks away from his grip with a petulant huff and pushes him back with two fingers.

“You’re mocking me. Again.”

Harry smiles and it's a real honest swoop of his lips this time. Louis’ stomach swoops with them.

24) Tainted Saints And Velvet Vices | Mature | 126056 words

A self-fulfilling Hogwarts AU in which Louis is new to seventh year and Harry is the resident devil-may-care Slytherin set to make his entire experience a living misery. Due to less than favourable circumstances they're forced to forge an unwilling, tentative relationship for their own survival. Repressed emotions, decidedly unromantic ballroom dancing, Triwizard Tournament tasks, creative jinxes and twilight flying above the Forbidden Forest ensue.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

[chcnce]

guess the TWENTY FOUR YEAR OLD OCTOBER baby just arrived to dallyeog! it makes sense, because HWA YOHAN / CHANCE HWA  is just as CRISP as the month of OCTOBER. wait, why do they remind me of BANG CHAN? beyond that, they seemed RELIABLE AND PASSIONATE upon first glance. i heard someone say they’re sort of SELF-CONSCIOUS AND CAUTIOUS though. i hope they get acquainted here in COMPLEX # 4 / APARTMENT # 1 / FLOOR # 2 ; HE seem(s) to have a lot going on with HIS job as STREAMER.

hi! i’m lu and i’m really happy to present to you to my mess of a son. he’s certainly a hard pill to swallow but he’s not as bad once you get to interact with him. chance is his real english name, but also the persona he’s crafted to remain popular and relevant to the masses. he’s blunt and brutally honest, but mostly when he’s streaming. all in all: a whole ass mess, i insist.

without further ado, here are his basic stats, a trivia and wanted connections under the cut. however you can find his background and plots linked accordingly ( i’ll add other pages eventually ). i’m really fine with talking either here or discord, so whichever works fine for you, works fine for me too! i’ll be reaching to everyone go gives this a like soon enough <3

basic information

― full name: hwa yohan / chance hwa ― nicknames: yohwa ― age: twenty four ― date of birth: october 3rd, 1996 ― birthplace: cheonan, south korea. ― hometown: sydney, australia ― current location: seoul, south korea ― living arrangements: dallyeog / complex # 4 / apartment # 1 / floor # 2 ― ethnicity: korean ― nationality: dual, korean (natural born) and australian (naturalized) ― gender: cis male ― pronouns: he / him ― orientation: demiromantic, heterosexual. ― religion: atheist ― occupation: streamer ― language(s) spoken: korean (fluent), english (fluent) ― accent: heavy australian accent

physical appearance

― faceclaim: bang chan / christopher bang of stray kids. ― hair: naturally brown, though he often dyes to a variety of colors, mostly black and blue. right now, it’s a purple color that’s already fading. ― eye colour: coffee brown ― height: 171cm ― weight: 56kg ― tattoos: none at the moment. ― piercings: lobe and upper lobe on both ears. anti-tragus, orbital and rook on the left one. double helix on the right one. ― clothing style: regularly techwear when he goes out and athleisure at home.

personality

― label: the cynical ― positive traits: attentive, dependable, reliable, passionate, brave, energetic, honest, humorous, clever, versatile, truthful, affectionate, sociable ― negative traits: self-conscious, cautious, opinionated, arrogant, detached, critical, tactless, stubborn, loud, quick-tempered, harsh, unfiltered, cynical, restless, ambitious, ― hobbies: baking, collecting enamel pins and funkos, jigsaw puzzles, skateboarding, reading, listening to music, curating playlists when he has time, learning origami. ― habits: obsessively organising, borrowing books and rarely ever returning them (he forgets who they belong to ok), really bad road rage, awful at keeping track of time, people watching, always wears a black ring on his left index finger, always hugs something when sleeping, gets easily impressed by things, quotes movies and shows in regular conversations, knuckle cracking, snacking between meals, eye rolling without noticing, squinting when concentrated, crossing his arms over his chest, running hands through his hair, slouching, rolling his shoulders. ― zodiac sign: sun libra, moon gemini, ascendant libra. ― mbti: infp-t “the mediator” ― enneagram: 8w7 “the nonconformist”. ― temperament: melancholic ― hogwarts house: ravenclaw ― moral alignment: chaotic neutral ― primary vice: greed ― primary virtue: diligence ― element: air

trivia:

― he’s played all kind of games and his twitch channel was created 9 years ago (whew) and it currently has over 5 million subscribers. currently, he streams mostly genshin impact, valorant, league of legends, overwatch, spider-man: miles morales, cyberpunk 2077 and the witcher iii. every now and then he makes charity streams. he also makes special lives with other gamers and figures where they play games like among us, minecraft, fortnite (though he absolutely hates it), party animals, fall guys and other party games. ― despite the rumours around him and his parents, he’s never talked about them to the media. it’s not like chance hides the information, after all it’s online, but he swerves questions about them and pretty much decides to not say anything about them just to avoid controversy. his parents didn’t mind until last year the company they worked at offered him a sponsorship and yohan turned it down. it’s safe to say they were pretty hurt over this and they haven’t talked much recently. ― yohan is, in his words, the biggest fan of spiderman (not really) but he’s his favorite heroe of all times and he collects everything and anything that has him in it. his biggest collection is funko pops with over 30+ figurines. he collects funkos of various other interests of him as well as enamel pins. ― lowkey a weeb. he likes watching anime in his spare time and if he likes it too much, he’d buy the manga and read it as well. his latest obsessions are kimetsu no yaiba, boku no hero academia, haikyu and jujutsu kaisen. ― won’t ever admit this out loud, but almost every ghibli movie makes him cry his eyes out, even when he’s watched the same one over and over again. he prefers to watch these on his own. his favorite one is grave of the fireflies. ― it took him a while to get used to korean culture, a part of him is still trying to. luckily, his family would speak in korean in their household most of the time and this helped him not struggle as much when it came to the language. his streams are most of the time in english to cater to a bigger audience, but recently he’s got himself a small team of an editor and a translator that’s helped him add subtitles to the videos he uploads in youtube. ― his current setup is completely sponsored except for a few extra things he’s bought himself and he has minimal experience when it comes to builds, though he’s really interested in learning and has recently researched more about the whole topic, hoping to get his first custom build by the end of the year. ― has terrible road rage and this is the reason why he doesn’t own a car or a driving license, even being in the backseat makes him anxious and would much rather prefer to use the bus, a bike or his skateboard to commute between places. taxis and other rides are his last option, if he’s quite honest. ― as a neighbour, he’s polite and tries to be mindful just to avoid needless problems. the first thing he did was soundproof his office in order to not disrupt others, but sometimes this doesn’t work as well due to how loud he can be. chance will try to greet every neighbour he encounters either with a wave or a simple nod. ― loves dogs but doesn’t feel he’s responsible enough to take care of one yet, though he will certainly volunteer to pet-sit his friends’ dogs.

wanted connections:

― life in seoul: he’s been wanting to start a podcast that has nothing to do with his main channel, aka a podcast about the culture in seoul from different perspectives, he wants to know about other people’s experiences. can be people that have lived all their life here or foreigners that, like himself, are pretty much new or can’t get enough of the city. it’d be a pretty chill podcast and anyone can participate! ― people that know about him and lowkey follow his streams (or just play them in the background while doing other stuff) ― or people that know about him but dislike him because he’s said stuff before about other public figures you’re a fan of. or he just simply rubs you the wrong way. ― people who absolutely hates when he streams late at night and he’s full on screaming at the screen (he tried to soundproof his streaming room but someone he can be way too loud, sorry) ― he’s always up for a good collaboration regardless of the topic: food, art, random tags and challenges. even if it's not up to his alley, he's likely to always say yes just for the laughs. ― the group of friends yohan met in different ways. they're not all strictly gamers, streamers or anything of the sort, but whenever they get together to play some games, it's a total chaos. and he wouldn't change it at all. ― the one person that always gets his packages delivered by mistake to your place instead of his. or the other way around. ― more: friends, enemies, a penpal, a platonic soulmate, workout buddies, etc.

[crisisdparity]

Game Master Akuma AU

(Note: Originally submitted to @justanotherpersonsuniverse, on their advice I will be using my own tumblr for anything in the future related to this AU.)

Xavier Duchamp was rather proud of himself. What he had before him was an absolute masterpiece of a campaign if he did say so himself. The product of over six months of study, research, and rebalancing efforts followed by two weeks of discussion with his five players to hash out schedules, meeting times, characters, backstories, potential character arcs, and getting them set up with a messaging app that was really good for sending discrete messages between the GM and the players.

Valentine and her boyfriend Justin were onboard in an instant. Within days, he'd greenlighted their Half-Elf Bard of the College of Glamour whose spell list was 100% Illusion spells and Half-Orc Fighter (Eldritch Knight) who was focusing entirely on Abjuration as Rena Rouge and Carapace respectively.

Olivia had spent a few days coming up with a Halfling Rogue and debating subclasses with him until settling on Scout. Along with some discussion over how her special magic item's stunning and paralysis effect would work with Sneak Attack, the campaign had its Vesperia.

Jeanette had gone back and forth with him for a week looking at various homebrew subclasses for her Gnome Artificer before they both agreed on one particular Master Tinkerer entry that would be balanced and do the character justice. And with that they had their Ladybug.

Even Matt was on board with a stealthy human Chat the Barbarian using the Path of the Beast. The class choice was something Matt had insisted on (and that Xavier would have suggested anyway just for the high hit point totals given Matt's history with characters dying) and he'd even come up with a backstory that Xavier felt was quite compelling compared to Matt's usual efforts. Morally ambiguous, likely to be tempted by promises of power, but with a great deal of story potential to work with.

Which was a relief. Getting a new player into their group to replace Matt was not something Xavier really felt comfortable with. There were too many unknowns with introducing a new person, far too many for him to risk his masterpiece on an unknown factor. He knew Matt. He could work with Matt. Despite the history.

He'd put everything he had into this. Every known Akuma ever fought by the heroes had been made into a boss-tier foe. He'd carefully documented each and every power the heroes had shown to craft special legendary magic items based on the Miraculous. Hawkmoth and Mayura themselves were going to be the final bosses of his campaign.

In response to criticism about the difficulty of his campaigns (he tried to make them fair, but still challenging enough to be memorable), he'd made several guest NPCs based on every other hero that had ever been called upon, statted out like player characters that might show up in a pinch to help. He even had a genuine Deus ex Machina that he was ready to use to get the players out of a truly impossible jam if they found themselves in one.

Not always, but a few times at least. Enough to get them to the point where they wouldn't need it anymore.

-----

It was thirty minutes in, right in the middle of exposition from the Guardian NPC, when Xavier got his first message on the app.

Matt/Chat - Chat's going to wait until everyone breaks up and follow Ladybug stealthily.

Xavier/GM - Starting party conflict on the first session? Not what I'd advise, but it's your character. Go ahead and make your Stealth roll now.

Matt/Chat - <photo> 17

Xavier/GM - Yeah, that beats everyone's passive Perception easily. You'll sneak off handily without anyone noticing.

-----

"Jeanette, Ladybug is grabbed from behind by an unknown assailant. Roll to resist the grapple."

"Geez, already? Okay, what did my assailant get for their grapple? How screwed am I?"

Xavier pretended to roll a die while consulting the message from Matt.

"19."

"Okay, difficult, but not undoable... Crap."

"What'd you get?"

"Nat 1..."

"Hah! I rip off her earrings and claim them for myself! The Wish is mine!"

"Seriously Matt?! What the hell?!"

"Because it's payback time! Payback for every character of mine killed in these hellish campaigns!"

"Oh, come on! You're not the only person whose had a character die at this table! Xavier runs some pretty challenging campaigns, but they're always fair!"

"What about the time he killed Allric the Allmighty in a single round of combat?"

"Dude, you tried to Leroy Jenkins straight into melee with a 4th-level Wizard that had a CON penalty. Even at full health you had like 10 hp."

"14!"

"Not much better, dude."

"Guys, it's fine. I can handle this. Okay, Matt. Chat the Barbarian managed to get the earrings-"

"Yeah, Ladybug screams bloody murder when he rips them out. Good luck getting out of this in one piece."

"The moment Rena hears Ladybug scream, she bolts for the sound."

"So does Carapace."

"Vesperia too."

"-and with their current locations and movement speeds, I assume you're all using the Dash action?, you've got maybe one round to decide on your Wish before they're all over you, so choose carefully. And be aware that I plan to grant whatever you wish for in the worst possible way, just as I would if any of the others pulled this."

"Rena screams 'What the HELL, Chat?! We're supposed to protect the Miraculous, not use them for our own selfish purposes! Didn't you listen to the Guardian? Such actions always bring misfortune upon those who misuse the Miraculous!'"

"Because I am Chat, avatar of Destruction and I WISH THIS WORLD NEVER EXISTED!"

There was dead silence at the table.

"Matt... What... just... WHAT?!"

"Hah! You like that?! How does it feel now that the shoe's on the other foot, huh?!"

"What the hell is your problem, Matt?!"

"My problem? MY problem?! Do you know how much time I've spent making characters for these shitty campaigns only to have them turned into paste in one session?!"

"Because you made primary spellcasters and played every last one of them like a barbarian, charging in headfirst without thinking! All of us breathed a sigh of relief when you revealed that your character finally matched your playstyle!"

"I HATE BARBARIANS! THEY'RE BORING! I SHOULD GET TO PLAY CHARACTERS THAT CAN AT LEAST CHUCK FIREBALLS!"

"THEN MAYBE YOU SHOULD STOP RUNNING THEM FACE FIRST INTO ENEMY SWORDS!"

"NONE OF YOU COULD EVER HANDLE THE FACT THE I MAKE MORE AWESOME CHARACTERS THAN ANY OF YOU, SO YOU JUST LET THIS DOUCHEBAG KILL THEM OFF SO YOU WOULDN'T GET OVERSHADOWED BY HOW AMAZING I AM! WELL NOW I KILLED SOMETHING YOU ALL WORKED HARD ON, SO SUCK IT! I'M DONE WITH ALL OF YOU FOREVER!"

"MATT! HEY! GET BACK HERE YOU JERK! MATT!"

"Crap, I think Olivia might actually kill him this time..."

"It's going to take all of us to stop her from getting arrested at least."

Xavier just watched numbly as the rest of the group ran out of his apartment. Over six months of work. Gone in less than an hour.

He'd given so much to making sure this would work. He'd apologized to Matt at least twice for every character of his that had died to get him to come back. He'd agreed to demand after demand just to keep a familiar face on board, never dreaming he'd pull something like this.

He'd nearly gotten fired from his job trying to rearrange his schedule to fit with everyone else's. They'd somehow, miraculously, gotten the whole day with no other obligations among any of them and decided to make the first session a true marathon. They'd meet in the morning after breakfast and eat both lunch and dinner at the game table before calling it a night late in the evening.

It was barely 10:00 in the morning and the whole campaign he'd slaved over for months was kaput.

He never noticed the butterfly landing on his custom Miraculous-themed Game Master screen and being absorbed into it.

"Game Master, I am Hawkmoth. Few people appreciate the kind of effort that goes into making something truly grand and memorable. I shall give you the power to bring your entire world to life and in return, I ask only for a few simple things."

This was wrong. Hawkmoth was the worst of the worst. The kind of person who would be at home among all the final bosses he'd ever made for his campaigns. Heartless, manipulative, cruel.

"Not enough? Ah, but what is a game without players? How would you like to have the Miraculous heroes themselves run your great campaign? Surely they would be far more appreciative than those ungrateful peons that left you alone with nothing but the broken remains of your efforts."

He knew all these things, but the allure of bringing the world he'd spent so much time on to life... What creator could ever turn down an offer like that?

"I, the Game Master, accept... Hawkmoth."

"Excellent. And in exchange, you shall bring me one of two things: The Miraculous, or the identities of their wielders."

"No."

Hawkmoth was silent for a moment.

"I beg your pardon?"

"I said no. I am the Game Master. I make the world. I craft the challenges. I decide the rewards. But I do not do anything for anyone. If you want these things, get them yourself."

"If you refuse me, it shall be very unpleasant for you."

"No. As Game Master, I decide the limits of all powers within my realm. And I decide that you have none over me."

And with that, he unleashed his creation over all of Paris, drawing everyone and everything within into his sphere of influence.

-----

Ladybug blinked the spots (ha) out of her eyes as the flash of light died down and looked at herself. She didn't remember transforming, but she was clearly in her spots. Except her red and black superhero uniform didn't usually look like it was headed to a steampunk convention. Looking around, she tried to figure out what had happened and her eyes landed on a familiar belt and pants combo.

Problem. Whoever this was, their groin was at eye level for her.

She looked up.

And up.

To find a grinning Chat Noir, sans anything resembling a shirt and having put on at least a foot of height and apparently a hundred pounds of pure muscle, grinning down at her.

"How's the weather down there?" Chat Noir chuckled as he flexed his unfairly attractive muscleman physique.

"I WILL END YOU!" the heroine snarled, already 100% done with whatever new insanity Hawkmoth had cooked up.

Characters:

Ladybug - Gnome Artificer (Master Tinkerer - Homebrew)

Chat Noir - Human Barbarian (Path of the Beast)

-----

Vesperia had to admit, as Akuma attacks went, this was pretty dope.

She was currently a halfling. A halfling! If it wasn't for her fantasy ensemble being yellow and black, she'd have thought she stepped straight out of Lord of the Rings.

Of course, fantasy setting or not, there were still things she'd have rather left back in the real world. Like racism. And stigma against mixed couples. Not directed at her, but rather at the two walking down the street next to her.

"You know, people are staring..." she said as she craned her head to look at her companions.

"Let them," the Half-Elf Rena Rouge (who looked like a cross between a musician and a belly dancer) said from her perch atop the shoulders of the heavily armored (and surprisingly buff) Half-Orc Carapace. "They're just jealous because their boyfriends can't carry them everywhere."

Characters:

Vesperia - Halfling Rogue (Scout)

Rena Rouge - Half-Elf Bard (College of Glamour)

Carapace - Half-Orc Fighter (Eldritch Knight)

-----

Ryuko blinked as she studied the apparent snake-man-thing before her who claimed to be Viperion. She lifted a hand to study it and found what appeared to be bronze scales covering every inch of her skin.

She sniffed herself, smelling the sharp tang of ozone. What was she?

And why did she appear to be wearing wooden armor?

Characters:

Ryuko - Dragonborn (bronze) Druid (Circle of Storms - Third Party)

Viperion - Naga Sorcerer (Divination Magic - Homebrew)

-----

Polymouse giggled as her friends ran over her. Okay, she'd freaked out a little to find a swarm of mice (with hair like hers no less) crawling all over her surprisingly mouse-like body when she'd come to in the middle of some forest somewhere. But she'd gotten over it pretty quickly. It helped that her new friends were adorable.

It might help more if she could figure out where she was.

Or find another person.

Characters:

Polymouse - Kobold (rodentlike) Ranger (Swarmkeeper - Reskinned)

-----

Purple Tigress sighed as she felt the hair (fur?) on the top of her head being shifted around and twitched her new catlike ears in mild annoyance.

"Are you quite done?"

"Almost!" Pigella's cheerful voice answered. "Your fur is so comfy!"

Tigress sighed. Of course Pigella would end up being a fairy, and having her normal cheerful enthusiasm cranked up to previously unimagined levels.

"I love you dearly, but if you start shouting 'hey listen' I will stick you in a bottle."

"Aw, I love you too! Hey, what's that?"

"I think it's my character sheet?"

Characters:

Purple Tigress - Tabaxi Paladin (Oath of Glory)

Pigella - Fairy Cleric (Order Domain - Reskinned)

-----

"According to my analysis, we have been placed into what appears to be a Dungeons and Dragons campaign under 5th edition rules," Pegasus stated in a mechanical monotone. "I am apparently a Warforged Wizard using the School of Conjuration whose spells create portals to bridge dimensions and summon or banish my intended targets. You are what is known as a Simic Hybrid, with the class of Monk, following the Way of the Drunken Master."

"Aweshum," King Monkey slurred, his generally human appearance clad in monk's robes marred by his monkey-like hands and feet as well as the monkey tail swishing behind him.

"Why do you keep slurring like that? According to my sensors, your gourd is filled with only water."

"Gotta keep up appearanshes!" King Monkey grinned as he continued faking drunkenness.

Characters:

Pegasus - Warforged Wizard (School of Conjuration - Reskinned)

King Monkey - Simic Hybrid Monk (Way of the Drunken Master)

-----

Hawkmoth studied the dark red horns growing out of his head in the mirror. The change in appearance was disconcerting, but he felt a rush of power in this new form that he'd never felt before.

"Hmm... perhaps I can work with this..."

"Speak for yourself..." Mayura muttered off to the side, ruffling her peacock-like feathers in annoyance as she tried to glare at the beak on her own face.

Characters:

Hawkmoth - Tiefling Dark Lord, Warlock Patron, Contracted by Lila Rossi, Volpina, Queen Wasp, and many others.

Mayura - Kenku Assistant to the Dark Lord, Creator of Monsters

-----

"Oh, come on!" A figure in a cyan and white hooded robe complained as they waved a similarly colored umbrella around angrily. "Everyone else gets to be part of this adventure, why can't I join them?"

"Because you're too OP. You'd completely break everything and remove all challenge from the adventure."

"But sitting around is no fun at all!"

"If you like, I can put you in the position of the main quest giver. Your job would be to direct them towards their enemies and means of becoming stronger."

"That's it?! I'm on 'mysterious hooded figure' duty? Boo! Why can't I fight with them?!"

"Because you're too OP. But if you insist, I'll allow some Deus ex Machina interventions."

"YES!"

"Five."

"I'm sorry?"

"I'll allow five interventions at your discretion to aid them when they are in peril. Once you have come to their aid five times, I will allow no more meetings save to impart quest information."

"That's it?"

"Yes. Choose your interventions wisely."

"So... if I manage to save one for when they fight Hawmoth and Mayura in the final battle...?"

"Then I would allow you to join them of course."

"Score!"

Characters:

Bunnyx: Mysterious Hooded Figure, Deus-ex-Machina (5)

Game Master: Akuma Lord of the Miraculous Campaign

-----

Addendum

When the Game Master is finally purified and the damage reversed, it turns out that he took the effort to trap all of Paris in a temporal stasis bubble so that no matter how long passed inside no more than a few moments passed outside. Meaning that after what seemed like months in the bubble, it's basically less than a minute after he was akumatized when everything is put back.

All his friends, minus Matt, come back in bringing a new person named Zack that they vetted themselves to take Matt's place in case he pulled something like what he did. And while he has a similar playstyle to Matt, he's savvy enough to know what kind of characters that is suited for and he loves playing barbarians.

They all sit back down and restart the game they were all looking forward to.

[dalamjisung]

what you want, part two ❋ bambam

word count: 3735

genre: angst with a fluffy ending

pairing: reader x bambam

description: you finally get the whole truth. is it what you were expecting?

[tag: @thelaptopmarkthrewatbambam @letowolfie @thecozywhaleshark @thicthighsenpai @silentiona @sydnikkishields @hope-ji​ ]

You wake up with your head pounding– once again. It’s been weeks of this, now; you go to parties to find BamBam, and when he refuses to talk to you, again, you drink to forget, and you never do. You remember everything; from the frown in his face, to the tone of his voice. Go away, Y/N, enough is enough. You remember Jackson’s disappointed face as he pulled you away once again, and Yugyeom frustrated whines as he runs after his friend. It’s been almost three weeks of this; you chase parties to chase BamBam, but in the end you chase red solo cups with tiny shot glasses, to wake up the next day feeling completely useless and shattered. In these three weeks, you’ve failed your first test. You skipped your first class and you’ve gotten your first hangover. It felt like you were living your teenage years in days– and it felt fucking awful.

His jacket still hangs on the back of your door, the sequins and golden details sometimes catching the light seeping in from the outside and shinning the room with a sad glow. It makes you think of him every time it happens– how you wished he was there, laying next to you, and pointing at the random shapes of the reflections; this one looks like a duck, you wish he’d say. And that one like a dog. Ah! That one looks like my cat, Latte! 

A tear is what brings you back to reality, eyes moving away from that forsaken jacket. You are back into your routine; wake up, cry, attempt homework, give up, go back to sleep until someone texts you about a party. You are halfway through last week’s work when your doorbell rings, but you ignore it. The terror of late work and decreasing grades looms over you, wighting your shoulders down, and fogging your mind; it is a problem that bothers you, but you can’t find it within yourself to do anything about it. 

This should be easy– at least for you. You received a letter from the dean’s office about the risk of loosing your scholarship and you cried that day, but you still did absolutely nothing about it– nothing besides call Youngjae and cry while listening to him sing soft lullabies. You fell asleep to your friend’s voice that night, promising a better future; you are tired of those promises. 

BamBam hates you and that’s a fact. He won’t even talk to you, and you wonder if that’s what he felt when things were the other way around. Did he hurt like this, too? Did he cry? If he did, you won’t be able to live with yourself. 

Your eyes dart to the clock on your wall and you see that it is almost time for your class… the one you’ve been skipping for three weeks. You emailed the professor about a different fake sickness each time, and being class rep. and all, he doesn’t argue with you because you still do your duties towards the class even though it is from your living room. This position means a lot to you, and if you are being honest, it is the only thing that you are hanging onto.

“Y/N!”

That position and Jackson. 

“Y/N, I know you are in there,” And Jinyoung. “Open up!”

You shuffle to the door, opening it slightly, before sighing and giving the boys space to walk inside. 

“Hey, guys,” You mumble, voice weak and embarrassed. Your apartment looks generally clean, but that is because you have been barely eating anything. “What’s up?”

“Get dressed,” Jackson says and his voice booms in the empty room. “You have class in 20 minutes and you are not skipping again. You’ve missed three classes already…”

“I’m not feeling well, Jacks,” You sigh, looking at your feet. “I think I might hang back–“

“Stop that!” Jinyoung shouts, and you recoil. During the entirety of your friendship with Jinyoung, you’ve never heard him shout before, specially not at you. “Just fucking stop, oh my god, Y/N… We get it, you are hurt, but this is ridiculous! You are putting BamBam in front of your studies– you are not this girl! This is seriously affecting your grades; what the fuck are you doing, huh?”

“I-“

“Don’t even try to come up with an excuse,” He continues, looking at you through angry eyes. “This whole partying and getting drunk thing is not you. This whole skipping class and missing work is not you. What are you doing?”

“Maybe ‘me’ sucks,” You snap. “Have you thought about that? ‘Me’ is a judgmental bitch that hurts people and only thinks about herself, and honestly, fuck that. I don’t want to be ‘me’ if being ‘me’ means not giving a shit about anyone else!”

Your breathing is harsh and shallow, and Jackson takes a step towards you.

“I’m done with that shit, Jinyoung,” You whisper, shoulders falling in defeat. 

“Okay, you need to listen to me,” Jackson grabs you by the shoulders gently. “Y/N, we all make mistakes, and it’s not going to be that one mistake that will define you– we won’t allow that. Your Y/N is not a judgmental bitch or a selfish person… she is so selfless it is actually annoying. She is stubborn as a mule and she doesn’t back down from a challenge, even if she might get hurt. And that is the only reason why you are still trying to make things right with BamBam. So don’t say that; don’t say ‘you’ are not enough, because you are so much more.”

You sit down on the couch, allowing Jinyoung to embrace you. 

“Things are hard right now,” Jackson continues. “Not just for you, but life goes on, love. So let’s go on, too. We’re here to help you with whatever you need… we can start slow, yeah? Get dressed. After that, get out. After that, make it to class in time; and so on and so forth. Do you think we can do it?”

You nod.

“Great,” Jinyoung smiles. “Go get dressed. We’re taking you to class.”

                                                    -----------------------------

Jackson’s method works until you get to the classroom. Jinyoung is whispering encouraging things as you walk past the doors and sit in your usual seat. People look and smile at you, and everything is fine and well until you see him. 

BamBam looks better than ever. His hair is slicked back and it shows his cheekbones. His lips, stretched in a smile, are plump and inviting and you have to hold yourself back to not run to him. You notice you are staring and you shake your head, forcing yourself to focus in the professor walking into the room. The class starts and you are back to it, taking notes and nodding along as you understand the information being relayed. When the class ends, you have a smile on your face, the first in weeks– you’ve missed this. You are in your environment and you feel as if a flame had been reignited inside of you. This was your passion and you were stupid to even try to let it pass by you. 

“How was it?” Youngjae asks as he walks with you to the cafeteria. “Was it hard?”

“It was… amazing,” You smile, wide, and his eyes follow. “I missed this, Youngjae. A lot. And I already talked to my professor and she said I could make up my absence with some extra work…”

“That’s great, Y/N!” He hugs you, laughing as you squeal in happiness. “Our little nerd is back!”

“Not completely,” You smile brightly. “And I think that’s good. It’s time for change.” He nods with you and you two mindlessly talk about your extra work.

“I understand most of the topics I missed because I studied them beforehand,” You chuckle a little embarrassed about admitting it out loud. “But there is this one topic I’m struggling with a little bit.”

“Is there anyone you can ask for help?” Youngjae asks, frowning. You are always the first one to help everyone out, there must be someone that can help you too.

You look at him and you know what you have to do.

“Actually,” You wonder. “Yes, there is.”

You find Yugyeom at the same cafe you met him before, and thankfully, he’s alone. He has his head down, reading from some book you don’t recognize, and you try your best not to scare him.

“Hi,” You call softly and he slowly looks at you, before his eyes go wide in recognition. You point at the chair in front of his. “Do you mind?”

He shakes his head. “Go ahed, class rep.”

“Uh, I know this might be awkward for you and please feel free to say no, but… do you think you could help me?”

Yugyeom sighs. “I already told you, Y/N, BamBam is my best friend and you–“

“No no no,” You blush, desperately shaking your hands in a futile attempt to stop this conversation from happening. “Not about that. I wouldn’t want to put you in the middle of that… complication.”

“With what then?” 

“I was away for a bit,” You cough, uncomfortable with your words. “And I missed a lot, but fortunately I got most of the subject pretty quickly– except for this one topic.”

You offer him your notebook with some random notes and he nods, humming as he flipped the pages.

“As I said, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or to put you in the middle of something like this,” You sigh. “But I was wondering if you could help me out? I’m really struggling and–“

“Sure.”

You look at him again, mouth agape in surprise. “Really?!”

“Yeah,” He nods. “I can help you.”

“Oh my god, thank you so much Yugyeom, you have no idea what this means to me.”

“On one condition,” He says, eyes in slits, as if measuring you up.

“Anything!” You squeal, happy to be finally feeling like yourself again. With changes, you think. Good changes.

“Stop doing whatever you are doing.”

“What do you mean?” You speak slowly and carefully, because you know what’s coming.

“With BamBam,” He sighs. “Just stop. Things are not… good, right now. And BamBam deserves ‘good.’ He really does. So please, stop.”

You smile. “He really does,” You agree. “And you are really good Yugyeom. I can’t promise to give up on BamBam– that’s no how it works, Yugy. But I do promise that I’ll never hurt him again… I think I can keep that promise, don’t you?”

Yugyeom smiles, enough so that he doesn’t look intimidating anymore, but back to his baby face. “I think you can, class rep. I’m counting on you.”

“And I’m,” You start, pushing the material towards the tall boy. “Counting on you.”

He laughs and you two get to it. Within the hour, you feel better. You are understanding the topic and therefore, understanding the whole class. Yugyeom makes jokes as you two study and you feel like things are finally going back to normal. A new normal, at least.

“Y/N, I have to go,” He pouts. “I have class soon, but why don’t we meet tomorrow? I can test you on the topic then.”

“Perfect,” You say, yawning a little. “Same place, same time?”

He nods and runs out of the cafe. 

On your way home, you can’t help but think back to Yugyeom’s words. He deserves ‘good.’  You close your eyes and deep down you know; it’s time to let go. 

                                                   -----------------------------

The next morning, you wake up with a renewed purpose. You clean the small mess in your room and vacuum the empty floors of your apartment. You take a shower and get ready, even though your class is four hours; it was time to get back to yourself. 

You spend the day at the library finishing the homework you forgot about. After that, you finish the homework for the week, and you attempt the homework due next week. You get into a rhythm so good you barely notice the clock ticking, and soon, you are on your way to class. People are glad to see you back in the classroom– they make a point of telling you that,– and you smile, realizing that you’ve made friends without noticing. Sure, the drinking and partying weren’t the best way to deal with everything, but you have to admit that it was fun when it wasn’t sad. You talked to more people in your classes then you did the whole semester and you’ve realized that all you had to do was reach out and be open for those who are reaching out, too.

You text Yugyeom once you are out of class telling him you’ll be a couple of minutes late, having to run to your place to grab something before meeting up. It’s still in the back of your door, shinning in the way you like it, and you offer it a peaceful smile– you’ll miss this jacket. With careful hands, you carry it all the way to the cafe, a bounce on your step indicating nothing short of relief. 

“Hey, Y/N!” Yugyeom shouts and waves as if you could miss his 6 foot ass. “Over here!”

You laugh a little at his excitement and you make your way over, smiling when he hugs you hello. 

“Are you ready for the final test, Miss Y/L/N?” He asks in all seriousness.

“I am, Professor Kim.”

You finish the whole worksheet in about thirty minutes, and you ace it. But you don’t leave just yet; you stay and chat and laugh with Kim Yugyeom, just like he once wanted. Friends, you think, chuckling at a funny face he pulls. I’m sorry Yugy.

“Yugy,” You say once he quiets down. “I want to give you something.”

“Oh?” He tilts his head to the side, like a curious puppy. 

“Here,” You give him the jacket that has been sitting next to you all this time. He seems to recognize it instantly, grabbing it and looking at you with incredulous eyes. “You were right. BamBam deserves good. And I think I do, too. And I know I promised you we’d be friends once this whole mess got resolved, but I don’t think this is happening… I’m sorry Yugyeom.”

“Ya,” He begs, brows furrowed in agony. “You said you weren’t giving up on him. You promised!”

“I’m not,” You smile, putting your things inside your bag. “I’m just… moving on.”

“Is that what you want, Y/N?”

“What I want doesn’t matter,” You say and it feels as poisonous in your tongue as you thought it would. “This is about what he wants. And I would still love to be your friend but–“

“You are my friend, Y/N,” He smiles and it feels oddly like a goodbye. “You always were my friend. You are a good person, class rep., don’t let anyone tell you differently.”

“Harder said than done,” You wink. “Bye Yugy. See you when I see you.”

You are almost at the door when he shouts again.

“He told Jackson.”

You turn around. “What?”

“Jackson only knew about you skipping class because he told him,” Yugyeom looks nervous. “BamBam.”

“What are you talking about?” This is supposed to be done. You gave him the jacket back, you were supposed to be done. 

“BamBam might’ve not wanted to talk to you, but that’s because he is a proud idiot,” Yugyeom confesses. “He’s been having a really hard time. He regrets letting you go, Y/N, but he thinks it was what you wanted.”

“What?!” You shriek.

“He asked Jackson to go check up on you because you were missing class. He talked to the professors about extra credit work before you even had the chance to,” Yugyeom laughs at your face. “And he asked me to help you with studying. You might think he doesn’t care, but he does. That’s just how BamBam is.”

Your mouth hangs open. 

“Ask me,” Yugyeom challenges you, stepping closer. “Come on, ask me.”

“Where is he?” You breath out, heart racing wildly. 

“At our place,” He scribbles something on your arm– an address. “Go talk to him. You are good.”

“Thank you!” You hug him and sprint. 

You never even think about the jacket you left with Yugyeom. 

                                                   -----------------------------

You knock on the door so desperately that you are afraid of waking up neighbors, but it’s a necessary evil. You have to talk to him. 

“Coming!”

Oh my, how you missed his voice. You hear some stumbling inside the apartment and soon the door is wide open, and you suddenly don’t miss him that much anymore. Not when he has puffy eyes and a tired voice. 

“Bam,” You sigh, surprised he even opened the door. “What happened?”

“What are you doing here?” He sniffles, looking down as a way to hide your face. “I thought I made it very clear that–“

“Yeah, yeah,” You wave him off, waling inside and facing him again. “Whatever. What happened?”

“Uh,” He frowns and swallows, and you know he is emotional. “Nothing. You should go, Y/N, I have stuff to do.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” You shrug, sitting down on the couch. “Until you talk to me.”

He gasps. “I can call the cops. This is technically breaking and entering…”

“Then do it,” You said, eyes set in slits, measuring him, challenging him. “If you want to.”

“What are you talking about?” He blushes, mumbling his words out. “Have you gone insane?”

“I must have,” You say, and you start to feel it; the anger, the hurt, the sadness– everything comes back to you. “Because let time we talked, you couldn’t even look me in the face. You refused to listen to me, talk to me, anything related to me– and suddenly, there I am, giving your jacket back to Yugyeom because I was finally fucking ready and he tells me the most interesting thing.”

“You gave him my jacket back?” He whispers, seemingly shocked. You ignore him and keep going.

“He proceeds to tell me this very elaborate story about how you were the one responsible for Jackson getting me to class yesterday ,” You are on a roll, taking steps closer to him with each word. “And how you were the one responsible for me getting that extra credit work; and even how you asked him to help me. What the hell BamBam? What is your game here? Because I was ready to do what you wanted and leave you the hell alone, but suddenly this happens and I–“

“You think that’s what I want?!” He screeches, arms flapping around. “I don’t want you gone, Y/N!”

“Well, there you go– I’m confused,” You groan. You are just a few centimeters away from him and there are so many emotions that you can just see in his eyes– the most present one was despair. “You kept pushing me away, BamBam. I tried– I tried so many fucking times!”

“I thought that was what you wanted!” He shouts. “After that first party I regretted it… so badly. But you were hurt and the hyungs were angry and I just didn’t want to hurt you anymore. You were partying like crazy, and you were drinking insane amounts and I was worried!”

“I was worried, too,” You say, covering your mouth with your hand, as if that wasn’t supposed to slip past your lips. “I was so worried about you, BamBam. About us.”

“Us?” He asks with wide eyes.

“Yes, you idiot,” Grabbing his hands, you sit with him on the couch, facing each other. “Us. I was wrong and I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have judged you like that and I am so, so sorry. But I see you now; I see you, BamBam– and yes, it took me a while and I was dumb and stupid and I didn’t really know what you wanted and–“

His mouth finds yours before you can stop talking and his lips are exactly how you thought they’d be– soft and plump. His mouth moves quickly over yours; it demands things from you– adoration, love, lust. His hands, one on your waist and the other on your hair, lead you, because right now, he is not willing to give doubt any space. No more misunderstanding. No more cross-wired thoughts. No more wasting time. He would always have you close, too close, even, just to be sure. His heart beats with yours– out of rhythm and too fast. BamBam leans over you, making you lay down on the couch, and laying over you. This is not lust anymore, it’s not love, either. It is hunger. He’s waited long enough, so now it is time to take it. 

“We still… ah, Bam, we have–“

“Talk later,” He groans. “This now.”

“No,” You laugh. “Talk now. This later.”

“Y/N,” He whines and hides his face on your neck. “Please…”

“Not until we’re 100%,” You say giving him a peck on the lips.

“We are!”

“No, we aren’t,” You place a piece of his hair back in place and push him off of you. “You said you didn’t want to hurt me anymore. Is that what you want?”

“… yes. No. Yes– not just that, but that included, yes.”

“Bam,” His name sounded like the most beautiful song coming out of your mouth. “I’m going to ask you for the last time.”

He nods. 

“What do you want, BamBam?” 

His eyes shine with tears and you have to hold yourself back. This time, this would be on him– the way he wanted. 

“I want people to take me seriously,” He gasps, finally allowing himself to say it. “I want people to stop looking at me as if I have it easy because they don’t know half of it. I want to be recognized for what I am– a man with big dreams and high ambition. And I want you. I want you to take yourself seriously; I want you to recognize your potential and see that you are much more than class rep. You are much more than what you limit yourself to be! I want you, Y/N. I want you, and I want it all.”

You smile, relived that now, it was over. But it also just started.

“Then come and get it.”

-----------------------------

well. hello. this was intense. I have to say, I love this sequel! What do you wall think? This has been my most awaited fic ever, so I really hope you all liked it :P Let me know! Your comments and support mean the world ❤️

[nevergiveupneverrun]

Bodyguard - Chapter Forty-Six “My Worst Enemy”

Hello everybody, how are you? I hope your Christmas was great if you celebrate it. Here is chapter Forty-Six of my Story Bodyguard. I hope you will like this chapter. 

I’m sorry in advance for the mistakes… English isn’t my first language and I do my best. Here is the link to the previous chapter: Click Here.

I hope you will enjoy this chapter :) 💛

                          –––––––––––––––––––––––

Once showered, I felt like I had clearer ideas: as if my mind had cleared.

I knew what I had to do, what I had to say and especially to make Amelia understand.

The discussion was going to be delicate and I already feared it in advance.

But I had to take responsibility for my actions until the end but also and above all ensure my mission: that was the most important.

Amelia’s life was at stake and I had to stop by all means this crazy who spoils her daily life.

And it was up to me to do it: my place was by her side… to protect her.

Going back to the corridor, I hear two distinct voices stand out and I decide to join the kitchen to give myself the first coffee of my day.

Steps approach me after a few seconds and looking up at my amber nectar, I recognize Meredith a few steps from me.

- Do you want coffee?

- No, thanks, Owen.

I take a look behind her, watching for the arrival of a second person but no presence on the horizon.

- Amelia just went back to the bedroom to take a shower, she specifies with a knowing smile as I find her picture.

I look away for a few moments, before restarting the conversation.

- Were you able to share everything you wanted with her?

- Yes, she will listen to the models… she told me that she had been inspired during your trip and that she had already finalized the text of a song. I’m so happy to hear that, I was very afraid that the drama would completely block her, but obviously your getaway was a breath of fresh air…

- I think she really enjoyed it this week. The return to Seattle was a little rougher, however, I add taking a sip of my coffee.

- Yes, I understand. But she will take over. I found her very smiling this morning, a radiant face. I don’t worry… really none…

Her eyes are piercing and I have the impression that she is trying to decipher each tiny reaction on my part on my face, in my gesture. The implication behind her words was obvious.

- I hope you get it right.

- Either Amelia had very well deluded seeing me, but I know her and I know that she doesn’t know how to easily pretend annoyances or difficult moments. Either the joie de vivre that I observed is very real, and part of a disaster, I don’t see what could take away that pretty smile…

A tension takes hold of me, and I recognize the beginnings of a lump in my stomach…

Remorse and regret already torment me when I know that the joie de vivre will probably only be temporary… last night made her glimpse an illusion, but an illusion that seems to please her more than she should… too much for me not to make her suffer.

- Owen? You’re okay? Meredith, suddenly asks me, after getting closer to me.

Her eyes scrutinize me intensely, trying to understand my change of attitude and this pensive and anxious air that must have taken place a handful of seconds on my face.

- Yes, I’m fine… sorry I didn’t sleep much last night.

- Yes, I guess Amelia’s anxiety attack kept you pretty busy, she continues in an understanding and compassionate tone. 

I dare not answer to support her words.

I feel guilty about her worried look because it was not so much Amelia’s fears that kept me from sleeping.

- And the package from Mark? I ask to change the subject completely.

Meredith remains silent for a moment, surprised by my question, but doesn’t question me and ends up answering.

- There was indeed the invitation for his evening of celebration of albums sales and also very special attention…

This sentence that she leaves pending intrigues me and I tense up imagining a possible link with the threats that hang over Amelia.

- Nothing to worry about Owen… anyway, not nature you surely imagine. In addition to the invitation, the package contained a dress. A dress which he asks Amelia to wear for this evening… of the great Mark…

- Can you develop?

I suddenly perceive her embarrassment, before hearing her voice again.

- Mark is part of the same record company as Amelia… don’t misinterpret my words and my reaction. I have nothing against this work and I don’t question the choice that was made to sign him… but let’s say that he has a conception of his life as an artist that I hardly like….

- That is to say?

- Mark takes pleasure in living his artist status to the end… in a rock star way. Using all the excesses to which this environment gives you access without any effort: alcohol and women… many women. He is an avid player.

- Yes, that I could realize it by myself.

- It’s interesting besides because Amelia exerts a certain fascination on him. Because she is not like the other women he puts in his bed in two minutes. Because she has exceptional sensitivity and musical intuition… and he has repeatedly offered to do a duet with Amelia… not later than a few days ago…

Meredith’s details stir my suspicions: from our first meeting, I had a mixed feeling on this man, his attitude of « predator » in the presence of Amelia had challenged me.

Could this fascination go further, to the point of obsession?

Until the harassment of which she was a victim today?

- Ugh, damn… I’m talking, I’m talking and the clock is ticking without waiting, Meredith exclaims, her eyes riveted on the kitchen clock. Sorry, Owen, I’m going to have to go, I have an appointment with the record company in twenty minutes… and I prefer not to arrive late, I still have to prove myself as a new manager of Amelia…

- Go ahead, I answer with a smile, following her with my gaze towards the entrance of the apartment.

I open the door for her by whispering her a “see you soon”.

She waves to me before taking quick and confident steps towards the elevator.

.

I close the door carefully behind me.

I go back to the kitchen, get my cup of coffee then head to the living room to take a seat on the sofa.

I finish my coffee in one go, put my cup on the coffee table while thinking about the conversation to come, while I watch for Amelia’s return.

My eyes are naturally close as if to support my concentration.

Prepare my arguments.

Think every word used.

Standard sentences are already invading my mind as I immerse myself in an imaginary discussion.

That night perhaps meant nothing to her. Nothing serious. Nothing deep.

Maybe everything will be much easier than I thought.

Maybe she will understand without me having to justify myself.

- You meditate?

A question tinged with a touch of mischief breaks my thoughts.

I open my eyes and the image that welcomes me surprises me instantly… but also drawn tight me directly.

Amelia appears to me, a few steps away, wet hair and dressed in a unique red dress, in a style completely different from what I had seen her wear until then. The dress is quite short, reaching her mid-thigh and very clearly shaping her forms. The top of the dress is in complete contrast: a fluid material that reveals a pronounced neckline by a draped scoop neck that partially covers her chest. 

- What do you think about it? She asks me, turning on herself.

The back of the dress completes the look: a completely bareback, the material of the dress revealing itself only at the birth of her butt… perfectly shaped by the tight texture.

- It’s special… not really your style…

- It’s a little too much, right? She adds, smiling. That’s what I thought when I saw her but I wanted to be clear about it, but it’s the style he likes, it doesn’t surprise me.

Her precision makes me directly understand which dress it is following information from Meredith.

- Is that the dress Mark sent you?

She nods, then walks toward me with a mysterious air.

- But the most important for me is your opinion… and I have the impression that you are not very fan… but I have a hypothesis…

She stops right in front of me, sitting on the sofa while smiling at me for a few moments.

- Maybe you prefer without the dress? She asks me with a teasing look that I had rarely seen her.

I watch her dumbfounded hands grab the fabric of the dress and pull it up slightly, as she sits on me, placing her knees on each side of my pelvis.

Her warmth and her coconut hued scent suddenly and intensely surround me.

- I wouldn’t hold it against you, if you prefer that I take it off, she whispers into my ear. 

Her sensual and soft voice gives me a slight shiver.

She stares at my eyes for a quarter of a second then kisses me.

She detaches herself for a breath and then takes me away in a much more passionate kiss where I get lost… my head falling against the edge of the sofa. 

My hands escape finding her waist, my lips participate in the dance obediently, my senses awaken.

But in parallel, my consciousness also rises and resonates widely in my, winning the battle against the awakening of sensations. 

I suddenly detach myself by pushing on her hips to move her away from me.

Amelia doesn’t understand my gesture: she just smiles looking for my lips again, but I turn my head firmly.

- Stop, Amelia…

- I haven't started anything yet to stop, she says, replacing her hands behind my neck.

I then decide to be clearer and lift her to sit next to me on the sofa.

- Seriously, stop, please…

She looks at me with big eyes, and immediately lowers the dress as best as she can to cover herself… and I perceive the most total misunderstanding to take hold of her in front of my attitude.

- What do you have? Did I do something… or say something?

I remain silent trying to prepare my words.

- Don’t worry… I take the pill if that’s what bothers you…

Her remark takes me by surprise: I had failed in all my duties. I hadn’t eve thought about the basic but determining problem of contraception. But obviously, the question had done more than cross her mind, we had indeed used no protection. Women are always more mature than us on these issues…

- Owen?

The most complete black hole in my head.

The sentences, the words that I reviewed a few minutes earlier have disappeared, leaving no traces. I’m reduced to improvising, awkwardly.

- We have to stop, Amelia… it should never have started…

- Stop? You didn’t say that yesterday…

The remark that I feared, but I deserve it…

- Well, I should have…

- You should have?

I remain silent for a few seconds, before resuming the voice as posed as possible.

I knew this moment was one of the hardest to come.

- Last night, it should never have gone that far. I want to apologize for my attitude.

- What exactly are you apologizing for? She resumes in a louder tone as she gets up.

I decided to imitate her and leave the sofa to replace myself in front of her.

- You know very well why I apologize…

- No, I don’t know, so I would like you to explain it to me, please.

- Amelia, this situation is as hard for me as for you…

- What a situation?

- Stop with your questions, I answer weakly. Stop pretending you don’t understand what I’m referring to, I said in a calm, firm voice. 

- Well, assume until the end what you think and tell me! She continues, defying me intensely.

I remain silent for a few seconds to reduce the tension which was increasing in Amelia.

Then I end up speaking again.

- It was a mistake, Amelia… I don’t know what it took me…

She looks at me and I read everything I feared in her look of pain that intensifies under the weight of my words.

- What took you? You make love to me and you don’t know what took you. You know Owen, your weakness to you men, is that we know you can’t pretend…

- Listen, I lowered my guard… I made a mistake… and it won’t happen again…

- I don’t turn you on now, right? Was it a pity that made you react or was it that I was just the first woman in your bed in months and that I was only a way of releasing tensions?

- Don’t make it harder.

- And if I want it to happen again, does it count or not? Or is it, when you want it to suit you?

- Neither… you are…

- I am what?

- You are my client… I am here to protect you… not for…

A loud click rises in the room and pain spread over my face: she had just slapped me, and obviously with all her strength, literally cutting me off. But I don't hold it against her, on the contrary, I largely deserve this slap… and I deserved much more for what I made her suffer.

- You disappoint me so much… I thought you weren’t playing with me… but you’re like everyone else…

I look down, ashamed and feel bad about myself more than anything in the world at the moment, her words hurt.

- Amelia, it wouldn’t get you anywhere, you’re wasting your time, I am not…

- Call Jackson, I’m going to Mark’s party tonight… she continues, interrupting me bluntly.

I immediately raise my eyes, panicked at this unexpected request.

- Wait, it’s not reasonable, you just came back and this invitation is weird, just when we come back to Seattle.

-And then, a man invites me and has attention for me and immediately, he would be suspect?

- I’m just telling you to be careful…

- And I tell you we’re going out, it’s me who decided…

I sigh before her firm tone and the determination that emerges from her at this moment.

I knew how stubborn she could be, and the battle was lost in advance.

- As you want…

She immediately turns her back on me.

The situation completely eluded me… dramatically.

And a call slips between my lips as an attempt of last resort.

- Amelia… please…

She stops at the sound of my voice but takes several seconds before turning around.

- I am sorry…sincerely… I hope… I hope you will find the strength to forgive me…

- I don’t know Owen… I don’t know, she whispers.

I don’t know either….

I don’t know if I will forgive this hateful person who rekindles the pain deep in her eyes…

My worst enemy…

Me, Owen Hunt.

                          –––––––––––––––––––––––

Thank you for reading. Have a great week 💛

[mor-beck-more-problems]

Resolution || Solo

For her birthday, Morgan Beck decided it was safe enough to visit Al’s Diner alone. It was eight, an auspicious time only because it after the elderly dinner rush but before students with free Friday’s would come stumbling in to eat away their benders. 

Morgan smudged the snow into her pea coat before walking in. It was a Goodwill find with cat hair from its last life stuck to the wool, but it was still designer, and Morgan prickled in her cheeks to be seen wearing it in town, lest it draw someone’s attention and send rogue ripples into the universe she wouldn’t be able to call back. She couldn’t stomach embracing full-on-frump; her mother had raised her right, except for all the lying, and she worked hard enough at being pretty not to cover it up. No, Morgan wanted to look nice. Just not...too nice. Not ‘hey universe, you almost forgot about me but here I am getting cocky and cozy’ nice. 

The bell over the door jingled as she came in, dulled and muffled with neglect. A tarnish-splotched mirror showed her reflection, warped with self-consciousness and perhaps too big a smile for the venue. Morgan only let herself look at it for a moment; doing anything else would only make her sad.

“Hi Nikha!”

Nikha grabbed a menu without looking up from her notepad. “Sit anywhere you like. Want your tea?”

Morgan hadn’t thought out her evening this far. This time of year, it took her an hour just to decide whether to leave her apartment. She stopped and considered the risks: it was a Thursday, just before the full moon. Thursdays were a little charged with expectation, this close to the weekend, but the waxing period was the time for pulling energy to oneself; going a little fancy would be like swimming out to sea in a crowd. Granted, it was a special Thursday for her, but...

“I didn’t think it was going to be a hard question,” Nikha said.

Morgan gave her brightest apology smile. It was old hat by now, easier than making explanations. “About that. Actually, I would like a hot cocoa, please. With whipped cream.”

“O-kay.” She eyed Morgan, who was holding her smile for good measure, like she might drop her face and shout boo! But the moment passed and Nikha backed towards the kitchen. “Coming right up.”

Morgan ordered a cheeseburger, fat and cooked medium, with hashbrowns instead of fries. 

Having a birthday so close to Christmas meant most Morgan’s parties were attended only by her parents and Mrs. Campell from her mom’s work. After the flood forced them into a new neighborhood, her mom made her a new offer. “I’ll make you anything you want for dinner, as long as it’s something out of the ordinary,” she said. This seemed like an unfair challenge for Morgan, who liked rules as long as they were fair, even the rules of dinner. She asked for burgers and hashbrowns, and stacked the crisp potatoes into her bun when her mother looked underwhelmed with her show of creativity. The next year, Morgan asked for waffles with all the toppings on at once. Another, she had chicken and vegetables doused in maple syrup, though this didn’t quite live up to her imagination. Around fourteen, when Morgan started wrangling oddball friends over for the occasion, she and her mother hatched multi courses together: green beans and bacon, eggplant parm, butter biscuits and chocolate gravy for dipping. If nothing else, it made her known around school for something besides dressing up too much, and this made Morgan sparkle with pride while it lasted. But for herself alone, nothing ever matched this: breakfast and dinner tucked together under a bun. 

“Any desert tonight?” Nikha asked. 

“Yes, please,” Morgan said. “What’s your favorite?”

Nikha rattled off the specials and made a half hearted defense for the chocolate sundae, although they were out of maraschino cherries. 

“What would you want someone to order you for your birthday?” Morgan asked. 

“Easy. That whole damn chocolate cake,” Nikha said, and gestured over her shoulder to a four tier cake iced in crooked swirls and topped with a plastic bow. It took Morgan back to the year she asked for an everything cake, with four cake flavors and three different fillings, all hidden behind ordinary chocolate. Her mom had urged her to do better, and not for the first time Morgan wanted to scream that if it wasn’t good enough for her, she should just decide for herself, and what was so wrong with wanting a cake that was still just a cake anyway? What was so wrong with wanting something nice and normal? 

Morgan’s mother hadn’t told her then. She’d made her the cake and given her an apology by way of a one-armed hug. But Morgan wished she could reach back into their sad, too-small kitchen and shake her. Ask her, was this your stupid way of trying to prepare me? Was this really worth all your energy and power when you could have been fixing our family?

Still, it had been a really nice cake.

“I like the way you think, Nikha,” Morgan said. “I’ll settle for just one slice.”

When the cake appeared on the table, Morgan urged her to have a bite, just one, as a birthday favor, and after enough urging Nikha agreed with a sheepish smile. They looked at each other, and it was almost like bonding.

Morgan paid her bill, tipped well, and watched Nikha’s retreat to the kitchen through the mirror panels. When the coast was clear she took out her candles: black for protection, white for summoning, and purple for remembrance.

She propped them around her in a circle and lit the wicks quickly. The purple one, she squished into the heavy center of her cake. She said her words of cleansing. Her words of blessing. She said the words of gratitude, though her teeth ached to speak them. And at last, she said what she had come to say.

“The bullshit stops here. Not one more year, not one more daughter, not one more fuck-up will I permit from your shadows. I call those responsible to me on my thirty-ninth year. Answer my call.” She reached for the fork, the one Nikha had used, and jabbed it into her dry, peeling cuticles. The blood came quick, and Morgan felt a rush as it connected with the residue of Nikha’s energy, and powered something bigger than she had ever laid her fingers on at her parents’ knee. “Answer my call, by the promises you made and the promises you broke, by the blood we share--” At the edge of Morgan’s attention, Nikha’s body collapsed on the kitchen floor. She’d be fine; it wasn’t like a little saliva and intention could kill a person, at least not that Morgan had been able to guess from her scant reading. But Morgan’s real focus remained on her birthday cake, which had begun to tremble on its plate. Moran raised the fork and flipped through the whole stack of disasters that had followed her here, the secrets that had screwed her over, the pain her family had carried for no good reason, one after the other, she imagined them skewered on the crooked prongs. She stabbed it through the cake flesh, done, and said through her teeth, “So may it be.” 

The cake went still. A drip of wax fell on the icing, and Morgan felt the crackle of energy flutter away. Had she done it? Did she just have to...wait? Or was this one more failure to add to the stack? Somehow, it seemed just about right to Morgan that she couldn’t tell one way or the other. She slumped in her book and picked the candle out, slid the waxy pieces of cake to the corner of her plate, and nibbled at what was left with a clean fork. “Happy thirty-nine, me,” she sighed. “Here’s to not losing everything this year. And to finishing the job.” Morgan swirled a piece into her mouth and let it melt on her tongue. The snow tumbled harder around White Crest and as the buttercream took the edge off Morgan’s disappointment, she found the old bounce in her step and left the diner smiling.

[violetsmoak]

Pieces of April [9/?]

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21099044/chapters/50202530

Summary: On the anniversary of his death, Jason’s second life takes an abrupt new turn and he’s faced with a challenge that neither Batman nor the All-Caste prepared him for.

Rating: PG-13 (rating may change later)

Warning(s): Past Jason/Isabel, kidfic, minor canon character death (pretty sure you can guess who), I’ll add more warnings/tags as I think of them.

Canon-Compliance: Takes place in between the two RHATO series, so after Roy and Kori and before Artemis and Bizarro. Jason and Isabel Ardila

Author’s Note: Exactly what it says on the can. I’ve had this idea kicking around my head for a while, getting in the way of finishing the next chapter of Philtatos and I figured if I started jotting down the basics of it, I could stop thinking about it.

________________________________________________________________

Jason really wants to say something caustic to Tim about that Robin comment—about how it’s something Dick would say, or that he’s watched one too many Hallmark specials.

But the thing is, he can’t argue the logic.

There is something about being Robin that creates a bond, and an inherent something you can trust in. They might disagree, and fight and even try to kill each other on occasion, but when it’s down to the wire, there’s no one you can trust more to have your back.

Not even Batman.

Which is why Jason hefts his duffel bag and allows Tim to lead him up the stairs of the open-concept apartment, through the upper floor that’s just as unnaturally clean as the rest of the house. Jason suspects that’s down to not really being lived in; his replacement probably spends more time falling asleep in his secret nest than anywhere else. Jason would bet his no-longer-extant trust fund that the only bit of the house that Tim spends much time it is in front of the flatscreen TV in his living room, playing on one of the fancy gaming consoles.

“This room’s yours for as long as you want it,” Tim says, disrupting Jason’s musings. “That’s the bathroom over there—clean towels in the cupboard under the sink—and my room’s down the hall if you need me for anything. Just shout.”

Jason takes a wary step into the room and blinks.

Tim probably thinks it’s entirely modest, but the room is huge, possibly bigger than some of his bolt holes; it’s practically its own self-contained unit minus a kitchen or bathroom. In addition to the usual trappings of a bedroom, there’s a loveseat and coffee table by the window, a desk and shelves in the corner, and another flatscreen on the wall opposite the queen-sized bed. Even with all of that, it doesn’t even feel crowded.

In fact, they could bring up all the stuff Tam Fox bought, store it here, and Jason still would be in no danger of knocking into any of it.

The reminder of the pile of baby things downstairs makes him frown again. Just how much help is he going to be accepting? He doesn’t take charity well under normal circumstances and receiving it from Tim—fellow Robin or not—is a bitter pill.

Could be worse, he tells himself a beat later. It could be Dick or Bruce, and then he’d have to endure the double-teaming of concern and disappointment from both.

Right. Disappointment from Bruce. Because that’s new.

Still, he feels a very pervasive and irritating sensation in his stomach at having to take Tim Drake’s help, especially after everything he’s done to him in the past. He sort of wishes the kid was being an asshole about it—holding it over his head or something—but the fact he’s not makes it ten times worse.

“Listen, I’m going to pay you back for all of this,” he begins. “Once I figure everything out, I’ll make sure we’re square.”

“I already said you don’t have to,” Tim dismisses.

“I’m still going to. I don’t like owing people. So, name your price.”

Tim sighs, and fixes him with an exasperated stare, like Jason is being needlessly stubborn or something. “I can’t think of anything. But how about we start with you getting some sleep? At some point, you need to be capable of making decisions for the baby yourself, and it’s not going to happen while you’re brain is stewing in shock and the attempted alcohol poisoning you subjected it to earlier.”

“I’m fine.”

“Sure you are. But your sleep schedule’s about to take a major hit. Tonight might be the last time you actually get a few solid hours in a row for a while.”

“If you think I’m sleeping tonight after all this…” Jason trails off, shaking his head.

“Fair,” Tim allows and turns to leave. “I’m going to head out now. I won’t be doing a full patrol, so if you’re still awake when I get back, I’ll help you bring the bassinet up and set it up. Unless you want to do it yourself. But Tam says those things require an engineering degree, and you’re not exactly the most patient person ever.”

“I’m not going to set fire to anything in your place. Probably.”

“Is it weird that that’s actually somewhat reassuring?”

“It’s the honesty. I’m fully aware of my faults. Unlike some people.”

“Speaking of…are you absolutely sure you don’t want to tell anyone else? I know for a fact Alfred’s way more qualified—”

“No.”

Bruce’s disappointment he can live with; Alfred’s, not so much.

“Right. Then I’ll see you later.”

And then he’s gone, leaving Jason alone once again.

He stares around the room, imagining a cradle set up beside the bed, and the mountain of baby supplies. Even having seen and held the baby—even knowing her name—he’s still having a hard time picturing bringing her home.

However temporary that is.

It’s yet another reason he’s not cut out to have a kid—you have to have a home and roots and stability. And the closest thing he’s ever had to a father figure was far from stable, judging by the propensity to dress up as a giant bat and fight crime.

Jason digs out his phone, tempted to call his friend again and to try to convince him he needs him to be here.

Except, if Roy’s in the thick of a job, Jason doesn’t want to risk calling at an inopportune moment just to bother him with his shit. And he knows how touchy a subject it is, especially considering what happened to Lian.

Better not.

Roy will contact him when he can, or he’ll likely just show up. Until then, Jason just as to…figure all this out on his own.

Which he can do.

He’s a goddamn adult, isn’t he?

Shit, I’ve got to be now.

There’s a knock at the doorway, which even if he didn’t know it was her, would tell him it’s Tam Fox.

(Bats don’t knock; that would mean understanding the meaning of privacy.)

Tam lingers against the doorjamb, shifting uneasily, and isn’t this a blast from the past?

Jason has done a pretty good job of avoiding running into anyone who knew him before he died, especially when it comes to civilians. The only person who knows for sure outside of the Family is a prostitute named Rhonda that’s walked the streets of Park Row since before Jason ran away from his first foster home. And while she knows he’s Jason Todd, she doesn’t know he’s the Red Hood or that he was Robin.

Which, I guess, Tam probably doesn’t either. Tim just said I was a ‘friend’, not what kind of friend.

Still, it’s a whole different thing, having someone from high society, who remembers the kid he was, even if it was the distant relationship of acquaintances. He has to remind himself that Tim trusts her, and Bruce has always trusted her father, and if those two paranoid freaks consider them good people, it would be stupid of Jason not to do the same.

“Tim asked me to stick around for a bit and keep an eye on you,” she says after a few seconds of awkward lingering. “I think it’s kind of pointless—I mean, look at the size of you.”

Jason shrugs. “He probably thinks I’m going to take off.”

“Are you?”

“Considering it,” he admits. “But what’s the point? It’s not like it would change anything.”

There would still be a kid out there—my kid.

Tam’s eyes soften. “You must be scared out of your mind.”

“I don’t get scared,” he replies automatically.

“That’s a bald-faced lie. Even people who plan to have kids are terrified when it happens.” She folds her arms. “Now, I don’t know your story or where you’ve been all these years, or how you’re involved with Tim and his…night job. And I probably don’t want to know. But you’re barely older than me, and if I was in your place, I’d freaking out.”

Jason clenches his fists.

“Also, Tim probably didn’t bother asking, but are you going to be okay?”

“I have no fucking clue,” he admits at last. “This was never the plan. It was never part of any plan.”

“I bet. The, uh, nightlife isn’t exactly one you want to bring kids into. Especially if you’re like Tim.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means…look, Tim’s a good guy,” Tam says. “But when it comes to stuff like this, he’s sort of…” She tilts her head to one side as though thinking of the right words, and then says, “He’s sort of like Pinocchio.”

Jason huffs in amusement. “Because he’s so small and wooden?”

“Because he spends most of his time pretending to be a real boy and has a very casual relationship with the truth,” she corrects. “That’s not the sort of environment you want to raise a child in. Parents shouldn’t have to lie to their kids, even if it’s to protect them. And kids shouldn’t have to lie to their parents.” She pauses, clearly chewing on something, and then asks hesitantly, “Does your…um…does Mr. Wayne know you’re…?”

“He knows,” Jason replies shortly.

“Right. Of course. Though…I mean, I would have assumed if he did there’d have been a big press conference or media thing.”

“I didn’t exactly come back here on good terms with him.”

“That wouldn’t matter. He was devastated when you died. He stopped going to work or doing anything. Dad had to take care of everything.”

“Oh, yeah, he was really broken up,” Jason pretends to agree, feeling his mouth twist unpleasantly. “Didn’t take him long to move in the new kid, though.”

“It wasn’t like that,” Tam protests. “Tim told me. He said that B—”

She cuts herself off, clearly unsure of how much he knows. Jason can’t help be impressed by how in the know she seems to be; knowing about Tim’s extracurricular activities is one thing, but knowing Gotham City’s biggest secret as well? He begins to reevaluate just how far up her metaphorical security clearance is.

“He said Bruce was self-destructing,” Tam concludes, clearly deciding to remain vague. “It was going to get himself or someone else killed if Tim didn’t step in.”

And Jason knows that now, of course, and doesn’t even blame Tim for it anymore; but it doesn’t make things hurt less.

“Who’s to say that wouldn’t have been the better option?” Jason challenges. “Maybe if Tim stayed out of it and B crossed that line, Gotham would be safer now.”

The slight widening of Tam’s eyes is the only indication she’s noticed his acknowledgment of just how much he knows. But Jason is now too distracted by his thoughts to remark on it.

“See, dear old Dad and I have philosophical differences about some pretty common sense stuff. Namely, taking out the scumbags who deserve it. The unforgivable types, like rapists and child molesters and the Joker.”

“You went up against the Joker?” Tam gapes. “Are you crazy?”

“Seemed fair, since he was the one who killed me,” Jason shrugs. Tam’s mouth actually drops at this; clearly, she hasn’t heard those details, either. “Not that I’ll ever get the chance since B’s always there to get in my way. The number of times that crazed clown almost killed me—almost killed all of us—”

He cuts off with a choked growl because it’s an argument he can perform by rote now, in several languages.

His fists clench tighter in anger, seething at the old resentment. It’s not as fresh as it was when he first came out of the Pit, or even when he was carrying out his plans to force Bruce’s hand. But there will always be a stinging ache just beneath his breastbone whenever he thinks about the situation.

He remembers that other Earth, where after losing him, Bruce effectively ripped apart Gotham’s rogues and made the place safer; where the cost of peace for the city was his own soul.

It’s a sacrifice Jason’s always been willing to make.

He wonders if that’s all going to change now, with the…

Jason pauses, and realizes for the first time tonight since receiving that voicemail from Dr. Kerry, he hasn’t been thinking of the baby.

Granted, it was because his mind went back to fixating on the psychopath that killed him, but he’s finally feeling something beyond numb disbelief.

This feeling he knows; these thoughts are familiar ground.

He squints at Tam, considering.

“You’re good at that,” he says at last.

“At what?”

“Being a distraction. I see why he keeps you around.”

“He doesn’t keep me around, I keep him alive,” she retorts. “I’m way more than a distraction, thanks very much.”

“Obviously. You know the big secret and you’re still here. There are only a few people who can cope with it.”

And not everyone does it well.

“It’s been a steep learning curve. A lot of which was playing catch-up and learning to decode Tim’s everything. And I almost walked a few times,” she admits. “Last year was the closest I came to it. Tim faked my father’s death for another one of his convoluted plans. He didn’t tell me anything, and then just expected me to be okay with it.” Her mouth turns downward; obviously it’s still a sore spot. “After a few weeks of thinking about it, and talking things through with my dad, I understood why he did it. But I also decided I’m not cut out to be kept in the dark. If I’m going to be in on this stuff, I’m going to be in on it.”

“That’s a different take from your dad,” Jason says. “He always liked being ignorant until the last possible moment.”

“Pretending to be ignorant,” Tam corrects him. “For plausible deniability. But if there’s anything I’ve learned working for WE and for Tim, it’s that ignorance can get you in just as much trouble as knowledge can. And if I’m going to get killed by ninjas, I’d rather I knew what it was for.”

Jason can’t help a chuckle at that. “That’s weirdly specific.”

“Well, if you’re too wired to sleep, I’ll tell you all about it.”

Jason pauses for a moment, not entirely comfortable with the offer—it’s somehow too easy, too normal; in his experience, sitting down with old acquaintances leads to bloodshed.

But the lure of keeping his mind off his own troubles is too much.

“I’m all ears,” he tells her.

⁂⁂⁂

________________________________________________________________

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Next Chapter

[ohprettyweeper-moved]

A Summer Story

Age 16

Pairing: Tyler x Kansas Word Count: 1815 Warnings: None? Challenge: Kansas’s YouAU Writing Challenge Tags: @takenvysleep @breadbinishigh @svintsandghosts @xtina2191

After that year, I didn’t go back to camp. Not for a lack of wanting to, but it seemed to just not work out. Red went the next couple of years, and when she came back, informed me that Tyler had not attended again, either. He and I chatted every now and then on instant messenger, but when AIM’s popularity faded away, so did our conversations. MySpace became the big contender, and Tyler and I followed each other, but we weren’t in each other’s Top 8 or anything.

“What are we gonna do for your birthday this year?” Red asked one Wednesday night after youth group.

I shrugged. I was switching to a new school for my junior year, my parents were on the brink of divorce, and I wasn’t feeling very celebratory in general. I kicked at the sidewalk and crossed my arms over my chest. Her parents were coming to pick us up at anytime, and I just wasn’t in the mood to make plans for something that would likely be ruined by my disintegrating family unit.

“Don’t worry,” Red said, squeezing my hand. “We’ll get you out of the house and do something really fun.”

I didn’t say anything. Most days were good. Most days I didn’t feel like things were falling apart, even though they were. I toughed it out and looked forward to celebrations and tried to keep my head up, but some days were harder than others. The fight I’d had with my mother before youth group that night had made today a hard day.

At family dinner the following Sunday, Red was grinning wide when I arrived. She pulled me to the downstairs living area where we usually hid out and clapped her hands in excitement.

“I found something for us to do for your birthday! There’s gonna be a killer show at Ground Zero. My mom said her or my dad will drive us, and take us for food beforehand. And you can stay with me, the whole weekend, if you want. Oh, and you’re gonna love the present I got you.”

With a sigh, and still not sure that I was up to a big celebration, I joined her in her excitement. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.

.&.

Friday was a really long day, but Red and I made the most of it. It was the last Friday before school started, so we spent most of the day at the pool. When the sun was too much for Red’s fair skin, we walked back to her house and showered, then got ready for the show that night. We stopped at Taco Bell on the way, had our fair share of tacos and Mountain Dew, then my uncle dropped us off at Ground Zero.

“You girls be careful!” he called as we hurried out of the car.

Red and I waved our agreement. The guy at the front took our cover charge, and we went into the show. One of our favorite bands, one made up of guys from our youth group, was playing tonight, but I wasn’t sure who else was on the roster.

I chewed hard on my bottom lip as I looked around for one of the guys from the youth group band. I had a major crush on him, and wondered if that wasn’t what Red had in mind when she planned this. When I spotted him across the main room, I nudged her with my elbow.

“Is that my birthday present or something?” I joked.

Red chuckled. “No, I think what I’ve got in mind is better, actually. Just wait for it.”

I kept my glances at the boy across the room to a minimum, so Red wouldn’t be put out that I wasn’t looking forward to her present, or that I wasn’t really taking in the night and appreciating her efforts -- I appreciated them more than I could say. We were waiting for that first group to go on when someone yelled from across the room.

“Hey, Kansas!”

Frowning, I turned to figure out who was calling my name. When I saw him coming from the back of the room, my eyes went wide and my jaw dropped nearly to the floor.

“Tyler?”

I looked at Red to see if she was seeing what I was seeing, or if I had gone nuts. Red just grinned and said, “Happy birthday!”

I hugged her tight before running towards Tyler. You would think being young and not seeing each other for four years would have made the reunion awkward, but, surprisingly, it wasn’t. I was only excited to see him, and if his hug told me anything, Tyler was excited to see me, too.

“Nice bracelet,” he commented, turning the beaded bracelet he had given me at camp around my wrist.

“Oh, yeah,” I blushed, “I wear it a lot still. It is my favorite colors, after all. What are you doing here?”

Tyler gestured to a boy with a piercing and dark hair leaning against the back wall. “That’s Josh, a friend of mine from Ohio. We’re a band, just a two man deal, but lots of energy, if I do say so myself. Red told me things have been rough for you and that your birthday was coming up, and we worked out a show here.”

I couldn’t help it. I hugged him again, even tighter. “Thank you.”

Tyler’s hands joined behind my back. “You’re welcome.”

.&.

Tyler was right -- the energy he and Josh had on that stage, even with just two of them, was insane. After the last note sounded, I wanted them to start all over again from the beginning. It was like … magic.

“You’re pumping my ego,” Tyler laughed when I told him that later. With our friends in town, Red had been able to finagle her parents’ extra car for the night. We went for more junk food, then parked back at Ground Zero. Josh and Red seemed to be hitting it off, so Tyler and I just sat on the hood of her car while they walked around the venue grounds and talked.

“No, really,” I said, leaning back against the windshield of the car, “that was really amazing. You’ve got talent, dude.”

Tyler smiled and nudged me with his shoulder. “Thanks. What about you? What’s the big dream?”

Taking in a deep breath, I pointed to the storm clouds way out on the horizon. Cloud-to-cloud lightning flashed, and the faint rumble of thunder followed several seconds later.

“That’s the dream. I love storms, you know? It’s chaos, the good kind. I wanna chase after them and analyze the data and know everything about them.”

“Wow, that’s impressive,” Tyler said, putting one hand behind his head.

I folded my hands over my stomach and stared at those storm clouds. I couldn’t wait to be driving fast, rain hitting the windows, wind rocking the car. One day, my mind told me, one day.

“So, Red also said that you had a thing for the one of the guys from the other band?” Tyler piped up.

I groaned and covered my face with my hands and sat up, leaning forward on my knees. “I can’t believe she told you that! I’m gonna kill her!”

Tyler sat up, too, nudging me with his shoulder again. “C’mon, Kansas. We’re sixteen, it’s perfectly normal.”

I dropped my hands and blew out a tense breath. “Yeah, but it would probably be more normal in this case if he actually knew who I was, besides some girl from youth group. It’s a mess, really. I could have chosen better.”

“You can’t help what you feel.”

For some reason, my mind went back to swim night at camp four years ago, when I had felt so jealous over Tyler hanging around Molly and Claire.

“Yeah, that’s true.”

“So what are you waiting for? You should go talk to him. You never know, ya know?”

I considered his encouragement. “Yeah, that’s true. But besides not knowing me, he’s got a girlfriend. So there’s that.”

“Ah, the catch,” Tyler laughed. “I understand now I didn’t get the whole story.”

“Yeah. But it’s all right. It is what it is. I’m kind of a mess anyway.” I set one elbow on my knee, and set my chin on my hand. “Too many things are changing at once. It sucks.”

Tyler put his arm around me and hugged me to his side. “Yeah, Red told me. I said that already. But she did. You’re gonna be fine, Kansas. A couple more years, you’ll be out there, chasing storms and tornadoes, and nothing here will matter anymore.”

“Except for maybe tonight,” I sighed. “I wasn’t looking forward to this birthday, but it’s turned out pretty great. Thanks for coming down. It’s been a while, but I was really glad to see you.”

“Me too,” Tyler agreed. “You know, I had a big crush on you that summer at camp. You were the coolest girl there.”

“Shut up! You’re such a liar.”

“I’m not,” Tyler laughed. “I felt really bad that you were upset about Molly that night. That’s why I made you the bracelet. I wanted to tell you when I gave you that bracelet, but I chickened out.”

I smiled, big and with nothing in mind but Tyler. “Well, at least you told me now. I had a crush on you, too. Which you probably knew because of the whole Molly thing, but since you said it …”

Tyler nodded. “Thanks.”

I nodded too, and laid back against the windshield again, and Tyler followed suit. Another whisper of thunder sounded. I wanted something to happen, even if I wasn’t sure what it was. Maybe my twelve-year-old crush and my life and everything else was coming together to give me the guts to take the conversation where it went next.

“Wanna know a secret?” I offered.

“Sure.”

“I’ve never been kissed.”

Tyler’s brow raised. “Really?”

I shrugged. “Really. The opportunity never presented itself, I suppose. I’m a sappy girl, Ty. I wanted it to be special, not some random thing.”

Tyler propped himself up on one elbow. “What about tonight?”

“What about tonight?” I frowned.

“Is tonight special?”

My head snapped around so fast, I was probably lucky I didn’t get whiplash. I tried to answer, but I wasn’t even sure he was really saying what I thought he was saying. One hand came up to touch my cheek; I could feel how shaky he was. Tyler was just as nervous as I was. I realized he was waiting for me to answer, so I did my best to give a confident nod.

When Tyler’s lips met mine, my messy life made sense again. Or maybe I didn’t care as much that it didn’t make sense. Tyler was my first kiss, and everything about it was absolutely perfect.

[lilyxareum-blog]

( bae joohyun (irene), cisfemale, she / her ) — Welcome back, HAN AREUM. I’m surprised you’re still ( a ) Costume Specialist ! Congrats ! You’re TWENTY-EIGHT years old ? Our agents usually don’t last that long ! :O I see you’ve been given a BORDER COLLIE. Funny how it seems they work harder than you ! Can’t wait for another lovely day of you being KIND. Though, if we’re being honest, we really know you’re more ANXIOUS. Welp, have a good at work, Agent LILY. I really don’t care ! I’m a robot, I have no feelings.

Hello, hello everyone!! Its Lina, your, classic, anxious and panicky mun of Areum that’s always active on discord and never got her pages done (*sobs* I’m sorry, Areum–) I don’t have a plots page nor a bio page for now (Which I SWEAR I’M WORKING ON), as well as a plots page, but I do have her profile up! Here’s some plot ideas, as well as information about Areum that you’d need to know!!

History:

Areum was born Han Areum on 29th March 1991

Born to Seo Youngjin and Han Kang Hwan. She was born a few days early, and surprised her parents by being a girl, so they didn’t have a name ready for her.

A nurse named her–because the newborn was such a pretty baby, and so, lacking sorely in ideas for a great name that would fit their kid, they named her Areum (creative i know lmao–sorry my brain LACKED that creativity)

Han Kang Hwan was a Korean diplomat, and Seo Youngjin was a retired agent from Hwarang. The two had a classic love life that started after a shoulder throw, and Areum was the catalyst that caused her parents to get married.

She has a younger brother who’s 1 year younger than her and they were very close.

On the year she was 16, the family was tracked down and killed in the dead of night– the assassin was an old enemy of her mother’s employed by on of the disgruntled rivals of her father, whom disagreed with Han Kang Hwan upon certain political reforms.

Areum’s brother had grabbed her and shoved her under the bed to protect her, and so she watched the man that killed her family stab her younger brother to death.

Areum was then stabbed severely in the stomach and shoved out of the second storey and onto the lawn below. She ended up almost bleeding out, suffered a severe concussion from where the man had knocked her head into the wall, followed by a broken right arm and a broken left leg. The house was then burned down and she was left to die on the lawn of the mansion.

Because of the incident, Areum has a bumpy scar on her stomach from where the scarred tissue from the stab remains. 

Had to go through physical therapy for a year to regain her muscle strength, another year was spent working on her stamina and muscles to make her up to par with the recruitment test.

She was too old for adoption, and so Areum chose to follow the Hwarang agents that had rescued her and applied for Hwarang as a recruit.

Entered as a recruit aged 18, Spent 4 years as a recruit, graduated aged 22 as a field agent, worked as a field agent for 2 years before specialising in the costumes department and working there from then on.

Areum is highly talented in art and music, and has been drawing since she was 5. 

Areum debuted as an artist (painting) when she was 11, selling her art pieces under the pseudonym Raye Licht. She thought of making her handle “A Ray of Light” at first, but found it far too much of a mouthful to say easily

 Areum still sells paintings under that pseudonym, and hence is rich enough to purchase a mansion + live comfortably and luxuriously for the rest of her life. But she wanted to continue her work in Hwarang. 

Can play the piano, violin, flute, and is also great at singing

Technically if she was born in the Joseon era, she’d be a perfect wife + perfect daughter to marry off from a noble family

Areum’s ideal type is someone who’s not afraid to express himself, and is a little aggressive in confessing his feelings, because she’s more passive as well.

Areum has a minimalist tattoo on the middle of her lower back of a lily, which she got right after being given her agent name.

Areum also usually uses money out of her own budget to pay for pple’s expenses, or the expenses inflicted by the costume production, just give her the right reason and she’d fund you (because she’s hella nice)

personality:

Areum is sweet, generous and kind, apart from being lovely. 

Was class president and popular in her school back when she had a normal family.

A little naive, and airheaded, gentle, and a soft talker.

When with friends she’s slightly childish, more naive and exuberant

Usually the mood bringer, hypes people up as well as brightens up the room

But alone Areum is silent and melancholic, reflective and understanding.

A lot of people don’t she the dual side of her, because she only shows her bright and happy side to others, because she feels that its her responsibility to liven up the atmosphere since they’re doing such emotionally heavy and taxing work.

Thinks everyone, even grouches are adorable and that each have their own worth.

Is socially anxious and a bit of an overthinker

Highly romantic, swoons easily, easily manipulated esp if she trusts someone

Serial watcher of netflix, and cries as hard as possible when it comes to heartbreaking stories

Areum also doesn’t think that she’s pretty–in her mind, she believes that she’s just average,or less than average.

Areum is also physically affectionate with others, hugs are kind of her thing– she aims to make people feel welcome, so that they wouldn’t find it necessary to be interested to know more about herself.

Career History:

Because her mother was a retired Hwarang agent, she had an agreement with her old comrades that if anything happened to her and her husband, the children would be taken in, so Areum was taken in by Hwarang agents, but had to train herself up to the standards to a recruitment agent to pass.

Had to train really hard for the entire year that she recuperated and just barely made the cut for the team of recruits.

Entered recruitment at aged 18, her physicals were low, but Areum made up to the mark with her intelligence.

Areum holds an IQ of 143, is more of an observant person–and a practiced user of being able to put on a happy go lucky facade so that no one has a clue to what she really feels inside.

No one really knows about Areum’s background or heritage, except that she’s rich,  she paints, and that she’s hella good at costume disguise.

Graduated from recruitment at 22, and became a field agent, but unfortunately Areum was GREAT at disguising others, but not great at disguising herself. (Areum: hat, no lense glasses, fluffy sweaters, slippers)

After 2 years of field agent work, and more than one trip ups in disguises because Areum got recognised, Areum decided she was more cut out for costume specialisation rather than field work.

Areum became costume specialist at age 24, and has been working in that spot for 4 years.

Plot Ideas!!

[For her other costume specialist] You cannot believe the naivety of Areum thinking that she’s fine with disguising herself with just fluffy sweaters and a no lense glasses to not be recognised.

All physical, not emotional – Areum has needs just like everyone else, and you’re one of the special people who has seen the more solemn, contemplative side of her, which she doesn’t usually use outside of the bedroom or her own room [fwb connection ; 0/3 filled]

Classic Annoyance – You’re one of the colder friends of Areum. You can’t fathom why she’s so physically affectionate with people, but you’d comfortably say that you two are close with each other. [ friends ; 0/3 filled]

Walk my Dog – Areum has a habit of offering help to others even though she sucks at it, and with her small stature, its hilarious to see a 158cm tall tiny person trying to drag more than two large dogs away from their wayward tracks. You’re one of those individuals that take advantage of that and always ends up walking your dogs with her, because its just adorable watching Areum frazzle up over a bunch of too big dogs that she can’t control

You remind me of him – Areum’s connection and relationship with her younger brother has always been more than extraordinary, even in his death she feels somewhat connected to him. You are the one that reminds Areum of her deceased brother, and Areum does everything she can to protect you from what she perceives to be harm, even if sometimes its rather over the top. 

Why Are You Doing This To Me? – Being the overly romantic and sweet, naive person that Areum is, its no doubt to say that she’s been used and manipulated by people before. You’re the person that she has a crush on, and knowing that she has a crush on you, you’re intent on using her for your own needs. Its purely unemotional for you, but entirely emotional for Areum, and she just doesn’t know that you’re using her just yet. [ crush, fwb, angst angst heavy angst in the future]

Again? – One of Areum’s responsibilities is to patch up the costumes that have either been destroyed or ruined in the field work, and you’re one of the more reckless field agents/ recruits that always seem to mangle up your clothes to the point of nearly beyond repair. Its perplexing for Areum, and she’s up to the challenge to make a new piece that you can’t possibly rip, but you always seem to outdo yourself in ripping yourself a new piece of clothing. 

Exes, Crushes on Areum/ Romance – this can be plotted however you like it! Areum is pretty open and free when it comes to having either slept together with another agent, or dated another agent before, she’s mostly clueless when it comes to someone crushing on her, or perhaps the idea of something between them that blurs the lines of friendship but they never acted upon it etc. Feel free to hit me up!

[preserving-ferretbrain]

The I in Vampire: Joss Whedon and the Philosophy of Identity

by Dan H

Monday, 21 September 2009

Dan almost manages to say something nice about Joss Whedon~

Recently I did two things. I read The Pig That Wants to be Eaten - a nicely accessible book of philosophical thought experiments – and I watched Series five of Angel (review forthcoming from Kyra or myself, special exclusive spoiler preview, it’s shit).

One of the infuriating things about S5 of Angel is its blatant disregard for any of the show’s prior mythology (to be fair, this was partly due to network pressure). The girls at Boils and Blinding Torment get particularly furious about this, complaining about the way it craps all over the notion that vampires are in any way different to regular people. To quote them quoting Buffy

To paraphrase almost every character in Buffy ever: A vampire is not the person they appear to be. They walk like them, they talk like them, they have access to their memories, they might even do their hair like them, but it’s not them.

Which is pretty darn clear, and is, as the girls observed, spelled out in the first episode, and about every five episodes thereafter.

The thing is, while it’s spelled out like that, it’s pretty clear that it’s not like that. Jessee pops up in the second damned episode and seems quite convinced that apart from being “connected to everything” he’s still the same guy he always was. Angelus, while evil, still has a lot of Angel’s basic personality traits (“it’s just … you’re still the only thing he thinks about” is I believe how Willow describes it). Not only is there textual evidence against the whole “demon in a Xander suit” theory (and very little to support it except maybe that scene in series two where Angel’s “inner demon” beats up that other demon inside Angel’s body), there’s also some fairly fundamental problems with the whole idea of something that has your appearance, memories and personality being, in any meaningful sense “not you”.

Memory, Continuity, and Tom Riker

The question of who “you” actually are is a horrendously difficult one in philosophical terms. In practical terms, you know that you’re you, other people aren’t you and that’s an end to it. In the world of the philosophy of identity it’s far trickier.

One of the thought experiments presented in TPtWtbE is the teleporter problem. Suppose you go through a Star Trek matter transporter. It scans your body, and reduces it to data. Then it blasts you into atoms, and reconstructs you miles away from (presumably) completely different parts. None of the characters in Star Trek seem remotely bothered by this but it raises a lot of difficult questions. If the person who is reconstituted at the other end of the teleporter is made from completely different atoms from the person who went in, in what sense are they the same person?

The problem is compounded by the fact that the person who goes into the teleporter and the person who comes out are in fact capable of living independent lives. In a relatively famous episode, it is discovered that exactly that had happened to Riker. A transporter accident had split him into two people, both with exactly the same memories and experiences, and both believing themselves to be the “original” Will Riker. The Trek episode neatly dodged a lot of the nastier problems involved with this kind of conundrum by having the “other will” be one who had been stuck on a remote planet for several years, making it fairly clear to one and all that the Will Riker who has been, y'know, on TV all this time is the real one.

A similar idea crops up in The Prestige - Tesla's teleporting machine doesn't destroy the original, so you always get two copies, an Hugh Jackman solves the problem by drowning himself. This creates a terribly haunting image in the original film, but it's interesting that in many ways the machine functions identically to the “real” teleporter in Star Trek. It's just that the way it disposes of the “original” is less neat.

I understand that the way a lot of philosophers resolve such issues is with a concept called “Continuity of Consciousness” - broadly speaking if the individual coming out of the transporter remembers being the person who went into it, they can be said to be the same person.

Of course there are arguments against this definition (the two Rikers and the Tesla machine highlight one of them) but it's still extremely useful, and it's very interesting when applied to Buffy vampires.

The Buffy vamp remembers its human life. This is described in early episodes as “having access” to the human's memories, with the implication that the vampire knows itself to be a demon, and simply uses the human's memories to trick people into thinking it's something else, but this is clearly untrue. We witness the transformations of several vampires, and all of them clearly genuinely consider themselves to be the person who got bit, not some alien parasite. They have, in a word, continuity of consciousness. Not only that, but no vampire ever displays knowledge or memory of having existed independently as a demon.

Of course once a person becomes a vampire they are changed - they lose their soul (which seems to have a rather nebulous effect, certainly it doesn't seem to alter their sense of identity very much) and become Evil, but you can't really say that they're different people except in the metaphorical sense that we are all “different people” when we are – say – drunk.

This has particular consequences when it comes to little things like moral culpability.

Blame, Responsibility, and Evil

Even if you accept that vampires, whatever the show might say, are the same people they were when they were alive, it's still perfectly reasonable to say that they are the same people but evil(it's also perfectly reasonable to argue that the “but evil” segment of that sentence renders them not the same person at all, what isn't reasonable is arguing that they're suddenly a demon occupying somebody else's body – whatever the text says, Buffy vamps clearly don't work like that).

But even here we run into a bit of a stumbling block. Okay, vampires are evil. They kill people, because that's what they do, hence the slayage. Except that repeatedly, starting lest we forget in series two when Spike turns against Angelus, vampires have shown that they are capable of choosing to do good – or at the very least not to do evil. Now frequently they choose it for selfish reasons: Spike helps save the world because he likes being evil in it, and later fights demons because he enjoys hurting demons. The vampires at the dodgy place Riley goes to avoid killing people because it helps them stay under the radar. Harmony goes on the cowblood because it's a condition of her employment at Wolfram and Hart.

Now on the one hand, this makes the vampires that actually do kill people way more reprehensible. On the other hand, it makes killing vampires on spec a little bit dodgy. Yes, some vampires kill people, but a great many of them don’t, either because of artificial constraints (a chip in the head) emotional constraints (I haz soul! It make me sad if I do the killing!) or rational self-interest (killing people will get me fired, killing people will make them less likely to let me feed on them repeatedly). These, not to put too fine a point on it, are pretty much the three reasons that regular people don’t go around committing murder.

Now true, vampires are still much more likely to kill people than humans, but to get all formal logic about it, you can’t say that all vampires are killers – they are clearly capable of choosing not to kill – which leaves you only with “some vampires are killers” which is kinda useless. This means that staking vampires the moment they rise is basically a form of racial profiling. It’s effective racial profiling, to be sure, since they’re mostly going to go on to be mass murderers, but it’s much less cut and dried than the original remit of “a demon in the body of your friend”.

Dolls, Identity, and Consent

The whole philosophy of identity issue gets even more interesting (and even more problematic) in Dollhouse. Is that me saying something positive about the show? Well yeah, sort of. The actual philosophy of identity bit is kind of interesting – and on some levels it seems to be what Joss is interested in (q.v. the “it makes humanity irrelevant” speech in Man on the Street) – unfortunately because Joss is pathologically incapable of writing a show that doesn’t have EYE YAM TEH FEMINISTS scrawled all over the front in crayon, he muddies the water by making it something that is also about the abuse of women by men who aren’t him.

The problem with Dollhouse (why yes, I am recycling content from an old article) is that it brings up a whole lot of important rape myths and then not only fails to challenge them, but dips the whole thing in a the kind of abstract philosophy that dickheads use so that they can accuse feminists of being “too emotional”.

To quote one blogger whose name, weblog, and other identifying features I have totally forgotten: “the thing I love about this fandom is that you can always find somebody willing to argue that it isn’t rape if she was brainwashed”.

The problem is that “it isn’t rape if she was brainwashed” is actually part of several interesting philosophical questions about identity, free will, and perception. The problem is that rape is not in any way the right subject to be using as a vehicle for these questions. The concept of consent and complicity is complex enough in real world rape cases that it doesn’t need imaginary supertechnology muddying the waters. The abstract philosophy of the Dollhouse contributes to, rather than challenging, the prevailing notion that consent is so vague and ill-defined that anything short of a clear “no” counts.

One of the things I really liked about The Pig that Wants to be Eaten was the way in which it tempered its abstract content with pragmatism. In its discussion of the

Ship of Theseus

, for example, the author points out that the identity of the “real” ship depends on what you want to do with it. If, for example, you were looking for forensic evidence in a murder investigation, you would want the physical components that had been present at the time of the crime. If on the other hand you were looking for Theseus himself, you'd want the ship that was actually in his possession.

The abstract, philosophy-of-identity stuff in Dollhouse is at odds with the simple, practical fact that the Dollhouse is all kinds of fucked up. If the Dollhouse was more benign and less rapetastic, it could explore some of the interesting ideas about identity which are – in theory at least – part and parcel of the show. Unfortunately the nature of the Dollhouse makes abstract theorizing about identity an offensive disservice to its victims. Yes, you can wonder to what extent Echo's imprints are real people with volition, and to what extent therefore they are moral agents in their own right capable of, amongst other things, consenting to sex. The problem is that the house's “brainwash and bone” routine is so close to real-world date-rape that it becomes genuinely uncomfortable.

Which is a shame, because the actual ideas are rather interesting.

Themes:

TV & Movies

,

Sci-fi / Fantasy

,

Whedonverse

~

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~Comments (

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)

Arthur B

at 14:18 on 2009-09-21

A similar idea crops up in The Prestige - Tesla's teleporting machine doesn't destroy the original, so you always get two copies, an Hugh Jackman solves the problem by drowning himself. This creates a terribly haunting image in the original film,

Uh, actually

the novel came first

. Though you are right that there's a particularly striking image that results from this, if it's the same one from the novel I'm thinking of.

That's a nitpick though, and I completely agree with the rest of your points here. I think the conclusive thing is that, whilst not a compulsive

Buffy

-watcher, I've seen at least a season or two's worth of episodes, and I've

never

even caught an inkling of the idea that vampires are not basically the same people they were before the Embrace (TM White Wolf) but with kewl powerz, simply because I never saw an episode where it was explicitly stated. Which I suppose is another good philosophical question: if you cut out the episodes which make the "they're different people" thing explicit, and a viewer can't work out that vampires are different people from the humans they used to be through observation, can it really be said to be true?

(The best example of using this plot point right, in my book, is

Dracula

; part of the reason the vampirisation of Lucy is so horrifying is that vampire-Lucy is so utterly different from normal-Lucy.)

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Dan H

at 15:36 on 2009-09-21Sorry, you're right, the use of the word "original" in that sentence is entirely specious. I think in my head i was using "original" to mean "before it was co-opted to be an example in a short article about the philosophy of identity".

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Niall

at 22:37 on 2009-09-21Must ... resist ... urge ... to debate ... Buffyverse ... mythology and metaphysics ... must ... resist ...

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Jamie Johnston

at 23:36 on 2009-09-21Ooh, interesting. Hmm. Yes.

Two very

obiter dicta

:

On the rape / brainwashing point, I sometimes wonder whether it wouldn't help to make the same sort of distinction as is made in law between theft (taking another person's property without permission) and fraud (using deceit to trick another person into giving you his property). The word 'rape' was until only a few decades ago almost entirely confined to violent and plainly non-consensual violation. That, of course, is only because society hadn't got far enough in reducing toleration of that extreme form of sexual abuse for it to even begin seriously looking at less obvious forms. But it does also, rightly or wrongly, cause a certain trickiness when we use the same word to denote sex where there is ostensibly consent but the consent is vitiated by, for example, incapacity. On the one hand using 'rape' in this broader sense is strategically shrewd because, now that everyone pretty much agrees that 'classic' violent rape is wrong and is a real problem, saying that something else is also rape immediately challenges people to think again about that other thing and may well shock them into new understanding. But on the other hand, as with assertions like 'meat is murder' or 'property is theft', there is a risk that people simply say, consciously or unconsciously, 'No, that's plainly not literally true and therefore I can ignore whatever point underlies it'. Whereas more progress might be made by treating the two things as separate and concentrating on getting people to acknowledge that the second is also bad. One might say that to some extent this panders to the tendency to regard 'fraud-type-rape' (if I can for the moment call it that without seeming to imply an actual analogy or to trivialize the whole business with my sloppy terminology) as less bad than 'theft-type-rape', it might at least make more progress in solidifying a consensus that 'fraud-type-rape' is actually wrong to some degree. I don't know, but I wouldn't be surprised if there was a time when theft was recognized as bad but fraud wasn't; nowadays, though, fraud is often regarded as actually worse than theft because it involves an abuse not only of the institution of property but also of human trust. Anyway, perhaps this isn't the right article for this line of thought...

The second thing is that the two links in the article don't work because in each case the URL they're trying to point to has somehow got the URL for the Ferretbrain articles index tacked onto the front, in addition to the usual quotation-marks-coming-out-as-'&8221' problem.

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http://belmanoir.livejournal.com/

at 00:47 on 2009-09-22Actually, the Tesla machine functions entirely differently in the book--the duplicate that is created in the book is not really capable of functioning independently, so the philosophical/ethical issues are still present but very different. The movie DID come up with the image Dan is discussing.

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Arthur B

at 01:25 on 2009-09-22Ah, I was thinking of the image right at the end of the book, but now it occurs to me that that only happens in the framing story, which wasn't included in the film.

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Robinson L

at 22:00 on 2009-09-24It's perfectly simple, Dan. Removing the soul counts as an involuntary alignment shift to either Neutral Evil or Chaotic Evil (I don't think there are many vampires I'd characterize as Lawful Evil). Side effects may include some changes in personality which go beyond those associated Character Alignment, although this has only been documented in one case (Angel), and as you point out, it's not like he's a different person—more like the same person under radically different circumstances.

Now, vampires can act outside their Alignment (Harmony trying to stay friends with Cordelia in Season 2 or 3 would be an even better example), although Spike takes it to ridiculous levels in

Buffy

Season 5. Evil is just the default.

Contrast with Russel T Davies' depiction of the Daleks and Cybermen in the new

Doctor Who

. You kind of have to admire the guy for sticking to the concept that they're without personality and totally evil—no matter how blisteringly dull this makes them as villains, or the stories they appear in. Whedon, on the other hand, through out the whole “vampires without personalities” angle (probably without even realizing what he was doing) pretty much as soon as it threatened his ability to tell an entertaining story. There's probably a lesson to be learned in all that.

Interesting question about whether vampires can be considered monsters in the moral sense, even without souls. Of course, ever since Season 2 (still referring to

Buffy

), I was wondering why the couldn't just restore the souls of all the vampires they encountered. Or at least a couple, like the Alternate Willow from Season 3.

If the Dollhouse was more benign and less rapetastic, it could explore some of the interesting ideas about identity which are – in theory at least – part and parcel of the show.

Yes, but they would also have to make the plots and characters and dialogue and trivialities like that more

interesting

, too. Even without the unfortunate implications of the Dollhouse-as-human-trafficking angle, there's still the

Dollhouse

-as-fecking-boring-tv-show issue to contend with. Without an engaging

story

with which to prevent it, all the deep philosophizing in the world is so much wasted screen time.

@Jamie: Really? The links work just fine for me.

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Jamie Johnston

at 22:54 on 2009-09-24

Really? The links work just fine for me.

This is because someone has fixed them. Presumably for the sole purpose of making me look silly. :)

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Rami

at 06:37 on 2009-09-25

This is because someone has fixed them. Presumably for the sole purpose of making me look silly. :)

Not at all. I've added some smarts to the Ferret so it shouldn't happen again.

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Arthur B

at 15:04 on 2009-09-25I confess: I used

seeecret poweeers

to dive in and fix the links for everyone's short-term convenience.

Which isn't to downplay the importance of Rami's unique ability to alter the ferret at will, or Jamie's keen bug-spotting powers.

TEAMWORK!

(picture of Captain Planet and cast goes here)

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Jamie Johnston

at 16:04 on 2009-09-27Go Planet!

Incidentally, I do wonder sometimes whether it would be kind to newcomers if it said somewhere on the site who has the secret powers. Or indeed who the editor is. But most of the time I enjoy the fact that it doesn't.

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http://pozorvlak.livejournal.com/

at 22:19 on 2009-09-29You might be interested in the Less Wrong post

Timeless Identity

. Spoiler warning: it turns out to be a sales pitch for cryonic preservation. But it's good up until that point.

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Dan H

at 11:18 on 2011-01-10Sorry, I know this is an old post but I was just playing with the Random Article function and I've just found the article linked from the bottom of this comments section.

ARGH ARGH QUANTUM BULLSHIT RAGE!!!

Firstly: you know somebody is a nutbag when they say "as we have seen in..." followed by a link to a post on their own blog.

Secondly: you can't solve the transporter problem by reference to quantum mechanics. Not only does quantum mechanics not really apply to macroscopic bodies, but it ignores the fundamental question of what identity is by clinging to the (completely false) notion that it is somehow impossible to distinguish between particles.

Thirdly: I love how this long winded nonsense about "rationality" ends in something little better than Pascal's Wager - sign up for cryonics because if you're right you get to be immortal and if you aren't you don't lose anything.

Fourthly: GAAAAH QUANTUM BULLSHIT RAGE!!!

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http://orionsnebula.blogspot.com/

at 17:41 on 2011-01-10The "less wrong" guy, Eliezer Yudkowsky, is fascinating. A lot of his stuff seems to be totally nutty, or at the very least exceedingly pretentious, like "the ten virtues of a rationalist." That said, some of his writing is really good.

http://yudkowsky.net/rational/the-simple-truth

is a hilarious essay on epistemology that I found pretty convincing.

He also wrote a Harry Potter fanfic:

http://www.fanfiction.net/s/5782108/1/Harry_Potter_and_the_Methods_of_Rationality

which I thought was quite funny as well, even if he occasionally stops the story to complain about JK Rowling's plotting.

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Dan H

at 18:43 on 2011-01-10

The "less wrong" guy, Eliezer Yudkowsky, is fascinating

Fascinating he might be, but I find people who cite "quantum mechanics" in support of their personal ideologies extremely irritating. Quantum mechanics says nothing about the nature of identity except as it relates to sub-atomic particles. You certainly can't use quantum mechanics to prove that psychological continuity is the essence of human identity and you certainly-certainly can't use quantum mechanics to prove that psychological continuity is the essence of human identity by using it to argue, falsely, that physical continuity exists where it doesn't on the basis of the erroneous belief that all electrons are really the same electron.

Quantum mechanics *does* say that "identity" is not a measurable property of particles - when I say "this electron" what I really mean is "the electron that currently has these properties" and if I look at the electron again and its properties have changed I cannot meaningfully describe it as being either the same electron or a different electron.

The same ideas can be applied to human identity as well, and funnily enough they have been for years going back to the original Ship of Theseus. Quantum Mechanics doesn't offer us any new insight into the issue. Just because it is true that the identity of a sub-atomic particle depends only on its quantum numbers, that does not mean that the identity of a person depends only on the quantum numbers of the particles in their body (certainly it cannot be a *necessary* component of identity because I am pretty sure the quantum numbers of the particles in my body are changing all the damned time).

Sorry, personal bugbear.

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http://orionsnebula.blogspot.com/

at 19:03 on 2011-01-10I don't disagree with any of that--I just really wanted to take the opportunity to pimp his epistemology essay, which is not about quantum.

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Dan H

at 19:21 on 2011-01-10Yeah, the epistemology essay is pretty cool, although it gets a bit straw mannish towards the end. Then again, if it's good enough for Galileo...

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http://orionsnebula.blogspot.com/

at 05:16 on 2011-01-11I see I should have specified why I find him "fascinating" in my first comment. I was going to, but didn't because I was too hungry.

On the man's main website he says that he "wears two hats." One writes about the "fine art of human rationality." Now, this is an insufferably pretentious way of putting things, and some of his articles follow suit, but most of his writings are actually quite good. What particularly strikes me is his phrase, "intelligence and learning are worth nothing if used to defeat themselves." He talks about the danger of trying to confirm ideas, various cognitive biases, and then, (this is the one that really got me thinking) the fact that even studying psychology is dangerous if you're not scrupulously honest, because the more you know about how people rationalize, the more easily you can find reason to discredit anything you don't want to believe.

The other hat is "concerned with artificial intelligence." And everything he says about this appears to be goats on fire. He supposedly works for the "Singularity Institute," a "public charity funded by individual donations." Sounds like a con man, except he's too obsessive.

It's just a jarring juxtaposition. I can't wrap my head around the existence of a person who can write at length about how to do good science, the cognitive flaws that generate wishful thinking, and the difference between a real explanatory theory and vague pseudoscience--then turn around and hit you with cloning, quantum baffle and singularities.

[coffin-of-eternal-darkness]

Thank you for over 3000 followers

I reached 3000 followers a while ago and even though I didn’t do anything for my other milestones, I thought I should make a post about this one (though I couldn’t think of anything special). After all, 3000 is most likely the highest I will get and it really is an amazing number, considering I’m not doing anything special XD Kinda fitting too. In NnT everything started 3000 years ago, and for my blog everything started 3000 followers ago XD I’m not sure how many people from the old days even follow me anymore, but, thank you all. It’s been some amazing years!

As for what I’ll do… Well, my friend @maybeishouldwait helped me with some question prompts, so it’ll sort of be like an interview? I hope at least some of you are interested. So, let’s start!

1. Let's start with an easy one: how did you discover NNT, and what drew you to it?

I’ve recently answered an ask with a similar question but here we go! It was a complete coincidence. I wasn’t necessarily searching for something. I randomly browsed a manga reading site, probably looking foe updates and the title somehow caught my attention so I clicked on it. I didn’t take it seriously at first, the first chapter really didn’t impress me at all, and I only continued because I thought it was funny. It’s no secret I fell in love with the series but it still baffled me how fast it went from “Lol, this is funny and stupid” to “BEIRHJ I LOVE THIS SO MUCH” in a matter of a only few chapters XD Everything was such a new experience to me. The characters weren’t the usual stereotypes, they were actually deep and interesting. The story took a while to become interesting, at first it was more about just… gathering these super powerful knights and it was so cool to see what kind of crazy character the next one would be. I also loved how I could never see anything coming. Even now that we know what kind of series this is, there are still plottwists like Hawk’s eyes being the portal to purgatory or Cath’s whole appearance that just… could not be predicted and I really love that surprise effect when something unbelievable happens. So I love the characters and the surprises but I also love the story, or rather how it’s told. For the first… 70 or so chapters to me it felt like with every chapter it just got even BETTER than before. I still had a few of those moments in the Commandment saga, just, scenes that blew me away and made me think “Wow, I wonder how much better this series can get”. I think it also was around chapter 70 that I created my blog. And more than anything I think I love the tragedies. It’s hearbreaking but heartwarming at the same time somehow. Not many of you probably know this but my first NnT OTP was actually Banlaine and I cried so much when I read their backstory. I loved how deeply in love they were to the point of sacrificing themselves for the other. Both had to deal with a large chunk of loneliness in their lives and for both of them the other was their salvation. Every time Ban was saying anything about Elaine in the main series I was both crying and cheering for him. By now everything is a tragedy and while I wish there were a few more lighthearted scenes for… personal salvation… I like that and crying about all those characters and CARING for their happiness really helped me get into this series I think.

2. How has your blog changed since it started?

Well, apart from the fact that is has grown popular… I actually think I’ve burned out a but. I write a lot less text posts than before. I had an awful amount of (stupid) theories back in the old days and also an awful amount of free time somehow. Now I feel like I don’t think about theories that often anymore, let alone post them. Part of that is that I’m busy with work and other hobbies, but partly that’s because the series has gotten so long and it’s becoming harder and harder to remember details, especially from the newer chapters. I really want to reread the series but I never get around to do that anymore. I also think that back in the days I more or less posted just anything I found or thought was cool, while nowadays I’m always wondering what I could do. I still try to keep it up but it’s becoming harder and harder. Oh, there’s also a lot more follower interaction too!

3. What are some of your favorite blogs or sites for NNT stuff?

As for sites, I usually only check the official ones, like the official HP or the official Twitter account. As for blogs… I don’t really follow a lot of people since I look through the tag almost on a daily basis anyway. Of course there’s @spoilerkingjuliane, she’s a must follow XD I can also highly recommend @maybeishouldwait since she’s an awesome writer. I always enjoy @nostalgicbookworms gifs a lot and @sdsmangacaps is my go-to account for manga caps. There are a lot more blogs that I really like, there are tons of really good artists on Tumblr and Twitter but since I’m not actually following a lot of them and I fear I’ll forget a few I’d rather not mention them directly and hope they know I appreciate them. The most obvious Twitter account is yuka_sai0127 btw, but there are a lot of others.

4. What advice would you give to someone wanting to make their blog as successful as yours?

Tbh I have no idea how I even got so popular in the first place XD I started on a whim and thought I’d lose motivation immediately and nobody would follow me anyway. But before I knew it I had almost 100 followers in a matter of a few days. Maybe it was my obsession? I also quickly befriended the other popular NnT blogs, that probably helped too. I think it depends on what kind of blog you have, but I think the most important thing is frequent updates and high quality. I also think blogs should have a good balance between your own content and reblogs. There are blogs that live only through reblogs and that’s fine but I think it’s harder to be “interesting” when you don’t have your own content. Try to find something only you can do and do it. @spoilerkingjuliane for example is good at finding info and she is immensely popular because of that. I will forever be slightly jealous of her because I will never reach that level XD”

5. What's the best part of running your blog? What's something you wish was different?

The best part without a doubt is how much it involves me into the fandom. I’m more or less forced to see all kinds of fandom posts and while that’s sometimes stressing me out, I also see a lot of amazing content and being able to share those posts with so many people makes me really happy. Running this blog also helped me boost my own confidence. As I mentioned earlier at the beginning I thought nobody would be interested in my blog anyway and I’d give up right away. But I gained followers quickly and it showed me that yes, I might not be as boring as always I think I am. It showed me that I can do things if I just try. On the downside though, running a popular blog puts a lot of pressure on you, and I constantly feel like I have to do something, have to go through the tag, have to make SOME content somehow. And even when you’re stressed you can’t just take it out on people after all so the stress piles up. That’s probably my own responsibility and not the blog itself that is doing that, but I still wish I could take it more easy.

6. How did you learn Japanese? Did you find it difficult?

Well, it wasn’t easy at least. I started learning Japanese twice, once I gave up quickly because the book I used was a horrible starter and after that I learned the basic grammar and a few words through a magazine crash course. Learning specific words was easier than to learn all hiragana and katakana on their own and since I also knew the basic grammar it made it easier to learn and understand whole sentences. Still, I’m an extremely lazy human being and even though I’ve been learning Japanese for almost half of my life now I very rarely actively studied. Most of the time I would try (and fail) to read manga in Japanese and pick up new words and grammar here and there. But through switching between actually learning and trying to read manga I got better. Once I was at a certain level I bothered a ton of random japanese people too in order to befriend and speak japanese with them, which also helped. I think the most major step in my learning career was getting obsessed with Tales of Vesperia a few years ago tho. I was at a comparatively high Japanese level back then already but playing a game of THAT length completely in japanese was a challenge. I learned a stupid amount of new words and grammar and ways of talking through that game and it probably helped that it was just an amazing game that remains to be my favorite. I’ve also translated a few manga chapters back then that really got me practicing and I also worked at an Udon restaurant with (except for me) 100% japanese staff. And as is the case with all languages… Talking with real people is always the best practice. Then of course my year working in japan gave me the final boost. I still have a ton to learn and I’m nowhere near really GOOD but I like to think my japanese is pretty decent at least.

7. What do you see for the future of your blog?

It won’t be all too long anymore til the manga ends and when that happens there won’t be any theories or reviews to write anymore… There will still be an S3 and possible an S4 and maybe more anime projects. But it will be harder to update the blog with original content. Eventually it will most likely turn into a reblog only blog. But I hope I will have some more time and motivation to actually reread the manga, complete my NnT encyclopedia and update the blog with interesting stuff I find in between. I really want to keep this blog up for a few more years!

No matter how it will turn out though, I’m happy I came so far. I made a whole bunch of good friends during this time and had a lot of fun. To my friends and followers (silent or not): Thank you so much for your support!