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thefoodwiththedood · 3 years

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"At Her Side"

Here's another installment to the big, overarching story I've been doing with Hatou, Eobea, and Oesta! Chronicled here are the first few week's of Eobea's reign as Empress of Iridonia, and, parallel to that, Hatou's last few weeks in her service.

To see what events have led up to this story, you can also check out my other stories I’ve made so far: “Strategy,” “Rising Phoenix,” “Good Guys,” and "The Last Time I Saw My Father" Let me know what you think of this bit!

Characters: Hatou Koros, Empress Eobea Xovrada

Setting: 19 BBY, Iridonia

Word Count: ~2,500

“Eobea, it’s—”

She was looking out the window when I came in, her gaze cast over the thousands crowding outside the palace. When she turned to me, I couldn’t help but be silenced. It was as if one of the royal portraits had sprung from its frame; her coronation gown, all white silk and gold, shone bright as it reflected the setting sun. She was to be crowned, and she more than looked the part—the only thing that betrayed it was her eyes, still puffy from a day spent mourning. In her hands, she held the crown the great Xovrada had once worn. Her father’s crown. Her crown.

“It’s...almost time to begin.” I started again. Both our gazes fell to the crown. “I heard the royal goldsmith was up all night reshaping it for you. Does it fit?”

She let out a ragged breath. “I haven’t had the nerve to try it on yet. I just…” she trailed off, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. I joined her. “I can’t see myself ever being who—what he was. I don’t know if I can win them over like he did.” she sighed, turning the crown in her hands so it faced her. “I don’t know if this will ever fit.”

“It will.” I said, calling her attention back to me. “You were born to do this, Eobea. You’ve wanted this your whole life.”

“I have,” she rasped, “But...not like this.”

No response seemed sufficient for that. Instead, I wrapped my arm around her, and she all but melted into my shoulder. We stayed like that for a while, and I closed my eyes as I held her. I could almost feel that hers were still open, still fixed on the crowd outside. What she was thinking, I couldn’t have fathomed. “What are you going to say?”

“What I have to say,” she answered, “to cement myself as the rightful ruler. To quiet everyone’s fears about Palpatine. To protect my people. I just hope they’ll trust me.”

“This is a confusing time, Eobea. They’re scared. with time, they’ll grow to trust you.”

“And you?” she sat up, and our eyes met. “Do you trust me? Will you stay by my side?”

“Always. You have my word.”

Another pause. “Then,” she stood, smiling, if only a little, for the first time in days. “I have everything I need.”

With that, I followed her out. I was at her side at the ceremony, as she was crowned. I was at her side when she gave her coronation speech, when she made clear what her first act as Empress would be.

I was at her side when she saved Iridonia, and left the colonies to die.

. . .

“Her Highness, Empress Eobea of Iridonia, has the floor.”

As I announced her, she strode confidently to the podium in the great hall’s center. At her back stood her loyal entourage: advisors, dignitaries, allies from across Iridonia. Before her sat the Federation of Zabrak Colonies: delegates from all corners of Zabrak space, collectively representing tens of billions of people. Centuries ago, Xovrada had created this federation to promote peace and cooperation between Iridonia and her former colonies. Now, as far as these representatives saw it, it was every planet for itself. I was at her side, as always.

“It has come to my attention,” she began, her voice booming throughout the room, “that the members of this esteemed federation have taken issue with my strategy for dealing with the threats imposed by Emperor Palpatine. I have come to hear these issues in person, and—”

“Issues?” In a huff, the representative from Feldrona had shot to his feet, red in the face beneath his long, graying beard. “Your majesty, it’s far worse than an ‘issue’—pulling your forces back to Iridonia has left us defenseless, and we can’t help but fear a takeover is imminent. We haven’t the might to repel invaders ourselves; we need your help!”

“There will be no such takeover, representative,” she replied, her wavering confidence betraying her words, “I made clear in my address that any attack on my people would be met with swift and decisive retaliation, and I—”

“Ha! Of course you’d spring at the opportunity to protect Feldrona first” Now, it was the representative from Valrar’s scientific council, an old woman who may or may not have been a scientist herself. “What of Valrar, your highness? We produce no food for Iridonia, unlike those fishmongers—I suppose the natural wonders of our world are expendable, then?”

“Oh, forget your natural wonders, they’ve never turned a profit for anyone!” the Frithian representative countered. “If our Empress here is going to divert forces anywhere, I’ll make certain it’ll be to our mines!”

Eobea took a deep breath while they spoke. “My greatest priority is my people, representatives, and I intend to—”

“My people, for one, fully support your stance, Empress!” far in the back, a gaunt man in black robes stood, unmistakably representing Alderbathe. “We trust your judgement fully, and we wish you luck in vanquishing the scourge that is Sheev Palpatine!”

“You just want the Iridonians out of your business!” cried someone. “Cultist swine!” heckled another. From there, order broke down as the representatives haphazardly talked over each other. I could only watch as Eobea stood silently, her metal hand clenching into a fist.

“Rustibar won’t last a day against an Imperial invasion!!”

“Lorista is in too fragile a position for this—if the Rrult attack us, their blood and ours will be on your hands!”

“Namadii V must have a buyer for its technology, or our economy will collapse!”

“Empress,”

At the sound of this final voice, the cacophony quieted. The representative from Iridia slowly rose to their feet, directly opposing Eobea. I had seen them speak many times before; they were a renowned orator, one of my planet’s finest. “We are hardly a week into your reign, and already you have betrayed our trust. Your decision to protect only Iridonia, while simultaneously threatening Palpatine with a long and bloody engagement should he attack, will only serve to put our worlds in Imperial hands.''

“On the contrary.” Eobea said, her tone icy, “my strategy is working. My people support me. I—”

“Iridonia supports you—an Empress has a duty to all Zabraks, not just those she can see from her palace.” the representative’s voice rose, and I watched Eobea’s shoulders rise and fall with each new, seething breath. “This was the way of Xovrada, who first brought our worlds together. This was the way of Stotrau, who will go down in history as the defender of the Zabraks. I ask you, Empress Eobea: are you prepared to go down in history as their—”

“Enough!”

Eobea’s metal fist crashed down onto the podium, splintering its wooden top and silencing the room. Even I recoiled. In the moment, I remember wishing I could’ve calmed her down, but there was no stopping her. Not anymore. “I refuse to stand here,” she shouted, “and be lectured by you...you ingrates! After all that Stotrau—nay, all of my predecessors have done for your worlds, you still come to beg for aid, to proclaim how helpless you are? Our people were warriors once—we were explorers, conquerors! You’ve all grown soft in your security—cowards, all of you!”

No one spoke. Eobea returned her gaze to the still-standing Iridian representative. “Since some of you are so worried about what my legacy will be, allow me to be clear on that point. I will go down in history as nothing less than what I am: the one Zabrak who has stood undaunted in the face of this coming challenge, even while my fellows buried their heads in the sand and begged to be saved. I will be victorious—Iridonia will be victorious!” She paused, scanning the room. “Either support us as we fight, and join us in our victory...or stay out of our way.”

The Iridonians in the room cheered. The colonial representatives sank back to their seats. Instead of waiting for any further comment, Eobea stormed out, effectively adjourning the meeting. I followed her.

“Are you alright?” I said, matching her surprisingly brisk pace until, after a second, she stopped. “I didn’t think you...I mean, that was—”

“Unfortunate” she sighed, turning away from me. “I knew there’d be moments like this. Moments where I’d have to take charge. I don’t like to lose my temper, you know that. But still, that was…”

She crossed her arms. She was shivering. I moved closer, set my hands on her shoulders, reminded her wordlessly that she still had a friend in me. “What?” I whispered, “What was it?”

She chuckled as she turned to me. In spite of everything, she was smiling. “It was exhilarating.”

I was at her side, as I’d promised to be—but for the first time, that didn’t feel so comforting.

. . .

“Ready, Eobea?”

Instead of responding, she simply drew her sword and stood ready. I did the same.

She attacked first. Her blade lunged forward, just missing my head as I ducked left. She swung it back around, and I ducked right. I parried her third strike, then her fourth. She dipped, aiming for my legs, and I thrust my blade down to stop her. A pause. My turn.

I spun back, swinging my blade high, but she deflected as I brought it down. I recoiled, and she spun in turn, the momentum carrying her next strike. Our blades clashed, metal on metal again and again, but each of our defenses were solid. It only stopped when I ducked away, narrowly missing a sweep through where my neck would have been.

Coming up, my Zhaboka’s second blade caught her off-guard, and she stumbled. I seized the opportunity. Rushing her with my blade held forward, she held her guard, but still I pushed her back to the wall. Her sword was pressed to her throat, held there by my own. For a moment we stood silent, save for our heavy breaths. “And that,” I panted, “is your head.”

She smiled, her eyes darting away from mine. “Check again.”

Looking down, I saw her cybernetic arm at my side, a shining dagger sticking out from its wrist and poised to pierce my armor. I watched as, with a slight cocking of her hand, she withdrew the blade back into her forearm. “That’s new,” I managed.

“I just had it installed yesterday.” I backed off, and she stepped away from the wall. “Between it and our little sparring sessions, I’m feeling confident,” she paused, smiling as the blade sprung forth, then disappeared again, “No Imperial assassin is going to sneak up on me.”

I swallowed. “You’re getting better every day we practice. You’ll be a formidable warrior in no time.”

“Thanks to you.” She smiled, tossing her sword aside as she turned back to face me. “You’ve been so sweet to me through this past month. I…” she paused, cupping my face in her hands, “I don’t know what I’d do without you. My dear champion…”

She kissed me. I didn’t push her away—how could I? I was hers. Her knight in shining armor. Her dear champion. This, at least, still felt right.

“Pardon the intrusion, your grace, I—” a voice from the door of the training hall spoke up, but was silenced the instant the speaker saw us. Not long ago, being caught like that would have spelt doom for us. Now, the aide I saw in the doorway seemed to tremble at the very thought of crossing his Empress. “I...I bring urgent news...from the war front…”

“I’m busy.” Eobea scowled, and I watched the aide’s trembling grow stronger. “Fine,” she said, releasing me. “Make it quick.”

The aide cleared his throat. “Y-yes, Highness. The campaign in the Vardoss system is finished; as you commanded, your forces have been recalled to Iridonia.”

“Good,” she replied. “That traitorous backwater has been a thorn in our side for far too long—I’ll enjoy watching the Vardossians and the Empire continue their squabbling alone.”

“I’m...afraid the moon is already under Imperial control, Highness. The Vardossian holdout has been...wiped out.”

“I see,” Eobea paused, shooting a glance back at me. We both knew my father, the High General, had been tasked with leading that campaign. “And...what casualties did our people suffer?”

The aide didn’t answer. He only looked over Eobea’s shoulder, at me. He must have known who I was.

“I asked you a question,” she repeated. “Answer. Now.”

With a shaky breath, the aide answered. “General Autugo Koros...he stayed on the moon, while the rest of your forces returned to Iridonia. He sought to rally the remaining Vardossian rebels against the Empire. He was...killed...when the Empire took Vardoss.”

. . .

“Hatou!”

Eobea found me soon enough—in truth, there weren’t many places I could retreat to but my own quarters. I wasn’t sure I wanted to be found just yet, but still, I didn’t protest when she joined me at the balcony. I could tell she wanted to say something, but the words weren’t coming to her. Instead, we simply looked out over Iridonia, the planet we had both lost our fathers for.

“I…I’m sorry, Hatou.'' she finally began, her now-infamous confidence nowhere to be found. For but a second, I thought that the Eobea I had known—the Eobea I had once fallen in love with—had come back to me. I was wrong. “I’m sorry that these things have to happen.”

Whatever I had expected her to say, that was not it. “What…” I stammered, “What about this had to happen, Eobea?”

She shook her head. “I thought you, of all people, would understand. Wars must be fought. Sacrifices must be made. Lives must be laid down, so that our people—” “And just what was my father to you, if not one of our people? What is Iridia, my home, to you?” I paused, holding back the tears welling in my eyes, “What am I to you?”

“You’re everything to me, you know that.” she took my hands, and I went silent. I didn’t know that, in fact. I was never sure of it, nor was I then. “Forget Iridia, Hatou. Forget your people. Your place is here, with me.”

My hearts sank. I pried my hands from hers, and backed away. “No.”

“You could rule by my side, Hatou! You and I can triumph over Palpatine together, I know we can!”

“No.”

“I need you”

I went quiet. This, if nothing else, I believed. “I love you, Eobea,” I finally said, “But I can’t be part of what you’re doing here...I can’t stay and watch you become...this.”

I walked past her. She didn’t move. “You said...you said you’d stay with me. You’d stay by my side.”

“Goodbye, Eobea.”

“You promised!”

I kept walking. There was nothing I could say. Not anymore.

“Hatou!”

I left her. She never went after me, but she never stopped calling for me either. It wasn’t until I left the palace that I stopped hearing her shout my name.

Maybe she was already gone. Maybe her mind could still be changed. Maybe she was always like this, and I’d been too blind to see it.

All I knew was that I wouldn’t stay at her side. I couldn’t.

#star wars #star wars oc #zabrak #oc fanfic #ZLF #oc: Hatou Koros #oc: Empress Eobea Xovrada #my writing #my ocs

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elliewan · 3 years

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Boom Boom - Behind the Scenes

Hi everyone! As hinted in Chapter 14th notes, here is a (long?) tumblr post for some behind-the-scenes trivia about Boom Boom! I’m sorry it took me some time, but I’ll probably develop my HC for Thermite and Ace in another post :]

So. Here’s a small table of contents for this post. And of course, massive spoilers incoming! haha

Origin of the Title

Chapter and Rhythm building

Thermite’s friendships

Interviews with Harry

IQ/Kali’s background relationship

HC Timeline

In a nutshell

1. Origin of the title

The initial placeholder title was “Norwegian Dynamite”, then “From Texas with Norway”, then… “Boom Boom”. I’m still not happy with the title, but I think it’s good enough. And funfact, it’s kind of a mistake, but not so much. In French, my native language, heartbeat’s onomatopoeia is “Boum Boum”, while I read that in American English (the English I tended to use for my fanfic), it’s supposed to be “Thump Thump” or something like that. But I also read than in most of Norwegian dialects, “Boom Boom” could be understood as a heartbeat too. So anyway, Boom Boom refers both to the beating of their heart and to the explosions of their hard-breaching gadgets. It’s also dual, meaning that each of them is a “Boom” haha And it’s also a cute Mika song about two people being totally in love despite what their families think, and making love everywhere haha (cause in French “Faire crac crac boum boum” [“doing crac crac boom boom”] means “having sex” haha)

2. Chapter and Rhythm building

Unlike most of my fanfics, Boom Boom wasn’t written “as it goes”, I didn’t “discover” the fic while writing it. In fact, I hadn’t contemplated writing a multi-chapter for them until some comments on my Siegetober Ace/Thermite one-shots where people showed interest in the ship and a potential multi-chapter or longer story for them.

So after the Siegetober rush, while I had several wips ongoing, I started working on it. The first blank page was basically: Ace/Thermite – how do they get together for real and a series of bullet points for potential scenes. Then, I opened a PowerPoint file and started filling the following diagram:

Though this is now a bit obsolete, this was the first foundation. Thanks to this diagram, and the several bullet points for potential scenes I had brainstormed, I started building the story in a (ugly) board. Once again, several things are obsolete and I never really updated it – it was more of a working document for the “pre-writing” of the fic, to see if the story really made sense:

And one thing that really didn’t help was Ubisoft releasing the cutscene about Aruni out of nowhere haha. At the beginning, I panicked a bit because I thought it changed several things in my Thermite HC, but it happened to eventually fit quite well and even help adding more drama haha

And once I was ok enough with the board, despite it having several plot holes, I tried to measure the intensity of “love” and “dramatics” to see what kind of rhythm the fic was going to follow and check if I found it entertaining enough:

3. Thermite’s friendships

In the initial draft, Castle had a MAJOR part as Thermite’s best friend. He would help him sort his feelings, see the evolution of his relationship with Ace, and even go to Texas with him to help him face his family. But when re-reading for the umpteenth time Thermite’s file, I realized there was not a single mention of Castle, contrary to Hibana, Twitch and Thatcher. Not to mention Harry’s board where it’s written Thermite has a “sibling” relationship with Ash.

And that’s when everything ticked: Thermite is surrounded by great women. Sisterhood is part of who he is, how he was raised, how he lives. And this is why those women should have a stronger place in the story. So Hibana, Twitch, Aruni and Ash became real sisters to him. Hibana and Aruni being more like the big sisters – they’re reliable, sturdy and coolheaded, they provide him with advice and comfort; Aruni especially is quite similar in temper to his biological sister in my HC. Twitch is more like his same-age sister (though she’s younger), they see eye-to-eye but there’s no authority nor “big sister” feels between them; she’s the confident. As for Ash, she’s more like that distant sibling that has evolved a lot in life to the point where they don’t talk as mush as they used to… but who could move mountains just to get to him if she hears he’s in trouble. This is what I tried to convey :’)

4. Interviews with Harry

Honestly, interviews with Harry were my ultimate cheat code to give more information regarding Ace and Thermite’s psychological statuses, and various hints regarding their mental health. Though I sometimes prefer to bring this sort of nakedness and vulnerability throughout conversations with close friends, it wasn’t very possible here because: 1. Ace had no close friends with whom he could be this vulnerable, and he’s still new at Rainbow. (and he’s not even aware of his coping mechanisms and insecurities) 2. I kind of wanted Thermite to be incredibly good at clouding his issues, changing subjects and rejecting any kind of help, meaning that only Harry could get him to openly talk (or so he thought haha) about his mental health.

As for Harry’s behavior, I tried to render him as this kind of smooth, yet not evasive, therapist. One that wouldn’t be in the judgement, and who could wait whole minutes for the person to take their time to open up, and slowly but gently poking at the aching spots, and providing various resources to help them :)

Also, since in most of his psychological reports he seems to be very aware of friendships at the base, and to push some operators to meet some others, I tried to convey this vibe too. Just like when he says that he finds similarities with Ace, Dokkaebi and Sledge. Or when he offers Thermite to ask Lion and Meghan about their tattoos etc.

Also, here’s a bit of HC on how each of them deals with Harry haha

5. IQ/Kali’s background relationship

I have to admit I may have accidentally mirrored a lot Ace/Thermite’s relationship with IQ/Kali’s. Thing is that I wanted Kali to change too! I wanted her to be this impartial and authoritative bossy businesswoman that would slowly change into someone, though still sharp and arrogant, more human. I wanted Jaimini to show up a bit more. I have given veeery small hints to offer some glimpses at her true self, at what’s behind that mask. For instance, there is that moment in the fic where Ace and Kali argue, and he tells her:

“Jai, you and I both know very well that you didn't take this contract just for the money.”

Which makes Kali pale a lot, because he’s hitting a good nerve. In fact, I kind of headcanon Kali having softened enough around him, throughout their collaboration, to have confided a tiny bit about why she created Nighthaven, and all the frustrations she had grown up with. And thing is, Kali created Nighthaven because she wanted to be a hero too, just like him. She wanted to be at the heart of the battle, to protect people, to save lives, and she dreamed of a soldier life, of self-sacrifice and heroism. She just slid the wrong way, and her childhood dream turned into a private corporation of which she became a ruthless tycoon. Just like Ace, I think things went out of control at some point for her, and she just lose connection to reality and morals.

And the thing with IQ happened quite naturally. At the beginning, once I was okay with the three main squads (especially Alpha and Bravo), the relationship just happened on itself. While Montagne and Twitch were just those lovely and patient sweethearts, IQ was the one that had the hardest time with the Nighthaven folks, whether it were Ace or Kali. Both because she didn’t trust them and their secrecy, and because she has very little patience for people with difficult tempers in general haha

So, Kali being that bossy and defiant puzzle, refusing to let her see Nighthaven’s gadgets’ blueprints, things were just meant to sparkle between them. And Kali just couldn’t resist teasing IQ and reminding her she was untouchable. And through the teasing, the premises of a relationship were born. But unlike Ace/Thermite, I don’t think it followed a Colleagues to Friends to Lovers progression, but more an Enemies straight to Lovers progression haha

So anyway. I wanted to give a little boost to Kali, so that she opens up a bit more with Rainbow, and to bring a truce between Rainbow and Nighthaven’s disputes. And love just happened, once again, to be the perfect last push <3

Another thing that could have helped her would perhaps have been some true challenging from an authority she does respect, but I found it difficult to stage and Kali wasn’t the focus of the fic anyway – perhaps another time ;)

6. HC Timeline

And here is the ugly timeline I worked with haha It’s still probable that there are some inconsistencies, but I tried to avoid them as much as possible and I’m sorry if you find some! I’m horribly bad with figures, years and stuff haha

I used most of the canonical dates, except for Jordan’s mother and sister deceases, which weren’t accurately dated in his biography and which I reinterpreted a bit to fit my story.

Also, isn’t it absolutely lovely that their birthday is only 1 day apart? u_u #ProudPisces!

7. In a nutshell

So, those were my major documents that helped me build the foundations of the fic. What happened next was some drafting and pure writing, following the publishing tempo. I think the gist of what I wanted to convey through the story is still there, even if I reworked some chapters entirely. The journey (and the destination <3) is still the same.

+ I want to once again give a proper shout out to all the wonderful readers of the fanfic, whether they’re anonymous or not! I had never received so much feedback, and so many sweet words on any work before, even back in my time on fanfic.net. I feel so grateful for that, and though I already answered to everyone who commented, and wrote many notes, I still can’t find the way to properly translate just how much it means to me. So once again THANK YOU :’D

And thank you for reading this post too, if you did haha <3

#long post #ace/thermite #iq/kali #writing fanfiction #r6s fanfiction #my hcs #my work

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kpopcotton · 4 years

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Simply Soft ~ NCT DREAM

a/n ~ i love them and can’t stop thinking about them, so here’s what activity they enjoy doing with you • Prompt: doing dishes and wanting a cute boy to help me out (spoiler) • Genre: platonic fluff, bullet point scenario, ot7 and nct member!reader • Warning(s): heartache, desire to have a friendship like the dreamies do, one curse word • Reader Gender: gender-neutral

==≎==

Mark

duets? duets.

doesn’t matter when or where, mark wants to hear your voice

either singing or rapping

sometimes acoustic, sometimes with music in the practice room where you can also dance together

basically, mark just wants to spend time with you so he is able to praise you for everything. he knows how quickly you can get self-conscious

very proud of your singing ability and always starts yelling about getting chills when you hit a note just right

loves hyping you up when you get out a good rhyme or when you rap along to his parts in songs

though with such busy schedules, you sing together more often than anything else

you both find a nice corner and he starts strumming the chords of his guitar and boom, magic

there are countless videos of you two singing together to the soft melody of the stringed instrument

one time you invited chenle (he always finds a way to bring it up during vlives) and he played the piano for you guys while you all sang a sweet love song

the amount of clips and memes made from your duets is immeasurable

you find one on your feed at least once a day

sometimes you find cute aesthetic edits of screenshots where mark is giving you heart eyes while you sing, but most of the time they’re short videos of you and mark unintentionally being sexy while dancing or rapping

the captions for those usually rant about you both being rude or disrespectful with the rare “i would let them ruin me”

it always makes you guys feel super flustered in the beginning though you end up laughing it off like school girls and making the hard stan tweets into inside jokes

but all in all, mark just loves giving you the confidence he knows you deserve

“yo! dude, oh-ho shit! that’s my best friend! go best friend!”

==≎==

Renjun

you’d think renjun’s favorite thing to do with you is dance, or sing, maybe even draw

nope

honestly, people think you guys hate each other since you are rarely seen interacting

fans freak out when you give each other even the most simple skinship like a pat on the shoulder or put an arm around each other for a group picture

or when you happen to touch while posing for photoshoots

but what people don’t realize is that you and renjun are roommates at the dorms

neither of you sleeps in your own bed alone, ever

your room stays cold year-round so it’s better to give each other warmth under the safety of each other’s blankets, or at least that’s your agreed upon logic

so skinship is super common between you, though he doesn’t like to be all over you in public or in front of the other members because they love to tease

renjun’s absolute favorite thing, though he’d never admit it, is getting to stay up late with you, watching horror movies and having deep talks about time travel or aliens

he feels the safest when he is in your shared room with you, sitting on whoever’s bed seems the comfiest that day

it makes the stress of idol life melt away because he knows he can talk to you about anything

sometimes (these are your favorite moments) he gets very a little paranoid from a horror movie or is in a cuddly mood because he’s tired, and shyly asks to lay on your chest to listen to your heartbeat while you play with his hair

“can you maybe scratch my scalp?”

==≎==

Jeno

it’s no secret this boy is jacked, ripped, muscular, however you want to say it

so, it’s obvious he likes working out with you, right?

wrong

two words, video games

no matter how busy you two are, you always find time to play at least one round of some sort of video game

waiting for your stylists? just one look and you’re already pulling out your nintendo switch to play a few quick rounds

the winner of rock, paper, scissors gets to pick which game it is

which means you always get the choice and you always pick smash bros

things can get pretty heated between you both as well

you both get very competitive when it comes to gaming together

you never yell at each other, only dance your hearts out when you get annoyed

fans find it funny because they know exactly when jeno lost and exactly when you lost before a stage

though you don’t always get upset

you could never truly get upset with jeno and neither could he with you

he’s your puppy and your his teddy bear

jeno finds the growls you make when you’ve messed up super cute so he starts smiling

you find his samoyed eye crescents when he smiles terribly adorable so you obviously start smiling too

and, you both end up hanging off each other, nuzzling the other’s cheek and giggling like children

then maybe gag a little at each other for being so sweet

“you’re so cute! i can’t stand it!”

==≎==

Haechan

he’s the type to do the most

you know how he acts with taeil and mark? yeah, it’s at least ten times worse with you

lingering touches, flirty comments, pet names

the works

you’ve gotten so used to it that you don’t even react anymore

oh, his arm’s around your waist? when did that get there? you can’t recall

his favorite thing to do is cuddle with you or when he’s feeling extra playful, he’ll wrestle with you

hyuck is almost always laying on you and/or looking at you like you’re the only person in the world though to all the members, you are their world

one vlive, you wanted to be a brat so you started spoiling something that was coming up which caused the guys to start yelling at you to stop

you didn’t

so next thing you knew, haechan was on top of you in two seconds flat, holding you down and covering your mouth

chaos ensued shortly after

you licked his hand and retaliated, leading you two to roll around on the floor while trying to pin the other

jeno was laughing with chenle, who’s joyous dolphin laugh was almost drowned out by the sound of him flailing his arms and legs

jaemin was scolding you both, saying you were being too loud

jisung was trying to save hyuck from your wrath

renjun was staring into the camera like he was on the office while sighing and shaking his head

when you all finally calmed down and started talking about what you were supposed to be, you and haechan were cuddling with him sitting between your legs and your arms around his waist

“yeobo~ your embrace is so warm!~ hold me forever!~”

==≎==

Jaemin

the domestic boyfriend we all know and love

so of course, he loves doing the little things with you

like grocery shopping, or waking up the other members when you all have early schedules to treat them to breakfast

homemade of course

his favorite thing to do with you is experiment with food and watch cooking shows, however, he prefers to watch holiday baking competitions to get ideas for treats to make for the other members

it’s almost always cookies

but if the boys are lucky, you and jaemin hunker down to bake a cake

after you wash your hands, he insists on tying your apron for you like a gentleman, but he expects you do it in return

always grabs your hands when you finish tying and pulls them forward to get you to back hug him

you always comply and bury your face in his neck while mumbling something along the lines of “you’re welcome” to get him to either let go of you or regret having initiated the situation in the first place

contrary to popular belief, you both stay mostly clean throughout the whole process

unless the other members join and help, a.k.a. the cast of chenji’s this or that

jaemin always has to swipe something onto his son’s jisung’s cheek which makes the younger boy protest and fight back

chenle cackles childishly and wants to join, but once you wrap an arm around his shoulders and praise him for being mature, it instantly convinces him otherwise

he likes seeming mature and sophisticated in front of you

you get a rag to clean both of the messy boys up

jisung will protest every time, saying he can do it himself

jaemin gives him THAT look and he quickly lets you clean him up

will move to sit down for you to clean his face, just so he can have you stand between his knees and be in arms’ reach

the younger boys cringe when he gives you his signature fan-sign stare and rests his arms around your hips, asking for a kiss when you finish

will throw a fit if you don't peck his forehead

heart cookies are a must, jaemin will never not make cookies in the shape of hearts for you and the members

not valentine’s day? who cares, the cookies will always be hearts

“it’s how much i love you in the physical form of my sweetness!”

==≎==

Chenle

chenle: my nct bias is taeyong

you: *walks in the room*

chenle: taeyong who? i only know y/n

he’s literally your biggest fan

always finding reasons to call you or hang out with you

it is hard to find him without you or you without him

chenji’s this or that needs a special guest? always you, the managers and staff have no choice

you have a specific concept photoshoot with the older members? chenle is your plus one

again, the staff and managers have no choice

he is always talking about you like you’re some higher being

he loves video chatting you while you both go about your days

he likes being able to look over and see your face or having the subtle background noise of your breathing

will cry when you haven’t talked in five minutes a while

he’s that attached to you

usually, the one to call first, but when you call first he melts into a puddle of pure joy

his favorite thing to do with you: sitting

together obviously

though it doesn’t actually matter because if you aren’t around he’ll just call you to do the same thing

if you have your license, he will always ask if you guys could go for a drive and listen to music

but if you don’t, the couches at the dorm is just a good a place as any

he sits right next to you and usually holds onto your arm while resting his head on your shoulder

becomes so calm in your presence, people wonder if he’s sick or feeling sad

nope, he’s just relaxing with you after an eventful day

when he has to go home, he always whines and pouts. he almost throws a fit sometimes and you have to calm him down by promising to video chat him as soon as he gets home

asks his mom to let him stay the night a lot, though she rarely lets him

sometimes, when he does get to stay, he wedges himself between you and renjun in bed

renjun complains, but you shut him up quick

the bed is already pretty small as is, but you three make it work by snuggling up close to one another

chenle is in heaven because most times, both you and renjun wrap him up in your arms and he’s just sandwiched in a loving cuddle

the sounds of your shallow sleeping breaths give him the best sleep of his life

“never leave my side, y/n. i need you to relax.”

==≎==

Jisung

the sweetest boy for you

and only you

the other members get so petty when they see him trailing after you like a baby duckling after its parent

always commenting on how he can’t stay five feet from you ever

though they’re literally the same way?

you may not treat jisung like your baby, but that doesn’t mean he’s not your baby

always right there when you’re cooking, waiting to be your taste-tester

when he’s feeling upset, you’re the first one he reaches for

always offering to help you when he thinks you need it

even if you don’t need it, he’ll still stand by you and watch you complete the task

that being said, his favorite thing to do with you are chores

your turn for laundry? there he is, struggling to fold the t-shirts

you want to tidy up the bedrooms? has a trash bag ready for you in his hands

his favorite chore is doing the dishes

to him, you make it so much fun

you share an airpod with him and turn on some hyped playlists to dance along to

you wash and he dries

the smile on his face never leaves

will laugh uncontrollably when you start messing around with the bubbles from the soap or sing into a pancake turner

sometimes you pull him away from drying for a quick duet

most of the time it’s you spinning him around and dipping him like they do in the movies

he’s such a graceful and talented dancer, but he becomes a flailing beanstalk blowing in the wind when you dance with him

always trying to get back to the job at hand, but you don’t let him until you’ve had your fill of dancing to the music

when you finish the dishes and put them away, you always give him a high five and a hug to thank him for helping you

you think that’s why he always comes back

“a-are you sure we can dance in the kitchen like this? yah, we might break something!”

#in conclusion #these boys love you to death #also #i love these boys #i want a friendship like them ;-;#nct dream imagines #nct dream x reader #nct dream x male reader #nct dream x you #mark lee x reader #huang renjun x reader #lee jeno x reader #lee donghyuck x reader #na jaemin x reader #zhong chenle x reader #park jisung x reader

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caffeineaddicted-tragedies · 4 years

Text

A Second Coming

The world was on fire, and God was drinking her tea.

Jasmine Green Tea, with a droplet of honey and just a small squeeze of lemon for emphasis and taste. The boy sitting across from her, with messy brown hair and a broad nose and, she had to say, the ugliesteye color she had ever seen, was, to the contrary drinking a straight black cup of coffee. No cream, no milk, no sugar, just crushed beans and water. She refrained from commenting on it, needing to keep a good impression, but honestly, black coffee? Nothing sweet? He couldn’t have been much older than 13, and yet he was drinking coffee, of all things.

The world continued to burn.

“Some weather we’re having, huh?” Time finally spoke, taking a small sip of the disgusting bean juice.

God hummed in agreement and took one of her own drink. “Not like it wasn’t forecasted, though,” she said, thinking about the chanting fates and the whispers spoken, echoing through the halls of heaven and hell, thousands of years before. “Still can’t believe it came so fast.”

“Yes, indeed.”

Two more sips of the still hot drinks.

They looked outside, in to the endless silence. Or, it was silent now, neither having anything to say. Even the fire, a bright blue sulfuric monstrosity, was silent in its burning. Time started humming an old song, and God frowned. “Really?” she asked with a raised eyebrow.

“What?”

“The apocalypse is happening right outside our door, and you’re singing that song?”

“Burn, baby burn,” Time continued, “Disco inferno.”

“Stop.”

He sighed, but paused the song, and fiddled with snowy white hair that replaced the former brown. “You’re no fun,” he said, a slight pout gracing his timeless (no pun intended) features. He finally looked up as the hair (which it suddenly occurred to God could have a mind of its own) morphed into longer curls, which barely brushed his shoulders. “I suppose we should address the elephant in the room.”

“The what--”

“It’s a saying, never mind.” The snowy curls shook with Time’s head. “It means something big that nobody is discussing or avoiding.”

She nodded. “Yes, I suppose there is an elephant in this room, then,” she said, taking a long sip. “Heisn’t here.”

“If he was here, then they would have stopped screaming.”

God looked outside. “Yes, they would have when the fire started. It’s taking too long without him.”

The world was on fire, and no one was dead. Apparently, this didn’t make God, who had always constantly preached peace, and love, and acceptance, was unhappy with this. There is a too badly lack of it, She had said, when the two had asked some time (yes, also no pun intended) before, I will give them time to correct their mistakes. Maybe take the best of them, the kindest, most moral abiding and bring them up there and rebuild with them.

It had been a swell plan, really it had, it was sure to work.

Except for the fact that hehad hated it.

Hehad told them at least twenty times, complaining about any possible thing that could go wrong. “You tried that last time, remember,” hemoaned, as hemassaged the bridge of his nose. “With the giant flood? Paper work for decades!” or “It didn’t even work! People are still sinning!”

This would have been fine, if hewasn’tan integral part of the plan. God started the fires, Time sped it up so they wouldn’t have to actually sit there and watch as nearly several billion people and animals and anything living burned right outside their door, and hemade sure everyone died relatively quickly and not in too much agony (even God had a heart apparently). However, now hewasn’t here, and now they had to deal with the aftermath.

Without hishelp.

“We could check outside,” Time finally suggested, finishing his coffee. “He might have gotten caught up in one of the fires.”

“You wantto go outside in thatmess?”

“I was talking about you, Almighty Creator!”

Bickers and insults went back and forth between the two immortal and (despite their infinite knowledge) considerably childlike beings, and the barista behind the bar cowered, watching the exchange and praying--wait, she couldn’t do that (also, she couldn’t believe Ariana Grande was right: God was a woman). She hopedthat neither noticed her, and if they did, it was for another drink, and not asking her to go outside and fulfill the task that neither wanted to do. Of course, she was also busy trying to figure out who the other was. The woman was God, based on the title of “Almighty Creator”, however the one with the white hair, who apparently liked incredibly bad disco music, remained a mystery. Him being human was off the table, humans weren’t supposed to be able to change their features at a moments notice (and more importantly they weren’t supposed to change on their own whim), so he couldn’t be a time traveler or someone who had gotten incredibly lucky. He didn’t look like the Devil or a demon. Maybe an angel? But weren’t those supposed to be beautiful? Which he was, but by God, those eyes—

A loud slam interrupted her thoughts, and she dove back behind the bar. “Are you kidding me?!”

Slowly, the barista peered over the bar and looked at the Almighty Creator, the One who had flooded and set the world ablaze, tipped back into Her chair wheezes that could barely pass as laughter escaping her throat. “What is it with the eyes?!” Time groaned into the table, which his forehead rested on with his hands threaded together and on top of his head. “They. Are. Brown. Just brown. What is so wrong with that?”

Electing against joining in on the laughter coming from the other, the barista listened quietly as the boy ranted, his hair growing longer and darker, his skin changing to fit the second as well. His eyes remained the same. “It’s soridiculous—honestly, thisis what you find so funny, oh Mighty One?”

The roars of laughter which had shook the coffee house only moments before changed to small giggles. “Yes, indeed. I find it to be quite hilarious.”

The boy pouted silently as finally all sound from God vanished, as she only shook her head and wiped tears of former laughter from her eyes. “You’re finally done?” He asked, with a slightly raised eyebrow. He finally finished up his drink, and said, “Back to the issue at hand. They’re still not here.”

As he said that, God’s face became serious. “Yes, they’re not. It’s an issue.”

“Oh, you don’t say. Where could he possibly be?” He tossed the cup away over his shoulder and the barista snatched it from the air before it hit the wall, quickly setting to work on a new cup of coffee. “And if he isoutside, which one of us is going outside to find them? Hint: it’s not going to be me.”

“For My sake-“

“Don’t you start-“

A voice rang out suddenly, “You could both go!”

Both heads turned over to the voice over at the bar just as the barista clamped her hand over her mouth, realizing a fraction of a second what she had said too late. It quickly occurred to her that she should drop to her knees and start profusely apologizing and begging for forgiveness, and hope that the Bible hadn’t exaggerated how forgiving God was. But some small part of her stopped, as She asked an incredulous, “What?”

Gulping, the barista squeaked out a small, “You….you could both go outside. Together. And….and look outside for that….that person, that you’re looking for….?”

The boy’s skin and hair shifted again, changing from one look to another once or twice before finally settling on brown hair, closely cropped to his scalp this time, and skin so pale that it seemed to shine as it clung closely to his bones, his former bulky figure now jaunt and (dare she say it) near sickly. He blinked several times, as though the suggestion was hard to process. “Go out. Together.”

Nodding quickly, the barista dropped back behind the bar as God made a sudden move with Her hand, but, to her gratitude, she wasn’t smited instantly. There were a few quiet murmurs between the two (Two with a t?) before there was a shuffle of feet and a booming, commanding, “Rise.”

It wasn’t a question of if rising meant that she would join the others outside or not, because her body seemed to move without her permission, her joints wincing as she moved, with small crackles and pops, to stand up. The boy began to walk toward her, investigating his nails and pushing some dirt out from them nonchalantly, looking almost like another customer. It suddenly occurred to her as he got closer that he was really was spectacularly short, even for someone his age (or, the age he looked like, she had no idea how tall immortals were supposed to grow to be).

Finally, he was standing right in front of her, and now, he was looking directly in to her eyes. Was this an intimidation technique? Some way of terrifying her and making sure she knew her sin before landing right at Hell’s throne? A way of getting back at her for accidentally commenting on his eyes, by making sure they were the last thing she saw?

He spoke.

“Coffee.”

The barista (that’s right, she reminded herself, that’s what she was) blinked rapidly, keeping her contacts in place after staring for so long. She reached out to the side, feeling the heated cup in her palm, and handed it to him. He grabbed it staring into the dark brown, nearly black without cream or milk, coffee, and for a moment she thought he was going to splash into her face. But he didn’t. “Thanks for the drinks,” he finally said as he walked to the door, followed closely by God, “And the suggestion.”

The latter nodded, but otherwise said nothing, as She filled her cup up by Herself, using some amazing divine powers, most likely outside the realm of mortal comprehension. She stirred it as She walked, spreading the honey evenly, and waved over Her shoulder as the barista finally called out, “Come back soon.”

The door closed, but they didn’t burn up in the fires still raging outside, moving in an instant to appear in the sky as they flied in search of their missing “friend”. The barista didn’t really think that they were “friends”. In fact, she highly doubted it. She would know.

The barista gave them a moment or two to make sure that they weren’t coming back for anything and that the café was outside of God’s mind before hopping over the counter and making a beeline for the door. The locks moved quickly, all 7 of them, and with a snap of a finger, the windows changed, the fires lowering, changing from a violent, sulphuric blue to a softer, yet oh so vibrant collaboration of rose, periwinkle, camellia.

Customer service had always been quite frustrating, and it apparently had applied to both living and dead customers. Too many had been so damn infuriated about not making it to heaven, or, even worse, loved ones hadn’t made it to heaven. The latter had always raised hell outside of Earth, and she had been asked one too many times to speak to a manager and, when begged from help from Her Royal Highness, been met with the typical “yikes” face and a shrug that had said that She was not getting involved.

So Death truly believed that God deserved this. Just a little bit.

Pulling out the shears, from the top shelf, Death hummed quietly. Her Highness had never learned about the garden, too busy constantly tending to her own or dealing with issues that arose on the ground level. Death estimated that it would take Her a century, maybe two to figure out where it was, and in the time that it took to find her, She would probably fix the little burn-the-world-down issue through some mass miracle. Then maybe Death would come out and hope she wasn’t smited.

Until then, she could lay back and catch up. Sitting down in the cushy swing chair and setting down the shears on the table right beside it (for later, Death promised herself), she opened the lengthy book and rested her head against a pillow, and began to read.

#my writing #mine #creative writing #prompt based #short story #creative short story

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homenum-revelio-hq · 5 years

Photo

Welcome to the Order of the Phoenix, Gabe!

You have been accepted for the role of CARADOC DEARBORN, with your requested faceclaim change to Michael B. Jordan! Your application was so lovely. I particularly loved how you showed Caradoc’s personality as having changed since his mother’s death and their close relationship was beautiful. I also enjoyed how you incorporated Caradoc’s role in the Order and how he’s not always as he seems. I am so excited to have you as part of this roleplay!

Please take a look at the new member checklist and send in your account within 24 hours! Thank you for joining the fight against Voldemort!

OUT OF CHARACTER:

NAME: Gabe

AGE: 22

TIMEZONE: GMT-3

ACTIVITY LEVEL: I’m really free lately so I can be around pretty easily, at least popping in every other day to do threads on most weeks. Weekends are a little busy for me, as I tend to take that aside for socializing, but on week days I’m pretty much always around. Especially in the evenings.

ANYTHING ELSE: [TRIGGERS REDACTED] As far as experience, I’ve been in several roleplay groups on tumblr for the past 8 years or so, many of them Harry Potter (and mostly marauders) themed! In fact, my first RP experience was a marauders era group when I was about 14 and barely knew English, so writing in this world always feels a bit like coming home.

CHARACTER DETAILS:

NAME: Caradoc Dearborn

AGE: 28

GENDER, PRONOUNS, and SEXUALITY: Cis male, he/him/his, pansexual. If you asked him, though, you probably wouldn’t get so quick of an answer (you’d probably get a lecture instead). Truth is, coming from a pureblood family, gender and sexuality haven’t ever been topics in the foreground of his mind. He’s more of a liberal when it comes to it, he’ll be attracted to whoever he feels attracted to, and that’s the end of that; labels are for muggles. He’s sure his father would want him to have a pureblood wife to give him a pureblood heir to carry the family name, but Caradoc isn’t too worried about that for now.

BLOOD STATUS: Pureblood

HOUSE ALUMNI: Hufflepuff

ANY CHANGES: I’d love to play him as Michael B. Jordan, if that’s okay! I find that his face fits better with what I have in mind, and Michael also has more resources, from what I’ve researched so far. I’m pretty visual when it comes to building characters, and I like to use gifs whenever I can, so having a proper range of resources is important to me.

CHARACTER BACKGROUND:

PERSONALITY:

Caradoc’s personality can be divided into two big blocks of before and after – the big catalyst dividing them being his mother’s passing. He used to be all smiles and easy laughter before. Even with his parents’ constant warning, the severity of it all never used to bother him. He spent his years at Hogwarts charming away professors and making friends, and anyone would describe him as a laid back, easy-going bloke.

Now, not so much.In the current present, Caradoc has a lot more baggage weighing down on his shoulders. He is private, a lot more emotionally shut off, and his biggest focus is set on winning this war. Meeting new people and making friends isn’t his priority, and he doesn’t mind being called “boring” for not taking a joke if it means he’s keeping everyone in check. Contrary to popular belief, he is easily amused and can take a joke – he’s just not as good at externalizing it as everyone else. He has too much on his plate now, and most days, forcing out a smile feels like it might take all of his energy.

He is decisive to the point of stubbornness, and he’ll stand for what he believes in even if it drags him to an early grave, like a true Hufflepuff. He’s never been good with plants or caring for others’ health, like many others in his house, but he always had that same protectiveness in him. He’s empathetic and sensitive, carrying out what his mother had taught him, and his heart is bigger than his body, even if he doesn’t show it much.

A lot of people seem to trust him, and he doesn’t take that lightly. In fact, it’s part of the reason why he doesn’t worry about being called a stick-in-the-mud. He knows being more sober and stern is what makes him easy to trust, as opposed to many of his peers who are more out-going and childish. The amount of trust put on him doesn’t go unappreciated, and he always hopes to honor that sentiment.

BRIEF OVERVIEW OF FAMILY:

Caradoc was born to a Hufflepuff mother and a Slytherin father, and as you would expect from such a pair, Caradoc would say he got the best of both worlds.

His mother was a kind soul, gentle and optimistic even in the darkest of times, a strongly opinionated woman who never bowed down to the magical society’s standards – it’s no wonder she ended up in Hufflepuff during her time at Hogwarts. She always made sure to cater to Caradoc’s softer side growing up, and he’s terribly grateful for it now. In the world they live in today, it’s more important than ever to be able to see the beauty in the small things, and if he still has the strength to hold on to any last slither of hope he has, he owes that to his mother.

Losing his mother made a great impact in Caradoc’s life. They were so close that he still feels as if a part of him died with her that day, and anyone who knew him before and after the incident might agree. He didn’t always carry the weight he does now, and he’d been a much different teenager. Once upon a time, when his biggest issues were simply potions lessons and house points, his face would light up with more ease and his laughter would boom across the dining halls more often than not. It was her death that changed him. He lost a best friend, his most important life support, and he vowed to never lose sight of what really matters, and make her fight count.

His father, who had always been a stricter parent, has found himself with hollow eyes and softer edges since the loss of his wife. He and Caradoc had never been too close, but grief pushed them together. For Caradoc, at sixteen, losing his mom felt like losing the glue that kept the family together. His father had always been caring, but he wasn’t a warm presence in their house; not distant, but callous, lacking some of the empathy that was so present in his wife’s personality.

Caradoc is closer to his father now than he was in teenage years, but he still wouldn’t say they’re good friends. They’re family, bonded through blood and grief more than anything, and as much as he loves his predecessor, he likes to keep things at an arms-length distance. The older man has very strict beliefs about how his son should live his life, ideals that are outdated and too biased, in Doc’s opinion, and on that they may never see eye-to-eye.

It hardly matters to Caradoc if he will find a pureblood woman to marry or not, let alone to have children with – he thinks bringing new children into their current world would be immoral, even. He doesn’t have time to think about futile things such as wedding plans when there’s a war happening in his backyard, though the idea forces its way across his mind weekly, every time his father mentions the possibility of an arranged union, if he fails to find someone for himself. The only thing that keeps him from caving to his father’s expectations is knowing that his mother, wherever she is, is probably rolling her eyes at them.

OCCUPATION:

Caradoc is an Obliviator, working for the ministry (and most of all, the Order) to keep their world safe behind closed doors. He likes to believe it’s the right field for him, as he’s able to help others and make himself useful, but it’s not always an easy job when he finds himself in crossroads between morality and safety. It’s tiring, and it takes an emotional toll bigger than he ever expected it to.

ROLE WITHIN THE ORDER/THOUGHTS ABOUT THE ORDER:

Keeping himself and everyone else centered – that’s Caradoc’s main goal.He’s aware of what the others say, and he’s been called many names, everything from hyper-focused to stick-in-the-mud, but it doesn’t bother him. If no one else will take the role of bad cop, he’ll gladly do so, and remind everyone that this is not a book club or meetings for afternoon tea, their fight has to come first. It’s easy for him to feel out of place in there, even as a member of the inner circle. Sometimes, it feels like he operates on a completely different system than the other members, at least emotionally. Overall, he has genuine faith that they can win this – otherwise he would’ve given up by now –, even if he’s not always so trusting of all the members.

SURVIVAL:

Caradoc stays low, and that isn’t so hard when you’re not looking to make new friends. He moves periodically, every year or so, and he always keeps a suitcase packed with his most precious belongings, just in case he needs a quick escape. He doesn’t exactly hide from the world, given his job as an Obliviator, but he keeps himself quiet enough that he doesn’t raise suspicion. For anyone outside of the Order, he’s just an odd bloke who gets his job done and doesn’t like to hang out much. In reality, Caradoc is constantly mapping out escape routes and keeping an eye on everyone around him, and he won’t hesitate to throw the first spell if he doesn’t see a way out.

RELATIONSHIPS:

Relationships can be hard for Caradoc for anyone who’s met him after the death of his mother. If a part of him truly died with her, that part was his emotional availability. Unlike many others, he’s seen what this war can do, how it can rip someone out of your life as quickly as the blink of an eye, and part of the reason he’s so closed off is to avoid losing someone again. He already has his dad to look after, and, as much as he’d like to deny it, all of the Order, too. These are people he holds near and dear to his heart, and he’s already painfully protective of them, he can’t let himself get any closer.

Some specifics that aren’t in his bio:

ALICE LONGBOTTOM: As much as he may not trust her husband, Caradoc is actually quite fond of Alice. She’s a solid presence in the Order, someone who isn’t as much of a firecracker as the newcomers, and yet, doesn’t carry the exhaustion some of the other older members have. She’s someone he trusts entirely, and he hopes she knows that.

DORCAS MEADOWS: She is annoying, that’s for sure. Even so, of course Caradoc would be fond of her, as a fellow Hufflepuff – and one that reminds him so much of his younger self, no less. He’ll probably deny it if you ask him, but he finds her antics quite entertaining, and he likes having her around. In fact, he thinks all of the younger members are incredibly important to keep the organization alive and burning, and he thinks their spirits are always uplifting to have around when his faith is running a little low. He’s never had a sibling, but he imagines this is what having a younger sister would be like.

CONNOR BROWN: There aren’t many people who remember the Caradoc from before, and maybe that’s why hanging out around Connor feels so easy, sometimes. The two couldn’t be more different from each other if they tried, but more often than not, Caradoc finds himself hanging around at the Ganymede Gentleman’s Club for his company, as well as to let himself be entertained by the various performers there. The place (and Connor) is usually bright and loud enough to clear his mind when he needs a distraction, and you might think he looks like someone is forcing him to be there, but you might just catch glimpses of a smile if you look closely enough.

OOC EXPLORATION:

SHIPS/ANTI-SHIPS: I don’t have any ships in mind yet. I think it’ll be extremely fun to watch him navigate a relationship and romance, if it happens, since he’s actively trying to avoid one. I’m definitely very open to it happening, even if it’s not my main focus or goal right now. Whoever he has chemistry with, I’ll be happy to write out.

WHAT PRIVILEGES AND BIASES DOES YOUR CHARACTER HAVE?

As much as the alumni of his house in particular are good at trying to end prejudice, Caradoc is still an only child of two purebloods, and bound to have some ideas drilled into him from before he could think for himself.

For the most part, he’s been good at breaking down stereotypes and rearranging his mind to be kinder towards others, and to recognize his privileges. But most importantly, he’s good at hiding it. Caradoc is inquisitive, but he’s the type to think three times before he speaks, which means he keeps a lot to himself. Despite his father’s strict and old-fashioned beliefs, he came out a pretty open-minded bloke, so he’ll listen to anyone who wants to share their story. He never claims to understand what other people go through, and he does his best to take their word for it when they speak up. He’s only mildly aware of his position in the world, as a man from a wealthy and well-known family, and how lucky he is for it.

That isn’t to say he doesn’t have his biases, of course. The ghost of his father’s underlying bigotry towards muggleborns is the only bias he’s painfully conscious of, and one still present, but that he actively fights to change. He still catches himself surprised when a muggleborn performs better than a pureblood at a magical task, and he still has the instinct to twist his nose at muggles’ weird habits and ways to raise their children, but he’s gotten better at catching those thoughts and shooing them away before they develop.

When it comes to werewolves, he definitely has a bone to pick. If asked, he’d tell you that it’s simply a horrible curse to fall upon someone and that he feels sorry for them, but if he ever found out about Remus, he’d be the first suggesting to kick the boy out of the Order. He doesn’t think they can be trusted. There’s not much they know about half-breeds in general, and when it comes to such an important cause like theirs, they can’t be taking any chances.

Another very specific, sort of odd bias he has would be against people who choose to build families in the world they currently live in. There are more pressing issues than diapers and bottles right now, and bringing an innocent child into this mess – not to mention when there are so many orphans out there – feels absurd to him. He understands accidents happen, but for the people who actively choose pregnancies in such chaos, he’s appalled.

WHAT ARE YOU MOST LOOKING FORWARD TO?

I found this place because a friend showed it to me, and I was terribly excited to join because boy oh boy, do I miss marauder-era groups. Fun fact, in my first ever group RP here on tumblr, I played a Caradoc for a while! It was short-lived and terrible because I was a teen learning to write, and I like this Doc much, much better. I was originally going to apply for Emmeline, ended up deciding against it because an app for her came in and I figured I’d fill another role – and it worked out for the best, because I’m so much more excited about Caradoc! I’m looking forward to exploring the relationships within the Order and seeing all the chaos that will surely happen once they all run loose. Doc is a character with a lot of space to grow and who could be in the middle of many plot points, being an assertive voice and part of the inner circle of the Order, so I’m thrilled about all of this.

PLOT DROP IDEAS (OPTIONAL): I’m not sure if it’s much of a plot drop idea, but I think Caradoc’s profession could be used as a reason for suspicion later on. It was Nicky who suggested it first, actually, that someone (likely muggleborn, since purebloods rely more on Obliviators) could start growing a little wary of his job. Since he works erasing people’s memories, it wouldn’t be crazy to wonder if he’s done it to any of them before – at least not in a time where everyone is doubting everyone. So that’s just a thought.

ANYTHING ELSE? Nope! Thank you for reading, and sorry for rambling! aaa

#homenumaccepted #harry potter rpg #hprp #harry potter roleplay #hp roleplay

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just-another-winchester · 6 years

Text

Marry Me

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Reader (with sort of x Jared)

Word Count: 2,409

Warnings: Talk of suicide, depression, slight immaturity in reader

Summary: Reader is getting ready to marry the man she loves, but his best man may be the real love of her life.

A/N: Nothing much to say, hope ya’ll like this! Love you! Tell me what you think!!!

FEEDBACK IS MY SUSTENANCE!!!!

Credit to @amanda-teaches for all her help. And @katymacsupernatural for helping convince me this wasn’t a bad idea.

It was never what you would have expected, being engaged to such a wonderful man like this, your wedding fast approaching and your heart beating even faster.

This wasn’t exactly what you’d envisioned for your life, you really just figured you would be a crazy cat lady or something. It just seemed easier than opening your heart to someone when it could potentially be broken so easily.

You had always been more of a loner, preferred it to crowds. If you trusted someone, got close to someone, you could get hurt, and you refused to allow that. You tried to play the role of strong young lady with a feisty spirit.

But inside you’d been dying, your heart wasn’t the kind that could take much pain, though you suppose no one had that magic ability of not really being bothered by things. Most people were either not human, or hid it much better.

Yet here you were, your heart had been opened to this man more than a year ago, and you’d not been betrayed or disappointed like you had learned to expect from life. On the contrary, you were going to be married next week, you could see your life coming together in front of you.

Now you thought of moving into a house, having kids, finally doing something important with your life.

Sure being in the public eye was never ideal, but you could use it to your advantage. You had gained millions of followers over a couple days just for knowing Jensen Ackles, but your marriage engagement to Jared had changed things for you forever.

You’d known Jensen since you were a kid, he’d been your closest friend, like a brother.

For a while you bobbed in and out of friendship, while you were in high school studying how to say ‘good day’ in french and taking calculus Jensen was out doing things with his life already.

You’d gone through moments where you had been furious at him for leaving, believing he was a bad friend, but you always knew how wrong that way, in truth he was the best friend you could ever hope for, he had his own life to live, and you had always been the one to encourage him to live it.

After high school you went on to college, Jensen’s career took off, and you couldn’t have been more proud of him, but aside from phone calls and the occasional text message, he was out of your life. You’d told him you didn’t want to be involved in that, any of it. You knew he’d be big, he was what you’d call a heartthrob.

You never liked the idea of being well known, you liked the darkness, it was easier to hide away and not be known. If you made a mistake, it was barely noticed, but if Jensen did something, it would last forever.

You didn’t want to be part of that life, where strangers knew your name and you could have people hate you just for knowing or caring about someone the way they wanted to care about someone. You’d seen crazy fans throw fits about their favorite celeb being besties with someone that wasn’t them, or someone they didn’t deem worthy.

As much as it hurt, Jensen understood, and for a while, you two went your separate ways. Jensen did more jobs, got more popular, a couple teen magazines and boom, your best friend was the big deal you knew he would be, and you were left in the darkness, just like you’d wanted.

It wasn’t until a year or so after college that you two met up again. You’d been in a bad place, college was harder than you expected, you were studious, but you had to work night and day just to get a C, you wanted to do better than that, but you never did. School, it was just harder for you.

You’d spent so long calling yourself stupid and an idiot. You had barely graduated, even with tutoring and special help, you didn’t see school turning out like that.

Long story short, you got real low, and you tried to kill yourself. Obviously it didn’t work out that way and your family called the only person they knew who could lift your spirits. Jensen flew out in the middle of shooting an episode of his show, even though you’d gone separate ways, you both still cared about each other, and you never would have admitted it, but he was still your best friend.

Jensen travelled back and forth for a while, he called you every day, you woke every morning to a random text message, a quote from the episode he was in the middle of shooting, a smiley face, or just three words that reminded you there was a reason to live.

Finally Jensen had the brilliant idea getting you a job on the show, and just dragging you around to stay with him.

You did love to travel, and so without hesitation you agreed.

It didn’t take long to prepare. Jensen explained most of it, and although it all confused you, you didn’t care. You weren’t thinking about the other workers, the rest of the cast. You would finally be with your best friend again. You probably wouldn’t even remotely be noticed either, you were sure of it.

Before you knew it you were in your new job. You were a cameraman. Well, camerawoman technically. The job was enjoyable, and the people you worked with were amazing, but Jared.

Jared was like Jensen’s guy version of you. It was incredible, you both hit it off immediately, you got along so well, and it didn’t take long for him to ask you out.

You weren’t exactly the best when it came to relationships, as Jensen could attest to. You just hated opening yourself up to someone, it scared the hell out of you, but he was sweet, and you liked him. So you said yes.

Long story short, it worked out, and now here you were, sitting in a diner with Jensen eating lunch like you do every Saturday.

“No, I saw you first, you should be my maid of honor, I really believe you would look stunning in lavender.” You said to him,

“I’m not wearing a dress.” Was his only response.

“Who said anything about a dress? I was just thinking color. It could be like a leisure suit situation or something.” You suggested, Jensen nearly choking as he took a sip of his drink.

You smirked at him, trying not to laugh.

“I think I’ll stick to a regular black suit, as Jared’s best man.” He said to you, earning a pout

“C’mon! That’s not fair, Jared has other friends, and family. I don’t have anyone other than you.”

“You have plenty of people, just ask someone on set.” Jensen suggested

“This is supposed to be a very important thing, I can’t just ask some random coworker to be my maid of honor.” You argued

“Well unless they change is to manservant or butler of honor, I can’t help you.”

You groaned at the man and ran your fingers through your hair.

“I’m friendless, you know I typically don’t get along with females.” You said to Jensen

“I know you always start a cat fight because you have serious temper management issues.”

“I do not,” You argued

“You do too.” He stated

“I do not!”

“You do t-”

“I don’t like you!” You huffed,

“I’m not surprised, you rarely like being argued with.” Jensen took another sip of his drink as you grumbled under your breath how mean he was being to you.

“Jay I’m serious! I just… c’mon I don’t have any girlfriends. Other women just annoy me.” You huffed

Jensen softened and gave you a sad look,

“That’s because you have a thing against allowing people to care about you.” He stated

“Did you miss the fact that I’m getting married to someone I’ve barely known a year?” You questioned

“No, did you miss the fact this is someone I had to promise you every night was a good guy who you could trust? When you first met him you were like a scared little kid, you hid behind me like he was the scariest monster ever.” Jensen pointed out

“Okay, it’s not my fault I was intimidated, he’s a large man, and so are you so it’s easy to hide behind you.”

“How about your old college roommate? Uh,.. Tabitha?” Jensen suggested

“What, the girl who stole my car? No thank you.” You muttered

“You got it back,” He pointed out

“Yeah, and it came with the free scent of her spilled perfume and questionable stains on my back seat.” You said

“She was acquitted of those murder charges.” Jensen joked

“Not funny Jensen.”

Jensen put his hands up in surrender, “I’m sorry, look I know you have other friends, you’re just too afraid to admit that they’re friends. What about Gen? Or Sarah? Or half the crew?”

“I haven’t seen Gen in more than a year, and Sarah, I don’t think she’s be interested.” You sighed, “Maybe we should just go to the courthouse and not worry about a wedding.”

“Just because you can’t find a maid of honor?” Jensen asked “Months of planning and you wanna call it off for that?” He gave you a skeptical look as you sighed softly, shaking your head.

“I was kidding, I’m not that childish.” you said to him “Even though I’m surrounded by you strangely loving idiots I still feel so lonely sometimes. I mean, I hate doing girly stuff and yet I find myself wanting to go shopping, get my nails done. Girl stuff.”

“You realize there are plenty of girls that you know that would love to do that with you. Hell I bet Jared would do girl stuff with you, he has the hair for it.” Jensen chuckled

You just rolled your eyes at him as you finished your drink, your food all gone, plate practically licked clean.

“Can we just go now please? I kinda just wanna take a shower and go to bed.” You said softly,

“No.” Jensen stated.

You had no idea how much you really meant to Jensen, he had seen you like this before, just tired, always in a slump, never really wanting to be out yet always wanting to be out. It used to confuse the hell outta him, but he came to understand it.

“What do you mean no?” You demanded

“I mean no, if I take you home you’ll take a shower and go straight to bed. It’s One in the afternoon Y/N, you already slept in. I know how you are when you get like this, I am not giving you a chance to get back in that slump.” Jensen stated

“Maybe I’m just tired.” You argued as he stood up, you following him

“Yeah, and you’re tired because you’re depressed. Are you taking your medicine?”

You licked your lips as you followed him out the door, not answering his question and looking away from him.

“Y/N!” Jensen sighed, knowing what the silence meant, “You’re supposed to take that medicine for a reason. It’s supposed to help you, you need to take it.”

“All that stuff does is make me sad, I can’t get real low but I can’t feel really happy either, I hate that.” You muttered

“It’s a hell of a lot better than getting real low don’t you think!?” the large man said as he climbed into the driver’s seat of the car.

“No I don’t! I hate just feeling… mediocre. It’s a miserable feeling, I wanna at least have the possibility of being happy and having a great day. Like yesterday, that picnic, I never would have had such a good time if I’d been on that damn medicine.”

“That’s not true,” Jensen argued

“Actually it is true, don’t pretend to know Jensen, you have no idea what this feels like, how terrible it is to feel the way I feel half the time!” You said to him

“I don’t need to know! I’ve seen the result in both of my best friends. I’ve seen the lowest on you and I will not let that happen again.”

Jensen’s voice was low, he was clearly holding back emotion and trying to remain calm. Jensen had been so affected by what happened when you tried to kill yourself, you had no idea how much it really tore him apart.

He felt responsible for everything. He’d claimed to be your best friend, to love and care about you, but all he did was abandon you, and leave you to go through life alone. He knew what a hard time you had opening yourself to people, he knew why he was your only friend.

He remembered when your parents called him, when they told him you had tried to commit suicide. He’d spent months hating himself for it, blaming himself. That was a little less than three years ago now, and he still couldn’t forgive himself for leaving you alone.

How you looked when he’d gotten to that hospital room, you were so small, and so frail. It broke his heart. Even though he hadn’t spoken to you in a while, not a day went by that he didn’t think about you.

He felt like he’d failed you, and even still, you’d opened your eyes and smiled at him. You had just tried to take your own life, and the man who let you down walked into the room and it made you smile.

He didn’t understand it, especially when you immediately started crying after, but all he could do was try and be gentle as he held onto you, hugging you for dear life.

That whole ordeal was past you both now, but he still remembered it, and it broke his heart every time.

He did everything he could to take care of you, he tried to make sure you took care of yourself, took your meds, ate and all that typical stuff that kept you sane and alive. You still had bad days, everyone does, but for the most part you were okay.

Jensen, however, was not. You were better, and that made him happy, but you were also about to marry his best friend,

When he was in love with you.

MY TAG LIST IS WIDE OPEN!!!

Dream Team

@spn67-sister @queen-of-deans-booty @ria132love @winchestergeekfreak @maui137 @katymacsupernatural @jayneysimp @emoryhemsworth @just-another-busy-fangirl @bunniesowlsandwhales @jensensjaredsandmishaslover @mogaruke @kristendanwayne @cassieraider @squirrel-moose-winchester @hms-fangirl @heyitscam99 @crazyspn67

Dean Team

@akshi8278 @polina-93 @aubreystilinski @-lovepeacenhope- @waywardbaby @missjenniferb @whimsicalrobots

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scurvgirl · 6 years

Text

Guidance

*rubs hands together* I’m excited about this one.

Sympathy belongs to @selenelavellan

Comfort belongs to @palindromekomori

Melarue, Morwen (mention) belong to @justanartsysideblog

Rala and the interpretations of Mythal, Elgar’nan, and Sylaise belong to @feynites

Guidance is a soft spirit. She is a cloud tinged blue who delights in helping those around her. She came about from the Pleasure District. It’s an odd place for a spirit of her type to arise, but there were many people who needed help. And those people sought guidance from many different places in the district, from the people who serviced them, to counselors, to healers, to friends lounging on benches. They were all like pennies in a well, slowly building her up until she emerged from the Dreaming, bright and blue, soft and wanting to help.

She spends her days waiting around either by the healers or the pleasure workers who specialize in talking with their clients. She also frequents the Emporium when the mood suits her or when she feels like there may be an abundance of people who need assistance. She is often shooed away from the Emporium, however, she isn’t trained and those in charge like to insist upon the privacy of their clients no matter how much Guidance could potentially help. On the whole, Guidance likes her existence. She helps, she floats, she feels no pressure of corrupting.

Guidance goes through her life largely unnoticed by the higher ranking. It suits her just fine most of the time. She sometimes has a stray worry about being too unnoticed, but on the whole, she is content.

It is a normal day when she notices an unhappy soldier just off duty walking from the Pleasure District. Intrigued, Guidance follows. She follows him all the way to the Peacekeeper barracks, far from her home of the Pleasure District. But he seems to need help of some sort, so she pursues him. Only to end up hopeless lost inside the maze that is the barracks. Every room looks the same! Bland walls and bland doors and bland hallways make for a confusing layout. She is accustomed to brighter surroundings that are distinctive and using those distinctions to navigate.

All attempts to find the Peacekeeper are futile and she ends up lost in a myriad of hallways and rooms. Peace Keepers frown at her and urge her to leave, to which she replies she is! Or at least, she is trying.

The barracks are a veritable maze. She has never been so good with direction, and it is even worse in a place she has been to before. She spends hours wandering the halls and when she finally, finally, finds the exit, she also finds Lord Elgar’nan.

He is surrounded by an honor guard, all shining and golden. But he is a tall man and she sees the top of his head even over the helmets of the guards. Taken by surprise, Guidance does not move in time to go unnoticed.

“You there! Spirit! State your purpose!” One of the guards shouts, pointing a very pointy spear at her. It glows with a clear menacing and dangerous energy.

“I am Guidance, “ she says, “I was just leaving.”

“Not so fast, what were you doing here?”

“A Peacekeeper was distraught after their patrol in the Pleasure District, I followed in hopes to provide assistance.” Her energy swirls with nervousness as the guard frowns at her. Before he can speak once more, Lord Elgar’nan turns to look at her.

“What a lovely voice I hear! Nurem! Who is this?”

“A soft spirit, lost.”

“That was not the question!” The lord says, or shouts really. His voice is booming, filling the air with a raucous noise. Guidance wants to urge him to speak more softly to be kinder to the ears around him, but he is the Lord Elgar’nan! Her words and advice would insult, surely! She has been around long enough to know that the least.

“Guidance, my lord,” the soldier, Nurem, answers. Lord Elgar’nan turns his bright and nearly terrifying gaze to her. She wants to shrink back and hide, get lost within the barracks once more. Somehow she remains still, only vibrating slightly.

The altar is not far for spirits who offend the lords.

“Come here, spirit,” he commands and she is helpless to do otherwise. She floats to his outstretched hand. He waves his fingers through her air and his expression turns nearly contemplative.

“You are a soft spirit!” He announces. She is not sure how to respond to that, but thankfully she does not have to as the Lord directs his attention to Nurem.

“Nurem! Take her to my tower!”

Fear shoots through Guidance as Nurem bows and gestures for her to follow them.

“Yes, my lord.” Shocked, she follows without question. The air around her warbles and she wonders what will happen to her. Is she to be sacrificed? Has she offended the lord? She did not get that impression but the leaders are different from normal people. She cannot hope to comprehend the way he makes decisions or how he feels. She is unskilled at concealing herself, but the Lord is very adept.

Nurem takes her through the city and a series of Eluvians before arriving at what must be a gathering room in Elgar’nan’s tower. With the number of eluvians, she wonders if this is even in Arlathan. Perhaps not?

The room is nice, at least. Filled with plush furnishings and warm colors. The orange is not quite with the season but it fits the lord - warm but loud, full of an overwhelming personality.

At least Nurem appears at ease in the setting. They plop down onto a chair and gesture to her.

“The Lord will be several hours, might as well make yourself comfortable,” they say, tilting their head back and wiggling like elves tend to do when they mean to fall asleep.

“You are very sure of yourself,” Guidance says, floating towards them.

“Yes,” they reply, not bothering to open their eyes.

“Your work is fulfilling then.”

“I serve in Lord Elgar’nan’s honor guard. It is an immense honor and privilege to have his trust.” She supposes that is much of an answer she is going to get. There are eyes and ears everywhere in this place. Nurem would likely face poor consequences if they said anything other than to the effect that they are honored to be part of the honor guard.

Guidance looks around the room, trying to find something interesting other than overly stuffed furniture and pillows. There is a vase with crystalline flowers and a small bookshelf lined with what appear to be very boring books. They’re all on fighting techniques and things like honor and loyalty. There is not a novel in the bunch, or even a gardening guide. She moves to the door.

“I would not do that,” they say, still not moving.

“There is nothing in here!”

They sigh and grumble, “You spirits always need something to entertain you?”

“Relaxing is not exactly easy when you are trapped in an unfamiliar place not knowing what is going to happen to you,” she counters, floating back to the center of the room. Nurem sighs, but does not press her again.

For the next few hours, she vibrates in worried anticipation. About a dozen scenarios pass through her mind. She tries not to worry overmuch, reminding herself that she will know the way through if she just trusts herself. It is a difficult task to accomplish.

When the door finally opens, she shoots up into the air as Nurem rises to attention. They assume what must be an honorable and respectable pose as they greet the Lord Eglar’nan once more.

Guidance is not sure what the protocol is here. Spirits can’t really bow for the lack of a body. The highest ranking person she has interacted with prior to this is Morwen, she thinks. She had wandered into one of the more musically inclined brothels and helped guide the ensemble through a difficult bridge in the music.

Perhaps there is no real training for this, the leaders are on such high levels that she doubts even interacting with high ranking attendants would have adequately prepared her for the lord’s scrutiny. She floats lower to the ground that normal to keep herself shorter than the lord. some clear subservience cannot harm her...can it?

“Guidance! Come here, I wish to show you something!” Elgar’nan bellows. She does as he instructs and he takes her through the tower to a new room where some very beautiful and soft looking people rest upon more exceptionally plush furniture. Everyone’s hair is long and done in soft curls and waves. Their clothing is flowy, not unlike the workers in the Pleasure District, but far more modest. A man with long silvery hair plays a harp at the far end of the room, and Guidance wonders what she has wandered into.

Elgar’nan gestures to them all, who all smile and bow their head in respect.

“This is where I go to relax!” He shouts. A soft woman appears by his side, radiating softness and calm.

“Soft words, my lord, you are heard here, there is no need to shout,” she coos, running her hand up and down his arm. Shock ricochets through Guidance, but contrary to what she expects the lord to do, he simply...nods.

“Right you are, Sympathy,” he turns back to Guidance and smiles, “I have brought Guidance with me. She is to be interviewed.”

Sympathy bows her head then extends her hand out to Guidance, “Of course, my lord. Guidance, if you could follow me.”

Guidance does as the woman bids, following her away from Lord Elgar’nan who moves to take a seat by the man playing the harp. Another soft and tall elf moves to him and he leans into her! She pets him and a cloud of contentment rises from the lord.

What is this place?

Sympathy directs her into a smaller room, sliding the paper door closed, leaving just them in what feels like a heavily enchanted room.

“This room is warded for complete privacy, do not feel like you must answer in one way or another. I am looking for honesty.”

“Oh, alright.”

Sympathy smiles, “Do you know why the lord brought you here?”

“No. I was in the barracks, lost, and then he found me and had his guard, Nurem, bring me here. What is this place? Who is everyone?”

“I am Sympathy and we are the Lords personal comforters. We aid him in achieving calm and contentment, especially at the end of a long day. He responds very well to softness and non-sexual physical comfort, which we provide.”

She has heard rumors in the Pleasure District, of the workers of Elgar’nan who are a rank above all, separated but the same. Some of the workers hold some resentment of Elgar’nan’s “cuddlers”. They’re usually younger, less wise in how the leaders work. Fairness and respect are not required when one is the top of the food chain.

“Why am I here?” Guidance asks softly, though she already suspects. Sympathy sighs and a spell carefully crafted to create an air of sweetness and calm fills the room. It does little for Guidance, but she can appreciate the gesture.

“There have been occasions where the Lord Elgar’nan has found softness in his followers and spirits that he finds attractive and desirable. Some of the people in the other room came here just like you did.”

Guidance becomes very still, which is impressively concerning for a spirit. There were no spirits in the other room, just elves. Everyone had bodies. She understands that living in the empire means that her existence is at the whim of the leaders. They say jump, and she floats up. Or, in this case, she takes a body.

She had never expected to take a body. She had always enjoyed her existence like this, bodiless and floating. It is not that bodies disgust her, she has simply not seen the appeal. Spirits who do not desire a body vehemently do not do the best in their bodies, she knows. Commanding her to take a body is...it is a frightening thought, to be trapped in flesh and bone. To have her colors and form so set.

And what is worse is that she is expected to use this new body of hers to comfort another? How...is she expected to accomplish this?

“What happens if I refuse?”

Sympathy’s face grows solemn, “The Lord does not handle rejection...as well as we are required to.”

The altar is not far for a spirit like her, she thinks. And between being shattered to fuel this empire and taking an uncomfortable body...she will be alive at least.

“What must I do?”

It does not happen right away. Guidance spends the next decade with Sympathy and the others. She contributes mainly to the atmosphere they cultivate in alleviating Elgar’nan from the stresses of his life. It is not what she had feared, and by the time she is expected to take a body, it doesn’t feel as terrifying as it did before.

That being said, bodies are stranger than what Guidance expected. Her body is uncomfortable, and at first not at all what she would like. She is made short and small, compact. It makes her feel confined until they work it out to make her taller, and taller still, until the pressure subsides some. Her hair takes on a texture that fills more space, soft and buoyant in the air. The only blue color that remains with her are her eyes. Her body is made soft, which she finds no issue with. Her throat is made long her voice is crafted into a melody that will suit her new lord.

White vines are placed on her face, declaring her Elgar’nan’s. She stares in the full body mirror, wondering at herself. Is this beauty? Is this what Elgar’nan wants?

Is it what she wants?

Her wants feel irrelevant for if they were not, she would be formless and fine. Instead she is very physical, with hands and feet and hips that bow out much more than she thinks is fashionable. She feels heavy, but at least she no longer feels like she is going to explode because of the small body.

Her...hands trail over her body, marveling over the texture of her skin. Her finger tips are so sensitive and everything feels so vastly different than it did before. She could feel the essence of things, but touch was never quite possible. Now she can. She wants to touch everything, or mostly everything, feel how it is different. The touching seems to help too, grounding her into a new reality.

She is only given a few days before a messenger is sent for her and she is brought back to Eglar’nan’s tower. She is to be trained in the ways of comfort and physical reassurance for the Lord Elgar’nan. The training is interesting, to say the least. She is taught to sing, play the piano, and how to comfort the lord in a number of ways. She learns the lord enjoys having his hair gently brushed and handled, but he despises it when it is pulled, so care is exceptionally important. He likes gentle massages with oils lightly scented with lavender.

Over the three months of training, Guidance learns so much. Not just about the lord Elgar’nan, but also about her body and herself. She learns that while her lord likes lavender, she does not. She prefers more citrus based smells, and loves fruit. There is a week where Sympathy has to remind her that her body requires more than just fruit to sustain itself.

She learns that she likes pillows. Lots and lots of pillows, but not many blankets. And baths. Baths are wonderful. She thinks taking a body is nearly worth it just to soak it in a warm barrel of water and soap that forms such delightful bubbles.

And she enjoys singing. She tries to learn a new song as frequently as she can manage. She learned three in one week and while some are more complicated than others, she is building up quite the little selection. Her voice is the most beautiful part of her, she thinks. Not that she thinks her body is not beautiful, but her voice is exceptional. It is the constant she has felt since she was a spirit, as much as the rest of her has changed, her voice has remained consistent.

She likes birds. She likes the sounds they make and that she can finally try and sing with them. She also likes cats, their fur is so soft and their purring is very soothing. In fact, she likes most animals and finds coats and things made from them distasteful and upsetting. She much rather layer thinner fabrics to be warm than to use the skin of an animal.

Her debut with the lord Elgar’nan is interesting. At first he does not recognize her, but then she smiles and greets him and he is quick to pull her to him. He inspects her, trails hands up and down her body, buries his face into her neck and curly hair. She thinks he means to pull her down to the floor for some physical comforting, but he pulls back, hands on her arms, a great grin upon his face.

“I was right!” He exclaims then laughs. The room turns more lively than normal as there is an impromptu celebration. It is a great deal of fuss that Guidance is unsure what to do with, but Sympathy is smiling and laughing so it must be a good thing.

The rest of the year is spent taking on a new normal. There are many days where she simply lounges with the rest of her colleagues, though the days after those are...not great. Elgar’nan has a temper and she is learning that if he does not regularly diffuse after difficult days, it simply builds up and he is likely to bring his anger and frustrations to even those meant to give him comfort. Sympathy is careful to direct him to more experienced people, however, even to herself when he is in a particularly foul mood. Guidance is immensely grateful, she does not think she would like it very much to be responsible for diffusing Elgar’nan from such a disagreeable state.

Most days are not so troublesome, though. She mostly sings and hums while stroking his hair while another rubs his feet. It is an easy existence, but a tenuous one. There is a weight to tending to the care of a leader, a knowledge that the slightest infraction could land her demoted into despair, poverty, or death. She is expected to serve, no matter if that means singing lullabies to Elgar’nan, or on the altar, her body and soul broken to fuel another pretty project.

She lives on a floor specifically designed for them all. She has four rooms - a bedroom, a sitting room, a library, and a private bath - plus a beautiful balcony large enough for a chaise and a small table with chairs. As a welcome gift, she is given a tall bookcase and it is quickly filled with novels. She only ever mentioned once liking fantastical novels and now her room is filled with them. Her work may not be the best and her position precarious, but she enjoys the people she works with a great deal.

Exploring the city with a body is different too. People look at her, judge her body and her as well. Her nature is not so clear now, and it has been difficult to sometimes interact with other people. She has much to learn about interacting with people now that she has her body. There is whole host of ways to communicate with her body, smiling and gesturing and inclining her head at just the right angle. Every movement seems so innate to everyone around her. She has so much catching up to do.

Her colleagues are very helpful. They all take turns in assisting her and by year’s end, she feels like she can almost make it through an entire market day without feeling too out of place. She can traverse the markets and go into stores to procure things with credit she receives from her work. At first, she buys random things that delight her. A painting of two pastel colored doves, scarves in various colors that she uses to pull her hair back, socks stitched with adorable animals on them, another painting but this time of a great serpent wrapped around a tree. And books! There are so many books and she wants to read them.

Spending her money in this way is not smart, though. There are things she needs, like practical shoes because the strappy sandals she is expected to wear, if she is expected to wear any shoes, at work are not sufficient for all aspects of life. She needs clothes that suit her work and her time away from work. There are perfumes and toiletries and so many things that her body needs to function properly.

By the end of the year, Guidance thinks she’s gotten the hang of having a body. For the most part. There are still some quirks to be worked out, but overall, she feels like she has adjusted well.

At the end of the year, there is a large festival. It’s an anniversary celebration for when her lord vanquished a powerful foe...at least that’s what Guidance thinks. She may have gotten distracted while one of his attendants was explaining everything. The point is that it’s a big festival, she is to be dressed in an opulent yellow gown that highlights her curves and softness. Her hair is treated with a shampoo that makes her hair glitter under light, making it look like she is wearing a halo of stars even without much other head jewelry.

She is supposed to look like a flame. Combined with her colleagues and the formal attendants, they are supposed to look like a cohesive fire. Sympathy and her and the others are expected to lounge behind a curtain that obscures their defining features and makes them look more like the flames they are to represent. The screen also serves as a way to keep them from everyone else, in a way. There are plenty of people who would like to touch or be untoward one of them. Guidance has only recently come to like her body, despite Elgar’nan’s presumptions upon it, she does not need more people prevailing their desires upon her.

Food and drinks are delivered to them by way of specified trusted servants. At least they are allowed to move. Guidance has heard of rumors where the lady Sylaise has hired performers who were to remain still for hours to achieve a certain look. A girl fainted during one of the performances once, kept her knees locked and all the blood pooled away from her head. She was demoted into obscurity and later sacrificed to further serve her lady.

The arrangement is comfortable. Sympathy and Comfort lounge together against several pillows, speaking in low voices as they feed each other. Quietude leans against Guidance, not minding her soft humming as she reads the novel she sneaked into the festival in her long sleeves. Quietude is a sensitive soul, soft like all of them, but he seems to be particularly sensitive. Prone to fainting and soft sobbing. Guidance wishes he had a better position than serving the bombastic lord so intimately. He is a wonderful poet, though, and his words alone cast a spell of sweet calm. He belongs with the rest of them...but the longer Guidance is here, the more she feels like none of them belong with Elgar’nan.

It is a horrible, treasonous thought. She banishes it from her brain as soon as it appears. Whenever it appears.

The first night of the celebration is going well, people beyond the screen are laughing and dancing. Enjoying themselves in the firelit evening. Behind the screen, Guidance and her fellows are enjoying the night off. Elgar’nan is too busy with being a Leader to bother with any of them. Instead just one of his attendants, a fussy woman by the name of Ithari, is watching over them.

Charisma is currently working on her. Smiling and being, well, charismatic. No one is expecting anyone to come back here until the Lady Sylaise walks by and makes eye contact with Guidance.

The Lady stops. A singular line forms between her brows before she turns around and strides out to the floor. A great sense of dread fills Guidance and her heart begins to beat quicker in her chest.

She should have ducked her head! She should have said “my lady”, or any number of things instead of just sit there, dumbstruck.

Quietude wraps a tentative hand around her arm, “It is likely nothing,” he whispers. But he does not sound convinced.

“I should go see our lord,” Sympathy says, only to have Comfort take her hand.

“We are not allowed leave,” she says. Sympathy frowns and sits back down, slightly deflated, more worried.

Beyond the screen, Guidance sees him. Her lord speaking with none other than the Lady Sylaise. She cannot hear them, the screen is enchanted so that no noise can pass between it and the main festival area. But she can tell that he is beginning to lose his temper. She can see the tension in his face, the air around him beginning to fill with chaotic anger. She should know, they’ve all been trained to notice it far sooner than anyone else.

Sympathy moves herself from Comfort to Guidance, positioning herself between her and the opening from where Sylaise had come. Guidance appreciates the gesture, but it will not sufficiently shield her from any leader who is angry with her, not truly. And she would hate for Sympathy to suffer any consequences because of her.

It is like watching the worst gut wrenching play imaginable. Only this time the person who could die is her. And she is not being dramatic.

In a twist of horrifying proportions, the lady Mythal joins Elgar’nan and Sylaise. She rests a hand on her husband and nods with Sylaise. Ever the diplomat, but still, adding leaders to a conflict never turns out well for other people, just for the leaders.

Guidance lets out a sniffle and closes her book, shifting it back into her sleeve. She reaches up and fiddles with a stray curl by her ear, coiling it around her finger. She bites her lip and tries to not think about death. This life is still so new to her, some mistakes are expected, right?

“I have seen worse offenses that have blown over without much recourse,” Sympathy says. Quietude nods in agreement and soon they have all gathered around her, telling her reassuring stories of greater offenses that were met with leniency.

Sylaise gestures towards the screen and Mythal looks up.

After another minute of heated debate, Elgar’nan walks off and Mythal follows. Sylaise, however, remains before casting one last glance towards the screen. When she at last turns and leaves, Guidance lets out a long breath of relief. She doesn’t think the storm has passed, but the immediate danger seems to have abated.

The festival continues for the rest week as planned. Elgar’nan stops by only a few times, and when he does, it is with Sympathy exclusively. One his way out from the last time, he visits with Guidance for only a moment. His eyes are ablaze with a furious light but his touch is gentle as he caresses her cheek.

“My soft Guidance,” he says before leaving to tend to his duties. It does not help ease her sense of foreboding. What happened? What is going to happen? The dark is not her favorite place to be.

Only days after the festival, Guidance is summoned to Elgar’nan’s side. She is brought to a great room where her lord, his daughter, and his wife all sit at a table. She stands before them all, in an unassuming gown spun from glowing silk worms. Their silk produces an iridescent fabric that is quite fashionable, but still, she worries under the gazes of the two most lovely women in the empire. She bows her head and curses her tall, soft, full body. It is comfortable to her but it is quite in opposition to Sylaise’s fashions.

“Has she be informed as to why she is here, father?” Sylaise asks.

“No,” Elgar’nan growls. Guidance tenses as she goes against her training to go to him to soothe his tension. This is not the time or place.

“The poor thing must be terrified, come here, child,” Mythal says, beckoning Guidance to her. Carefully, she obeys. She kneels before Mythal, averting her gaze in subordination.

“She is beautiful, if customized to the role you have placed her in, Vhenan.”

“You are too kind, my lady,” Guidance murmurs.

“The fact remains that you stole her from the Pleasure District - which is under my jurisdiction,” Sylaise says and it suddenly makes sense. Sylaise is not mad at Guidance, but at Elgar’nan. When Guidance was a spirit, she had brushed by Sylaise for just a moment at a festival. Neither of them had paid the other much attention. Guidance was preoccupied with someone who need assistance finding their way home and Sylaise was busy being herself at a festival. But she must have recognized Guidance enough at the festival to realize that Elgar’nan had taken Guidance from the Pleasure District.

Guidance was originally supposed to be Sylaise’s. She had always assumed that Elgar’nan had asked for her in some fashion but apparently not, and now she is to pay for it?

“You would have sacrificed her!”

“It does not matter, she was mine to sacrifice or embody - you took that,” Sylaise responds, her voice cool and calm. But just as terrifying.

Guidance swallows and tries not to shake.

“THIS INSOLENCE!” Elgar’nan shouts, “I HAVE OFFERED YOU PROPER RECOMPENSE FOR HER!”

“Hardly,” Sylaise responds, her tone just cool and collected as if Elgar’nan’s shouting has not disturbed her at all. Perhaps it hasn’t.

“This is the third spirit you have poached from me, father. Do not think I have not forgotten Melody and Rapture. I am owed.” Melody? Guidance knows Melody, they...they were taken like her? Perhaps that is why they never did like being around Guidance all that much.

“SHE IS THE LAST!” Elgar’nan booms. Guidance tries to not flinch.

“That is what was said about Rapture, before they shattered when you put them into a body - a perfectly fine spirit gone to waste.” Sylaise sounds disappointed but it feels fake, like she only cares to use Rapture’s poor name to her advantage now.

“Vhenan, we have formal proceedings for a reason. Guidance rightfully belongs to Sylaise since she was never formally transferred.”

“SHE HAS BEEN TRAINED! I HAVE SPENT RESOURCES INTO MOLDING HER INTO WHAT SHE IS MEANT TO BE! SHE CANNOT BE SIMPLY TAKEN AWAY!”

“Like how you took her from me?”

“YOU INSOLENT CHILD!”

“At least I know how to follow procedure!”

“ENOUGH! Both of you!” Mythal shouts. It holds greater weight than Elgar’nan’s shouts and both Sylaise and Elgar’nan fall silent as she rises from her seat.

“Elgar’nan, Guidance belongs to Sylaise by rights. She will be transferred immediately. Sylaise, Elgar’nan is still losing a trained comforter, he will have his choice of spirits that are currently in the district. Assemble them so that he may choose one. After he has chosen, this mess will be over.”

“I HAVE ONE CONDITION!” Elgar’nan booms, “GUIDANCE IS NOT TO BE SACRIFICED! TOO MUCH HAS BEEN INVESTED IN HER FOR IT TO BE WASTED!”

“That is not his call to make!”

“Watch your tone, daughter,” Mythal snaps, “I happen to agree with him. Guidance would better serve the city as a worker in the Pleasure District with her training than as a sacrifice.”

Guidance thinks she is going to pass out from the stress. That or throw up. Another argument strikes up but it is all along the same lines. By the end of it, it is decided that the transfer is happening first thing tomorrow and that she will be moved into the Pleasure District as soon as an apartment is prepared in a proper location. Melarue is immediately summoned and Guidance is taken back to her rooms so she can prepare herself in private.

She does so by sobbing and drinking an entire bottle of sunwine Charisma gifted her a month ago. Never has she experienced so much stress and terror in one sitting. Having Mythal and Sylaise and Elgar’nan all debating on what to do with her, talking as if she wasn’t there, as if she isn’t a person, she - it’s wrong. It is so wrong and there’s not really anything she can do but weather the storm.

It’s the only thing any of them can do.

Around midnight, there is a knock at her door. She stumbles to it, opens it, to find Sympathy and Quietude and Comfort and several others there.

“We heard, we came to help,” Sympathy says and it is enough to send Guidance back into a crying fit. She is held and soothed out of love and not obligation. After, they all drink and pack and wait for morning where everything will change. She will miss them all so dearly. It is likely she will not be able to see them much once she is transferred. She is going back to Arlathan to the Pleasure District where a new life will begin. Another new life.

So much change, it’s making her nauseous. She had just gotten used to her body, and now she will need to get used to being embodied in a new place.

Ithari arrives at dawn to find Guidance with all her friends, her things packed into boxes and bags. Her hair is braided away from her face, courtesy of Charisma, and she is dressed in another simple, but beautifully made gown. She’ll likely need to change into something keeping more with Sylaise’s fashions after the transfer, but she might as well be comfortable going into it.

Several servants come to help her with her things - it’s really not that much and everything’s been enchanted to be easy to cary. It’s mostly books, trinkets, a few paintings, and clothes.

She is taken to a new location through a small network of Eluvians. She feels like she is still in the Crossroads, but there is a large structure that declares itself halfway between Elgar’nan and Sylaise’s territories. She is taken into the building and the ceremony is performed in a slow measured steps and silence. Elgar’nan is there, glowering while the lines on her face are realigned to Sylaise’s design.

Afterwards, Guidance is stripped and dressed in a gown of shimmering lime green. The greens are in fashion now, it seems, a radical shift from the fiery festival colors. But if Arlathan is green, then she must be as well.

The rest of the trip is admittedly boring and solemn. Her things are loaded onto an enchanted cart and she is taken to an apartment in the Pleasure District. It sits on the third floor of a four story apartment building. There is a small balcony that looks over the courtyard that has suspended plants from each balcony. It’s pretty, and she thinks she can add to the plants with some of her own. The apartment itself is pretty. Smaller than what she is used to, but pretty. There are no doors inside the apartment, just large archways, except for the room with the chamber pot and large wash basin.

There is a small foyer with a small table for curios and a coat rack, but nothing else. The rest of the apartment is just as sparse - the living room, the main room, has a single couch and a small bookcase. The bedroom has a bed, smaller than what she is accustomed to, a dresser and a wardrobe. There is no dedicated closet which is frustrating because there is space for it. There are two balconies, at least. The living room opens up to the main balcony, while there is a smaller balcony off the bedroom.

It is not perfect, but it will do. She is honestly happy to just be alive at this point.

Guidance spends the rest of the day unpacking. She takes care to hang her paintings and place her curios. There are not nearly enough bookcases for all of her books, so she stacks them and counts. She thinks she will need at least three more bookcases. She also plans to buy more chairs and tables and lots of planters. She has been wanting to try gardening.

All of that will have to be planned out with the credit she will receive from her new posting, however. Tomorrow...tomorrow she reports for her new work. All she has are some memories of how the district is laid out and a map one of the people who guided her here gave her.

For dinner, she snacks on the dried fruits and nuts and wine her friends had given her when she was still a comforter. She sits on the floor of her new apartment, staring up at a painting of a long-eared rabbit.

Maybe this is where she is supposed to be after all. It’s where she began, after all. Maybe working for Elgar’nan was just a detour, a little stop on the great journey that is her life. Maybe this will go better than she expects and it will turn out just fine.

Guidance has to hope, without it...there is nothing.

When the wine bottle turns up empty and she runs out of food, she staggers to her feet and moves to her bed. That is too small for her sheets and has lumpy pillows. Note to self, get better pillows. In fact, get a whole new bed and mattress because this one sucks.

But the alcohol does its job and she passes out despite the lumpy mattress and unsupportive pillows.

A ward goes off just before dawn, alerting her to someone just outside her door. She shoots up in bed and almost falls back down due to the dizziness and disorientation. Where is she?

Oh. Right. The Pleasure District.

The ward goes off again.

Right, she needs to answer that. She stumbles to her feet and walks quickly to the door to find a cheerful spirit with long spindly tendrils waiting for her.

“Good morning, Guidance! I am here to take you to your first day! Do you need to get dressed? I can help!”

Guidance blinks then nods. Right, it makes sense they would send a spirit to fetch her on her first day. The transfer happened so quickly she hasn’t had time to explore the district again, find out where she’s supposed to go.

“Yes, just give me...fifteen minutes and I will be ready.” She invites the spirit inside while she goes and changes into a pale green wrap dress. She undoes her braids and fluffs out her hair, spritzing it with a solution to keep it soft. Elgar’nan always likes that. It should be like a cloud, Guidance, a place where he can rest his burdens.

She is unsure of the effect she should have, so she goes with what she knows. This is the look that has made her desirable and she should be desirable...right? Still, she drapes a cloak around her shoulders and brings the hood up. She is used to having to cover herself while away from the quarters of the comforters.

Once she is finished, she follows the spirit out through the city. It has been just over a decade since she has been here, not long really. But to see it and experience it with a body is so different! She can smell things now! Smell all the things that she never could before. The flowers, the food, the terrible stench coming from the alley over there. She feels the cobbled streets underneath the soles of her shoes. Everything is so much more visceral in sensation.

It is not unlike exploring Elgar’nan’s city. But this is Arlathan. The heart and soul of the empire. The place which sets the beats for everywhere else.

It is bittersweet to be back.

She stops by a foodhall, grabbing a breakfast sandwich that she eats on her way to what she suspects in the central brothel, the one where Melarue works. Even she has heard of Melarue, who hasn’t? They who run the district, who are responsible for keeping everything moving smoothly. Both the blessing and thorn in the side of Sylaise and even Mythal.

The main brothel is a beautiful building, tall and classic. There are windows she cannot see into, dark glass complimented by beautiful metal railings and details. The inside is just as beautiful, soft but immensely elegant. Everything is pristine and gorgeous and very grand, almost too grand. She feels slightly out of place in at all. She is not the beauty who has poetry written about her, or the beauty who inspires songs and artwork. She is soft, and she is comforting, but she doesn’t know what much else she is for this line of work.

Maybe she will just end up on the altar after all. No, no, she just...needs to find her footing. She’ll be fine. The Pleasure District has lots of different positions and she has skills that others don’t.

The spirit, Service, takes her through the brothel and out to a large garden that is filled with a riot of different flora. There is a gazebo in the center of it all where the most beautiful person she has ever laid eyes on sits, reading in the early morning light. They are not beautiful in the way the leaders are, all terrifying and perfect, but they are beautiful in a way that makes her breath catch. It is not possible, she thinks, for someone to be so truly beautiful. Dark hair falls down their back, tucked behind their ears in a casual but elegant fashion. They are also dressed in green, but of the darker shades. Their dress is high necked but she can tell from the cut that it is backless. When they turn their silvery gaze to her she almost trips over her feet.

It must be a common reaction, she thinks. They are that breathtaking.

“Thank you, Service, you may take your leave,” they say, waving the spirit away before gesturing for Guidance.

“Please, take a seat, I understand the last few days must have been trying to say the least.”

She takes the seat and shrugs, “It is not more than I can handle.”

They raise an eyebrow at her, “Truly? That bodes well, the Pleasure District can be a difficult and trying place to work. It is not suitable for most. But then again, you were trained to soothe one of the hottest tempers in the empire. You are not most.”

Guidance blushes and nods, “I suppose I am not.” She touches her cheeks, still slightly concerned every time she feels them heat like this.

Melarue notices it, of course, “How long have you had your body?”

“A little over a year. I finished formal training nine months ago, and I mostly sang and recited poetry. Lord Elgar’nan would every now and then rest upon me, but he generally preferred the more senior level comforters.” She fiddles with her hands under the table.

They take out a pen and begin writing on a notepad on the table, “You are trained to sing...do you play any other musical instruments?”

“I was being trained to play the piano, my voice always sounded better than anything my fingers could produce. I...I do not think I would be a very good person for, um, sex. I haven’t, that is, my body is new and there hasn’t been a chance to, and Elgar’nan kept us very separate. I mean, Charisma offered but it didn’t feel right so it didn’t get farther than kissing and -

“Guidance,” they say softly, “I will not assign you sex work. Your body is entirely too new for it. Perhaps, down the line, it may come to that. Right now, however, I will assign you to music. Pleasure can be derived from many different places and luckily, there is an opening for a vocalist in one of the brothels. Your direct supervisor will be Morwen and you will report to him in a week. You have been through enough in the last few days. I am disinclined to demand work from you while you are potentially distressed.”

Kass blinks as relief surges through her, “But the Lady Sylaise said she wanted me to start -

“Sylaise wanted a victory over her father, and she got it. You are here now, wearing her markings. Officially, you are in training. Service will give you tours of the district, you will be briefed on your responsibilities, and a suitable wardrobe will be procured for you. Your transfer may have happened quickly, but that does not mean it speeds up the rest of the process.”

“Oh.” It’s all she can say, really. She wasn’t expecting a period of reprieve, but what they say makes sense. Other things need to happen for her to start work. “Thank you.” She tells them anyways because she is thankful.

Their smile is polite, “You’re welcome. There is one more thing. Your name, the gossip mill being what it is, most people have heard of you. Keeping your name as Guidance increases the risk of people seeking you out for the wrong reasons.”

“The wrong reasons?”

They take a deep breath, “There are those who would take advantage if only to be with Guidance, the former comforter of Elgar’nan’s who has been shipped off to the Pleasure District.”

“That...that’s terrible!”

“I do not say this to trouble you, but to help you. It would be to your benefit to take on a new name.”

A new name? She...has not considered taking a new name before. But she sees their point and it is logical to do so. Guidance was what she was too, not entirely descriptive of what she is now.

“Take the week to consider it. I will make sure your addition to the roster is discreet until the change.”

She nods and tries to piece it all together, “Why...why are you being so kind to me? You barely know me.”

They pause and their expression turns soft, “I look after my people.” Elgar’nan looked after his people too, he kept them sequestered away and primped to his liking. Melarue is allowing to explore, to change, to...do things she enjoys without them having any say in it. She wants to thank them over and over again, but she thinks that may be a bit much.

Instead, their meeting ends and Service goes back to giving her a tour of the district. They only get through a few of the brothels of the day before Service is called to other duties. Guidance decides to wander some of the district herself. She passes the Emporium and waves at Rala, whom she recognizes from her time as a spirit. The busy woman waves back but Guidance doubts she’s really paying attention.

She finds a dining hall by dinner, thank goodness. She eats her fill then wanders back to her apartment. A frown pulls her lips down once she sees once more how sparse the place is. She has got to figure out a way to improve things sooner rather than later.

The week moves by in a calm fashion. She meets with Morwen and demonstrates her singing ability. He tells her he’s impressed and moves to put her at the top of singing lists on certain days. It is very kind of him.

It is a calm enough week that Guidance manages to read an entire book. Her mind lingers on one of the names in the story. She touches the page just under the name and considers. It is not a well known novel. The author has long been deceased, he died fighting for Elgar’nan ages ago. It is only by chance she found this worn copy of this story. She hasn’t seen any other copies, which is a shame because it is a lovely story. It’s about a warrior woman who leaves all she knows for a better life and finds it when she finally casts aside her weapons and settles down to farm with the love of her life. It is a sweet, calm story that feels very inspiring.

She holds the name in her mind for awhile, mulls it over. It’s not like anyone would really know she chose a name from a story. Where else would she get a name, anyways? She likes the name and she wants...she wants to be the woman in the story. She wants to find love and be happy on her little farm with her vegetables instead of having to fight day in and day out.

When she returns to Melarue at the end of the week, it is in higher spirits. She feels rested despite the crap bed and she is beginning to feel less...squashed than she has. They tick everything off on a checklist, and show her to a rack of her new clothes. She reports on the morrow to Morwen for her official orientation and first day.

All the formal business is completed except for one final piece.

“Have you chosen a name?” They ask.

She nods and takes a deep breath, “Yes. Kassaran.”

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theepolynesian · 7 years

Text

Together Again

Summary: Thranduil is brought to your world and vice-versa.

Pairing: Thranduil x Reader

Word Count: 2,756

Master Lists: Drabbles/Imagines, and Completed Series

Requested by:

@annajolras: May I request a lil story? Thranduil x reader where he is swept into the 'real world' (modern au) and reader (very short, like 5'4") shows him around and stuff.... fluff please😘 I love your writing❤❤ thank you xxx

Anon: Hello! I love all your work so I'd figured I would try a request... A nerdy lord of the rings/hobbit fan from are world gets pulled into middle earth by the Valar to change the outcome of the battle of five army's? Feel free to run with it however you'd like!

A/n: sorry that it’s shit.

You look at the man at your front steps with a shocked face. You had to be dreaming. That was the only explanation. Well the only plausible explanation as to why, The Elvenking Thranduil was standing at your door. That has to be it.

“You are a very amazing Thranduil cosplayer, but Halloween is not for another three months,” you say, raising your brow at the man.

He could pass as Lee Pace’s twin that's for sure including height. 6’5” was damn tall. Anything above your 5’4” stature was tall to you.

“I do not understand your words, human. What exactly is cosplay and Halloween?”

“VERY funny. I didn't think you were that dense,” you say, rolling your eyes as a force of habit.

“You dare speak to me like that?” he booms and you back away, afraid.

He sighs, rubbing his forehead.

“Can you just tell me where I am?. One minute I was in my throne room the next I'm in this area that I do not recognize with houses more exquisite than Gondor,” he explains and you sigh.

Maybe this was actually Thranduil and for some reason the Valar had sent him here.

You needed to get to the bottom of this.

A few hours and a couple of shots of vodka later, you finally finished explaining everything to the King.

“So I don’t know how you got here, but I think you’ll just have to wait it out and you can do that here. But now it’s time for bed. I have a guest room and extra clothes inside there as well. You cannot be walking around in a dress,” you say.

“It’s a dress robe,” Thranduil argues.

“Whatever it is, it doesn’t fit in,” you say, standing and leading him to his bedroom, “we can talk about the rest of it in the morning.”

You make your way to your room and get into bed, staring at the ceiling.

What the hell were you supposed to do?

“Y/n!” You hear and you immediately shoot out of your bed, now wide awake, running to the source.

Thranduil did not seem like an elf who would yell for no reason so there had to be something wrong. You may have just met the elf but you got protective easily.

You pause in the bedroom doorway as you realize that Thranduil was in no trouble at all.

He was simply staring at the TV with wide amazed eyes.

Your panic settles into a bout of anger.

“Are you dying or something?” You ask irritably.

“How did those people get into the box? Why are they in a box?” He asks panicked.

You sigh.

“It’s a thing called television. Cameras captures a moving an image and they project it to the television. The thing that you’re watching now.”

“But are they really that small?”

“No. They’re normal sized men. The image is downsized to fit the screen. Now can you please get dressed? I don’t have any groceries so we have to go out to eat.”

Making your way down the stairs, you think about the elvenking and how out of character he seemed.

In the movie, he was cold and calculating, in the book he wasn’t as bad, but a very concerned elf king was not what you were expecting. Especially concern for those not of his race.

You make a cup of coffee and wait for the king to make an appearance.

You can’t help but choke as you see him in tight jeans, a white shirt and a read and black flannel with a man bun.

JFC he rocked that man bun.

“Are you alright?” he asks.

“Yes. Why do you ask?” you reply a bit sharply.

“You choked.”

“Did not.”

“Elves have very good hearing. You choked.”

You shrug.

“Never thought you would wear a bun.”

His hand reaches out to touch his hair.

“Yes. Well, I saw it on your image thing and I thought it would be best to try and fit in.”

You look him over and notice his pointed ears. You needed to fix it because pointy ears were very suspicious. You walk up to the king and pull a few strands loose so that it’ll cover his ears.

“Do you always touch those above you?” he breathes and you roll your eyes at his haughtiness, ignoring the closeness.

“You are my equal in this realm. I am neither below or above you,” you retort.

He raises his brow.

“I meant people taller than you,” he says and you pause before laughing.

That earns a smile from him.

“I really need to stop being so uptight, don’t I?” you ask him, stepping back.

He shrugs, giving you a small smile.

“Maybe.”

You laugh again.

“Let’s go, princess,” you say and he lets out a chuckle before you both leave the house.

When you went shopping with the King, you did not expect it to be such an amazing day.

Contrary to popular belief, he was rather nice and funny and so carefree. He cracked quite a few jokes and you had fell for him hard within a space of one day. You didn’t want him to leave.

“So elves are things that help this santa person and they’re actually really small with bells?” Thranduil asks as you walk into your house, arms filled with groceries.

“Yes. They are supposedly the ones who make the toys to deliver to children,” you explain.

“How degrading,” he says, placing the groceries on the counter.

You watch him unload the groceries with a smile on your face.

You wanted this. You wanted someone you could settle down with. Someone you could go shopping with, laugh with, play around with. Someone who would love you as much as you would love them. You know you shouldn’t be getting attached, but you couldn’t help it. He’s an amazing guy with an amazing personality.

“What is it?”

You shake your head and look at him with a sad smile on your face.

“Nothing, princess. Let’s just get dinner started.”

You’re not really surprised to find him gone the next day as if he wasn’t even there in the first place, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt like a bitch.

It takes you months to get over him. Although you’ve watched him on the big screen many times, it was not the same as it was talking to him in person. The Thranduil on the screen was not your Thranduil.

After watching BOTFA all the way through for the first time, you decide to hit the sheets. You were missing him again and a sad Thranduil just made you more sad. You just wish you could see him again.

Orcs. Dragons. Dwarves. Wizards.

That’s all you could dream about.

It’s not the first time that you’ve dreamed about it, definitely not, but this one was different.

In this dream, you were a part of the battle of the five armies. You saved the Durin’s lives and you were finally reunited with Thranduil.

You didn’t want this dream to end, but it does as soon as you start falling.

You didn’t understand how you could be falling when you were lying in your bed but you are and it seems to go on and on and on.

You let out an oomph as you finally land on the ground, knocking the wind out of you.

It was extremely cold for some reason. Last you checked, it was summer. A very HOT summer.

You slowly open your eyes and gone was the night replaced by day.

You hear clashing swords making you confused.

It was the 21st century. Who used swords?

Slowly, you sit up and take in the scene around you. It’s then that you realize that you were no longer in earth.

You were in Middle Earth.

Quickly standing, you look around for a weapon as an orc charges at you.

You make for the sword that was conveniently there and stab the orc before it has a chance to stab you. Those fencing classes were finally useful.

“Lass! What the hell are you doing here?” you hear and you turn to find Dwalin, Thorin, Fili and Kili.

“It’s not like it was on purpose. Believe me, it was an accident!” you reply.

“An accident?” Thorin rumbles looking you over, “what in Durin’s name are you wearing?”

“Now is not the time. We are in the middle of a war, if I’m not mistaken and you are about to be led into a trap,” you say, not really feeling like it was the time to explain a tank top and sweatpants.

“What do you mean trap?” Fili asks.

“Thorin was about to send the both of you to those towers to see if Azog was there. He is even though it doesn’t seem like it and he traps you and you die alone which is a pretty shitty way to die if I do say so myself,” you inform them.

When you realized that Fili dies alone, you were absolutely livid. Thorin had Bilbo and Kili had Tauriel and there was no one for Fili and you absolutely hated it.

“Why should we listen to a human that seemingly appears out of nowhere wearing naught but her underwear?” Thorin growls as you all spring into action, killing more orcs.

“Because it is true. If you just used your common sense, you would realize that it was a trap, but you didn’t and it got your nephews killed and that Thorin Oakenshield is not going to happen on my watch,” you growl out.

Thorin looks at you before nodding.

“We will stay together and live to fight another day,” he says and you let out a sigh of relief.

At least he was coming to his senses.

The five of you continue fighting with Bilbo joining halfway through with Legolas and Tauriel right behind him.

Thorin soon faces off with Azog and you were preparing for the last life you were supposed to save.

Azog plunges into the water and you notice that Thorin is following his body floating down the stream.

“Thorin stay away!” you shout and he looks at you confused before looking down again.

You sigh at the stupid king. You decide that the only thing that could save him now was a tackle to the ground and so you tackle him.

Not even a second later, Azog pops out of the ice with a shout.

You roll off of Thorin and the both of you immediately bring your swords up, stabbing Azog in the chest not once, but twice at the same time.

You just killed the pale orc with Thorin right beside you. What?

Ignoring your train of thought, you and Thorin both push Azog off of you and you just lay there for a few seconds, trying to gather your scattered brain.

“Is she dead?” you hear.

“Perfectly fine. Just need time to reevaluate my life.”

“Are you finally going to explain who you are and where you come from?” Thorin asks, offering you his hand. You look at it before looking at his face.

“It’s going to take a while,” you say.

“Thanks to you, I now have all the time in the world,” he says and you take his hand and then the coat that he offers you.

You explain to him every detail possible as you are joined by the company one-by-one.

“So now wait a minute lass. You’re from another world and you were brought here completely by accident?” Bofur asks and you nod, standing quickly as you realize that Thranduil must be here as well.

“Where is Thranduil?” you ask, looking at the dwarves.

“The elf ponce?” Dwalin asks.

You roll your eyes.

“Yes. The very same,” you say.

“Y/n?” you hear and you slowly turn around, immediately recognizing the voice.

There in front of you is the elf that you grew to love. He looked older. Much older and there was blood splattered across his face and he looked absolutely exhausted.

You finally remember that he was here to look for Legolas or rather his body. You knew that Legolas would still be alive at the end of The Hobbit but it still made your heart hurt to think that Thranduil was losing the only thing he had left from his wife.

“Princess!” you exclaim, running towards him and leaping into his arms.

He catches you easily and immediately wraps his arms around you, burying his face into your hair.

“I missed you so much,” he whispers and you pull back with a laugh.

“It’s only been three months, Princess, but I missed you too,” you say and he looks at you confused.

“It’s been three thousand years, y/n.”

You frown. That made no sense at all.

“I would like to explain it to you without listening ears,” he says, glaring at something in the back of you.

You turn to find Thorin holding up his hands in defense.

“We get it. We’ll leave you two alone,” and with that the company makes their way down the hill with Bilbo’s hand clasped in Thorin’s. Your OTP finally gets to become cannon!

You take a seat on one of the staircases, trying to process this information.

“So if three thousand years have passed, that means I met you in the year three thousand three hundred eighty two of the second age, meaning your father was still alive and you were still a prince,” you say, gathering all of your Tolkien knowledge.

Thranduil nods in confirmation.

“I was indeed still a prince. I had nothing to my name,” he replies and you raise your brows at the obvious lie.

“Well nothing important to my name. No son or wife. Just me and my father and his kingdom. It wasn’t until after the throne was handed to me that I found my wife, Lilliana. I was hoping beyond all hope that I would see you again and I wanted to wait for you. I wanted to I really did, but duty called and I found a wife. A wife that I loved just as much as I loved you. A wife that made me happy just like you did in the space of one day. A wife that-.”

“Died protecting your son,” you say, interrupting him and he looks at you for a second, wondering how you knew all of this information.

You had skipped telling him about the Hobbit films and books. You didn’t want to change something which is kind of ridiculous now that you thought about it. You wanted to avoid giving him information that would change the timeline, but here you were changing the timeline yourself. Ridiculous.

“That she did,” he replies and you sigh.

“What are we doing Thranduil? We’ve known each other for one day and yet we fell in love.”

“And here we are, after three thousand years of being apart, finally confessing our feelings for each other. I don’t know about you, but I think this was meant to happen.”

You look at the prince turned king.

“But what if I get taken back just like you had all those years back. I don’t think I can handle being in love with you only for it to be ripped apart once again,” you tell him truthfully.

“I do not believe that that’s going to happen again. It was no coincidence that were brought to each other, twice. Absolutely none and I just want to be happy again with you by my side.”

You smile at him.

You could finally settle down and start a family, something you never really dreamed about until you met him. You can finally be happy again.

“And I want to be by your side until death do us part.”

He places a kiss on your forehead.

“Nothing is ever going to tear us apart ever again.”

Forever Tag List: @miss-mcbotty @sdavid09 @why-pace-why@emilyymichelle @bee-wrecker @raisaioana71 @clockworkfall @dracsgirl @imaginesreblogged @whatthehellisacastiel @brewsthespirit-blog @angstflaff @nelswp @savvythedork

Hobbit Tag List: @jotink78 @arabellaelliana @legolas-bromance @thealbersclan @youtubehelpsmesurvive @annajolras @sapphire110611 @filmozerca

#thranduil x reader #thranduil #reader insert #the hobbit #fanficiton #drabble

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sometimesrosy · 7 years

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hey rosy, i saw those asks about the anon who was writing a book and suddenly had a change of heart about the direction of the story. if you don't mind me asking, how do you deal with that feeling that your ideas aren't good/original enough? how do you do it when you feel that they are cliché, specially in a fantasy setting? (like retrieving something to find the truth) there will always be tropes but sometimes i wish i could run away from the most used ones but my ideas seem to fall on them :/

That’s a good question. Because part of fantasy is that it really does run on tropes. High fantasy is based on Lord of the Rings, for the most part, and fantasy writers are FOREVER trying to find new ways to make that basic genre more original, more relevant, more modern, more unique, more personal, more inclusive, more etc. We turn to older stories like fairy tales and world mythologies, we turn to new situations, we turn to surprising inclusions. Whatever.

I used to have trouble coming up with ideas for stories. I really did. I’d sit there and think, probably, exactly what you’re saying. WHY IS THIS INTERESTING? It’s so trite. I’m boring and cliche. UGH.

Then I read a bit of advice from Orson Scott Card who used to run this writing and fan site (listen he’s gone off the deep end with his beliefs now but he used to be great,) and it changed the way I develop stories.

He said a novel or story needs more than just one idea. That cliche idea you have? Take it as a just a starting point, because according to Orson Scott Card, what you want to do is mash up that cliche idea with a new idea that has nothing to do with the first idea, even if, ESPECIALLY if, they seem contrary, so that in that space where the two ideas DON’T fit together, you get a frisson. An energy bouncing back and forth that wakes up your cliche-sleepy brain and says, oh MYYY. This is interesting. The problem is not the cliche. The problem is that the cliche isn’t explored enough. So contrasting it with a new idea, even a different cliche, means you get to explore new territory.

So in Ender’s Game, Card took the idea of baby soldiers, and the idea of ant-like alien invaders and squooshed the two ideas together to create (SPOILERS) the baby soldiers trained in a game to fight the ant-like alien invaders from a distance through the technology discovered in their first battle with the aliens, leading to the genocide of a whole species. And the baby soldiers never even knew they were doing it. Boom. No cliche.

So here’s the solution. EMBRACE the cliche. LOVE the cliche. SAY, omg I love this genre and I want to explore this cliche, I’m going to tuck in some more cliches and see how those play off. And I’m going to take my story seriously, not that it has to be a serious story, but I’m not just making a joke with my cliches, I love them. And I’m making them as realistic/funny/deadly/romantic/enjoyable as I can.

We’ve got a new trope nowadays, where they take the old tropes of a genre, like Fantasy or Zombie Movies and they use the non genre serious literary style of “gritty realism” to filter the pulp origins of the genre. Suddenly, they’re taking the genre seriously, not as a joke, the way so much fantasy is often treated. And it’s turned the cliches on their heads. Clearly, I kind of like it, since my three favorite shows are The 100, The Walking Dead, and Game of Thrones, and they are all doing this. But even this is becoming cliche, as everyone jumps on the bandwagon. It’ll take a while, but I personally am becoming tired of the grimdark.

I can offer you an exercise that uses this idea of “story mashing.”

When I taught High School English, I had the kids write poems or journal entries, and sometimes they didn’t know where to start. So I collected a jar full of words. The kids would pull a word and start from there, letting the random word prompt them. But very often one word wouldn’t get the creative juices going, so I would have them pull more words, one at a time, until that frisson started in their heads… because stories are not built by words… they’re built by CONNECTING words, and the meaning actually comes in the connections. When I use this exercise for myself, I’m usually getting ideas by the time the third word comes along. How do “purple” “sidewalk” and “race” connect? There’s a story there.

#writing tips #writing fantasy #fantasy tropes #cliche #story ideas #writing workshops #prompts #writing exercises #hey you guys i'm collecting my writing advice over on my rosy-writes blog #i think it gets lost in the fandom blog so i'm trying to keep it organized

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forcedapotheosis-blog · 7 years

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Gloomy Days VIII

Chapter X / VIII (or so) – The Graceless Knight / Radiance

Sorry for the cliffhanger in the last chapter.

“Angel, angel, what have I done?

I’ve faced the quakes, the wind, the fire

I’ve conquered country, crown, and throne

Why can’t I cross this river?

Pay no mind to the battles you’ve won

It’ll take a lot more than rage and muscle

Open your heart and hands, my son

Or you’ll never make it over the river

It’ll take a lot more than words and guns

A whole lot more than riches and muscle

The hands of the many must join as one

And together we’ll cross the river”

Puscifer – The Humbling River

Things were not always what they seemed to be. And even an affliction as powerful as hopelessness, nourished by shadows whispering of conspiracy, might not always be what one thought of them. Voices grew ever louder, so loud indeed that he wanted to press his hands on his ringing ears and close his eyes shut. Be done with it. Leave this place. The words were spoken, the new bond established. Was a life of hopelessness even worth living? He had to make this decision as soon as he left.

“What’s this supposed to be?!”

“It’s against all of our island’s traditions!”

“I don’t think that this is even a wedding song.”

“Impudence, I tell you!”

“Father, do something about that!”

What’s that? Even a mind as far gone as the cook’s was able to recognise that these voices were not happy. Quite the contrary, the tone they carried was irate, affronted, enraged, confused. Something didn’t go according to a plan. Whatever it was, there seemed to be enough of a reason to call out to the person of the highest authority present. To their surprise, he didn’t seem to care. Raising his sonorous voice, it seemed as if he was taking his place as a staunch defender of whatever it was that was going on.

“Honoured guests, I beg you: In this very moment, every voice has a right to be heard. Even those who left our lives may speak if their cause is just, the only requirement is for them to be given a voice. This might just be the case.”

What was all of this supposed to mean? The ceremony was at an end, both must have said ‘yes’ to each other. They were man and wife now. She was gone, forever. Why was it, though, that he couldn’t shake off the feeling of warmth caressing his skin? He was sure that a storm was raging on the outside, the mortal enemy of the sun, forbidding her to bring light to those in need. Yet, his skin felt as if he was embraced by loving arms, a shiver went through him as his mind tried to make sense of all the contradicting signals his ears gathered and his subconscious mind interpreted. He shouldn’t feel good. There was no warmth left in this world, at least not for him, not on this occasion. Yet, he couldn’t shake it off and ban it from his thoughts. Something was in the air, so thick that one might even be able to cut it with a knife. Something that should be forgotten, a remnant of a past he desperately wanted to forget. A very special something that was not allowed to emerge from memories clouded. Still, it did. After all these terrible memories that haunted him, he had forgotten that the world was not always dark. Even within these gloomy days.

Slowly, step by step, his mind was creeping back out of its shell. He didn’t want it to, but the siren’s song was too strong. The voices that cried out against this ‘impudence’ were still prevalent, but resistance was raised. It all began with one single voice that took a stand against the evergrowing darkness of his mind, one that he heard somewhere before, singing words that he was all too familiar with. It shouldn’t be, yet it was.

“Yo-hohoho, Yo-hohoho .. Yo-hohoho, Yo-hohoho ..”

Were one voice was raised, others were soon to follow. The source of the warmth that was touching his skin wasn’t sunlight, but sound. The lonely voice was, at first, accompanied by only a piano and a few violins.

Music was proven to have an unbelievable impact on the human mind. Depending on the song chosen, a plethora of emotions could occur within the listener. These days, sadness, depression and longing for reclusion were most prevalent in the cook’s life. This particular one, though, had other things in mind. Its purpose was to lift spirits, to create purpose within a life that seemingly didn’t have one.

More voices were joining. They knew the lyrics by heart. Every single of them knew. His ears caught the most unlikely of voices first, deep and booming. It belonged to the marimo. Even he knew.

“Going to deliver Bink’s Sake! Following the sea breeze! Riding on the waves! For across the salty depths! The merry evening sun!”

The swordsman was not alone. More voices chimed in and it felt as if Sanji’s very heart itself was beginning to move to these forgotten, ancient tunes. Numbed senses returned, were driven out of a hell hole that seemed so devoid of hope. He just let it happen.

“The birds sing as they draw circles in the sky!”

Usopp, Franky .. am I dreaming?

“Farewell to the harbor, to my old hometown!”

Even Chopper. None of them has forgotten.

Soon enough, he heard all of them.

“Let’s all sing out with the Don! As the ship sets sail! Waves of gold and silver dissolve to salty spray! As we all set sail to the ends of the sea! Going to deliver Bink’s Sake!”

Robin .. Luffy .. they’re all here. For the sake of all of us. Within these halls, we are reunited and reborn into the light. An ethereal moment, but it is so real that I might be able to grasp it with my own two hands ..

“We are pirates, sailing through the Sea! The waves are our pillows, the ship our roost! Flying the proud skull on our flags and our sails!”

The cook’s own voice was the last to join, unrestrained and invigorated. His world might have succumbed to darkness, but in this very moment, they were with him and he was with them.

“Now comes a storm through the far-off sky! Now the waves are dancing, beat upon the drums! If you lose your nerve, this breath could be your last! But if you just hold on, the morning sun will rise!

Yo-hohoho, Yo-hohoho

Yo-hohoho, Yo-hohoho ..”

Finally, the inevitable end of the song was here. The moment of warmth and unity would be gone, too, in just a second.

But it was a hallmark of the Straw Hat’s to defy fate whenever they could. Facing impossible odds was what made them what they were, what some of them still are, even to this day.

Sanji could still feel the backdrop of despair, the desperation that held dominion over his heart and mind. But he wasn’t alone anymore.

“Forgive my discourtesy, navigator-san. I felt that it was necessary to give our bard a voice, for he does not have one of his own anymore. And .. Nami ..”, her use of her real name was something out of the orderly. What was happening? Had it been Robin’s voice, the female voice that answered with a ‘yes’, shortly before the song was played?

“I beg your forgiveness again, but I feel inclined to share his opinion.”

The bride’s face went pale as she heard these words, she turned around to her former captain, her surrogate father, to look for help. She found him smiling. Not his signature, broad smile, though, but a thoughtful and reflective one. His voice resonated with it. Even though he was reunited with crew and crown again, it seemed as if his subconscious mind didn’t find cheerfulness fitting for the occasion.

“She is right, Nami. You do not belong here. You weren’t made for this life. Just take a look at yourself. The shivers that went through your body when Bink’s Sake was played. Your body still remembers where you’re supposed to be. You were born to sail this world, with us! We’ll always be with you, Nami, our dreams were made to complement each other’s.”

Sanji couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Robin AND Luffy both decided to speak up against her marriage instead of being staunch supporters of her choice?

An old saying told that even the darkest hours of the day were only preceding the break of dawn.

Three voices joined together to push the thick clouds apart, as to make way for the sun’s rays to grace the earth once again. They were not alone.

The cook’s head twirled around as he heard another chair being pushed back, another person standing up for what he thought was the right thing. He had put on his black sunglasses, possibly to cover the fact that he was crying an endless river of tears. No one was tricked by that, yet he went with it.

“Sis, sis, I’m sorry! So sorry! I arrived to support you, I’m still here to do that! It is just my heart that’s telling me that the backing you need should lead you into another direction! Freedom, sis, is what you need! Sailing the Blues again, visiting strange islands, drawing your maps right where their source is, that’s the freedom I’m talking about! I just can’t help the feeling that you’re chaining yourself by going through with this marriage, you’re giving up your freedom and condemn yourself to a prison cell with a nice view.”

Luffy .. Robin .. Franky .. even Brook from beyond the grave. Is that really what all of you think? Didn’t .. didn’t we come to help her? Or is this what you consider helping? Now, all of a sudden, we’re acting like .. like family again. Did something happen? Is none of you able to remember the past? These terrible days that tore us apart? Why, now, do you want to bring them back? I don’t understand ..

Franky didn’t waver, an impressive sight to behold and reason enough for Luffy to finally show his smile again. Was the past coming back to life again? Even if it was, not all about this was good. When his eyes found the goddess again, it was clear as day that she was close to tears. Maybe because she felt betrayed by her friends. The very same friends she invited to have their support while moving on to a new life. That was most likely, wasn’t it? Her skin was pale, her eyes watery, yet she didn’t speak. Maybe because she knew that right now, she wouldn’t have control over her voice. A welcome opportunity for .. the next one to stand up.

Even in his small form, the impact his voice made was clearly visible as most of the groom’s side of guests sharply inhaled. Contrary to that, children found it incredibly cute, but that didn’t take the gravity from his words.

“Nami, when we were young, we all set out to see the world, to chase our dreams as if there was no tomorrow. I .. I just know that you haven’t forgotten what you were once dreaming of. I’m sure that you haven’t forgotten all the things we lived through, that brought us together, forged bonds that would never truly break. It is not only your purpose that’s still out there, it’s not only your dreams that have been buried alive! It’s not too late, Nami, not at all! A .. a friend told me that we’re still young enough to change our ways again. Our dreams are still waiting out there, on the sea. If we don’t even try to seize them now, they’ll be gone forever. I’ve known you for many years now, Nami, and it’s the same for you as for the rest of us. If we don’t take the opportunity that is given to us right at this moment, we will spend the rest of our lives asking the same question every day: What could have been? I, for one, would never be able to forgive myself, letting the chance pass to just know what life has still in store for us.”, the small reindeer was taking a deep breath, the smallest and youngest of them all was a shining example of what idealism really meant. Having travelled with them, he knew how to reach their hearts. Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more! Another put his strength to the test against the rising tide. His voice echoed in these halls and in the cook’s mind aswell.

“He’s right, Nami. You know that as well as I do, as all of us do. Whatever action you’re taking, it’s just a band-aid to keep the things you earnestly desire at bay.”, some voices from the groom’s side were trying to interrupt him, only to be .. looked at. And within this instant, all the stories he told about himself became nothing but the truth. A terrifying warrior that sailed all over the Grand Line, facing down monsters and tyrants, pushing onward into the gaping mouth of the abyss itself. It wasn’t quite the famed Colour of the Conquering King, no, but the easily forgotten yet still burning spirit of a mighty warrior of the sea, easily overshadowed when compared to the inhuman strength of his former crew mates, but a shining beacon of might when standing on its own. In fact, reaching this state of mind, reflecting it within his deeds, could have even been considered more than the monstrous strength that his captain, the swordsman and the cook were famous for. Because he was just a man, yet he still gave no quarter.

The brave knew fear, but despite it, they fought on.

“Nami, we’re not going to live forever, but don’t we owe it to our dreams to go on, to carry the flame for those about to follow? Forgive me, Nami, but a recent revelation .. just puts me into a position that is close to yours. I have more reason to stay than I could explain right now, yet I still hear the call. It’s been growing louder ever since we were separated and I’m sure that it’s going to consume my heart if I don’t act according to it. It’s been too long, but our time has come again. Allow yourself to act. And .. as a last, humble request from someone who has been your friend over all these years, please, I beg for you to find .. find forgiveness in your heart. Not for our sake, not even for his, but for yours. Your heart might be mended through forgiveness. Give it a chance to breathe again. It will remember.”

Forgiveness .. what’s he talking about ..

Seeing all of his old friends again, making a stand to do what’s right, he felt as if he was going back in time. Back then, this was what they did. They were game changers and breakers, no matter the situation. All of them together had the power to force the winds of destiny to change its course. A tyrant of terrifying power was no match for the combined strength of the Straw Hats, even when the sun was out of sight, they still carried the torch. Not only for themselves, but for everyone around. Freedom was for everyone, injustice had to be fought. Every life had a right to follow its dreams. Back then, when their hearts were will pounding as one.

It’s not enough. It can never be enough. All the things I did can never be forgiven. This attempt is futile.

His heart wasn’t into his thoughts, though. Yet he was unable to speak up. A fact that did not go unnoticed.

“Do I have to fight all of your battles, idiotic, weak erocook?”

Even .. even that one? But should .. should I really be surprised? He always stood when it was necessary.

That was indeed what he was doing, not only pushing his chair back, but rising with such an outburst of force that it was thrown to the ground. His face a reflection of both annoyance, irritation and genuine care for those around him. A rare mixture, but perfectly fitting for this man.

“Guess that after this is over, you’re going to charge me big time, woman. But witnessing that some of us are still unable to find their backbone, I’m without option. Our nakama are right. This is not what you were born to do, yet they somehow forget one more important fact. One that I remember all too well. Coming here, I didn’t know what to expect of your groom, to be honest, but having met him I can say that .. well, he’s a nice guy, promising you a safe future. Nami, that’s neither what you want nor what you need. Am I the only one who’s able to recall your face and all the tears you cried when this thrice-damned erocook left the crew? Am I the only one who couldn’t have a nap because he heard you crying? Goddamn, Nami! I know it and you know it, too! The man you’re about to marry isn’t half as big as he needs to be to fill the blank spaces that this idiot left!

I’m not going to beg your forgiveness for telling you the damn truth, woman. And neither am I going to waste the rest of my life regretting that I remained silent when I was supposed to speak up. You damn well hear the storm outside, don’t you? I know that your heart’s longing to fight it, to navigate a ship through it, to show that we’re superior to everything this world can throw at us! It pains me to see that you’re too stubborn to admit it! It pains me that the both of you are still too god damn stubborn to go where the wind takes you! I’m not your fucking parent, I can’t and won’t tell you which way to go, but I can’t be the only one who knows that we were born to go wherever life will lead us. Believe me, I’m regretting this step even in this very moment, but you just have to open your damn eyes to see the truth.”

His face had become red from all the suppressed and now finally freed fury that was raging through his body and mind. Now, he raised a hand to point at Sanji before he continued.

“This man, Nami, is the one you’re looking for. Gods know what must be wrong with you, but he’s the one you’re looking for. And you’re the one he’s wasting his life dreaming of. How could I ever come to respect this idiot again without the strength he used to have? YOU, god damn woman, were the fire that raged in his soul! And he was all the shelther you ever needed! You can’t be so blind as to make this unseen.

Picture home, Nami, just do it for a damn moment! Picture home! What is it that you see? A big old house in the countryside? I bet it’s not! We are where you’re at home! The Sunny, the smell of tangerines in the air, the water’s salt on your tongue and within your nostrils! This is what you consider home. Riding on top of a storm, besting the tempests like a deranged, mad goddess with some damn knight at your side! Just admit it, woman, and keep in mind that whatever you say, there’s no going-back from that. But .. but also keep in mind that however deep you’re going to fall if you take this step, we’re here to catch you, we will soften your fall. Until the last of our days.

You are the spark, Nami, but what good is a spark without kindling? Come back home.”

Sanji couldn’t believe the things he just witnessed. It was too much, took him by surprise and the unexpected heat that the swordsman put into his words was more than he could ever hope for. It was not as much that hope had been given to his heart, no, but the sheer force of their combined speeches had burned out the dominating hopelessness that had settled for his heart and mind. Control over his body was gone when he himself rose. It didn’t end there. His steps were staggering, aiming for the space that was left open between the sides of bride and groom. Somewhere in his subconscious mind, he knew that his was the place he was supposed to be. One last time in the spotlight before an inevitable demise.

If it really is inevitable. Could it be that my mind has become so accustomed to the thought that I am unable to see another way out of this situation? A thousand and more words have been spoken, they have been thought. Was it speaking to the marimo that set things in motion? Was it her invitation? Our paths might not be predetermined by destiny or any other higher force, but the things set in motion could have hardly occured at random. These pieces were made to fit together perfectly. Robin was her maid of honour, I don’t think that it had been her plan all along to talk her out of the wedding. Luffy’s spirit was broken, up until the very moment he was reunited with the crown that has always been his. Franky, Chopper, Usopp .. I don’t know. I didn’t know that they cared so much, even though I should have.

All eyes were on him when he met the center of his ‘stage’. But except for the loveliest pair of two brown eyes, they did not mean anything to him. These past thirty minutes or so where enough of a time for him to make a decision. He came back from the verge of breaking, walked away from the abyss, molded with the always prevalent yet new found knowledge of companionship that strengthened his back, that poured fuel into the smouldering embers of his soul.

If I go, I’ll go with a clear conscience. I will go with the knowledge that I’ve given my all. Might it be that I’m not standing all alone?

The one appropriate thing to do was to fall to his knees. After all, he was a knight trying to have semi-religious dialogue with the goddess he swore to serve.

“Nami-san .. if it is your will, these words of mine shall be the last for you to ever hear from my mouth. I will gladly abide your wish, as I always have. My only request is for my voice to be heard. One last time.”

Another murmur went through the groom’s side, this time though, it was more prevalent than before. All the others had spoken up against the marriage, yet they were ‘just’ friends. Something about this man, his kneeling, his language and the look of utter, selfless admiration on his face, made him stand out of the crowd. He was not just another friend, but a contestant! Someone who might have had it in his hands to change the course of this day. In retrospective, everybody must have known. Even the marimo, as he was the one who finally managed to make him raise his voice.

“We’ve all heard it now, you’re against my son’s marriage. Now sit down and let them commence, your concerns have been heard and none will pay any more attention to them!”, the enraged voice of an elderly man was raised, obviously being Cassian’s father. His face was red with enragedness and his voice was venom. The woman to his left, who might have been quite beautiful in her younger days, was red with anger aswell, but only nodded to her supposed husband’s remarks. Others followed.

“What an impudent whelp!”

“Who does he think he is?!”

“Let’s just get this over with and throw him out, shall we?”

All these words made the next voice even more remarkable. It might have been the long-haired clergyman’s duty to speak up against them, to tell them that their traditions dictated for everyone to be heard, yet he shrouded himself in silence. Instead, the most unlikely person of them all rushed to his aid. A voice that demanded obedience, even from those who most likely stood above the speaker, used by the one man his mind had fashioned as the enemy’s accursed champion.

“Father, dear friends, I admire your defence of this marriage, but I want you - I need you - to remain silent.

I want this man to be heard. Here, before the eyes and ears of gods and men. I might not like the prospect of his speech, but in front of you kneels a man who knows that adversity and existence are one and the same. Of his past, I know nothing. Yet I am able to see a mountain that defies the consuming sea.”

It is absolutely needless to say that his words sent a shock through everyone present. Immediate stillness fell upon the room. His parents went pale, words that were about to be spoken faced eternal damnation. Robin’s eyes widened, as did Luffy’s smile. The only face he wasn’t able to read was the one of the bride herself. Too many emotions rushed through her eyes.

“May your words be heard, my friend. Make them count.”

An unexpected turn of events, an uneasy alliance even .. so confusing indeed, that Sanji lost his ability to speak for a few seconds. Were the gods mocking him?

You’ve been given a chance. Make the most of it. The only way to earn salvation is to endure. The terrors that haunt us at night are nothing but rain in the forest, but fog before sunrise. I .. I feel it. Every inch of my body resonates with their words. I was standing at the very precipice of oblivion for so long that I had all but forgotten about the light. I am not alone. I never was.

“Nami-san, it feels as if I’m reliving countless dreams. For hours and days uncounted, I thought of nothing but this day. Not only your marriage, but being reunited with you. A million words and sentences raced through my mind, some of them I thought true, others just an illusion. But being face to face with you again, I realise that none of them mattered. Retelling all the things I thought up would slander this event, they would be an insult to you.

Originally, I arrived to support you. I was willing to suffer until the end of my days to see you smile once again, Nami-san. And if that is your wish, I’m still willing to do just that. I .. I just needed to let you know that no matter how many years pass, no matter how many miles we were and might be apart, my beating heart will never stop seeing you as what you are. In the past, I have given you the title of a princess, a queen, a goddess among unworthy men. These still remain true, but I had yet to awake to the most genuine of truths:

Man can live without all of these. Man will live on without a sovereign, even without a divine hand that guides him. But there is one thing, not even a material one, that cannot be lived without.

Home.

You are what my heart considers home, Nami-san. The one place I can’t live without. I’ve travelled far and wide, lived in many places and got to know as many and more people, yet you are the one that my heart is yearning for. Every time I close my eyes, it is shouting out your name into the darkness. Even when I thought that all was lost, my stubborn heart could not be hushed.

It is nothing but the truth, Nami-san, when I say that your name alone will be the last word that leaves my mouth. The last thought that will run through my dying mind. Step by step, little by little, your name alone has been carved onto my heart. Falling before you, I feel no shame to admit this. You alone are all I want, all I need. You are home. The sum of all of my dreams. Your eyes are the real All Blue, the vastness of your heart gives shelter from the storm and nourishes any hunger, past or future. Next to the depths of your mind, I need to tread carefully as to not get lost. Nothing and no one will ever compare to you, Nami-san.

And .. I fear that this might not be enough, but it is all I have to offer. For a brief moment, the blink of an eye on a cosmic scale, our hearts had decided to beat as one. I was reborn into a light I never knew existed, all because of you. Whatever happens now, Nami-san, however you decide, I need you to know that I’m grateful for the moments we shared. You granted me a glimpse of Heaven that I will never forget and cherish until my last breath.

Forgive my impudence if you find it in your heart, Nami-san.

I love you. I will always love you.”

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anneedmonsonus · 4 years

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A House Decorated by Marketplace – and Tips for Thrifting

Of all the bad things to come out of Facebook – the creepy harvesting of our online data, a rise in loneliness, infidelities kindled from long-lost acquaintances, the erosion of individual self-worth through unfavourable comparison, to name just a few – there are also a lot of good things. For example, I re-met my now-husband through Facebook… something I like to remind him of every so often, that lucky guy. And I’m also going to add that the fairly recent invention of Marketplace is another one of those good things to come out of Facebook.

Furniture, homewares, rugs, plants and art… these are the kinds of things being sold on Facebook Marketplace that are often super CHEAP, my friends. Often it’s sold by people who just want to be rid of it, fast, and sometimes they don’t have a true understanding of the worth of what they are offering (I remember seeing a designer-name vintage sideboard marketed as “brown cupboard”).

Another bonus is that when you buy from a person on Facebook Marketplace, you can also see if you have mutual friends in common, thus reducing your chances (hopefully) of being murdered (“Yes, he has a teardrop tattoo and he’s holding a chainsaw in his profile pic, but he’s also friends with Julie from Baskin-Robbins”). In fact Marketplace has so many good things about it that I feel jealous of people moving house or getting a new place, like my sister, because they get to furnish and style their house in the Marketplace era. Like, I remember moving to this house, and looking at ads for secondhand dining tables after going to the newsagent and buying The QUOKKA. Yes, a physical copy of a classifieds ad newspaper, with tiny, succinctly written ads and no pictures, woaaah. Furnishing a home now that there is Marketplace is kind of like getting married but before there was Pinterest and after there was Pinterest, but better than that. I say this after spending pretty much TWO DAYS of my life making little white and milk chocolate milk balls with carefully affixed, painstakingly handmade customised chocolate wax seals for bonbonnieres, simply because I had seen a picture of them on Pinterest and I HAD TO RECREATE THEM, and I don’t think a single person at my wedding appreciated the sheer effort that had gone into these chocolate wax seal balls except my best friend from high school who had flown in for our wedding from London, saw the different-coloured chocolate balls and shrieked, “Does no-one notice that these chocolates have RACIAL CONNOTATIONS.” (This is why we are friends).

Anyway, many of my friends share my Marketplace and thrifting love – but I don’t know anyone more enthusiastic about it than my friend Nelly Reffet of Twinkle and Whistle Interior Design. (In fact, we put together this post on our fave Marketplace finds a while back). Recently Nelly shared photos of this Perth house with me – one I instantly dubbed The Marketplace House, because she and the owners styled it to sell using a LOT of thrifted Marketplace finds. And look how inviting it looks!

RUG LOVING: The rug in the living area is a beautiful Persian-like wool rug, 3m x 2m. “It’s super plush and soft, in pristine condition and it cost $250 – normally it would retail in the thousands,” says Nelly. “It took forever to get though, as the seller was difficult to reach and spoke little English. But it made the purchase almost… exotic!”

Nelly met owners Mark and Jasmin back in 2009, when they first asked Nelly for design help. Mark and Jasmin had recently bought their first home together, an ’80s house in East Cannington in need of a revamp. “Even back in those days, I loved their appetite for non-beigey interiors, and the low budget considerations made me tap into some small but efficient creative tricks to make their house shine without blowing the budget,” says Nelly.

After a full reno and a fair bit of styling, Mark and Jasmin enjoyed many years of happy memories in their sweet light-filled home. However the desire to live closer to the ocean, so the kids (and the dogs!) could roam free on sandy beaches and everyone could enjoy cooler summers, led them to move out of their first home a few years ago.

Nelly’s daughter playing with Mark and Jasmin’s kids, now her friends.

“What was their sanctuary became a rental property, and with that came a few years of sometimes neglectful tenants and inevitable house mishaps,” says Nelly. “In order to simplify their life, Jasmin and Mark decided recently it was time to sell their beloved first home, but unfortunately, the property was not quite ready for it. A fair bit of work was required before the property could be advertised, and with a pretty gloomy-looking market in Perth, they decided to furnish and style the property to maximise its overall attractiveness.”

That was when Mark and Jasmin called Nelly to the rescue again. With a budget worn thin by essential maintenance and repair work, they could not quite invest in buying or hiring new furniture. “Instead, we decided to go in full shoestring mode and source pre-loved furniture and homeware to make their house shine again,” says Nelly. “With the exception of most linen pieces, which were purchased in store, and of some of the decorative items, which are from Mark and Jasmin’s personal collection, almost everything was gathered through Facebook Marketplace, and occasionally from the verge.”

I know some people will ask, why bother furnishing and styling the home at all? – and it’s not an unreasonable question. Well, home styling, or staging, as it’s called for the real estate market, is about presenting a home to its best – showing people how a house can be lived in; and trying to get them to form an emotional attachment to a home, ideally leading to a sale. Staged homes tend to sell faster (frequently in half the average time) – and for an estimated 7 to 12 percent more than unstyled homes, so the financial benefits can be worth the work and monetary investment put into the styling. And contrary to popular notion, good home staging doesn’t have to be expensive, or just for high-end homes – which is why Perth has seen a big boom in the past ten years in property staging businesses as well as interior designers that offer staging as a service.

Nelly says Jasmin and Mark wanted their house to stand out from an already saturated property market, and colour was one of the ways to go.

“In a very competitive market, we didn’t want another grey-on-grey-on-pastel-colours house,” she says.

“We wanted a place that would be warm and personal enough to feel like a home, but not too individual, as so not to be too personal.

“Many blogs out there and real estate agents too will advise you to remove all personal belongings and to go as neutral as possible to appeal to a wider audience. I beg to disagree with that, at least partially. If you keep a mostly neutral palette on your walls and floors (so potential buyers don’t have to do any work when they move in), you can still have a little bit of fun when styling by using bright or bolder removable items, such as soft furnishings and art.” And the scouring of Marketplace began, to give this modest yet pretty home a facelift.

LIVING ROOM: The yellow sofa and its matching ottoman were $250. “These were the first pieces we bought, and they became the driving factor for the living room design,” says Nelly. “The colour was a bold choice, but the shape is not bulky so the colour doesn’t overpower the room. All other pieces were picked with that yellow couch in mind, i.e. we wanted them to tone it down and let it shine at the same time: we didn’t want strong contrasting colours or too much harsh black or white. The neutrals soften it up, while the rug – because of its texture but also style and colour, grounds the room.”

NEW BED: “The upholstered queen bed in the master bedroom was totally brand new and sold at $250!” says Nelly.

Using Marketplace to style a house often means you need to allow a bit more time to put together than a traditional styling job would, says Nelly. “As you rely on what people put up for sale, it’s not as easy as driving to a showroom and helping yourself to what you like. You have to be patient to find the right piece, quick to contact the seller, and willing, sometimes, to travel a fair distance to collect your goods. You also don’t quite know the actual condition of the item until you see it, unless there are plenty of photos.”

Each item was carefully selected so it would fit the space well, both from a layout and a style perspective. As things tend to sell quickly on Marketplace, it was sometimes frustrating to miss out on a ‘perfect’ item. “But with the high turnover of the platform, we found alternatives within days, and sometimes hours,” says Nelly.

So is it all worth the effort and the risk? Mark and Jasmin felt the cost of the styling to be worth it. “They ended up spending just under $2,000 for styling their three bedroom house – a fraction of the cost of what new furniture would have been,” says Nelly. “Their biggest (unexpected) splurge was a $150 throw bought at Adairs, which was incorrectly placed on a “Sale” shelf… they only found that out at the time of paying, and by then, they liked the throw too much to put it back!” The house sold for $20k over the agent’s initial expectations, after only eight weeks on the market – which Mark and Jasmin considered a win in their suburb and in the current market.

At this point you might be thinking, ‘Ok, so they bought a lot of furniture and then what? They sell the house and they’re stuck with a bunch of stuff they don’t need?’ Two things. One, Mark and Jasmin bought things that they either hoped to use in their new home, or that they could easily re-sell, if required.

Their biggest win: a beautifully soft and plush large Persian rug in as new condition bought from Marketplace for $250. “It would retail at around $1000 at least new in-store,” says Nelly. “Jasmin is looking forward for the house to sell, so she can bring the rug to their home pronto.

“That is one of the advantages of buying second-hand items instead of hiring furniture: the items belong to you! You are free to do what you want with them once the house has sold: sell them again or bring them home.

“Similarly, if the house doesn’t sell in the expected timeframe, you don’t need to extend a hiring contract and incur additional expenses either. It’s maximum flexibility at a limited cost.”

MORE MARKETPLACE: The grey couch was only $180, and was from just around the corner.

BEFORE. The dining room got a small facelift with a light change.

AFTER

So, if you are thinking of selling your house soon – or even if you just want to revamp your home a little – don’t hesitate to explore Marketplace instead of hitting the shops, advises Nelly. “It can be a fun and rewarding ‘hunting and gathering’ experience, it treads lightly on our planet’s resources, you can find some unique pieces, and save some significant cash in the process. What’s not to love about that?” Maya x

NELLY’S TIPS FOR MARKETPLACE SUCCESS

1. Be reactive. If you see something you like, initiate contact with the seller fast! You can still sort out the logistics a little later. Great scores get snapped up very quickly on Marketplace so the faster you react, the more chances you have to secure the deal. Special brownie points if you offer to pick up immediately or on the day.

2. Be polite and personal. To make the buying process easier, Facebook has come up with default questions and messages you can send the sellers as a first contact. If you’re really keen on something, try not to use them. Even when communication is digital, being polite and addressing people personally often goes a long way. That doesn’t mean you have to tell your life story though, but starting your message with “Hi” and using the seller’s name may make you stand out in a sea of “Is it available?”

3. Read the ad in full. As a seller, it is infuriating to receive messages like “where are you located?” when the Marketplace ad clearly says so. Do you have time to answer questions that have already been addressed? I don’t. Most people don’t. Some ads are pretty short (or quasi-inexistent) and others more descriptive. The least you can do if you see an item you like is to read the ad in full and only ask questions that are essential and not already covered. Common sense, huh? But you’d be surprised how many people don’t go past the photo and headline!

4. Don’t mess with collection. Once again, speed is key on Marketplace. I do not encourage you to go beyond speed limits on the freeway to pick up your bargain, but you don’t want to mess around with collection. Ask the seller when it’s best for them or suggest a day and time, and stick to what’s agreed. If you don’t have a suitable car and struggle to ask a friend for their trailer or ute, hiring one is often inexpensive and fast. Or you could hire an Airtasker or other individuals who hustle as delivery drivers to do the heavy lifting for you.

5. Be open-minded and patient. The more specific you are, the more narrow your pool will be. So identify your essential criteria (for furniture, measurements are crucial!), and keep some flexibility for the rest, being brand or style, colours or materials.

6. Be patient! The beauty of Marketplace is that it is a big cycle that moves fast. People buy and sell all the time. You just have to be there when opportunity knocks at your digital door.

7. Be safe. Give someone the details of where you are going and when, and ideally bring a friend or your partner to do pick up with you if you’re feeling unsure, especially at night.

You can follow Nelly’s thrifting adventures on Instagram @nelly_reffet or visit her site at Twinkle and Whistle.

The post A House Decorated by Marketplace – and Tips for Thrifting appeared first on House Nerd.

from Home Improvement https://house-nerd.com/2020/01/23/the-marketplace-house/

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nail-bat-butch · 5 years

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Thoughts after “Together Alone” {SPOILERS *duh*} Many ppl have already covered this, but I wanna share my thoughts. I really love how this episode went full circle in terms of Steven’s development. Even though he’s matured as a person, Blue and Yellow treated him like he was just a kid. Granted, they have the impression that Steven has her memories (even though he’s stated MANY TIMES that he doesn’t); to them, Steven is still as juvenile and immature as Pink was in the beginning. Ergo, they don’t take Steven srsly when he doesn’t tell them what they want to hear. *FAMILIAR, WHY IS THIS SO FAMILIAR?!* And the Gems KNOW Steven wants to be taken srsly bc they feel bad for not doing it in the past. {Side note: with Zach maturing alongside Steven, his singing has aged beautifully, and every time I hear the song, I fall in love all over again}. Now, onto the Pebbles. They’re fuckin’ adorable; I’ve only seen them once, but if anything happened to them, I’d scoop ‘em all up and take them home. Contrary to what others think, I don’t think the Pebbles created the Diamonds, nor are they the oldest Gems. Maybe HW started Pebble production at the end of Era 1, when things were starting to go downhill, but pre-Cluster. I think they’re essentially smol Bismuths or Peridots that fix problems in ships where other Gems can’t necessarily fit. Yes, shapeshifting exists, but Gems can only hold that form for a certain amount of time. If you make Gems smol enough to fit in those nooks and crannies, boom! Problem solved! Remember after Steven popped Peridot out of her bubble, and she called him a pebble? Clearly, Pebbles are looked down upon 🤣 by the other Gems for being so tiny. I’ve seen comments on YouTube that maybe the Pebbles kept Pink company while she was grounded in her room by Yellow or Blue, and I firmly believe that. I remember one person compared the Pebbles to Jack and Gus from Cinderella (further solidified when they started making Steven’s new PD outfit), and now I can’t get that cute AF comparison out of my head. In conclusion: Great episode, great song, and (I cannot stress his enough) I love the Pebbles to bits and pieces.

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thegloober · 6 years

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How to freelance: 5 steps to profit

Learning how to freelance is the first step toward an unlimited earning potential.

It’s a wonder why more people don’t do it — especially when there are so many good reasons to:

Flexibility. Choose when and where you want to work, and who you want to work with.

Scalability. Earn as much or as little as you want. Eventually, you can even leave your 9-to-5 to freelance full time.

Creativity. Flex your creative muscles by diving into a freelance hustle that uses your passions. That means you can make money and *gasp* have fun while doing it.

Getting started isn’t as difficult as you’d think either. All it takes is the right systems.

How to freelance in 5 steps

Luckily, I have that system. It’s the same one that I’ve used to start I Will Teach You to Be Rich and it’s the same one that I’ve used to help hundreds of thousands of people to earn as much as six figures in their freelancing career.

And now, I want to show it to you too.

Step 1: Find a profitable idea

It’s amazing how many people get tripped up at this stage. In fact, it’s the most common reason I hear for why people don’t start their own side business.

“I don’t know how to find a good freelancing idea.”

When I hear this, I just want to grab the person by the shoulders and shake them while screaming, “But you already have a lot of good ideas!!!”

In fact, you can find your perfect freelancing idea by answering four simple questions about yourself:

What do you already pay for?

We already pay people to do a lot of different things. Can you turn one of those things into your own online business?

Examples: Clean your home, walk your pet, cook you meals, etc.

What skills do you have?

Now, what do you know — and know well? These are the skills you have that you’re great at — and people want to pay you to teach them.

Examples: Fluency in a foreign language, programming knowledge, cooking skills, etc.

What do your friends say you’re great at?

I love this question. Not only can it be a nice little ego boost — but it can also be incredibly revealing.

Examples: Workout routines, relationship advice, great fashion sense, etc.

What do you do on a Saturday morning?

What do you do on a Saturday morning before everyone else is awake? This can be incredibly revealing to what you’re passionate about and what you like to spend your time on.

Examples: Browsing fashion websites, working on your car, reading fitness subreddits, etc.

Find an answer to those questions and you’ll find a business idea.

Step 2: Find your first client

Finding clients can be a mystery of fantastic proportions for beginner freelancers. After all, where do these generous, money-giving gatekeepers of work live? How can we find them?

Luckily, there are a variety of different places you can look if you’re a beginner. Here are three great places that I’ve used and my students have used to find great clients.

Craigslist (yes, that Craigslist)

Networking events

Where your clients live

Contrary to popular belief, Craigslist isn’t just for sketchy encounters and weird sales listings. It can also be a great place to find quality clients.

Why? When a business posts a job listing for freelancers on Craigslist, they’re not getting top quality responses. In fact, the people who respond to them are typically so bad that you just need to be a little bit better than them to stand out.

This doesn’t just apply to Craigslist either. You can do this with any job board.

Here are a few suggestions of great sites freelancers can use to find business:

The second place you should look: Networking events.

I know, I know. Some of us would rather spend our time listening to a lecture about the importance of brushing your teeth than be at a networking event.

However, a good networking event will be flush with opportunities to find connectors. Notice I said connectors and not clients. A connector is someone who can introduce you to potential clients.

That’s right. You’re not going to actually be looking for leads at these events.

Here’s a good script you can use to connect with a connector:

“Hey, if you know of anyone who’s looking for a video editor, let me know. Here’s my card. You can pass it along to them.”

Of course, you should mold the script to fit your individual situation.

If you live in a big city, networking events are a dime a dozen. If you don’t, that’s okay. There might be a few in your area happening occasionally.

Be sure to check out event boards like the following for great opportunities for networking events.

The last place I suggest beginners look: Where potential clients live.

No this isn’t your potential clients’ physical houses, you weirdo. I’m referring to the places online and in real life where your potential clients might frequent.

Instead, you’re going to go online to the places where potential clients might frequent. It’s what Luisa Zhou, entrepreneur and writer for GrowthLab, did to help her earn $1.1M in 11 months.

From Luisa:

I started spending all my free time hanging out where my potential clients were online (free Facebook groups) and directly engaging with them by sharing valuable content and answering any questions I could about advertising.

That’s how I got my first client. A woman I’d been helping for free — answering her questions about how to set up a basic advertising campaign — asked me how she could work with me, and when I told her the price — $5,000 for six months — she said, without missing a beat, “I’m in.”

You can use the exact same framework for your potential clients.

Are you a graphic designer? Find a Facebook or subreddit group for small business owners who need your services.

Are you a writer for a niche industry? Start answering questions on Quora regarding your niche.

Maybe you’re a video editor. Find online groups for bloggers looking to expand their content media.

No matter what you choose, you need to make sure you stay engaging and provide high-quality answers to your potential client. By doing this, you build your brand and make connections you would never have otherwise.

Once you have a client lead, it’s time to use a script to vet them.

Step 3: Pitch your talents

Now we get to the fun stuff: Pitching. You’re now going to craft an email pitch that’ll sell your services to a qualified lead.

Yes, marketing and selling your skills can be intimidating — but it’s much simpler as long as you remember to sell benefits.

Remember the old marketing saying, “Buyers don’t want a new bed. Buyers want a good night’s sleep.”

Some great examples of this:

Here are the five things you need to sell the benefits of your services in an email:

The introduction. You’re going to want to build rapport by introducing yourself and how you know about the client.

The offer. Talk about them. What do you want to do for them? Why are you good for that role? You’re going to want to do some research on the organization to see what they need help with.

The benefit. Walk them through how your work will benefit their company. Are you going to free up more time for them? Are you going to maximize profits by X amount?

The foot-in-the-door. This is a classic technique that utilizes an old psychology trick to get the client to agree to a small agreement so you can ask for a larger agreement later.

The call to action. Be clear with this and ask them if they would like to proceed. The call to action is a critical part of this script.

When it’s all put together, it’ll look something like this:

CLIENT’S NAME,

[Introduction] I read your article about X and noticed that you’ve recently started using videos on your website.

[The offer] I’ve been doing video editing for three years and I’d like to offer to help you edit your videos and get them optimized for the web.

[The benefit] That would make them look more professional and load faster, which is important for your readers. And you’d free up time that you could use to create new content.

[The foot-in-the-door] We can discuss the details, of course, but first I wanted to see if this is something you might be interested in.

[The call to action] If so, would it be okay if I sent you a few ideas on how to help?

Best,

Ramit Sethi

Step 4: Charge a good rate

There are no hard and set rules when it comes to charging a rate, which makes it a perfect breeding ground for anxiety and nervousness for freelancers.

My suggestion: Don’t worry too much about this part — at least at first. It’s more important that you get started at all than making sure your rates are perfectly tuned.

With that said, there are three methods I suggest for finding a good starting rate:

Drop Three Zeros Method

Take your ideal salary, divide it by two, and then drop three zeros from it. Boom. You have an hourly rate.

For example, say you’d really like to earn at least $80,000. Just take out the three zeros from the end, divide by two, and you now have your rate: $40/hour.

Double your “resentment number”

I love this one because it’s both really interesting and effective. Ask yourself: What’s the lowest rate you’ll work for that’ll leave you resentful of your work?

Say you’ll work for $15/hour at the VERY LEAST. Just double that number so now you’ll earn $30/hour.

Do what the next guy does

This method is incredibly simple: Go to Google and search for the average hourly rate for whatever service you’re providing. You’ll get a good sense of where to start when you’re charging your clients.

Once you start earning, it becomes much easier to take on more or less work to get to an earning amount you’re comfortable with.

Step 5: Invest in yourself

Remember: You’re going to make mistakes when starting out and that’s okay! I’d rather have my students screwing up pricing or pitching than never getting started at all.

That’s why I want to offer you something to help you get started even more: My FREE 15-page guide to finding your first client: Hustle Your Way to the Top.

In this guide, you’ll learn:

How to get inside your potential clients’ heads

How to overcome the automatic “no” and score big wins by deeply understanding your prospects

How to use psychology to identify the most likely customers and get them to say yes

I’ll also show you the one huge mistake freelancers make so you can avoid it and separate yourself from the rest.

Just enter your info below and get the bonus lesson today.

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Source: https://bloghyped.com/how-to-freelance-5-steps-to-profit/

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