#I find it highly amusing that this is the format in which I first draw warriors

[thatonecrazysidekick]

I...I'm not really sure what this is lol

I read the end notes for chapter six of @starlight-eclipsed's Like a Rag Doll, and that one meme popped into my head and wouldn't go away, so--uh, here you go

[esmeraldablazingsky]

I’ve finally hit my limit on the number of bad takes on the Lan parents I can see before I have to lay out all the reasons I disagree, so hello, I’m Blazie, and in this essay I will justify my visceral dislike of the assumption that Qingheng-jun married/imprisoned/had sex with Lan-furen against her will.

    Warning for mentions of rape (in context of Interpretations I Really Hate) and a very, VERY long post below the cut.

    Before I start going off about the finer points of all this, I want to make sure people are on the same page regarding what we actually know about what went down with Qingheng-jun and Lan-furen. What I say is based off the EXR translation of MDZS, for the sake of clarity, and although I don’t think the exact wording should be too important, feel free to let me know if you think I’ve missed an important bit of nuance or something (the whole story is in Chapter 64.)

    The story we get is told by Lan Xichen, and it goes like this: a young Qingheng-jun falls in love at first sight with Lan-furen, who doesn’t return his feelings, and at some point kills one of Qingheng-jun’s teachers over unspecified “grievances.” Although he’s understandably very upset over the murder, Qingheng-jun sneaks Lan-furen back to Cloud Recesses and officially marries her in order to announce to his clan that anyone who wants to hurt her has to go through him.

After that, he locks Lan-furen in one house and himself in another as a form of repentance. Wei Wuxian speculates that this was because “he could neither forgive the one who killed his teacher nor watch the death of the woman who he loved. He could only marry her to protect her life and force himself not to see her.” 

    A central detail of this story that I think people don’t give the import it deserves is that aside from marrying and protecting her, Qingheng-jun’s other option was to let Lan-furen be executed by his clan. His purpose in marrying her wasn’t just for kicks/out of a possessive sort of love, it was so she wouldn’t straight up die. How she felt about this arrangement isn’t stated, but I’ll get into that in a bit. In addition to that, Qingheng-jun and Lan-furen live separately, which was apparently purposeful on Qingheng-jun’s part, and runs counter to the interpretation that he intended to take sexual advantage of Lan-furen.

Though there aren’t many concrete details in Lan Xichen’s retelling, he does specifically inform Wei Wuxian that his mother never complained about remaining in her house. What exactly this signifies is unclear— whether she was simply putting on a brave face for her sons, or whether she was in fact at all content with the situation— but it at the very least serves to further muddy the waters on how she and Qingheng-jun felt about all this. 

Beyond what Lan Xichen and Wei Wuxian are saying out loud, there’s also quite a bit of subtext in this scene, especially in light of later events and revelations, like Lan Xichen’s confession for Lan Wangji at Guanyin Temple. 

So what is Lan Xichen trying to convey with all this? There’s a lot of memes about this scene, most of which err too far on the side of Himbo Airhead Lan Xichen for my liking, but one that I do find amusing emphasizes how Lan Xichen draws parallels between Wangxian and the story of his parents (Lan Xichen: [flute solo] please use your one brain cell to connect the dots.) If Wei Wuxian hadn’t completely lost his memory of Lan Wangji defending him against his own clan elders, one would assume that Lan Xichen’s story would have had a much better chance of hitting home. 

In hindsight and side by side, the parallels are much clearer— Qingheng-jun, “ignoring the objections from his clan… told everyone in the clan that she would be his wife for the rest of his life, that whoever wanted to harm her would have to pass through him first.” Similarly, according to Lan Xichen in Chapter 99, “for [Wei Wuxian,] not only did WangJi talk back to him, he even met with his sword the cultivators from the GusuLan Sect. He heavily injured all thirty-three of the seniors we asked to come.”

In that context, it makes a lot less sense to interpret Qingheng-jun as an aggressor towards Lan-furen, as in Lan Wangji’s case, the narrative clearly establishes that his actions are to secure Wei Wuxian’s safety. The action of Taking Someone Back To Cloud Recesses is— okay, actually, it’s a little more nuanced than I took into account when I started writing that sentence, so let me go a little deeper into Lan Wangji’s actions and how they relate to his father’s, story-wise. 

My intent is not to dive into the terrifying underworld of novel-versus-drama discourse, but simply put, Novel!Lan Wangji as he is written isn’t exactly the poster child for clear consent. (I’m going to entirely leave off the extra chapters for the sake of everyone’s sanity, so I’m just talking about the main body of the novel here.)

He means well, and I’m sure we can agree that he does actually love and want the best for Wei Wuxian, but his lack of communication on this point means that he accidentally gives Wei Wuxian the impression that he wants to imprison and/or punish him in Cloud Recesses at least twice off the top of my head (pre-timeskip, as we know, and post-timeskip immediately after Dafan Mountain when he actually drags Wei Wuxian back to his room.) 

That all likely has something to do with MXTX’s narrative kinks and regular kinks and all that, and can absolutely be taken with many grains of salt. However, these events establish how easy it is to misinterpret the action of Taking Someone Back To Gusu as an attempt to imprison rather than protect them (much to Lan Wangji’s chagrin.)

Failing to communicate his purpose to Wei Wuxian doesn’t mean that Lan Wangji actually had any intent of hurting or caging him— that was just a misinterpretation on Wei Wuxian’s part, and we, as the audience, find that out in due time— but as written in the novel, it can be really uncomfortable to read. Because of that, many people choose to accept CQL canon regarding Lan Wangji’s more possessive actions or mix characterization from different adaptations, which, to be clear, I completely understand and respect. 

However, Qingheng-jun doesn’t get the benefit of the doubt as often, which I frankly find baffling, because nowhere in the text does it state that Lan-furen objected to being taken back to Cloud Recesses, while even Wei Wuxian clearly objected the first few times. In fact, while we’re on this note, I’ll take it a step farther— I find it baffling that people seem to default to an unsympathetic view of Qingheng-jun, because nowhere in the text does it state that he overruled Lan-furen’s wishes in any way. The text doesn’t clarify a lot of things, actually, and that is part of the point. 

The narrators of MDZS are, in many situations, highly unreliable. This is, presumably, very purposeful! MDZS can easily be read as a sharp criticism of reputation and mass judgment and the concept of condemning people without knowing their motives! And I don’t want to sound mean, but guys… did any of us learn anything from that? Here, I’m going to put it in meme format for a second to convey what I mean. 

MDZS: It’s easy to condemn someone as a villain if you don’t know their story or the reasons behind their actions

MDZS: Anyway, here’s a character whose story and reasons behind his actions you know nothing about

Some Parts Of This Fandom: Ah, a villain 

    Memes aside, here’s what I want to point out. It’s entirely possible to assume Qingheng-jun was a bad person who disregarded a woman’s wishes in marrying and confining her when all you have is Lan Xichen’s (actually very neutral, thank you Lan Xichen for being an eminently reasonable and concerned-with-evidence character) account of what happened. It would also be at least that easy to assume Wei Wuxian was just an evil necromancer if he hadn’t un-died and brought his own story to light, or even to believe that Lan Wangji had somehow tamed Wei Wuxian into submission and being a respectable cultivator if you were an average citizen of Fantasy Ancient China with nothing but rumors to operate on. 

    The thing about Qingheng-jun and Lan-furen’s story, then, is that there is nobody left alive who knows the full tale. Nobody knows what they thought about anything, really. Nobody even knows why Lan-furen killed Qingheng-jun’s teacher. Wei Wuxian asks why, and Lan Xichen can’t tell him, but I think the best answer would be something along the lines of I don’t know, Wei Wuxian, why did you kill people? Your guess on the motivations of your own thinly disguised narrative parallel are as good as anyone’s. 

    So, while it’s not technically impossible to assign darker motives to Qingheng-jun, the cautionary tale of MDZS seems to warn against that exact assumption. 

    I’ve refrained from getting too salty on a personal level thus far, but now that I’ve said a lot of the more logical and story-based points of my argument, I will say that at least some of my annoyance with the interpretation of Qingheng-jun as a possessive rapist and Lan-furen as his victim stems from the fact that I just think it’s straight up boring. Where’s the nuance? Aren’t you tired of reducing these characters to the flattest possible versions of themselves? Don’t you just want to add a little flavor? 

    In a slightly more serious phrasing of that criticism, I find that making Lan-furen a helpless prisoner strips her of whatever agency she might otherwise have. To be fair, she’s more or less a non-character in keeping with the general state of the MDZS universe, but making her a damsel in distress only consigns her more deeply to hapless, milquetoast innocence. 

    It’s perfectly valid to enjoy ladies who have done nothing wrong, ever, in their lives, but like… Qin Su is right there, if that’s your ball game. There’s also really no need to make Qingheng-jun someone who doesn’t respect women. Isn’t Jin Guangshan enough for at least one universe? 

    Anyway, ultimately, you do you. I don’t like arguing on the internet, and will just ignore things I don’t agree with (or write an 1800 word vaguepost) like a mature human being. I’m just saying, if it’s a cut and dry tale of imprisonment and assault you’re looking for… you probably don’t want to turn to a woman who committed a murder and a man who loved her enough to forfeit everything to keep her safe. 

[capsironunderoos]

Does This Mean We’re on a Quest?

Barley Lightfoot X Elf!Reader

Summary: The reader is home from college for fall break, and she finds herself in the back of Guinevere, hiding under a bean bag...

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: None!

Author’s Note: I honestly can’t believe I wrote this but here we are! I haven’t decided if I want to kiss Barley or be his best friend, so until I figure this out here’s this little tidbit that was highly requested. Hope you enjoy! If you do, and you wanna see these characters more, don’t hesitate to ask or shoot some ideas my way!

Masterlist

This was not how you expected your fall break to go. 

Your plans were to come home to New Mushroomton for the break, see family, catch up with old friends, and maybe have a chance to play Quests of Yore with Barley. 

Nowhere on that list had you included hiding under a bean bag in the back of Guinevere, trying not to squirm when being sat on, and definitely trying not to scream at the speed you were currently going. 

You could hear Ian yelling, followed by smaller voices yelling back, and occasionally the sound of a horn and tires squealing. 

Maybe being under the bean bag wasn’t such a bad place to be right now.

A hard jerk of the van sent you colliding with the wall, and the breath was knocked out of your lungs. 

Forget it, under the bean bag was definitely not the place to be right now. 

You’d for sure have a few dark blue bruises whenever all this was over. 

You could hear the boys screaming over something, but you were focused with covering up your sneaker clad foot, which had come out from under the bean bag and hit something across from you when the van had hit a bump a few moments ago. 

Ian and Barley are still screaming at each other, and you’re frantically trying to pull your body back under the bean bag when you hear the click of the back van doors open. 

Your heart stops. 

Now, not only do you have to keep yourself concealed, but you’ve got to make sure you stay in the van. You risk sticking your hand out and grabbing onto something in the wall, and whatever it is, it does it’s job and keeps you in place as the van bucks with each bump in the road. 

You hear the boys have stopped arguing, but the noise of their screaming is replaced with something much worse; police sirens. 

You try not to groan out loud. 

Why did you ever think listening to Ian was a good idea? In what realm is hiding in the back of your best friend’s van, under a bean bag no less, to surprise him a good idea? 

Guinevere comes to a halt and you notice someone stepping out of the back of the van at the same time someone leaves the front. 

Once you hear both doors snap securely shut, you risk sitting up and taking a deep breath of air that doesn’t smell like cheese puffs, the plastic covering of the bean bag, and the carpet Barley probably found in his attic. 

You try to listen to the conversation outside, but all you can hear is Officer Colt, who you were pretty sure was not with the boys when they left. 

Great, you think, if he’s the cop that pulled us over we’re all done for. 

You listen again, this time hearing two female voices. You’ve yet to hear Barley and Ian speak at all, but it’s not like you can get out and further assess the situation. 

As far as you can tell, you’re the only one that knows you’re here, and you don’t plan on changing that anytime soon. 

After a few more moments, you hear footsteps getting closer to the van and you scramble to cover yourself back up with the bean bag. 

One of the boys stomps beside you as if he’s never seen the inside of the van before and then literally falls onto the bean bag, and you have to place your hand over your mouth to keep from screaming at the weight sitting against your chest. 

The van door slams shut as the front one opens, and you still hear what sounds like Officer Colt stepping into the front seat. 

The conversation ends quickly and the door slams shut before Guinevere gallops into movement again, the speed slowly picking up but not enough to summon anymore unwanted cops. 

The van is eerily quiet now, and you can hear the boys mumbling to each other. 

The weight on top of you shifts and stands, and you let out the smallest gasp of relief. It’s hard to relish in the moment though as the music is turned up to eleven and you feel the van jerk again and come to a screeching halt. 

It’s thrown into park and the doors creak open, both boys getting out but leaving them ajar as they do. 

You assume they’re arguing again, and you can’t help but roll your eyes. 

You also can’t help but be mad at the fact that they left the doors open so you can’t move to get comfortable again. That and the music is so loud you’ll never hear them coming back to the van anyways, even if you did want to risk moving around. 

A few more seconds of deafening rock pass by before you feel the van moving, shaking. 

You furrow your eyebrows, wondering if one of those nasty unicorns had decided to chew on the tires, hoping they don’t make their way into the van and decide the dark green bean bag looks like their next five course meal. 

All you can do is focus on staying still and keeping quiet, but your train of thought is interrupted when you feel something tapping the bean bag. 

You try to shift without notice and have to bite down on your tongue to keep from cursing when your foot slips out. 

You freeze, not sure if you’ve been found out or if you’re still safe. 

The tapping against the top of your sneaker proves otherwise. 

You gulp down the inevitable embarrassment and peek out from behind the bean bag, surprised to see neither of the boys, but instead a man wearing khakis and… a hoodie? With sunglasses? 

The tapping on your foot intensifies and you look down to see it’s his foot. It pushes up against your shin, as if urging you to stand up. 

It clicks then that he was probably what you hit earlier when your foot slipped out the first time, but he hadn’t sold you out, so that was a plus. 

“Um, sir, you see I’m not really supposed to be here so I can’t really stand up right now, but if you’d keep watch for me and let me know when they come back that’d be great.” 

You quickly explain, hoping Ian and Barley are so engrossed in whatever argument they’re having that they don’t hear you trying to talk over the music. 

After your explanation, you begin to shrink back under the bean bag, but the man begins almost pulling you out from under it. 

“No please I’m embarrassed enough don’t do this to me, sir. I’m on fall break and I just wanted to surprise Barley and now I have no clue what’s going on and I have to pee and I haven’t eaten in like, twelve hours-“ 

“(Y/N)?” 

At the sound of your name, you freeze, not even daring to look outside. 

The man seems satisfied with his help in your discovery, and he makes his way onto the ground beside the van, starting to dance terribly to the music still streaming from the speakers. 

“I’d recognize those sneakers anywhere.” 

You slowly glance down and quietly curse yourself for wearing the shoes you’d been drawing on in class since high school. 

Barley’s name on the right toe seems to smirk up at you now. 

You slowly stand up, pushing the bean bag to the side and wringing your hands together as you turn to face the boys and step onto the ground. 

“Oh man, I forgot! You’ve been in there the whole time?” Ian asks, rubbing his hand on his forehead. 

You nod slowly. 

“Wait, what?” Barley yelps, a hint of amusement in his words. 

“Surprise,” you say shakily, waving your hands at your side in mini-jazz hand formation. 

Barley laughs as he runs over to you, engulfing you in a hug and lifting you off the ground, spinning you around. You can’t help but smile at his actions, and despite the world spinning, when Barley sets you down you’re laughing with him. 

“You mean you’ve been hiding under that bean bag since we left?” He asks and you nod. 

“Unfortunately. Serves me right for listening to a Lightfoot.” You gesture to Ian and he rubs the back of his neck now. 

“Yeah, sorry about that.” You shrug. 

“Just means you owe me.” 

He groans, skulking off to be with the man from earlier, who’s still dancing.

Terribly, you might add. 

“Oh yeah, man do I have a story to tell you.” 

Barley starts, and the sparkle in his eye makes your heart skip a beat. 

It’d been so long since you’d seen him, you’d forgotten how catching his personality was. 

He could light up a room the second he walked into it, and he was never afraid to be himself. You envied him for that, wishing that you had even half the amount of confidence he did. He told you repeatedly that you had it in you, but that was normally followed by his advice of going on a quest to unleash it. 

“Well Barley, you know how I love your stories.” 

He nods, excited, before pulling you into a hug again. When he pulls away, he holds you at arms length, shaking his head, smile still big as ever. 

“I can’t believe it. You hid under a bean bag!” 

You roll your eyes, smile on your lips to mimic his. 

“Are you gonna tell me the story or not Lightfoot?” 

He laughs and turns you to look at Ian. 

“My brother… is a wizard!” 

At the sound of him being referenced in the conversation, not to mention Barley yelling the word “wizard,” Ian sheepishly turns to face where you two are standing. 

He grabs the man who sold you out and lifts his top half, and your eyes widen when, instead of blue skin, similar to yours and Barley’s and Ian’s, you see blue light. 

You make your way over to him, almost in a trance, and you can’t stop yourself from reaching out and waving your hand over the blue twinkling light emitting from this strange mans waist. 

“It’s our dad. We can bring him back for one day with a visitation spell but we broke our Phoenix gem so we have to go find a new one.” 

Ian rushes out and places the top half of his dad back on his waist. 

You think about the information you’ve just been told before the lightbulb clicks on. 

You turn to Barley standing behind you, a smirk growing on your lips. 

“Does this mean we’re on a quest?” 

You ask, and you think you hear Ian groan behind you. 

As the rock music still pouring out of Guinevere swells to a crest, Barley grins, and brings his hand into a fist in front of his chest, almost in triumph. 

“It most certainly does, your powerfulness!”

[funkymbtifiction]

How I Write, How I Dream: ESTP Edition

Mod: An ESTP asked permission to submit this, since she noticed I do not have an ESTP ‘How I write stories’ description in the archive to match this series. What follows is in her own words.

ESTP: How I Write, How I Dream

So this submission is like 6+ years late topically, I think, but it’s an understatement to say I get side-tracked easily. First I had to be self-aware enough to actually determine my type with confidence, and then I had to remember to write this up. Hopefully it’s an edition that’s better late than never – in any case, I thought it might be fun to contribute, given the frequent lack of Se-dom voices in things like this.

I’m aware that I might be in a comparatively small group as a regular ESTP writer, let alone one familiar with personality typology, but I wrote my first short story at nine for a 4th grade assignment, and then my first full story/intended book when I was eleven, (both of which I immediately proceeded to act out on the playground), so it’s sort of always been a part of my normal retinue of hobbies/coping mechanisms/diversions/distractions. Usually I find that I write the most when I’m bored or otherwise dissatisfied with my real life – sort of using it to spice things up with more exciting events, even if they’re regrettably fictional. I also suspect that I use writing to experience all the interesting things I find myself unable to physically do, at least for the moment – not unlike what your ISTP contributor described. I think sometimes that I use it to subconsciously work through certain concepts, too, until I understand them holistically. It’s like it gives me a way to actually engage and interact with a philosophical concept through tangible expression – through embedding it into [fictional] human behavior. Like how I understand the nuances of the concept of apostasy better for having walked through the plot of Silence (2016) with Scorsese than I would have if it was still just a definition in a theology textbook. Application helps me. (I also had a counselor a while back who told me that I used my writing to work through the emotions I hate to process in real life, but I was never wholly convinced of that or the connection of my plots to my real life events, so jury’s out, I guess.)

When I was a kid, I liked to read a fair-ish amount. Spies were oftentimes my favorite topic, but I also wanted eagerly to be one and owned probably every kid spy gadget ever manufactured for sale at the Spy Museum in D.C., to which I dragged my parents practically every weekend so I could crawl through air vents, etc. However, my favorite children’s series of all was actually the Ingo series by the late Helen Dunmore, which provided me with exciting, nature-based, and [mostly] emotionally satisfying adventures in my lifelong favorite unpredictable environment – underwater. (I also dragged my parents constantly to our local aquarium.) As I got older, the frequency of my reading dropped, and I now find myself usually pulled more towards nonfiction.

[Note – I just realized a lifelong quirk with me and books. I’m sort of ridiculously set on *seeing* the books I own. I mean, I know what I own, but I still constantly get out every book I own on a particular topic just to see them all at once. It makes the knowledge more cohesive for me to concentrate it visually, I guess. Even just the covers. Anyway.]

My writing habits are kind of awful – in that, like alluded to above, I pretty much only write when I either a) am seized by a great idea, or else b) have nothing better to do. I have little ambition to actually publish or anything like that, regardless of encouragement, and I prefer to think of my writing as just a diversion, an amusement for myself alone (though I do crave minimal approval, as I do in anything). In any case, as soon as the pressure of a schedule is attached to my writing, it drains of all joy for me. Much like your ISTP contributor described, I think I hover somewhere between plotter and pantser, depending on the story. Too much planning leads to my feeling like I have no incentive to actually write it, as I’ve already experienced it, and too little leaves me spinning aimlessly with no real direction. I write both prose and screenplays, and the rule seems to hold true for both, overall. Also, whenever I have a problem in my plotting or characters or whatever, I find that I have to step away, go be busy with something else, sometimes for a long while, and when I come back everything just falls into place. I guess unconscious Ti and/or Ni finding solutions? I’m not totally sure how/why that happens.

As my inclusion of screenplay format may suggest, I experience my stories in an incredibly visual way. I think sometimes that my narratives come across very much like movies, with all the requisite limitations and usual lack of character introspection. I feel like I pretty much focus on the observable actions of my characters – I find describing any kind of extended rumination highly unnatural, at least most of the time. Even my planning is highly visual. I have a tendency to graph, chart, draw, and plaster my options all over the walls. It’s ridiculous sometimes, but in many cases I just have to be able to see them all next to each other, even if there’s no other information provided. Like my books, mentioned earlier. It helps clarify my plot choices in my mind. It’s also a quirk/weakness of mine that I am often entirely dependent on outside images for descriptions. I need to find a real person, place, or thing to base my fictional ones on physically if I hope to have any kind of concrete knowledge to allow description. Again, it helps solidify them/it in my mind.

I have another weakness in my writing that often results in much incredulous laughter – I’m often entirely blind to any hidden meaning or symbolism in my own writing. I might get the vaguest sense of something being a good line, but be unsure why until my ISFJ friend starts praising my deep, archetypal references and crafting – and then staring at me when I clearly have no idea what she means. It’s happened several times by this point, and though it makes me laugh, I’ll just blame it on the subconscious inferior Ni. I pretty much never have any kind of goal of being symbolic or laden with deep meaning. If I were ever to try that, I think it would massively stress me out.

In terms of editors, beta readers, or whatever else we want to call those who give solicited criticism – that’s just what I need/want. Criticism. For the most part, I’m incredibly thick-skinned about my writing and would be absolutely fine if someone told me that it was utterly terrible and the whole thing needed revising down to the very concept. That may be because I think many of my concepts are lackluster to start with. But nothing frustrates me so quickly as readers unwilling to actually [and harshly] criticize. I always tell them that I want him/her to rip it to shreds. I mean, that’s the only way it’ll get better. (I’ve made mistakes before by assuming that other writers feel this way, too – my sister did not appreciate my input.)

I write almost exclusively dramas these days, I guess, though of varying subtypes. (I also maintain the availability/ready accessibility of about 10+ stories at any given time of active writing. I bounce between them sometimes based on what I’m feeling like at the moment or what I have a new thought about.) I have a sort of historical drama thing that takes place in the 1680s, a modern drama prompted by a premise of genetic engineering, a Most Dangerous Game kind of hunting/weapons thing, a detective story in the immediate aftermath of WWII, a classic deserted island story, a thing involving the phenomenon of stigmata… the list goes on and shifts constantly.

However, while I’ve typically enjoyed writing, here’s the omnipresent rub – engaging with it for any great amount of time makes me really unhealthy emotionally. I’m pretty sure that after like two or three days primarily working on a story without other overriding priorities, or like six or seven with those scattered distractions, (at best), I’m plummeting straight down to my inferior functions. My historical stories do this even more quickly, because they oftentimes seem to require more mental effort. I get super irritable, drown in self-loathing, start to think that everything real that I want is never going to happen – it’s really not good. The fact of the matter is that while writing is a fun diversion oftentimes, I go insane doing it for too long, because I need to get out and engage. (Thanks to my pesky Se-dom, daring to ask for more than just incessant fidgeting.)

When I do write, however, I’m known for my in-depth research, my character-driven plots, lines some people in my life seem to think are witty or something, and emotional depth, believe it or not. I’ve been complimented on it, as well as my tendency to accurately portray mental/emotional illness. I don’t know. I’ve never thought I was overly talented at such things, but then again, I never paid much attention. Even this write-up has been hard – analyzing my writing like this. It’s not a strength of mine to scrutinize my own habits.

After all, I’m busy – I have to go blast Maroon 5 as I jump off a 20-foot wall yelling, “Parkour!”

I am an ESTP, remember? ;-)

[louiserandom]

Of Stolen Innocence and Ruined Dates

Pairing: Senju Tobirama/Uchiha Madara | Rating: E 

Summary: Madara wants a date.

Tobirama also wants a date, and normally he’d have to ask his ridiculously overprotective brother’s permission first, but he’s feeling rebellious today.

Hashirama just wants to protect his darling Otouto’s innocence—and what the fuck is Tobirama doing naked in Madara’s bed?!

Read on AO3 or continue under the cut :3 Ko-fi info is in the header!

Madara takes a moment to breathe and silently reassure himself that he is, indeed, an exceptionally courageous man.

He was always able to face his fears and unafraid to check under his bed for terrifying giant spiders when he was a child (even though he would have to scramble to one of his brothers’ room more often than not for additional comfort). The latter is a redundant detail, however, since he’s grown into quite the dangerous, deadly, brilliant war strategist and army leader who sent his enemies fleeing in terror from his gunbai. Madara is, in fact, the only one strong enough to fight the fabled God of Shinobi to a standstill... well, was. As he’d learned soon after Konoha’s formation, Tobirama manages the feat just fine as well.

And therein lies the problem, of course. In Senju Tobirama, who seems perfectly content to keep at his paperwork, ever productive and efficient, completely oblivious to Madara’s struggle.

Madara grinds his teeth, groaning inwardly.

What a dick.

A shameless one at that, always flitting about with that overly lose kimono shirt and tight-fitting breeches, sitting with his legs spread out on his chair, lounging on the small couch in the corner or downright sprawled over his desk like some indecent... something.

Even more annoying is Madara’s inability to keep his eyes off him.

It was so godsdamn easy to deal with him before, going from hate to dismissal as they built the foundations of their village and Tobirama stopped being the chief threat to Madara’s only remaining brother. But things took a drastic turn for the worse (or better, as his mind insisted) that fateful day when Madara did learn that he’s not the only one able to match Hashirama in combat. There was something positively tantalizing and admittedly riveting about Tobirama’s genius, how he pushed his already exceptional water style far enough to be able to manipulate not only blood, but the water contained in Hashirama’s Mokuton, which often enough rendered it powerless. Even more surprising was his insistence on only doing the latter in the privacy of highly secluded sparring matches, lest any enemies of the village discover his Anija’s weak spot and take advantage of it.

That was the first time, really, that Madara ever saw something in the Senju that left him hopelessly intrigued. Intrigued enough toーnot stalk him, obviously, of course not, but to watch Tobirama more closely, to notice what made him tick, pick up on the little details Madara had never had an interest in before. He should have known it was a dangerous path, with every time he noticed Tobirama absolutely melt in the presence of children, every time he found Tobirama playing with cats, dogs, birds, even the wild and freakish animals populating the Forest of Death and cooing over them not unlike Hashirama would. Then there were the glimpses Madara got into Tobirama’s personal life, getting more acquainted with his mind-boggling experiments and audacious research that never left Madara bored. Neither did Tobirama’s impeccable training routine which Madara has grown used to running through together in the mornings, and his eager willingness to dance with Madara during their increasingly frequent spars is an added bonus.

Then there’s his efficiently in all matters ranging from politics to economics and infrastructure, which Madara gets to appreciate more now that he’s fled from Hashirama’s clusterfuck of an office to Tobirama’s working space. But that also led to the inconvenience of seeing those loose kimonos and flattering breeches (which Tobirama only tends to wear around Madara, incidentally, behaving more or less proper when Madara masks his chakra and... observes him). And those striking red eyes and messy locks of hair Madara wants to just grab andー

Well, Madara decides, I'm fucked.

Because even he had to admit, despite his best efforts to strangle his stupid fucking impulses before they manifested into fucking feelings, that somewhere along the line, he developed a dangerously persistent crush on his once enemy.

And the fourth night in a row dreaming about Tobirama writhing under him as he kisses him senseless was Madara last godsdamned straw.

He wants a fucking date.

One fucking godsdamned date. Maybe a good, hard fuck on top of that, and that will be the end of it.

(The end of it, he reiterates in his mind just in case.)

So, Madara reminds himself for the umpteenth time in a row that he is exceptionally brave, and he is not afraid to tell the Senju out, godsdammit. Ask him out, he mentally corrects himself, remembering Izuna’s advice on being civil and subtle and whatnot.

Madara can do that. There’s little in this world he can’t do. And Izuna’s assured him that Madara isn’t imagining things, that Tobirama’s gaze does linger a little too long whenever Madara strips in the summer heat. That Tobirama has made far too many an excuse to align his meetings and breaks with Madara’s schedule, rather than Hashirama’s, Izuna’s or Tōka’s.

This speaks to at least a little interest from his side, right?

Madara's sigh rings loudly in his miserable silence. Because of course there's only one fucking way to find out for sure—and the workday drawing to a close as they finish up their remaining concerns for the day seems like the perfect opportunity to embark on his romantic pursuit.

“Oi, Senju,” he starts, wincing at himself because how could he fuck up right from the beginning? “I meanーTobirama?”

The man in question gives him a questioning look from where he’s loungingーagainーon his desk. “Yes, Madara?”

Oh, gods that voice. Deep, and smooth, laced with the delicious inflections that make Madara's insides tingle... what he wouldn’t give to hear it tremble upon a moan.

“Uh.” Madara blinks, yanking himself back to reality. Tobirama is still staring at him with a raised eyebrow and what looks to be an inkling of amusement in his eyes. “I was going to say.” He clears his throat as his voice cracks a little. Fuck. Fuck, fuck. “You look exceptionally hot today,” he blurts out, giving himself another extra strong mental kick for such a foolish slip of the tongue.

Handsome. All he had to say, per Izuna’s careful, repeated instructions, was fucking handsome. Before he can correct himself, though, Tobirama says,

“Hot? Madara, you remember that my body temperature is much lower than is normal and I’m really sensitive to cold, right? It may seem hot to you outside but I’m freezing.”

Ah. He didn’t even get it. Madara sighs with an exasperated roll of his eyes. Calmly continue, he decides, no need to worry in the face of such inexperience.

“I meant,” Madara goes on, punctuating his works with a blatant leer and a smirk, “appealing. Easy on the eye. Handsome, one might say.”

He stops himself before he can overdo it, relishing the sharp intake of breath, the shock flashing briefly in Tobirama’s eyes.

“You mean,” Tobirama says, schooling his expression into casual curiosity, “you might say?”

Madara chuckles. “Why, yes. I’ve been thinking it for quite a while now, in fact, and thought it unproductive to keep this from you any longer.”

“Unproductive to what?” Tobirama asks, and even sans the Sharingan, Madara sees a hint of blush blooming on his pale, sculpted cheeks.

Beautiful.

“Unproductive to beautiful?”

Madara’s hands jerk of their own accord, knocking down half of the stacks of paper already placed dangerously on the edge of his desk. And Izuna warned him, too, to keep control of his limbs, but how is Madara supposed to do that with Tobirama smiling at him like that?!

“I-I didn’t mean to say that,” Madara rushes through his words, “I mean, out loud, I did meanーyou areーbut...” Overdoing it, alarm bells ring in his head. Giving up, he slams his hands on his desk as he stands up and glares at the grinning fool. “Fuck you, Senju! We’re going on a date! Tonight. Any place of your choice. With me,” he clarifies just to be safe, “andーif you want, that is! Yes.” In a desperate bid to fix the disastrous tirade at least a little bit, he says, more of a whisper this time, “I mean. Yes? Or...”

Tobirama laughs.

The utter bastard.

It’s a wonderful melodic sound Madara so rarely hears from him, cherishes each and every time his jokes land just right to gauge at least a chuckle from the man, but the fact that Tobirama is now laughing at him only makes anger boil at the pit of his stomach.

“What the fuck, Senju,” he growls.

“What you’re asking,” Tobirama drawls in a maddeningly playful manner, “is whether I'll consider accompanying you for a pleasant dinner tonight, just the two of us?”

That godsdamned look. Eyes narrowed suggestively as they glide over Madara’s body before locking with his eyes. The grin Madara now realizes is far from just that, watching, mesmerized, as Tobirama’s tongue slips out to wet his lips in a downright debauched manner.

Oh, gods. This man is going to be the death of him. And thinking back now to the time he distinctly remembers both Tobirama and Izuna supervising Hashirama’s questionable attempts to woo the Princess of Uzushio, Tobirama had to have gotten the meaning of Madara’s first flirting attempt.

Madara has just been played. And he’s enjoying it, too, the masochist he apparently is.

“Yes,” he grinds through his teeth, hoping the gravity of his glare impresses upon Tobirama just how pissed he is and pleading Amaterasu that it’s not a blush warming his cheeks as he seethes. “So, Senju? Don’t try my patience.”

Another chuckle escapes that infuriating, kissable mouth.

“You are ridiculous,” Tobirama says, the absolute bastard, “and nowhere near eloquent. But I must say I’m intrigued. If only because you’re...” He gives Madara another once-over, seemingly searching for the right term. “Cute.”

“W-whaーwho are you calling cute!” Madara shrieks despite himself, springing over his desk and stalking up to Tobirama to jam a finger into his chestーdistractingly prominent underneath the tight shirt he’s wearing. “Don’t you dare call me that to my face if you don’t wish to die.”

“Why, I was hoping you’d give me at least one little death today,” Tobirama purrs.

Andーwell. Whatever Madara was planning to yell next flies completely over his head, and damn his brain for shutting off completely in favor of imagining those lips stretched not in a grin but around Madara’sー

“But I suppose we really shouldn’t get ahead of ourselves,” Tobirama says, covering Madara’s hand with his and lowering it gently. “I’m intrigued but...” He scowls. “I really should be asking Anija’s permission first.”

That brings Madara back to reality. “Permission? From Hashirama?” Madara frowns. “What are you, twelve? Why do you need the loghead’s permission for things concerning your personal life?”

Tobirama rolls his eyes. “Anija is... protective. Overprotective,” he corrects himself, before sighing heavily. A crazy urge compels Madara to squeeze his hand in reassurance before Tobirama can let him go. “Really fucking overbearing. I hate it. But we’ll all be better off if we get his consent first. He might ground me.”

“Ground you?” It doesn’t make any sense. The most efficient warrior Madara knows, seen as the White Demon by clueless fools and as the incredible genius he is by those who know him, a shinobi capable of standing up to the idiot their kind considers God being grounded by said decidedly ungodlike idiot is... mind-boggling, to say the least.

“He’s my Anija,” Tobirama says, long-suffering, as if that explains everything. Madara keeps staring. Tobirama sighs again, his thumb rubbing circles onto Madara’s wrist as he collects his thoughts before speaking again. “I allow it, really. He hasn’t been the same since Kawarama and Itama died, and there’s this anxiety and fear he has of me being in danger or taken advantage of by others. He’s never unreasonable, though, and you’re his best friend. I’m sure he’ll be lenient.”

Madara makes a face. “Perhaps.” The important thing, he thinks, is to avoid letting on exactly what he’d like to do to Hashirama’s younger brother. Madara is sure he wouldn’t be so ‘lenient’ if he knew. “It’s still strange.”

“Tell me about,” Tobirama groans, a helpless look in his eyes, “I even have a curfew.”

“What if,” Madara asks, “we’re back before the curfew?”

Tobirama glances at the watch. “We have three hours,” he says, tentative, “and we have to be impeccably cautious unless you want the Mokuton up your ass.”

“Literally?”

“Literally.”

“We are great shinobi precisely because we can be careful, Tobirama,” Madara says, lifting their still interlocked hands to give Tobirama’s a gentle kiss. “So I say let’s give it a try.”

Tobirama fixes him with a thoughtful, conflicted gaze for but a moment, yet even that seems too long, with Madara’s heart still racing from the brief conversation they’ve had, anticipating an actual fucking date with the manーthe geniusーhe couldn’t help but fall for, if only Tobirama saysー

“Yes.” Tobirama’s smile is a dazzling thing. “Let’s.”

One minute stretches past Tobirama’s curfew, and Hashirama is ready to crawl out of his skin. Not having his brother near him for their evening tea and easy conversation before bed is... a struggle. It's been a tradition of theirs for as long as he could remember, save for the evenings of battle, and Hashirama cherished each moment he spent with his little brother, the unambiguous reminder that he was alive, safe, and right there.

(Not like the two bodies, bloodied and broken and far too little, resting too small graves in a forgotten compound littered with the countless sacrifices of a meaningless war.)

Of course, he realizes that will soon be spending most of his evenings with Mito instead, that Tobirama had long been planning his move out of their shared home to give them privacy. And however much he’s enamored with his future wife, Hashirama can scarcely imagine not being near his brother at least half of any given day, the insidious fear of peacetime shattering and devolving into another bout of bloodshed ceaselessly clawing at his mind. 

It's fine, Anija, Tobirama would placate him were he here, as he always is, to listen to Hashirama's worries. I can take care of myself. You know this.

The clock ticks on, merciless, and soon enough it’s two minutes of Tobirama being lateーwhich he never is unless he’s in serious troubleーso, without further ado, Hashirama springs to his feet and runs out of the house. Channeling his chakra into the wood and plants around him is second nature by now, and he commands them to search the village and beyond for his Otouto, to immediately incapacitate any threat that might be endangering him. He follows their lead, little by little deciphering their vague, pulse-like 'speech’ which is more visual than resembling an audial message. Only the oldest trees, which have had time and put effort into studying humans around them, are able to communicate in the more normal sense of the term.

Luckily, Hashirama stumbles upon one of those soon enough.

Hello there, Kotomi, he greets the ancient willow tree stationed by the Administration Tower like the guard it is, unbeknownst to most people.

Looking for your Otouto? Kotomi asks, an inexplicable hint of derision in their tone.

Yes! Hashirama says, frantic. I think he’s in trouble. Do you know where he’s gone? He should have been back by now.

Don’t worry so much. He’s with the flailing firestarter. Having fun.

Madara? Hashirama frowns. The trees have taken to calling all the Uchiha firestarters and only ever use the word flailing to describe Madara, whose agitation and screaming seems to annoy them more often than not. Why would Tobirama break curfew for Madara? And are you sure it’s fun they’re having and not a fight?

Oh, they’re fighting all right, Kotomi actually tries imitating a giggle, which confuses Hashirama further, about who’s going to end up on top, apparently.

As the reality of the situation dawns on Hashirama, he can feel a different type of devastating horror overtaking him, as he realizes it’s not exactly Tobirama’s life he must fear for, but his innocence.

And to think his best friend would betray him this way. Hashirama clenches his fists, letting unbridled wrath wash over him in waves as he follows Kotomi’s direction towards Madara’s house.

Best friend or no, he will have to answer for his crimes.

Tobirama should have known they wouldn’t be able to make it in time for curfew. But, trapped now against the wall with his legs wrapped around Madara’s waist as he’s being kissed senseless, Tobirama finds he’s long since stopped caring.

Because they’ve been at this for an hour. A long, agonizing hour they intended, in all seriousness, to spend over tea at Madara’s place before Tobirama went back home but spectacularly failed to keep their hands to themselves. It should have been obvious, really; the closeness, their spirits high from a dinner date that went perfectly, the palpable desire in their chakra they could both sense and relished in how their signatures resonated. Fueled by just a touch of alcohol in place of the tea, then by a far-too-passionate kiss goodbye and just enough groping to warrant a continuation in the bedroom.

Madara’s bedroom. Which feels unreal, and even more so when Madara didn’t even manage to carry Tobirama all the way over to the bed, instead pinning him against the wall and trading shallow, intermittent kisses for a much more thorough exploration of Tobirama’s mouth, tongue hot, and demanding, and steadily driving Tobirama insane with want.

Tobirama moans, despite his efforts to keep quiet, too overwhelmed and craving to get Madara’s hands on him. Not like they are now, feeling him up through his clothes, but flush against his skin, sliding over his cock, moving inside him like he’s fantasized about far too oftenー

“Fuck,” Madara groans against his lips as they part for breath, just for a moment before leaning in for another messy, bruising kiss.

“Me, please,” Tobirama pants, pulling away this time to urge Madara towards their destination. “Bed.”

The ease with which Madara hauls him towards the futon only turns Tobirama on further, and he can’t help the keens and whimpers that escape as Madara claws his shirt off. His hands are finally on Tobirama’s chest, grazing his nipples, fingers digging into his sides as his chakra flares, hot and crackling, surging with lust and melding with Tobirama’s own as their cocks press together through too thick clothing.

“You haven’t actually done this before, have you?” Madara asks, voice lower than usual and strained as he speaks, pinning Tobirama with a gaze dark with unbridled desire.

Tobirama groans. “Was it that obvious?”

“You kiss well for a first time,” Madara says, grinning as he leans down to press his lips to Tobirama’s neck, “but I’m a sensor too, you know. You’d do well to calm down a bit.”

“I’m notーno, that’s not it,” Tobirama says, averting his eyes. As if he hasn’t lost count of how many times he’s touched, fingered himself, fucked himself with painfully insufficient toys with Madara’s name on his lips. And yet there’s treacherous embarrassment spiking up, fear creeping in that he’ll simply disappoint. “I am worried I’ll do something wrong.”

“Don’t be,” Madara whispers against his ear, kisses traveling down to his jaw and to his lips. “The only thing that can upset me is you not enjoying this.”

“I am,” Tobirama breathes, a shudder running through his body as Madara moves back to his neck, sucking bruises onto sensitive skin, making the pleasure all the more overwhelming.

“Good. But I’d like to do this right,” Madara says firmly, so unlike his usual blustering self, “and take things slow if you want. How about we keep things here for now?”

Tobirama amplifies the spike of annoyance in his chakra, lashing out with it enough to catch Madara off guard and flip them around.

“How about no?” he says, tugging Madara’s own overshirt off, relishing the thick, rippling muscles revealed for him to explore. “At least teach me how to suck you off. I’m a fast learner.”

“Fuck.” Madara squeezes his eyes shut, and Tobirama could swear he feels his cock twitch against his, though that may have just been his imagination. “You can’t just say things like that, Tobirama!”

“I can and I will.” Tobirama smirks, content to know he’s snared his target as Madara lets out a strangled moan when Tobirama palms him through his pants. “And do them, too, if you’ll let me.”

So contrary to his usual explosive nature, Madara seems conflicted, hesitant, even as Tobirama definitely feels his cock twitch this time.

This won’t do.

His own heart racing, throat dry and blood running hot, Tobirama leans in to mouth at his neck in an imitation of what Madara did to him before, just to test how sensitive he is.

The sound it earns him is divine. As is the way Madara’s grips his waist, pulling him closer, tangling a hand in Tobirama’s hair, tugging slightly as he trails a path of open-mouthed kisses to Madara’s chest.

“Tobirama...”

He keeps eye contact all the while, watching Madara bite his lip, trying and failing to hold in another groan, struggle to keep his eyes open, flickering between dark and red as his chakra flares hot like the fires of his jutsu. Beautiful, Tobirama thinks. So hot, panting and shivering under him, when all Tobirama is doing is lapping at his nipple, sucking it into his mouth, teeth just shy of grazing it. Then again, the taste of Madara’s skin, the closeness, the delicious feel of his chakra and the sounds he coaxes from the man are intoxicating, and Tobirama soon finds himself thrusting lightly against Madara’s thigh, hands wandering lower to touch him through his pants, finding him hard and already leaking through the fabric, andー

Another flare of pleasure, echoed by Tobirama’s own signature. He squeezes his eyes shut, overwhelmed, heat pooling in the base of his stomach as his cock aches for someーanyーkind of stimulation.

All right, maybe he’s a little overenthusiastic.

That isn’t any reason to stop, obviously.

Yet Madara’s sudden laugh, dark and low and feral for lack of any better word to describe it, gives Tobirama pause.

He moans, despite himself, as Madara’s grip on his hair tightens and he draws him up and away from his treat, and opens his eyes to the sight of a purely animalistic look on Madara’s face. Flushed, and panting, and still squirming under Tobirama’s hands, there’s no prior hesitation in his gaze, only pure, unbridled need.

Tobirama swallows heavily.

(Gods forbid Madara catches Tobirama actually drooling over him. What he does and doesn’t do behind closed doors is irrelevant; what Madara sees shouldn’t be as humiliating.)

"Teach you to suck me off, huh,” Madara says, voice closer to a growl as he cards his fingers through Tobirama’s hair, his other hand reaching down to still Tobirama’s that’s still palming his cock and guide him to a more languid rhythm. “You are infuriatingly eager.”

“And you,” Tobirama pants, “are infuriatingly slow. Honestly, I thought you’d be more efficient.”

It probably isn’t that convincing, what with Tobirama breaking into a gasp as Madara flares his chakra far, far stronger than he has up to this point, firewantlustsearing sensations prickling through Tobirama’s whole body, eliciting a whimper he’d be ashamed of if he had the capacity to be so, as his mind seems to self-destruct for a blinding flash of a moment.

Tobirama comes to slowly, thoughts still foggy, to the feel of Madara dragging his head towardsーoh. His cock, hard and slick with precome, bigger than Tobirama had expected even as he’d felt the girth through the fabric before.

“Whaー” Tobirama asks, because he’s certain Madara is saying something, if only the ringing in his ears would let him process it.

“I said get to work if you want it so much,” Madara command, the gaze blazing red now, tomoe spinning, recording this into memory which makes Tobirama all but preen under the scrutinyーand in the face of Madara’s devastating grin. “Go on. I’ll guide you through it.”

Tobirama lets out a shaky breath, ignoring his own cock pulsing, trapped painfully by the far-too-tight pants he’s taken to wearing to provoke more of Madara’s unsubtle ogling. Leaning down, he has time enough only to wrap his lips around the head of Madara’s cock, mouth stretching around hot, slick skin, the heady taste of precome on his tongueー

ーbefore the window crashes open and Tobirama’s mind flashes back to all the times he’d had to witness his Anija and Madara shout each other’s names stupidly across the battlefield.

“MADARA!”

Tobirama releases Madara with a not-quite decent pop which prompts Hashirama’s dramatic gasp.

“WH-WHY-HOーWOULD YOU FUCKING EXPLAIN WHAT THE FUCK YOU ARE DOING WITH MY LITTLE BROTHER?!”

“What the fuck am Iーit’s none of your godsdamned business!” Madara scrambles to shove himself back in his pants. Tobirama almost wishes he wouldn’t; maybe continuing with the blowjob out of spite would have scandalized Anija enough for him to run off. “Get the fuck out of my house!”

“Will not! Why are you keeping Tobirama past his curfew?”

“Why does a full-fledged adult need a curfew, you worthless fucking tree stump?”

“So he’s not exposed to people who are intent on defiling him,” Hashirama says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, “like you, apparently! Madara, I expected better from my best friend.”

“And I didn’t expect you to be a fucking control freak,” Madara shouts. “You don’t see me stalking and cockblocking Izuna, do you?”

“Well, no, but that only means I’m more diligent in looking out for my Otouto,” Hashirama huffs.

“What the hell are you implying?” Madara growls, chakra crackling like it does every time before he throws a punch or sets a fire.

Tobirama sighs, giving up his attempt at meditation from where he’s settled cross-legged next to Madara’s flailing form.

“Anija,” he intervenes, “may I remind you...”

“Tobi.” Hashirama turns towards him, an almost pitying look in his eyes. “Please don’t believe whatever lies Madara spouted at youーejaculate is not a healthy bedtime snack!”

Oh, gods. Not the healthy bedtime snacks again.

“What the fuckー” Madara looks about ready to implode now, and Tobirama places a hopefully comforting hand on his shoulder.

“To be fair, he is right,” Tobirama concedes, resisting the urge to simply Hiraishin out of the situation and leave the two idiots to deal with it themselves. But that would disprove his following point. “But I must once again remind you, Anija, that I am a grown-up. I have been killing people since I was four, and I improved the efficiency of our clan’s entire taxing policy when I was twelve. A possibleー” one-night stand, dalliance, arrangement, “ーrelationship is nothing I can’t handle.”

Tobirama hates how his heart skips a beat as he glances to see Madara’s reaction, only to find him still staring at Hashirama, a mesh of confusion and anger battling in his chakra as he alternates between confused whispers of “what the fuck” and “bedtime snacks.”

“Butーbut I had a glass of milk and your favorite cookies ready and you weren’t there,” Hashirama whines, lip quivering as his face crumpling in a way that only ever leads to tears.

“Anija, I will be there next time,” Tobirama says firmly, “I promise. But tonight, I’d like to spend with Madara.” He gives his brother a look that hopefully conveys get the fuck out of here, Anija enough for Hashirama to understand.

But of course not.

“So, what,” Hashirama says, throwing his hands up, “you’re now going to spend all your time with Madara and completely forget about me?”

Tobirama sighs. “No. All I wanted was a date, Anija.”

“A date which ends with him stealing your innocence?!”

Tobirama closes his eyes and counts to ten as he replies, “If I say no, will you believe me?” He was tempted to say, Yes, and I’ll enjoy every fucking moment of it, but decided against it, if only to keep Madara’s barely coherent stuttering and wheezing from turning into a full-fledged seizure.

“Yes! If you come back home for bedtime snacks after a perfectly serviceable date, I’m sure,” Hashirama says, classic puppy dog eyes in full swing, “because Madara, if you’re courting my brother, you have to take it slow and woo him properly!”

Madara’s reply to that is a low, threatening growl now that he’s shaken himself out of the shock. Just in case, Tobirama tightens the grip on his shoulder. It wouldn’t do for Konoha to be destroyed by these two after the recent anniversary of its founding.

“Anija,” Tobirama says as calmly as he is able (which is, admittedly, bordering on furious), "since I consider it preferable that ‘wooing’ me ‘properly’ includes at least one fucking blowjob this evening, stop spying on me, leave us be and I will talk to you tomorrow.”

“Waitー”

Completely ignoring his Anija’s hysterical flailing, Tobirama tugs on one of the Hiraishin markers in his bedroom, and the next second he and Madara land in a heap of tangled limbs on his futon, well withinー

“...the professional Anija-repellent traps I’ve developed over the years,” Tobirama explains while Madara struggles to get his bearings, “so we shouldn’t be disturbed anymore. IーI’m sorry about that.”

“What the fuck,” Madara seethes, eyes still wide and hair sticking out from his insistent pulling on it during Anija’s tirade, “even was that?”

Tobirama sighs, rolls his eyes, and decides to answer with a kiss, hard, wet and sloppy, hopefully distracting enough to keep Madara’s mind away from pesky cockblocking idiots who will be wise to stay away if they value their wellbeing. And blessedly, Madara kisses him back after but a moment of stillness, the wild mess of confusion and irritation that is his chakra mellowing, gradually, into the familiar simmer of heat, scorching, electrifying, melding with Tobirama’s desire in turn.

“How about,” he suggests amid short-lived open-mouthed kisses, unfastening Madara’s breeches somewhat clumsily in his urgency, “we focus on more... pressing matters, shall we?”

Madara lets out a surprised laugh, gaze never leaving Tobirama as he forges a wet trail with his lips down Madara’s chest. “Still so eager to, uh, part with your innocence, I see,” he tries for a joke which breaks off into a harsh breath as Tobirama sinks down to lick at the head of his half-hard cock, stifling a moan at the feel of it twitching against his lips.

“You have no idea,” he murmurs with a self-satisfied smirk before focusing entirely on the very hard, very mouthwatering task at hand.

[amandaoftherosemire]

Bulletproof -- Part Eleven

Fandom: Marvel/College AU

Pairing: Bucky Barnes X Reader, Platonic!Steve Rogers x Reader

Characters: Bucky Barnes, Gamora, Natasha Romanoff, Thor Odinson, Sam Wilson, Loki Odinson, Peter Quill, OFC Lilah Robbins

Author: @amandaoftherosemire​

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 4,450

Format: Series (Complete)

Warnings: 18+ only, Smut, language, binge drinking, sex in public, intoxicated confessions, angst.

Summary: You and Bucky go with Gamora and Nat to a frat party. Shenanigans ensue. Bucky hears some hard truths.

A/N: Look, it had to happen at some point. That’s all I’m saying.

Banner by: @hellzzzbelle

Part Ten here

 Part Eleven

You walked to Quill's fraternity house with Gamora and Nat leading the way and Bucky's arm around your shoulders. He'd insisted on walking with the three of you, claiming he needed protection and knew he’d be safe with the three of you.

“Well,” he murmured hotly into your ear, “safe with them. You’re another story, babygirl.”

Your skin went hot and your lips twitched. Snorting, you drilled your finger into the sensitive spot on his stomach. “Shut up.” Your voice was a stern mutter, but your face was a study in smug.

On the sidewalk ahead of you, Gamora and Natasha shared an amused eye roll at the two of you. They were both a little baffled that the two of you seemed to think you were fooling anyone. Still, even Natasha had come around by the time you reached the party, too charmed by the energy of fun and affection between you.

She'd believed Gamora when she'd insisted that Bucky was stupid in love with you, but she didn't necessarily think that meant he wouldn’t hurt you. Seeing you light up under his obvious devotion, however, she was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. The fact that you were clearly setting the rules and boundaries, with Bucky following your lead, helped her understand why neither Gamora nor Steve had interfered in any way.

That you were oblivious to the reality of the dynamics of your relationship with Bucky had her deeply concerned, though. She worried that you were laboring under misconceptions fueled by assumptions. A student of cause and effect, she knew no good could come of confusion, unless there was an order underlying the chaos. As you didn't know you held the reins, you couldn't be directing the course. Natasha planned to discuss this with Gamora at the first available opportunity.

To that end, about an hour after they'd arrived, she went looking for Gamora and instead found Bucky, in the goddamn laundry room, lip-locked with Lilah fucking Robbins. Her face cold and cruel with the plans of revenge running through her head, Natasha pulled her phone from her pocket and began recording.

Bucky was in full-blown panic mode. Gamora had come and taken you from him, laughingly insisting that she needed you for 'girl talk'. (He shuddered to think what girl talk might entail when the girls were you and your friends. He’d never met more dangerous women.) Bucky had decided to play it safe and stay in the crowd around the beer pong table where Sam was winning against a progressively more intoxicated, and thus sassier, but no less able, Thor Odinson. He was having fun until he saw Lilah Robbins stalking toward him in a tight dress designed to raise the blood pressure. He’d made his first mistake by running; predators cannot resist a chase.

Which is how he found himself once again in another frat house laundry room with a pretty girl he was wishing was you wrapped around him.

This time, however, he'd said no before the wrapping.

Trying to be gentle, but also supremely pissed, Bucky put both hands firmly around Lilah's shoulders and yanked her away from him.

"Goddammit, woman," he spat out, infuriated to find himself in this position and utterly sick to his stomach in fear that he'd be the unluckiest bastard on the planet and you'd come walking in on this farce. "No means no, Lilah, the fuck?"

"Oh, come on, Bucky," she purred and pouted, "You know you didn't mean it."

"I told you," Bucky didn't let go of her shoulders, the look in her eye telling him she'd be crawling all over him if he did, "I’m not interested. Even if I was, I'm involved with someone." With that, he pushed her back gently, but with disgust. "And if I pulled bullshit like this, it'd be sexual assault."

Bucky turned to walk out but paused when Lilah shot back, her voice full of venom, "Who is it? Y/N? The girl next door?"

"Keep your fucking mouth shut about y/n," he growled without turning around, anger coming alive in his voice for the first time.

"Get some standards, Bucky."

Rather than respond with the obvious, Bucky simply scoffed, “Please.” With only that, he walked out, so irritated by the whole thing that the small redhead who'd melted into the shadows behind a stack of boxes near the door easily escaped his notice.

Natasha sent you the video along with a text instructing you to listen to the end before putting the phone back in her pocket and easing into Lilah's view with a smile. She figured Bucky deserved a little assistance since he'd done so well.

"I have to say,” she spoke conversationally as the other woman spun around in surprise, "I don't know why you're wasting your time there." The pretty smile took on a sultry edge. "What you need is some imagination. If you're looking to fuck someone unsuitable--" she shrugged and moved forward, "--there are all sorts of options."

Natasha's smile spread, sultry turning feral, when her meaning struck Lilah and was considered rather than rejected. Hey, the things she did for her friends.

After his narrow escape, Bucky ended up looking through half the house before he found you back in the den. Infuriatingly, he found you in Thor's arms. Granted, you were giggling and shaking your head as Thor bounced up and down and chanted, "Keg stand! Keg stand! Keg stand!"

Gamora was laughing and trying to muffle Quill, who was chanting with Thor and inspiring others to join in.

"What're you doin' with my girl, there, Odinson?" Bucky's voice sailed across the chant and had your head snapping toward him eagerly.

You'd been looking for him when you found Thor, who'd lost thoroughly to Wilson and wanted to share his good fortune. You were careful with alcohol under normal circumstances; a frat party meant one beer in a bottle that you'd fill with water when the beer was gone. You'd long ago found that you had to have a drink in your hand, or you'd spend the night fending off offers to get you more alcohol.

On the other hand, Bucky had just called you his girl in front of a whole crowd of your friends. Tonight was shaping up to be a different kind of frat party. That was proved over again when Thor grinned happily at you and squeezed until you squeaked and boomed, "KEG STAND!"

By this time, Bucky had made his way through the throng to your side. Thor set you down but grabbed your hand to draw you toward the keg in the kitchen. You shot Bucky a look of amused exasperation but didn't resist. "Apparently I'm doing a keg stand," you remarked dryly as you allowed Thor to lead you astray. "You wanna hold my legs, Bug?"

Bucky looked sharply at you, a warning in his face in response to the mischief in yours. "Like I'd let anyone else," he retorted with a smirk as he followed you into the kitchen.

"Gamora!" you called over your shoulder, thinking about the surprise you had for Bucky, "Come make sure I don't show everyone my ass!"

Once you were in the kitchen, Thor pushed the crowd around the tapped keg out of the way. He picked up the tap spout and gestured toward the squat metal cylinder like Vanna White toward your new car. You laughed again, though you were highly uncertain about this particular risky decision. You hadn't done lasting damage to your body by binge drinking, but you didn't like to push your luck, either.

Still, Bucky had that sexy grin on his face, the one that incited you to swing higher, jump farther, go faster. He'd let you down the last time you'd crashed and burned, but these days you were willing to give him a chance to make it up to you. When Gamora gave you a searching look, you smiled fully at her and took a firm hold on the metal rim at the handles. Bucky wrapped his left arm around your legs, careful to smooth his hand over your knee-length dress to preserve your modesty, and lifted them up over his shoulder until you were upside down.

Gamora stepped back to clear a little space around you as Bucky had your ass literally covered but smirked a little when she saw the unimpeded view of your cleavage Thor was currently enjoying.

"Tug my ear when you're done, cutie,” Thor rumbled with his beautiful smile. You gave him a hot look from under your lashes, remembering that Thor loved when you’d played with his ears. You didn’t take the flirting personally, despite the endearment. Thor was a handful; it was part of his appeal. Sometimes you didn’t know how you handled the overabundance of attractiveness around you.

“Quit looking at my tits, Odinson,” you muttered with a smirk before taking the offered spout.

Thor’s grin flashed. “I’m only human, cutie,” he answered before pressing the button and starting the count.

You weren’t paying any further attention, drinking quickly. You planned to hold out for a ten count, long enough to salve your pride but not so long you ended up plastered and puking. At least, that was until you heard Thor’s brother shout, “No push-up?! Then it's not a keg stand!”

Your hands tightened around the handles as Bucky's arms tightened around your legs. The moment he heard the taunt, he knew you'd be rising to the bait. You never could resist a challenge. He wasn't disappointed when you pushed up once, twice, three times to Thor's roar of laughter. When you finished the third push-up, you reached out and grabbed Thor's ear, running your thumb over the lobe and making him laugh harder. He dropped the spout as Bucky carefully lowered your legs to the floor.

You were only just upright when Thor was scooping you up until you were sitting on his shoulder above the crowd as he shouted, "Bow before your Queen, brother!"

From your position on his shoulder, you easily met Loki's eyes with a raised eyebrow and barely restrained glee. With a mocking smile, the wickedly handsome man swept a gallant bow. When he met your eyes again, he nodded an acknowledgement and stated, "Keg stand."

Bucky stood, dumbstruck, smiling up at you as you threw your head back and laughed while Thor set you back down. There were moments when you were so beautiful, when the love rose up into his throat and nearly choked him. He could only stand and grin at you in moments like these, lost in the wonder of it.

Gamora wasn't a romantic; she didn't have that luxury, but even her heart sighed a little at the look of pure, unrelenting adoration all over Bucky as he stood and stared at you. You hadn't noticed; once you were on your feet, Thor was kneeling before you, calling you Keg Queen and you were rolling your eyes and pushing him over. Unable to stand it, and wanting to give Bucky a hand, she decided to intervene through distraction.

"My turn!" she announced gaily and stepped forward. "Thor, hold my legs. Peter, grab the tap."

Thor turned toward her with delight as Peter stepped forward with a grin. Gamora rarely played party games of any sort; both men were excited to corrupt her. As soon as Thor was out of the way, Bucky was grabbing your hand and dragging you out of the room. "I need to talk to you."

"But, Bucky," you could feel the alcohol start to hit you as you tried to keep up and pull your phone out of your pocket at the same time, "I've never seen G do a keg stand!"

To your surprise, amusement, and excitement, Bucky was pulling you into what looked like a linen closet, but it was full of sports equipment. You kicked a muddy cleat out of your way and chuckled, "Bucky, you romantic."

You stuffed the phone back in your skirt pocket, the video Natasha had sent you forgotten. You'd been about to watch whatever she'd sent when Thor had started in about keg stands but being alone with Bucky in a closet had other things taking priority.

Namely, Bucky's mouth as it came down on yours, his arms sliding around you to pull you in close. His lips were soft, but his kiss was hard, almost bruising as his hand came up to cup the back of your head. His metal arm was tight around your waist as you pressed your body against his from thigh to breast, kissing him back with equal fervor.

Your hands came up to tangle in his hair, your fists gripping for leverage as you shuddered in desire. Tearing your mouth from his to suck in a breath, you arched your neck when he buried his face in your throat to take the skin between his teeth.

“Bucky, what the hell?” you gasped, your tone both amused and appreciative as you rocked your hips against his erection.

“I don’t like Thor’s paws on you,” he muttered against your throat, his own paws growing more avid as the hums of pleasure sounding in your throat urged him on.

When Bucky had teased about talking you into a closet to make out, you hadn't expected to be dragged into one to be ravished. You weren't complaining; you were simply surprised. As Bucky's annoyed statement seeped through the fog of lust his mouth and hands had created, you jolted in shock. "Are you jealous?" you asked in a voice rich with surprise.

"Are you kidding me?" His hands had wandered by now down to your ass to grip and lift to press you with his body against the wall. You assisted him by wrapping your arms around his neck and hitching one leg around his hip to open yourself to him. He lifted his head from your throat to glare with desire tinged with green into your eyes. "Of fucking course I'm jealous. I don't want anyone's hands on you but mine."

You shuddered in arousal when Bucky growled the word mine before taking your mouth with a ferocious kind of tenderness. He'd never kissed you like this before, with lightly punishing nips of his teeth and soothing sweeps of his tongue. His kiss, his touch held a wealth of emotion as he worshipped you with hands and lips though both also held frustration and impatience.

You pulled your mouth from his again to turn your head and take his earlobe between your teeth as he skimmed his hand up the back of your thigh and under your skirt. When his hand slowed at the discovery that you weren't wearing anything under the dress, you laughed throatily in his ear and whispered, your words and breath sending chills down his spine and making an already painful erection excruciating, "I don't know why. I would never fuck Thor in a filthy frat house closet."

The bass pumping through the wall was no match for your heart when with almost rough movements, Bucky disentangled himself from you to spin you around. Your hands came up to press against the wall as you bent to push your ass against the hard-on trying to burst from behind his zipper.

He reached behind him to grope for the doorknob, praying for a lock. “Thank god,” you heard him mutter right before his flesh hand cupped a breast while the other slipped up under your skirt to slide between your thighs. You moaned a little as Bucky nuzzled into your neck behind your ear, his breath sending goosebumps over your skin even as your hips rocked fretfully against his hand.

“Babygirl,” he purred, and you whimpered in response, "I'm not going to argue, because I'm not an asshole." As he spoke, he was arranging you just so, stepping back and pulling your hips with him as you kept your hands against the wall to brace yourself. He stayed wrapped around you, his teeth scraping over the nape of your neck. "Or an idiot. But that's not what I meant, and you know it."

The next second, he was straightening to unbutton his jeans and shove his underwear down with his metal hand. The other slipped between your legs from behind, his fingers sliding smoothly into you, wanting to feel you on his skin. Despite the quick, rough foreplay, you were already more than wet enough. It never seemed to take any time at all to get you ready, at least with him.

Bucky couldn't resist taking a moment to enjoy the feel of you, thrusting two long, rough digits gently into you, then ever so slowly pulling them from your soaking pussy. You bucked your hips in irritation when his calloused fingers began to slide slowly back into you like he had all the time in the world and wasn't banging you in a closet during a party.

"Bucky! Go-o!" You used the same childish singsong you'd always used when you were getting impatient, the same moment as Bucky was pushing his cock into you, his laugh rumbling through him and into you.

"Baby," he smirked, his voice almost aching. His fingers dug into your hips, the first thrust making you gasp. "I love when you ask for it."

A while later, Bucky covered your exit from the closet after peeking out to make sure the coast was clear. You ran to the bathroom to clean up, ruing your decision to not wear underwear when you remembered what kind of house you were in. You were closest to the half-bath near the mudroom, which turned out to be to your fortune as its out of the way location left it with plenty of tissue. Once you looked and felt presentable, you went looking for Bucky.

When you found him, he was on a couch in the den arguing with Sam as they watched the pool game/mating dance between Gamora and Quill. The moment you walked into the room, his eyes were on you and he was offering his lap for a seat with a lecherous grin. You accepted with a laughingly affectionate roll of the eyes and a light shove.

Hours later, after your own loss at beer pong to first Sam, then Bucky, you were murmuring sweet nothings in Bucky's ear as he helped you into a piggyback ride to carry you home. His immoderate chuckling in response was only made worse by the sharp look Gamora was giving him as he tried to look innocent. He didn't know if she could hear you, but he wouldn't be surprised.

By the time he was carrying you up the stairs to your apartment, you had spent the entire walk home telling him about how pretty and sexy and sweet you thought he was. Bucky was feeling mighty fine about his mission to show you how he'd changed. As Gamora had made sure he had your key to get in, he didn't even need to ask for your help.

This was undoubtedly for the best as you had made it to sleepy, too honest drunk. If you were in any fit state to be concerned, you'd have been terrified to be alone with Bucky while this particular brand of intoxication was guiding your behavior. As it was, you'd spent the time you weren't babbling sweetly at Bucky nuzzling into the back of his neck and making happy noises. He was on cloud nine.

He carried you back into your bedroom, an inner sanctum he hadn't been welcome in, in any capacity, for years. Crossing the threshold felt like destiny, but by the time he had helped you clamber down, taken off your shoes, and helped you into your bed, his heart was mush. He couldn't help it; you were adorably drunk and affectionate. He sat on the side of your bed, his hand smoothing over your forehead, marveling at the fact that he even found the crescents of your lashes beautiful as they rested against your cheeks.

"Good night, babygirl," he murmured, his hand gentle as his thumb traced the soft line of your jaw. The longing to climb in the bed with you, wrap you close and fall asleep with your breath on his skin, was almost painful. He sat for a minute with the flutter of hope in his throat that someday soon you'd allow it.

You turned your face into his palm, too sleepy, too intoxicated to hide the softness that lived inside you for him. Sighing happily, you rubbed your cheek against his hand, reveling in the sweet, tender touch. "Night, Bucky-bug."

Bucky made himself stand up, the temptation you held too great to resist much longer. As he turned to leave, his eye passed over and caught on a fifth of whiskey with his name on it sitting on your desk. The bottle was covered in sharpie, the label altered so that the O and the N in Jameson were blacked out, the word James all that was left. Under that, a skull and crossbones had been drawn, surrounded by doodles and curlicues. Almost certain he didn’t want to know but unable to stop himself, he picked up the almost empty bottle and turned to ask, “Y/N, what is this bottle?”

You pried one eye open just enough to see which bottle he held. As soon as you saw the skull, you relaxed back into the pillows and answered, thoughtlessly honest, “That's my bottle of poison, the last of the bottle that almost killed me.”

Bucky actually felt his knees buckle and he nearly dropped the bottle. In case, he set it down and braced himself on the back of the chair next to the desk. "Almost killed you?"

Your voice was utterly unconcerned as you answered. You were too drunk and too close to sleep to think about either what you were saying or who you were saying it to. Also, the only part of that night that you hadn't dealt with until recently was the damage done to your relationship with Bucky. The rest of it felt like ancient history and had no power to hurt or frighten you anymore. "When I got upset because I saw you banging some girl and I ended up in a drinking game with some asshole trying to get me drunk enough to rape me."

That took his knees out completely. He sat limply, sideways in the chair to face you. "The hospital stay." It was a statement of fact, not a question, but you answered anyway.

"Uh-huh," you replied, nodding your head on the pillow, eyes still closed, "I made it all the way to the hallway here." Your face twisted with humor and you snorted. "If you'd brought Gina back here, you'd have tripped over my ass."

Perhaps it was because your voice held no blame, no vitriol, nothing but the humor of hindsight, but your words seemed to punch even harder than if you'd been bitter or resentful. His stomach aching in remorse and regret, Bucky braced his elbows on his knees and buried his head in his hands. "I'm so sorry, babygirl." The words were nothing, nowhere near enough. Bucky didn't know how he could ever make it up to you.

The pain in his gut only increased when you scoffed good-naturedly and moved your hand in a dismissive gesture. "It's okay." You said it cheerfully, with a sweet, happy smile on your face. Your voice softened with affection on the next words. "Steve found me before Brick did." Bucky frowned at the name but couldn’t focus when he was hearing your voice caress Steve's name.

Your face went sly and wicked. "And I have no proof, but if I found out G and Nat didn't have anything to do with that guy going down for some super serious drug charges, I'd be shocked and baffled."

On that, Bucky vaguely remembered an asshole named Brock who'd been arrested and expelled at the beginning of their sophomore year. The only reason he'd noted it at all was because Brock was the last person with whom Steve had started a fight. That wasn't to say Steve hadn't been in fights since then, but it was the last time Bucky had seen him straight start one. It had stuck out because Steve had also refused to explain himself. A lot of things that had made no sense before were falling into place. 

"Steve found you." Bucky asked the question in a voice as cold and empty as the grave. He felt like he was dying, like the future he'd allowed to dream for himself was withering in front of him. Your next words had his heart crying out in agony.

"Oh my god," you cried, your face lit like the sun with happiness and devotion as you thought about your best friend, "I love him so much. My Stevie literally saved my life." You turned onto your side and wrapped your arms around your pillow, wishing it was Bucky. You sighed, on your way to sleep and not thinking about anything but the beckoning blackness. "He's always been my knight in shining armor."

Now he knew why Steve had never made a move; you owed him a life debt. Steve was the sort of man who would always consider dynamics. The imbalance that act would have caused would have left you in charge. Steve would never make a move as long as he thought you’d say yes simply because of that imbalance.

A voice in Bucky’s head spoke up to point out that you hadn’t made a move of your own on Steve, regardless of how sweetly you said his name. Bucky knew from experience you were more than capable of making a move, and they were very pretty and effective moves at that. Instead, you’d introduced Steve to someone else, and saved those pretty moves for Bucky.

“Why do you keep the bottle out?” He felt like your answer would be either his salvation or damnation, but he needed it more than he needed his next breath.

His heart was already cracked when your lips twisted in a look of wry and affectionate exasperation he'd seen cross your face a million times, and almost always when looking at him. Your words shattered it. "To remind me that just because something feels good doesn't mean it's good for me."

In the next second, you were asleep, but if you’d opened your eyes instead, you would have seen the first tear fall from his eyes.

Part Twelve here

Taglist:

@learisa @angieptt @mia-at-work @midnightdream83 @wwecrazed2010 @allandoflimbo @emaywhyayy @cheekygeek05 @lovely-geek @diinofayce @suz-123 @hellzzzbelle @olukewarmo @fairchild21 @thefridgeismybestie @fandomsstolemylife00 @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @australianhorrorstory @buckybarneshairpullingkink @c-ly-g @wishingforahome @strangersstranger @whiskeyandwashitape @eyesfixedonthesun22 @ingenue-q @joe-mazzello-is-my-dad @irritated-bisexual @fashionworld12 @lbouvet @rishlo @bibliophile1773 @miraclesoflove @nerdy-bookworm-1998 @destiel-is--endgame @irritated-bisexual @peaceinourtime82 @badassbaker @walkingtravesty97  

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Okay it's a lot but: 1, 2, 11, 12, 13, and 19 for Lethaa and Naras? (Feel free to substitute/add any questions you'd like to answer!) 🌺💕

Yesssssss I was so excited to get this! Thanks, Mercedes! 💛

So, this got reeaaaally long and rambly. My bad. I just have a lot of thoughts about these two, and I’m excited to share. Click “keep reading” to see my response! 

(also, sorry if it formats weirdly - I copy-pasted from a word doc, and tumblr mobile doesn’t like that for some reason)

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Ask me questions about creating my OCs!

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 1.      What was the first element of your OC that you remember considering (name, appearance, backstory, etc.)? 

For Lethaa, it was her name and position. For Naras, it was the descriptor “the Togruta senator’s wife” 

They popped into my head at about the same time. I created them to be throwaway characters in a short story I wrote called “Shall We Dance” (I may someday go back to it and add a few chapters. No promises). There was some dialogue between Anakin and Obi-Wan about different controversial viewpoints in the Senate, and I just needed a senator or two to mention in passing. – 

“But these are some of the most outspoken public figures in the Republic. Take Senator Lethaa Daal.” [Obi-Wan] flashed a smile in the direction of the Togruta senator and her wife as they passed. The women returned the smile and made their way arm-in-arm into the grand hall. “She has been very scornful regarding the Senate’s tendency to dedicate resources to systems that are strategic to military movements, as opposed to who needs it most.” 

It might have ended there, but I received feedback from a few different readers saying how they appreciated the mention of Senator Daal’s wife. There seemed to be an interest, so I sat on the idea of them for a while. 

 2.      Did you design them with any other characters/OCs from their universe in mind? 

Since Lethaa was fully fleshed out first, I made Naras with Lethaa in mind. I knew I wanted her to have her own objectives and life – she couldn’t continue to just be “Lethaa’s wife”. So I tried to give her a profession that was critical in its own way, which is why I went with healing, so that their “importance” (for lack of a better word) was equal to each other.

I guess Lethaa was partially created in response the frustrating politics of the galactic senators. They all make their alliances, play the game to get the upper hand, all while gaining very little ground. I wanted to make a character that found the subtly of politics maddening, and wasn’t afraid to get in someone’s face and tell them exactly why their policies or views were dumb or harmful. I wanted to make someone who could be aggressive without calling into question their moral alignment. 

And while it’s not a character, I really really wanted to design or add to a culture that doesn’t get explored much in the Star Wars universe. I took what elements I could find about Togruta culture from Wookipedia, but it was rather lacking, so I made up the rest. I already loved Togruta designs, and wanted characters that could interact within their own culture.

 3.      How did you choose their name?  (Added this because it was Relevant)

If my memory is right, Lethaa Daal’s name came from combining a few names I found on the Togruta name generator (which I HIGHLY recommend btw). I decided to keep it after I finished her design because the first name reminded me of “lethal”, and by that point I knew that was a good descriptor of her. ‘Daal’ came about because I tend to put way too many A’s in my togruta names, and I was for some reason thinking about Roald Dahl at that time, but I also found that I liked how it could be mispronounced as “doll”. I was highly amused by the idea of a “lethal doll” – woe unto anyone who looked at Lethaa and only acknowledged her for her beauty.

Naras Tyn came about because lots of my female ocs tend to have names that end in A or E (IE/I/Y, etc), and I didn’t want to do it again. I wanted a short last name, and I just liked how “Tyn” sounded – it was concise and melodic. ‘Naras’ I think also came from the name generator. I remember being bummed when I realized it sounded so similar to Barriss and Maris (already existing characters), but by that time I was attached. Her first name just sounds calming, and it just sounded right imagining Lethaa calling for her.

 11.  Did you know what the OC’s sexuality would be at the time of their creation? 

       Heck yes I did. There really wasn’t any hesitation. The thought process went: Senator –> Togruta Senator –> female Togruta Senator –> has a spouse –> a wife, cuz why not. And that was that.

 12.   What have you found to be most difficult about creating art for your OC (any form of art: writing, drawing, edits, etc.)? 

       Everything.

Lol, jk. I mean, as much fun as I have with all the colors and markings of the two, my own drawing ability is kinda limited in terms of body positions. So some things I’d love to draw (Lethaa vs. the rancor, Naras on a medical mercy mission during the Clone Wars, etc.) are taking a long time for me to sketch out. It can be frustrating, but it’s a work in progress.

       And writing is hard too. The story ideas in my head play out as nice little movies. Getting it all down on paper while conveying emotion without overloading, describing setting, and making it engaging – that’s all trickier. 

But overall, the most difficult thing is trying to figure out what exactly I’m going to do! I have other OCs I want content for, and canon characters I want to explore – and then I have to decide between drawing and writing. There’s not enough hours in the day for me to draw and write everything I want, so I have to pick and choose.

 13.   How far past the canon events that take place in their world have you extended their story, if at all? 

       Still a work in progress. I jump from one event to the next without writing it in chronological order. I’ve started their story before the start of the Clone Wars, sometime between episodes I and II. Might write some earlier snippets about their childhoods (though they didn’t meet until they were adults).

I’ve got some ideas for what they do during the Empire era (some of which was influenced by one of the Star Wars D&D games I play), but I haven’t written any of that out yet. I do know they live to see the fall of the Empire, and the emergence of the New Republic. They pass away peacefully of old age on Shili.

 19. What is your favorite fact a fun fact about your OC?

I had to change this from “favorite” to “fun” because I like everything about them and I’m still developing them. So I thought I might drop a little trivia that I haven’t managed to work into any stories or art yet.

Lethaa was on a hunting trip with her father – Barin – and a few others in her twenties. After her cousin killed their prey, Barin asked her to prepare the meat for dinner. She did her best with it but waaaaaaay overcooked it, and when Barin asked about it, she said, “I… never actually learned how to cook meat.”

Bewildered, Barin said, “But we’ve been on dozens of hunting trips! How could I have never taught you??”

And Lethaa’s just like, “I was the one to kill the prey on most of those trips.”

And Barin and the others can’t help but laugh, because according to tradition, the one who kills the prey while hunting in a group is served the first piece, but never is the one to prepare it. So it makes complete sense that she never had to cook it, because she was always served the first dish. Her cousin actually liked his meat overdone, though, so he was perfectly fine with his meal.

Also, I just came up with this so I have no idea of the context, but there is a 100% chance that there was an instance or two where Lethaa – tall Amazonian though she is – couldn’t reach something. Unable to climb to retrieve it and without a stepstool, muttering darkly, she would disconnected her prosthetic arm and used it as an extender to pull it towards her.

 *

Naras can fall asleep anywhere. Even before she became a physician/healer, she had the uncanny ability to close her eyes and be asleep within minutes. Lying down, standing while braced against something, sitting, lounging between skyfaring silks (she’d gotten bored waiting for her Gatalentian friend to come back from the holocall he’d had to take). No nap is too short – she wakes feeling rested even if it’s only been five minutes. She wakes easily, fully alert.

 Naras sings and hums to her plants and patients. It’s not uncommon to walk into her clinic and hear her singing a folk song or a current hit. She definitely encourages sing-alongs anytime nervous children are brought in, and at night broadcasts spiritual songs important to Togruta culture over the PA system – at a very quiet volume, of course. Naras has a garden at home – a singfruit tree surrounded by flowers and bushes, some of which are not native to Shili – and the plants routinely get hummed and sung at as she tends to them. Lethaa loves waking up in the morning to hear her wife’s singing voice drifting in from an open window. 

*

Thank you again so much for the ask!! This was a lot of fun!Also, I really do appreciate your interest in my OCs (especially these two). It means a lot to me 🌺🌷

[portlandguide]

Portland, Oregon City Guide

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Portland, Oregon Travel Guide

Portland’s hipster credentials are well-documented, but the city is also home to a world-renowned zoo, meticulously manicured gardens, and an amusement park that dates back to 1912. LGBTQ Travel Guide to Portland, Oregon.

Portland, Oregon | Cities Wiki | Fandom Description of Portland, Oregon. Articles about Portland, Oregon: Portland, Oregon:Accommodations. Portland, Oregon:Attractions. Portland, Oregon:Children’s activities. Portland, Oregon:Climate. Portland, Oregon:Current events. Portland, Oregon:Downtown.

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source https://portlandvisitors.wordpress.com/2021/01/21/portland-oregon-city-guide/

[diamond-song42]

Card Shark 79: Salina Blue, Sink or Swim

Hello, my friends! Welcome to another new edition of Card Shark! A bit of an announcement: I will keep posting Sharks every week, but they won’t be as consistent as they were over the summer. University homework is changing my schedule and while Sharks might not be on Tuesdays, they’ll still be coming, so keep watching. Now for today’s plan! Today I’m focusing on a Seaquestria and Beyond Friend that is ready to get set and DRAW! Draw cards, that is. Here’s my take on “Salina Blue, Sink or Swim!”

Fun fact: this background seapony is a cutie. She requires 2 AT, 3 Pink req, and 3 Purple req to play. For your efforts, you not only get 2 extra Purple and Pink power, but a couple neato abilities as well. First, she has Eccentric 2, forcing your opponent to contribute an extra 2 wild power to confront her Problem. Then she has an Immediate effect that takes Purple and Pink’s love of drawing cards a step further. Whenever you want, you can exhaust Salina to draw three extra cards, then plop two cards from your hand back on top of your deck. Minuette, Time Will Tell balks at this card. That’s a lot of drawing and putting back! When I first learned about deck strategies using keywords like Meticulous, I wasn’t so sure about it. Now it’s one of my favorite play strategies. By putting cards on top of your deck, you can control what you draw (if you don’t want to be uncertain about what you’ll get) and what you flip or don’t flip during Faceoffs. Friends that gain power from you drawing cards and/or putting cards on top of your deck receive a pretty power boost. And she’s Immediate! There’s just a bunch of trippy combos you can pull off with this card, especially because she’s Immediate! It amuses me to no end how a card that is half Pink, the card with the most random tactics (both metaphorically and literally), can end up being one of the most controlling. And Salina’s happy about that development!

Now we come to the “sink” part. First off, Eccentric is one of the easiest keywords to overcome. In my experience, it’s not the best competitive strategy (that is, if your entire deck is built around it). If this card just had Eccentric 2 and the same play requirements, there’s no way it would be worth playing. As for the other ability, it’s cool and all... but Salina is pricey on the color end. 3 power in two colors may be easy to come by with Trading Traditions, but Trading Traditions is rotating out. (For reference, the new play format will primarily be Defenders of Equestria-Leaders and Legends.) There won’t be a new Problem with the ability to guarantee that much free color req (Infilitrating the Hive comes close, but you still have to pay 2 AT and discard two cards to get that Changeling Token). That being said... I don’t think that’s enough reason to discount Salina entirely. Eccentric may not be an effective strategy from my experience, but drawing cards and/or putting cards on top of your deck is. There’s a bunch of cards that can benefit from this strategy, including quite a few cards from Defenders of Equestria onward. This is one seapony I highly recommend.

Here’s some more cards ready to make a splash:

*Moondancer, Page Turner. This is it. This is the card that adores a player putting cards on top of their deck. If you put two cards on top of your deck with Salina, Moondancer’s 3 power is shooting up to 7 power. That would be enough of a reason for me to recommend this card... but then there’s a Chaotic ability. Essentially, you can choose another card from your hand to flip if you flip Moondancer during a Faceoff. Not only would putting an additional card on top of your deck while Moondancer is in play bring her up to 9, but with Salina, if you have Moondancer in your hand, you can draw three and put Moondancer on top right as a Faceoff starts so you guarantee that you flip her and get an extra flip. In case you were wondering where my mind goes when I’m laying awake in bed at night... you have your answer.

*Sunset Shimmer, Clever Calculator. Here’s another fun trick you can pull during a Faceoff with Salina. After you play Sunset, whenever a Faceoff starts, you put Sunset and an opposing Friend on top of their respective decks. Presumably, this is to flip them during the Faceoff (which can be annoying in itself). With Salina, however, before you go on to flip anything, you can draw three cards and stick two back on top. This means you get Sunset back in your hand without needing to sacrifice her to the deck, and you can choose the card you do flip in Sunset’s place. That is incredibly hard for your opponent to get around.

*Pinkie Pie and Twilight Sparkle, All Under Control. This card is a bit pricey on the AT side - it annoys me how many of these I’ve pulled from packs. But it compliments Salina well, as whenever you draw a card, you can put a +1 power counter on one of your Troublemakers at Twi-Pie’s Problem. And you draw a card at the end of your turn with them in play! That’s one power counter right there. With Salina, however, if you exhaust her right at the start of your opponent’s turn, you can put three more power counters on that Troublemaker! That’ll only make it harder for your opponent to challenge the Troublemaker and win. Just watch out for Problem replacement or Troublemaker dismissal or banishment - they’re not too common, but they can put a halt to your powered-up plans.

*Gabby, New Look on Life. Adding a new Leaders and Legends Friend into the mix now that the set is officially released! In my opinion, this Gabby is one of the most terrifying cards in the set, as when you confront her Problem, you can effectively replace your entire hand (plus one). This presents a couple options for Salina: You can use her before confronting a Problem to avoid discarding certain cards or you can use her after confronting a Problem if you had a low hand count to start with and want to bulk it up. There’s no telling what the future will hold, alright. At least for your opponent.

Thanks for reading another installment of Card Shark! Discord Day is this Saturday, and I have a new Ultra Rare Shark planned for it! What card will it be? You’ll have to come back to find out! Diamond out!

[titansoforigins-blog]

// OOC //

@thearcanagame is the cutest, most stylish mobile game I’ve had the pleasure of playing in a long time. So, in honor of that, I’ve put my character’s choices into novel-format, a trending theme among all things I love. I do not claim to hold ownership over The Arcana, just the representation here of my PC (and even that I did not draw myself). 

______________________________________________________________________________________________

Aerys Karasu

♎ Libra ♎

Favorite Food: Bihari kebab

Favorite Drink: Caramel Apple Ale

Favorite Flower: Red Daylily

______________________________________________________________________________________________

I- The Magician

‘I am a student of the magical arts. My Master is Asra, the fortune teller. I know nothing of his past. As for the present…’

“I’ll miss you,” Asra says, not looking in my direction. I can tell he means it, his eyes not meeting mine. It’s the dead of a moonless night. The right time for beginning a journey, according to him. “Here...take this. For you to play around with while I’m gone.” A gift? This can’t be good. “My Tarot deck.”

“You think I’m ready, Master?” I ask, taking the cards carefully from his outstretched hands. “You’re still calling me that…” He murmurs, the faintest quirk of a smile on his lips. He seems to blush, ever so slightly. “You know I can’t answer that for you. You’ve made incredible progress, but you still won’t let go of your doubt. Do you think you’re ready?” He asks, finally turning to look me in the eye. With a twinkle of good-intentioned mischief, I smile at him.  “Why don’t we ask the cards?”

“Excellent suggestion,” he replies, smiling back at me. “It’s been a while since we’ve practiced,” Asra mentions, as we go to the reading room in the back of the shop. “Because you’re always gone?” I ask, shaking my head slightly and raising a brow at him, to which he replies “Maybe…” A pause, and he looks into the distance absentmindedly. “Someday you’ll find a real teacher… Well, I’m here now.” He snaps back to attention, looking my direction. “Let's see how powerful you’ve become.”

Asra… He’s always going on about how ‘powerful’ and ‘gifted’ I am… I do not see what he sees, but am flattered anyway. “Oh?” I hear him just as something brushes along my ankle, smooth and cool. “We’re not alone.” He chuckles, as a pale snake climbs up to his shoulders, wrapping loosely around his torso.

The serpent is Faust, Asra’s familiar. She’s pleased to see me, I think. “If we're all here… Let’s begin.”

As he takes his seat across from me at the table, I shuffle the deck. His gaze follows the cards as they slip through my fingers. Closing my eyes, I let my hands be guided to one of the Tarot cards, flipping it with a soft shk of paper against wood. “...The High Priestess,”

“And what is she telling you?” Asra asks, Faust flicking her tongue towards me curiously. He leans close, expectant. “Is she speaking to you now?” He asks, curious and with an air of seriousness about him that he only gets during lessons- or tests, such as this one.

When the cards speak to me, it isn’t in any human tongue. It is more of a feeling, not something you would read in any book you may pick up. When my mind clears, the answer come to me. “You’ve forsaken her.” I speak, face serene as the cards commune to me. “I have?” Asra asks, sounding mildly perturbed and impressed.  “Yes… You’ve pushed her away, and buried her voice. She calls out to you, but you won’t listen. Master, if you don’t listen to her...”

Before I can finish my prediction, a sharp knocking startled all three of us. A customer? “Did you forget to put out the lantern again?” Asra teases, shaking his head as if to shake water from him. “Just as well, I can’t stay any longer.” He rises, and we return to the main shop room, Asra looking troubled when he next speaks. “Well then… take care of yourself…” He says, his expression telling me he has something to say, but won’t. “Until we meet again.” He says by way of farewell, parting the curtains soundlessly as he slips out the back door.

And just like that, he’s gone again…

______________________________________________________________________________________________

II- The High Priestess

The knocking continues, leaving me confused. Really, though, a customer? At this hour? The knocking picks up speed, and I sigh tiredly. An impatient one, by the sound of it. I walk over to the door, and press my face to the peephole to peer out into the dark. A mysterious figure is standing in the glow of the lantern outside- so I did forget to put it out.  Their graceful hands are twisting together anxiously as they wait. Even in the dim light, I spy jewels glittering along their fingers. I open the door, curious as to who this person is.

“Forgive me for the hour, but…” The figure steps inside and unwinds the shawl from their neck. “I will not suffer another sleepless night. Please, you must read the cards for me.” As the elegant cloth slips away, it reveals the visitor’s face. At the sight of her, my heart leaps into my throat and chokes a reply from escaping. “It has to be you,” she says looking down her nose at me with regal red eyes.

The Countess! Nadia! “You’ve come to the wrong place!” I manage to blurt out, a  cold creeping into my gut as I take a step back. “Spare your breath, magician,” she says with a small sneer, shaking her head at me. “This is the place. I know it, I’ve seen it before. These walls, these wares...and you.” A pause, and a small smile breaks across her face as she turns to face me fully. “Though you were no liar in my dream,”

“D-Dream?” I stammered, taken aback by her amused tone. “Yes. An unwelcome ability I have come to possess. My dreams are haunted by visions of a future waiting to unfold. But the future I saw, the one that brought me to you...Is one I will not allow to pass.” While she speaks, her face sours as if tasting something terrible, like rotten lemon. “Tell me, magician. Will you hear my proposal?” She asks, a flash of what I can only see as nervousness shooting across her face before it is gone again, replaced by her regal stare.

“M-Magician?” It seems all I can get out is one, stuttered word before fear catches my throat again. This has to be some sort of trap, The Countess does not think highly of fortune-tellers… “You insist on playing dumb?” She asks, closing her eyes and sighing wearily. “Fine. I am no stranger to the rumors about me. That I am a tyrant. That I loath your type. But know this…. I mean you no harm. If you accept my proposal, you will be rewarded handsomely. If you reject… I suppose I’ll find a real magician.” She finishes, looking to me pointedly… Fumbling for words, I can only bring forth more stuttering. “P-proposal?”

“Not very talkative, are you? Nervous, perhaps?” She may have been projecting, but nonetheless I was nervous as she was. “You needn’t be. I require very little of you.” She continues, looking amused yet again. “Be my guest at the palace for a short while. You will be afforded every luxury, of course. I ask only you bring your skill...and the arcana.”

‘The Arcana… where have I heard that before?’ I wonder to myself, before smiling at the taller woman and bowing slightly. “I am at your service, Countess.” I manage to reply, hopefully sound more put together than I felt inside. “You have chosen wisely, magician,” she says, smiling in return. “I will alert the guard to expect you tomorrow. But before that…” She glances away, shyly.

“I want to see these talents of your for myself.” Nadia says, turning to look at me once more, regal expression back in place. “Shall we do a reading?” She asks, and under her imperious gaze, I usher her to the humble backroom. The Countess seats herself across from me. Her gaze darts around the small space before falling on the cards on the table between us. “Go on,” Nadia orders, nodding to them before relaxing.

As I shuffle the deck, she folds her hands before her and closes her eyes. Closing my eyes as well, I let the arcana guide me to the card for Nadia, flipping it over silently and reopening my eyes, listening for their words. “The Magician…” I murmur, looking up to meet her now-revealed gaze. “How very appropriate,” she chuckles softly, looking curious. Nadia peers down at the card, studying its face. “And what does he hold for me?” She asks, not taking her eyes from the fox-figure.

My mind is clear. The answer comes to me as easily as ever, and I speak, “You have a plan,” “Go on…” Nadia murmurs, eyes flicking up to meet mine. “One that is long in the making. Years upon years. Now, you seek to set it in motion.” With wide eyes, Nadia asks, “And? Should I move?” Her eyes pierce me, flashing brilliantly in the lamplight.

“Yes. Act now. Everything has fallen into place.”

“Say no more,” Abruptly, she stands, giving the cards- her card in particular- one last glance. I’m barely on my feet when she throws back the curtains, striding purposefully back into the shop proper. “Your fortunes are simple. Much the same as the others I’ve heard,” she says, closing her eyes briefly. “And yet… you are the first to pique my interest.” She confesses, looking towards the door. By the time I’ve emerged, the Countess is at the doorway, winding the shawl around her face. “Ahem,” she coughs gently into her hand, looking to me pointedly.

I nearly trip over my feet in my haste to open the door. The Countess merely looks amused. “Until tomorrow, then. Pleasant dreams.” She says, chuckling softly. With that, she glides past me and out into the night. For a moment, I’m frozen, staring after her figure long after it has vanished into the mist. The wind does nothing to clear the fog, but the rustling of curtains behind me draws my attention back inside. What could the Countess want with me, a mere apprentice?

All that talk of me ‘reputation’... I walk back into the shop- sure to put out the lantern this time- and wonder… Could it be that she mistook me for…

“Strange hours for a shop to keep,” a deep voice intones from somewhere in the darkened room, causing me to whirl around and look for its source. Who said that? My gaze darts around the shop, chasing the shadows in the dark. “. . .Behind you,” the voice rumbles, surely enough behind me. When I turn, I see a figure looming against the door to the back entrance. “Now, sources say this is the witch’s lair.” The figure growls, straightening now that they are seen.

“So who might you be?” They ask, cocking their head and reminding me of a bird of prey- their mask unsettling. My heart starts racing as the masked intruder advances. As soon as the intruder takes a pause, I swing for their head. “Ah ha! You’ve got guts,” the remark, jumping back. “En garde, then. Let’s see what else you’ve got,” The figure takes up a fighting stance. I launch a magical attack, hurling gale at them. With ease, they evade and begin speaking. “Oh, has he been teaching you his tricks? Unfortunately for you, I’ve seen them all befo-”

I launch a bottle at his head, thrown from the counter behind me and hitting him square on. “Ack!” He hisses, mask knocked loose by the blow. It clatters to the floor, revealing his face. My racing heart stops when he lifts his gaze to mine. “. . .”He says nothing, but smirked grimly as blood pours from his brow. “You do have guts.”

I knew this man once. Everyone did. Back then, they used to call him- “Doctor Jules?” I ask, arms lowering in confusion, taking a step back and leaning against the counter. “Haven’t heard that name in years,” He just chuckles, shaking his head. “Quickly now, where is the witch?” He asks, narrowing his eyes to me. “I’ll never talk!” I growl, eyes darting around to look for a weapon. The doctor wipes at his bloodied brow, mood darkening. “Well, no sense in wasting the visit. You’re a fortune teller, aren’t you? Tell my fortune, and I’ll leave you in peace.” He offers, smiling slightly in my direction.

Huh…? “That is what that room in the back is for, isn’t it?” He asks, glancing in it’s direction. I give a hesitant nod, unsure of the motives for his odd request. “After you, then,” He says, following me inside. I back into the room, afraid to turn my back on the good doctor, eyes tracking him carefully. Looking  amused by my display, the doctor drops himself into the reading chair, looming fearsomely over the table.

“You know, I used to love places like this.” He confesses, as if trying to lighten the mood. I nod slightly, and take my seat as cold eyes track my every move. “Go on. No need to be shy.” Julian says, flashing a grin my way. I nod again, gulping and shuffling the cards, careful and quick. Once my hand is drawn to a card, I reveal it with a flair. As soon as the card is flipped, my mind starts racing. Nothing comes to me but the pounding blood in my ears. “...Death.”

“Death?” Julian echoes, looking shocked. “Death?” He repeats with a back of uncontrollable laughter, sharp as ice. “You’ve got to be joking.” I jolt as his hands strike the table, and he rises to his feet. “Death cast her gaze on this wretch and turned away. She has no interest in an abomination like me.” He snaps, rushing out to the front room. Overcome with confusion, I follow the doctor’s heels. “You’ve been hospitable, so I’ll let you in on a secret.” He begins, looking over his shoulder to me as he reaches for his mask. “Your witch friend will be back for you. He’s taught you his tricks. You may even say that he cares for you,” at this, Julian grins and straightens up, sending a shiver down my spine.

“But when he returns…” His smile fades, and he stares into the glassy red eyes of his mask. “Seek me out. For your own sake.” He speaks, softer than before. “That creature is far more dangerous than you know… Well then- the hour is late, and I’m out of time.” he pauses again, and gives me a long, hard look before fixing his mask in place. It sends more shivers down my spine, and a hot flush to rise to my face.

“Don’t let him fool you, shopkeep.” He warns, slamming the door shut behind him as he disappears into the early morning fog.

______________________________________________________________________________________________

III- The Empress {Day}

My name is Aerys. I am a student of the magical arts… and today I will journey to the Palace to meet the Countess. I spend the early hours preparing my things by lamplight, casting wild shadows on the walls. Seeking a moment's rest, I go to the back room to lie down… and slip away, lost in a dream.

The sky is no more than a slim, green line along the endless horizon. Beside me is Asra, on the back of a strange beast. “Master, where are we?” I ask, looking up to him curiously. Dark clouds bear down all around the landscape, a shifting sea of rust-colored sand. Ahead is a road of perfect, black stone. “I dare not tell you.” Asra replies, drawing my attention back to him. “If I did, you’d have to promise me to never seek this path. Not even I am such a hypocrite as that, Aerys.”

I’m sure I’ve never walked this road, and yet… the sight of it feels like an old nightmare. I strain to see where it leads, but the path keeps changing. “Soon there will be a crossroads,” Asra says, still atop the strange beast. “Crossroads? Where do they lead?” I ask, eyes returning to his figure.

“Depends on which one you take. Now… rest.” He commands reaching down and covering my eyes.

My sleep is dreamless, then.

When I wake, early dawn light is filtering through the dusty windows. I throw a travelling cloak over my clothes and hurry outside, dragging the heavy door shut behind me. After last night’s intrusion… I turn the first lock, and then the second and third. Almost satisfied, I press my right hand to the door and whisper a cross-me-not spell. The wood lights up beneath my palm, in the pattern of Asra’s intricate designs. White whorls glow deep within the door, slowly fading into the grain. The shop we be well. All will be well.

I pull my shawl tighter, and step out into the foggy street. The morning mist is thick, yet to be scattered by the heat of the day. It blankets the street in an ethereal, milky glow. I take a moment to appreciate the tranquil scene, when all at once the hair on the nape of my neck rises in alarm. Someone is near. Someone is… right beside me. I turn towards the eerie sensation, and notice a dark shape looming in the alley. At first, I don’t realize I’m looking at a human. The form is certainly human, though monstrous in size.

Their flesh is cored with scars, clean and jagged, shallow and deep. Shrouded in a pall of weatherbeaten furs, it’s hard to make out a face. But they are definitely watching me. No… waiting for me to come out? They stand between me and the path I have to take. I am struck by indecision, and cast my glance to the stones below me, thinking.

It would be better… not to speak to the strange, hulking man in the alley. Instead, I take a step forward, keeping a cautious ear for the figure. When I look up to see them, I see stormy green eyes following my movements as I enter the alley. My steps are careful, but the stranger makes no move. And then… A voice like distant thunder rumbles from beneath their robes.

“You are in grave danger.” They warn, watching me. I pause, inhaling sharply. The earthy scent of myrrh washes over me, and I hold still. “He will return uninvited. He will offer you a gift, when you need it most. Turn it away, or you will fall into his hand… Just like the rest of us.”  

I blink, trying to process what I just heard. There is shuffling behind me, and the dragging of rough cloth and chains. And them, silence… I have to go. Now.

Exhaling deeply, I continue toward the narrow, mossy steps that will lead me to the marketplace. Wood groans beneath my feet as I step carefully onto the walkway. Daylight seeps through the gaps between the worn planks, shimmering on the water that flows below. It’s early yet, and the marketplace is already wide awake. All around me are the sounds of bartering, laughter, vendors hawking their wares. A voice I know well calls out to me over a sea of noise.

“Aerys! Have you eaten?” Baker asks, smiling at me widely. “I’ve got that pumpkin loaf you like in the oven. Won’t be long now,” he offers, beckoning me over. “Come, sit down, talk for a while!” I sniff the air on impulse and my stomach twists in hunger. Then again… I should probably be careful of the time. I decline the invitation with a wave of my hand. Baker nods, ducking back inside the sweet-smelling booth.

Up ahead, the crowd is thicker with the morning rush of peasant workers. I weave around, focused on finding a clear path… until I hear a sharp cry from above me. A raven, perched overhead, meets my gaze. Awestruck, I smile to myself at the bird. At once, it has my attention. Its fathomless eyes look beyond me, over my shoulder. I cast a subtle glance backward.. And my heart stutters in shock. The Doctor is moving casually through the throng. He wears no mask. Though I’m close enough to be sure of his identity, the crowd between us is dense. He has yet to spot me… He cannot hurt me in such a heavy crowd.

Without a second thought, I go after him. It’s not easy. Traffic is moving against me, and I don’t want to make an obvious disturbance. But he looks unguarded, surveying the market with leisure interest. What is he doing, unmasked in broad daylight? Does he want to get caught? It’s been years, but not long enough for people to forget his face. Just then, the raven gives a cry, drawing the Doctor’s gaze in my direction.

Our eyes lock. I freeze in my tracks, pulse quickening. Suddenly, I feel a sharp pain from below as a wooden wheel rolls over my toes. A cart strung with boughs of garlic intercepts my path, and blocks my view as I curse softly, pulling my sore foot away. When it has pass, I seek out his face, or the shape of his coat. But the Doctor is gone. Frowning, I stop in my tracks, letting the herd of patrons weave around me. ‘What am I doing? Why am I chasing him, putting myself in danger? And if I caught him… what then?’

I was just acting on impulse. What’s more, I don’t have time to spare. Shaking my head, I turn back to join the flow of traffic. Up ahead is a narrow stairwell, where the masses and their animals are tightly packed. As I climb the well-worn steps, something catches my eye. A fortune teller’s booth, tucked away in a shady corner. Silver moons adorn the tapestries draped over the entrance, shrouding it in secrecy. The sight teases a smile out of me… How nostalgic. When we met, Asra was operating out of a place just like it.

As I’m lost in my musings, a patron emerges from the booth, caught up in conversation. I give a wide berth and keep my head down. “Before I forget, what are my lucky numbers today?” She asks, looking over her shoulder. “Three, six, seven, nine. Got it. Three-six-seven-nine, three-six-seven-ni--”

I don’t notice them backing into me until we crash into each other. “Ack!” The impact makes me stumble, teetering on the edge of a step. It also upsets the basket balanced on the stranger’s hip.

. . .Which sends a dozen pomegranates rolling down the stairs. “Oh, perfect! As if I wasn’t already late…” They grip, crouching down to pick up the fruits. I drop to a crouch beside the stranger to help. These are luxurious fruits. It’s unusual to buy them in bulk. I spot one as it’s about to be stomped under a stray hoof, and swipe it at the last second. When I hand it back to the stranger, their eyes sparkle with delight.

“Ooh, thank you! How sweet of you to help! And after I bumped into you in the first place.” She says, winking playfully at me. I smile, and together we hunt the rest of the pomegranates down, maneuvering through the steadily increasing foot traffic. Though we’re nearly tramped trying, we manage to recover every last one. “Well, I can’t thank you enough!” The woman says once we’ve finished, smiling at me happily.

They rises to their feet, and offers me their hand. Her grip is strong, and the skin of their palm is rough against mine, calloused. “Probably shouldn’t do this, but…” They begin, rubbing one off on their sleeve, and offer me a fruit from the basket. When I accept it, the stranger gives me a smile that warms my chest. “Take care, all right?” They say with a cheeky wink, departing and slipping into the crowd.

“That was Portia, you know.” A rattling cough draws my attention. The fortune teller has moved to stand at the entrance of the booth, and is eyeing me with avid interest. “She’s the Countess’s favorite. Favorite servant, that is. As for you…” He pauses, eyeing me up and down. “You look like a wanderer, yes? Wouldn’t you like to hear what fortune the fates have spun for you?”

“All right,” I chuckle, placing the fruit in my back, far away from anything important. The fortune teller claps their wizened hands and leads me into the small booth. Inside, the air is thick with amber and patchouli. “What is your name, wanderer?” The teller asks, taking a seat at a small table, a glass seeing ball between us. “Aerys Karasu,” I reply, smiling slightly and taking in the sights.

“Aerys… Aerys, of course…” They hum as their fingers dance of the surface of the crystal ball, nestled in a bed of sand. “...wait, Aerys?” They stop, and look over to me, squinting. The humming stops, and color drains from their face. Wide, watery eyes meet mine. “Asra’s Aerys?” they ask, voice cracking. Ears warm, I sink into my cloak. “It’s...it’s an honor to meet you! Yes, it’s a great… great honor…” They begin, clasping their hands together and bowing their head, shaking their hands slightly at me in way of deference.

“Um, yes, your fortune… uh…” They nearly press their nose to the crystal, going crosseyed. A nervous grin spreads across their painted lips. “I see… marvelous wealth in your near future! Riches, showered upon you! Soon, you will be lounging in the lap of luxury!” They crow, and tap their fingers across the crystal surface rapidly.

They pull back with a sudden gasp, “And… love! Love is definitely on your horizon! I see it, rising like the sun for you! A red-hot rising star of passion!” I nod quickly, dropping a coin on the table and rising from my chair as subtly as I can. The fortune teller is babbling about blazing desire as I back out of the booth. “Ah, thank you! Please, do come again! May the fates smile sweetly upon you!” They cry, clasping their hands again. I exit the booth, squinting into the sunlight.

As the sun journeys across the sky, I climb stair after stair after seemingly  infinite stair. The higher I ascend, the fewer travelers I encounter along the way. By the time I reach the top of the stairs, I can barely walk. Thankfully, it’s near dark. I wipe the pouring sweat from my sunbeaten brow and look ahead. Before me is a towering gate of twisted iron. Beyond that, I see the Palace closer than ever before.

The sight of it makes it hard to catch my breath. It is much more enchanting up close than it is from the city below. “Who goes there?” I hear a man speak, and turn my weary gaze towards its source. A guard stands on either side of the gate, I notice. They were so still, I had mistaken them for designs in the metal. “My name is Aerys Karasu. I have come at the request if the Countess,” I manage to get out, dabbing sweat off my brow.

“Aerys Karasu?” The guard to the left repeats, sharing a look with the guard on the right. “We have no knowledge of you.” His partner says, shaking his head slightly. “Unless you know the code, you must leave at once.” He finishes, the pair of them staring me down coldly.

“Code?” I echo, heart dropping down into my empty stomach. One guard golds their hands over the hilt of a planted sword. “Yes. A series of four numbers,” The right says, continued by the left. “If you do not know them, leave. We are not above violence.” A pause, and the right guard growls. “Or torture.”

“Anything for the Countess,” his partner confirms. I do not know the code.  Voicing this, the right guard speaks. “Regrettable.”  His partner speaks up, glancing at the other. “If you leave now, we will spare you without consequence.”

“If you persist, we will slice you without remorse.” The other adds, and I feel he sincerely enjoys his job.

Frowning, I take a step forward and open my mouth. “The Countess--”

Both guards lay their hands on the swords at their waists. I turn without hesitation, ready to run- only to stop in my tracks.

“What’s going on here?” The stranger from earlier- Portia- speaks up from the top of the stairs, gleaming with sweat, hair melted to her shoulders. Against her hip is the pomegranate basket, once again full. “You!” Her eyes gleam with recognition. “Do you know this miscreant, Portia?” The guard on the right grumbles, causing Portia to sigh with irritation.

“This ‘miscreant’ is the Countess’ guest this evening,” She says, looking up and glaring at the guards. “So you might want to watch your tone.” The guards shuffle in their armor, and Portia turns to me with a sweet smile. “Please, let me sooth this insult and accompany you across the bridge. We’ll be arriving right on time.” The guards step back, each swinging open one of the massive doors. “After you,” Portia says with a wink.

I nod, keeping my composure even as a thrill goes down my spine. I walk past the guards, and Portia follows at my shoulder onto a long, steep bridge. The Palace is right before me. I hear the gate slam shut- sending another thrill down my spine- and I know there is no turning back now.

______________________________________________________________________________________________

III- The Empress {Night}

As the sun drops down below the horizon, the palace is illuminated with gold. The geometry of the structure is perfect. Its towers seem to stretch to the stars. Beyond them, I spy treetops swaying in the balmy evening breeze. Drinking in the sight, my gaze trails down the alabaster bridge to the swirling waters below. There is… something down there.

Corkscrewing through the muck, it glows like some kind of bloodless ghost. Its body is long and rippling, ribbon like in appearance. “Something catch your eye?” Portia asks, stopping and turning to face me with a curious look. I pause and think of how lucky it was she arrived when she did, and now that she is escorting me to the palace. Without her, I would either be dead at the hands of the guards, or facing this beautiful, imposing scene alone.

She leans over me, and her eyes light up when she spots the creature in the water below. “Ah. Do you like animals?” She asks, breaking me from my mild revery. “I love animals,” I reply with a coy smile, looking back down to the water. “Oh, you do? How nice! You’ll definitely enjoy your stay here. The palace is home to all kinds of exotic pets,” Portia says with a smile. She pauses, and points to the strange and exotic animal in the water. “But you don’t want to get too friendly with that one,” she warns.

“It’s a vampire eel. Imported from faraway swamps. No eyes or ears, but they’re still pretty graceful, don’t you think?” She asks, stepping away from the edge. “Unless you splash around a lot, they won’t even bother you. But you won’t want to catch a bite, ‘cause if they bite they won’t stop drinking until the body is dry.”

I nod, peering down at the creature as it spirals into the billowing silt. Portia pats my shoulder, ushering me along. She occupies me with conversation all the way down the bridge, which I am grateful for. As we finally approach the intricate doors, I find myself growing nervous. Uncertainties start to rise like bubbles coming to a boil within me. Is this wise? What awaits me, in this fortress so far from home?

If I walk through those doors… Will I ever walk out again?

Too soon we are standing before them, and Portia turns to me with a winsome smile. “We have arrived,” she says, swinging her fist against the copper plating, three skull-rattling strikes. As the last echoes fade, the pendulous doors swing inward. And I am swept inside, wondering if I will ever return.

Inside is a different world. Everything is gleaming. The floors, the walls, and the steep ceilings are all clean cut polished stone. Lining the hall on either side are many servants, standing at attention in brilliant uniform. “Welcome,” one says, followed by another, and another, until all at once the servants are ‘welcoming’ us inside. My eyes flick left and right uneasily as I am welcomed from all angles. When we reach the end of the line, one servant slips away from the rest to join us. Barely four feet tall, a sumptuous blue feather stands proudly from their velvet cap. With a deep bow, they pass me and dash to Portia’s side.

“How are we doing on time?” She asks, eyes darting to follow the shorter servant- the Chamberlain, if I recall correctly. “Impeccable timing! The first course will be served shortly. Her ladyship has yet to descend.” Portia heaves a sigh of relief and hands her fruit basket off to the bright-eyed servant.

“Perfect. Run and tell the kitchen that our guest has arrived,” she says with an easy smile. “Yes, yes, right away!” The Chamberlain replies, darting off with the basket. Each curtsying, the servants slip away and disappear behind panels in the walls, each sliding seamlessly shut. “Well, well, well! It looks like we’ll be arriving right on time,” Portia chirps, smiling wider as she guides me. “Her ladyship will be joining us soon. I’ll show you to the dining room.”

Dining… As in… me, dining with the Countess? “What? Don’t tell me you thought we wouldn’t feed you!” Portia giggles, covering her mouth and shaking her head slightly. She pats me on the shoulder with her free hand in sympathy. “Don’t be shy. You’re the guest of honor!” She says, flashing me a confident grin.

Her words leave my stomach fluttering with everything but hunger, despite being empty. I follow her purposeful stride, our footsteps echoing down the cavernous hall. Soon we are standing before a fine mahogany door, and Portia turns to me. “We’ll go in together, okay?” She says, likely sensing my discomfort.

I feel myself nod, and she opens the door, leading me inside. I step into the dining room. Rich scents fill my lungs, unfamiliar and tantalizing. A quintet dressed in gauzy evening gowns are playing a pleasant, ambling melody. Before me is a long table laid heavy with platters of the most careful delicacy. Portia pulls out a chair for me, and I sink into the plush seat with an inaudible sigh. Now that food is right in front of me, my hunger returns tenfold. But the Countess is yet to arrive.

I tear my hungry gaze away from the table...And notice the strange painting on the wall across from me. The scene is that of a meal shared among a host of figures with the heads of beasts. The table is laden with small animals, provided by a central character with the head of a goat. Rays of gold glitter around its head, and its red eyes are strikingly lifelike.

“I see you are admiring the painting.” Nadia’s voice reaches my eyes, my head whipping around toward the source of the sonorous voice. Countess Nadia is taking her seat, as graceful as I remember from this morning. At the sight of me, her lips curve into a placid smile. “Do you like it, Aerys? The painting.” She asks, gaze flickering to it curiously.

“Yes,” I reply honestly. She drums her elegant fingers along her cheekbone, watching me with idle interest. “Oh? You have peculiar taste. I cannot say I care much for it,” she pauses, and smiles at me slightly. “So why does it remain on the wall, where I must look at it always, you might ask.”

A servant appears at my side to place a bowl of yogurt and cucumber soup before me. I bring it to my mouth immediately and drink. “Sentimental value, I suppose. It was one of my husband’s favorites.” She continues, ignoring me for the moment though speaking to me.

The Countess’ husband. I’m surprised at the mention of him. Count Lucio...As his name takes form in my mind, the goat figure before me becomes somehow familiar. Suddenly, its red eyes are so vivid that I can almost feel them returning my gaze. “Beautiful red…” I murmur, enchanted. The words fall from my mouth unbidden.

“Ah, yes. It is a beautiful red,” Nadia says, looking back towards me. “But more to the point… You have a spoon. I recommend using it.” Sheepishly, I obey. Amusement shimmers in her brilliant eyes. “As I was saying… the goat-headed one in the middle is him. Or so it is supposed to be. Providing for the people, as he saw himself.” She pauses, looking back to the painting. “He certainly knew how to entertain.” She comments softly, closing her eyes.

“Festivities at the palace were exhaustive… and he loved to spoil his guests.” My empty bowl is whisked away, and in its place is a disk of flaky, golden savories. The Countess watches me devour them with morbid curiosity. “Tell me, Aerys… Did you ever attend our Masquerade?” She asks, looking in my direction again.

I blink, mouth full. “I would imagine so. Our doors were open to all… Well, up to a certain capacity.” I chew my pasty slowly, unsure of how to answer. The Masquerade was a festival, held each year in celebration of the Count’s birthday. For the Countess to bring him up yet again is unexpected, but… I realize now that it probably has something to do with the reason she called me here. “I know it is a difficult matter to discuss. I know how fondly the people of this city remember the Masquerade.”

A pause, and she meets my gaze with hard eyes, keeping herself from showing any pain in that moment.

“And, of course, how deeply affected we all were by the murder.” I nearly choke, covering my mouth to keep from losing my food. Mercifully, I catch myself and swallow thickly. My pulse quickens nonetheless. “Such a terrible shock to the guests. Such a vicious injustice upon this house.”

“To slaughter the host while he celebrates his birthday, sharing his joy and prosperity, with open doors? A hateful crime indeed. Ah, thank you.” As our entrees arrive, the Countess falls silent. I turn my attention to the plate before me, a fragrant lamb dish in a complicated sauce.

All I know of the murder of Count Lucio is through rumors and whispers. The story is full of holes, more questions than answers. But the end is always the same. The Count retired to his chambers, and by midnight, he and his chamber both were engulfed in flames. The culprit was captured on the spot. Or surrendered… the details vary. But before he could be brought to justice, the murderer escaped. Ever since that day, the palace has been locked away from all who would seek to enter.

“You may be wondering why I am telling you all this. Why I called you here.” The Countess speaks with gravity. At once, she has all the room at attention. “Well, I have been planning this for some time. This year, we will hold the Masquerade once more. The gates will again open, and the festivities in Lucio’s honor will be more fanatical than ever.” She pauses, and closes her eyes, sighing.

“Fantastical, excuse me.”

She dabs the corner of her mouth. All around the room, palpable shock bears down on the silence. Only Portia appears unbothered by the news. “As I said, I have planned the necessary details already. There is but one end in need of tying.” She turns her gaze to me, speaking with more gravity than I thought possible.

“The murderer. To this day, he roams free. Too long he has evaded me. So long as he stalks the shadows of this city, I cannot guarantee the safety of my guests. I must find him. And I must bring him to justice before the people of this city. Surely you know the murderer of whom I speak…” A pause, and sets her hands gently upon the table.

“Doctor Julian Devorak, my husband’s trusted physician.” There is a terrible crash, and all eyes land on Portia, whose face is stricken with horror. At her feet, the broken remnants of our dessert are seeping into the floor. “Portia?” Nadia looks over, concerned. “F-forgive me, milady… Slippery hands,” the servant excuses, bowing her head to clean up the mess.

“You are forgiven…” Two servants rush to her aid, sweeping away the shattered porcelain with windsprint speed. “Anyway… this is where you come in, Aerys. The fugitive has proved very elusive. The palace guard is helpless in rooting him out. But while they continue to disappoint me...You come highly recommended. Your master is known far and wide. Rumor has it that you have surpassed him already.”

She pauses once more, and shakes her head, eyes going to the painting once more. “I may not be fond of magicians, but I do not deny the practical uses of magic. I myself see the future, whether I like it or not.And this is how I know that you are the one who will find him for me. . .That fraudulent doctor who betrayed us and murdered my husband. This is why I’ve called you here, Aerys. If anyone can help me find him, it is you.”

“And… if we find him?” I ask, finding my voice at last. “The Countess sets down her wine glass, and fixes me with a stare. “When we find him, we will bring him before the people so that all may see his long-awaited punishment. Whether he begs for his life or hands his head in defeat, the people will delight in his suffering. A spectacle of vengeance. The mob will love it. And so, to commence the festivities… the Doctor will die on the gallows.” She finishes, giving me a smile, and sending a shudder down my spine once more.

“Well, if all goes according to plan.” She adds, rising from her chair. On instinct, I rise as well. “Portia,” she calls out, eyes closed. When she hears no reply, she opens them halfway and frowns lightly. “...Portia.” She repeats, more firmly.

“Yes, milady!” Portia responds at last, looking up from the floor. “Show Aerys to the guest quarters. I imagine there is much to ponder before the night is out.” Nadia says, turning to leave. “Right away, milady,” Portia pulls me to my feet, and with a humble bow whisks me to the doorway.

“I m interested to see more of this magic of yours, Aerys. And I look forward to our partnership.”

Autonomously, I bow. The Countess looks pleased. Portia hurries me out the door. She is quiet as she ushers me down the hall toward my room. I don’t mind as much, this time. The Countess’s words left us both with much to think about. After a few turns, we pass a wide staircase, veiled in shadow.

A draft rushes down from the floor above, prickling my skin. It is cold, and smells of ash… I strain to see where the stairs lead, but the darkness at the top is impenetrable. More importantly...Curled up at the bottom step are two, large, lanky dogs. They notice me just as I’ve noticed them.

Fathomless eyes fix upon me, and they rise slowly, without a sound. Though they look as though they could strike at any moment, I sense no ill intent. I hold out my hand, and they approach to sniff it. Their huffing breath tickles my skin. The more they smell, the more their tails start to swing from side to side. There is a gasp from up ahead, and I look to see Portia watching the scene unfold with wide eyes.

“Oh my…” She murmurs. “What’s this? You actually got up from your favorite stair?”

She rounds back, observing the dogs in wonder. “Well, this is bizarre. These two never take kindly to strangers,” she explains, nodding at them. “It’s just how they were trained, but… I’ve never seen them act like this.”

Slim snouts brush up against my sides as the does investigate me further. Satisfied, they draw back, looking at me expectantly. On a whim, I reach out to run my hand over the smaller one’s silky coat. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you!” Portia says.

The dog rears back. From my hand or Portia’s panicked tone, I’m not sure. “Sorry… I know they’re gorgeous and all… But they’re also a little unpredictable. I’d rather you keep that hand. Now, go on you two! Protect your stairs.” The hounds trot dutifully back to their spot. They nearly blend into the marble. “Shall we continue?”

I follow at Portia’s heels until we arrive at our destination. Thankfully, it isn’t much further. She swings open the door with a sweeping gesture. “And here we are! These will be your quarters for now, Aerys. You can put your things where you like, Breakfast is at sunrise… I’ll be sure to wake you. ” My fatigue must be showing. I let my bag fall to the floor gently. “If you find anything lacking, don’t hesitate to ask.”

Portia prepares my bed with remarkable speed. Eyeing the smooth linens, I shudder with exhaustion. “All right, you look about ready to drop. I’ll leave you be. Unless you have any burning questions?” She asks, smirking slightly. Portia leans against the doorway, and bats her eyes expectantly at me.

Gathering some of my strength, I look over and ask- “You dropped something during dinner. Why?” Her expression sours, and her color drains from her cheeks. Her brows knit together painfully, and she bites her lip. For a moment, she’s quiet. “Haha… well… slippery hands, for one thing.” I stare, unblinking. Now I’m curious. “It’s just… we were all so glad to hear the Countess was expecting a guest. And such a lovely guest at that,” She adds with a wink. She sighs when I only stare more persistently. “But to think she asked you to come here for something light this… Finding that doctor who, for all anybody knows, could be dead in a ditch somewhere.”  She blanches, looking irritated.

“I mean, it’s been years since… well, you know. He could be anywhere, right? And it’s not like the guards have had any recent leads. But now you’re here…” Portia stares me dead in the eyes. “The Countess is hopeful, for the first time I can remember. If anyone can help her, it’s you.” Her silhouette lingers in the doorway a moment too long. “Sleep well, Aerys.” Her soft voice trails off, and I hear the door slide shut.

At once, I burrow into the luxurious sheets. It feels as though I’m weightless. Heart thumping to the rhythm of Portia’s steady, ever-distant footfalls, I sink into unconsciousness.

‘This… this is… this is torture.’

After the day-long climb to the palace, I finally have a chance to rest. But whenever I settle into the embrace of sleep, I’m tugged back to consciousness. After writhing around for a while, I sit up, frustrated. When I do… I sense the faintest whiff of magic in the air. The direction from which it’s coming… is the door. Quietly, I slide out of bed.

I slip my shoes on and retrieve my bag from the floor. I may need my things. Taking a deep breath, I turn the handle of the door and emerge into the brightly lit hallway. There isn’t a soul in sight- good. I must have wasted a few hours tossing and turning. I shuffle down the hall, trusting my senses to lead me. I make a few turns. Each time, I have no doubt which way to go. That is, until I reach a fork and the trail goes cold. No… that’s not it. The trail is hot- but from both sides.

I choose to go left, and it leads me to the balmy veranda, bathed in moonlight. Below, I see the gardens, shady and lush. From up high, I can see that the middle forms a maze of greenery. At its center, there is a clearing. I know at once where I must go. Silently, I descend to the garden path, shrouded in a warm breeze. Quieting my thoughts, I listen to the night birds and let my intuition guide me through the maze.

As I near the center, the musical sound of falling water grows louder and louder. I reach a fountain. Around it is a wide gazing pool, and overhead is a rich old willow tree. Hanging from the tree… “Faust!”

What on earth is she doing here? And if she’s here… could he be here, too? She flicks her tongue, hovering over the gazing pool. The gleam in her eye says that she wants to show me something. I take a seat on the edge of the pool and lean over to peer into the reflective water below.

The longer I concentrate, on the shapes in the water, the more they change. Colors too faint to see start to deepen, shadows start to twist and form. Before I know it, my reflection is fading away, and in its place… I see Asra. Drawing water to his face and drinking deeply. Each drop that trickles from his hands sends ripples through his images as it strikes the surface. I’m so shocked to see him that I can only gape silently, afraid that my sound will break the spell.

Then he shakes out his hair, and blinks the water from his eyes, and looks straight at me. “Aerys?” Asra looks as surprised as I am. He leans forward, close enough that I can see droplets in his eyelashes. “Can you hear me?” He asks, enunciating carefully.

I nod, barely able to  believe it myself. If this is no spell of his, then how did I…? “Incredible.” He laughs, and I see now that he is sitting cross-legged, probably besides a pond. His mount, the strange beast from before, is lying beside him, resting its weighty head on his knee. “Ah, there’s Faust. Looks like she found you all right. I wasn’t all that sure about leaving her… but after that reading you gave me…I thought I’d trust my intuition. ”

“I’m glad that she’s here,” I confess, looking up at Faust. She is still hanging from the branch, looking very proud of herself. Now that I’m over the shock of finding her, I’m beyond relieved to have her near. In the reflection, Asra looked pretty pleased with himself too. It makes me laugh. “I’m glad that you’re here, too,” I tell him, smiling. His face flushes, and the beast on his knee gives a rumbling snort. “Where is here, exactly? I know that tree… are you at the palace?”

Changing the subject… How typical. I tell him everything that has happened since we parted, the more I speak, the more his eyes glimmer with keen interest. “Unbelievable… the day that I leave was the day you needed me the most. And even then, you didn’t really need me at all. But I’m glad Faust is with you, at least. I would guess that she had something to do with this. If anything happens to either of you, I’ll know. I can live with that.”

The beast on Asra’s knee groans, blinking awake and peering into his face. “Ah… Looks like we’ve rested long enough.” He laments, looking troubled. “We have to go… But… I’m really glad I got to see you,” He confesses, pulling a scarf up to cover his face. He rises, and with one last glance, moves out of my view. The lumbering beast shuffles behind him. My only warning is the roaring wind before the image is enveloped in a storm of rust-colored sand. When it clears, the water is still, and I see myself reflected with Faust by my side.

That place… where was he just now? It looked familiar. That copper sand, and the strange creature beside him. I realize they are the same as my dream. So it was a vision, then. I’d nearly forgotten all about it. The stars must be aligned in some powerful way. But more than that… Master told me once that anyone can perform a magical act.

Magic is what you do to make the outcome you desire become reality. So… was it my desire to see him? Did my magic reach out to him, wherever he is? Or… was it the other way around? Could be both… Mind racing, I rise to my feet. Faust watches me attentively from the tree. I silently beckon her to follow. Getting to my room unnoticed is going to be a challeng. Steeling myself, I turn back towards the palace.

As I go, I listen to the birds’ echoing calls and feel the weight of eyes on by back. Many eyes, from every corner of the garden. This place is teeming with life. “That snake has gotten… much bigger.” ...I need sleep. The rustling of the leaves sound too much like whispers. Hastening my step, I retreat up the stairs and slip back inside.

[templified]

Best WordPress Video Portfolio Themes | Templified

New Post has been published on https://templified.com/10-of-the-best-wordpress-video-portfolio-themes/

Best WordPress Video Portfolio Themes

Video is enormously popular and it is becoming bigger every single moment. Websites like YouTube have not been around that long, Vimeo much less, but they are hugely popular with millions of page views daily and enormous amounts of articles being made continuously. To your site to profit within the action, you will want a wonderful WordPress movie theme that will assist you begin. We have discovered a whole lot of amazing WordPress themes you are going to absolutely adore.

WordPress is obviously a Wonderful blogging platform but occasionally people Forget how successful it may be as a movie blogging setup. If you would like to construct a creative, engaging movie portfolio to flaunt everything you have created, if you’d like a beautiful website for motion images, film or video productions, 3d and special effects, this is the place to be. As a result of WordPress’ capacity to expand with addons and plugins, there is practically nothing WordPress can not do. You wish to construct a website where people can talk about their own videos?

However, where do you begin to find the ideal movie WordPress theme? You will find tens of thousands available and Choosing the Proper one could be difficult. Have Zero effort, we have gone out and found that the absolute best Themes for movie, movie, motion graphics and animation also. Every theme Size your audiences decide to get your website. The Great Majority of These themes permit you to upload or host videos, based on your preferences. We have tried to Locate a Great Deal of themes which can be BuddyPress Ready also, which means that you may construct an entire community . And What about membership performance? That is certainly possible with paywall. So, Regardless of What your requirements are, we are expecting to find some Incredible themes that flawlessly do the job for whatever it’s that you want.

SOHO

SOHO is a fantastic looking full display creative photography and movie portfolio theme. SOHO has a lot of unique facets, some conventional and some fairly radically new. SOHO has a complete screen slider, so you can add background pictures or movie into your webpage, you will find gallery records, masonry grid portfolios, an appealing ribbon gallery, there is the portrait format, that can be intriguing, and a complete display website. Even the SOHO theme is strong, it is translation ready, font and color management are extremely straightforward. SOHO has sold more than 3,000 times, demonstrating to it’s popularity. Support and support are extremely large quality together with all the SOHO theme.

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Viseo

Viseo is a highly admired WordPress theme for podcasts, for internet series and amusement. So many people nowadays are getting into podcasting, while it’s video or audio based, the format is becoming huge and you will see that because this Viseo theme was downloaded over 600 days up to now. If you want to get in the action and discuss programming concerning what interests you, then Viseo might be a fantastic theme to assist you started. Obviously, Viseo is simple to use, to personalize and all this, but let us discuss the important things. Podcasts. Using Viseo, you are able to host audio or video files everywhere, you can lock them behind paywalls should you opt for accept payments throughout the eCommerce section and also a great deal more.

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Divi

I have seen Divi utilized in about as many ways as possible however, as a movie portfolio, it truly shines. Video is critical, it can help to get info into our brains much faster than every other sense plus a site which simplifies the ability of movie is a lot more likely to draw and retain our focus than a site which does not. Together with Divi, from Elegant Themes, you will have one of the best themes available on the marketplace with plenty of features and flexibility, fantastic service also. There are hundreds and hundreds of men and women in the Divi community, so a number working to create this theme better daily and that absolute quantity of work actually translates to a fantastic experience for the reader and blogger.  For more portfolio WordPress themes, try our collection.  You’re definitely going to find something you enjoy there.

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Empire

MoonBear Themes has upped their ante with the debut of the Empire Theme. This theme boasts a tasteful yet simple twist on the favourite portfolio website design for musicians, photographers, illustrators, and other people from the artistic place. The theme’s founders supposed the theme for minimal panel or WordPress dashboard management. It is their goal for the end consumer to concentrate more on their craft and permit the website do the task when showcasing their art.

As an end user, all you have got to do is kind your site posts and upload your own photos of your art along with the theme will automatically produce sliders and layout grids to exhibit them.

The Empire Theme comprises a minimalist design which can suit many creative individuals because it provides them free reign to the development of an online page which reflects their personal brand or business. The Empire Theme can also be the WordPress video theme in case you need to reveal more of your own content. Other features included in the theme are: entirely purely absolutely responsive design, retina display ready, constructed in Ajax contact kinds, prebuilt 404 pages, css3 cartoons, along with FontAwesome icon sets.  Check out some more WordPress minimalist themes.

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Benson

Benson was initially conceived as a direct upward photography portfolio, however, the layout is really good with landscape oriented pictures, I thought I would include it in this group. CSSIgniter consistently does a fantastic job in designing their own themes, the code, the real design, they are all quite carefully crafted to find a good outcome.

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Materialism

Tesla Themes’ Materialism is a superb theme for utilizing promotional videos to improve focus on your projects. In reality, it is not only a booster, it is a rocket ship going directly to the Moon! What is materialism, you inquire? Materialism is a design that is somewhat like flat style or minimalist design, however there are usually very, very modest drop shadows supporting components. The appearance and layout remains clean, but there is that hint of darkness. Anyhow, this substance design theme enables you to utilize video to promote your own projects or products.

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  Vignette

My first love on earth was constantly video and film, at least regarding creative pursuits. That is why I am always so eager to review a brand new video theme which has as many features and a gorgeous fashion since the Vignette WordPress theme has. Vignette is very good for photographers, models and videographers, there is a flexible homepage design that provides you as many options and choices as you may desire, you will find four distinct kinds of designs for every picture or movie gallery. Which permits you to show your content in a exceptional manner that perfectly matches what you imagine. Vignette service’s jetpack, a strong and free plugin that functions for wordpress.com users that need intense levels of personalization, to Monitor and analyze web visitors, who wish to exhibit mobile friendly articles and include a good deal of high performance resources to make their site work flawlessly. This SEO optimized theme includes premium excellent support, regular updates and click 10 of this data import.

If you have been searching for quite a professional and flexible WordPress theme to flaunt your videos, then this Vignette theme is a really good alternative. Vignette is a responsive portfolio theme which may help present your articles in a professional way. Vignette includes a flexible homepage design that may either display a featured picture or featured movie. Alternatives, for to pick from in total, and all your picture or movie galleries will look amazing. You can customize almost anything you need to with this WordPress theme and also the custom widgets assist your page load speedily. Using a strong admin panel, you also have total control over all aspects of your site.

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VLog

With over 3000 sales up to now and I almost perfect score of 4.95, this is one of the hottest video website themes out there. It is ideal for movie tutorials, sharing viral movies and movie blogging too. This template is totally harmonious with all the Neo, Dailymotion in addition to YouTube. If you wish to share video which you host yourself, then that is definitely a possibility too. I believe the log might be a gorgeous site for video podcasts, even though it would do the job just as nicely with podcasts. There are 200 different article designs the theme is optimized for Speed also it’s a wise and flexible template that I believe is absolutely worth thought.

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Direkuta

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[ryadel]

Favicon: why and how to add it on your Wordpress-enabled Web Site

Favicon stands for Favorite Icon: we're talking about the 16x16 px icon that identifies your website during the user navigation. Most browser shows it on the left side of the address bar, assuming the currently visited website has one. It's also shown in the active navigation tab and in all of the browser's favorites listings, menus and bars.

Why you should use it

It's not merely aesthetics: favicon enables the user to identify the website he's currently visiting, mentally group its pages/tabs in his browser window or inside his favorite list. A favicon-enabled website hooks up its users and simplifies their navigation, while also having a more professional look. That's why, no matter what results you want to achieve on the web,  you definitely want to have this kind of website.

How to build it

adding a favicon to your website is a two-step task: choosing a suitable image and installing it on your website. Let's see how we can fullfill them both. Choosing a suitable image If you want your favicon to be meaningful, you have to pick a decent image. Here are some useful advices: Avoid complex pictures or drawings: keep in mind that we're talking about a 16x16 px icon. Since it needs to work at this extremely low res, we need a rather simple icon, letter or logo more than a full-featured picture. In other words, simpler is better. Some of the most successful favicons are basically made of letters, numbers, basic shapes, or a combination of these three things. If your website already has a logo, try to use it: if you feel like it's too complex, try to make it more lightweight by simplifying or removing some lines. Another thing you can do is to use a single letter of your logo (the first one, the most fancy one), maybe painted using your "own" color(s). Speaking of which, colors. Try to cut them to 2-3 at least, you don't have the space to use more than that without annoying the user or spoiling your shape. Most Favicons feature a 2-color combination, try to stick to that pattern and you won't fail. Color-wise, at least. Aim for readability and crispness. Nothing is worth more, including aesthetics: don't forget that you could suffer from a rather biased look: you do know your logo or the image you chose. Think about your visitors: they don't. Your favicon will be there to help their navigation, not to amuse them. Last but not least, here's the most important advice: take a look at your neighbours fence before building yours. You don't have to copy, nonetheless you'll learn a lot just by watching their favicon before thinking about yours. Take a quick tour over your favorite social networks, your mobile apps flagship home sites, as well as any other web site you remember for its stunning look. That's how you will get and refine your ideas, that's how you'll learn what you can do with sixteen pixels. Do you want some basic examples? Here they are:

Building it up Favicon, as we just said, is basically a 16x16 px image. You can craft it manually with a raster image editing software like Adobe Photoshop (if you want to stick to the industry-standard) or Gimp (if you want a great open-source alternative): once done, save it to a 16x16 px .ico file. Thing is, in the last few years things shifted a while into mobile browsers & devices and a whole new set of favicons / display icons made their way into business. This is a non-exhaustive list of what we have today: Whilst you won't need most of these formats yet, modern browsers and operating systems slowly start to look for their presence. If you want your website icon to look neat on a Windows 8.1 tile or over an Android/iOS desktop bookmark in the near future, you should consider to make them available too. Do you have to manually craft all of them? Of course not, unless you really want to. You can use one of the free online favicon converters/generator who will gladly craft all of these formats for you from a single square source picture of your choice. The most used ones as of today are www.favicon-generator.org and favicon.cc, both of them free (and highly recommended). Personally, I would also recommend realfavicongenerator.net (while it's still in beta) for its modern, responsive and script-based approach. Needles to say, online generators are the perfect choice even if you ain't that comfortable with the aforementioned image editing software. Installing the favicon on your web site Once you got it done, the last thing you need to do is (up)loading it on your website. Let's see what you need to do, depending on what you have. Wordpress If you want to handle it using a plugin, I highly recommend Favicon by RealFaviconGenerator, by the same guys wo made the aforementioned online favicon generator realfavicongenerator.net. Using it is quite straightforward, just install it and you'll be able to get it working in few seconds. If you want to check for some alternatives, you can also try the following free online tools: Favicon Generator by WebSitePlanet Favicon from Pics by Chami.com If you prefer to perform a manual install, all you need to do is to add the following action to your functions.php file using the WordPress Admin Panel  (Appearance -> Editor -> functions.php): You'll also need to upload your 16x16px favicon to your theme's /image/ folder. You can do that with any FTP software like Filezilla or SmartFTP. Generic Web Site Open your html file or template: if you're using phpBB, Joomla, Drupal, or any Content-Management-System, you might have to check their documentation in order to properly find where it is. Once you're got it, insert the following HTML code inside your block: Don't forget to replace /path/to/favicon-16x16.png with your 16x16 favicon path and filename. IMPORTANT: If your favicon isn't showing up, remember to clear any cache you might use, including browser, proxy, web server, Wordpress or dinamically generated files. Happy coding! Read the full article

[lindyhunt]

How to Write a Job Description That Attracts Awesome Applicants

As a direct response copywriter, I specialize in making readers take a specific action. I write a variety of copy, including articles, landing pages, sales emails, and job advertisements.

So, you can believe me when I show you how to write an eye-catching job description that attracts the brilliant people you want working for you.

In fact, I've written hundreds of job ads over my career. One of my first gigs was for a big employment website, where I created several ads a day. Ads that had one ultimate purpose: to compel readers to hit the “APPLY NOW” button.

My job was to make people want to press that button. My words were supposed to make them feel excited about the prospect of being in the role they were reading about.

If I could do that, consistently, I was lightning in a bottle.

This article will walk you through an approach to job descriptions that allowed me to double my conversion rate of visitors-to-applications in less than a year. Keep reading to learn the strategies and best practices I used to grip candidates, exciting them enough to take action.

How to Write a Job Description

Study your target candidate.

Optimize the job title with the keywords that candidate is using.

Start with a company summary.

Concisely describe the job's benefits.

Summarize the benefits package.

Keep the job's requirements clear and realistic.

Use strong verbs to describe the job's responsibilities.

You want to write a job ad that consistently drives candidates to fill out an application. Of course, you also want qualified applicants -- people that meet your requirements. To get them, you need them to read the entire job description before deciding if this position is a match for what they're looking for.

Before candidates settle into your ad, they’re first going to scan it. And if it’s not formatted using big, bold, clear, and concise subheads to make the scanning process effortless, they’ll move on.

The easier your job ad is to scan, the more likely it is to garner (and hold) readers' attention -- attention that ultimately leads to action.

Here’s how to attract the right people to your open position:

1. Study your target candidate.

You might've heard that people buy on emotion first, and then rationalize their purchases using logic.

Applying for a job, in that sense, is a lot like making a purchase. Pressing the “APPLY NOW” button is an emotionally charged decision.

When writing your job ad, tap into those emotions by learning everything you can about your target candidate (i.e., the person you want to be interviewing). What are his or her professional goals and aspirations? What makes him or her happy?

Example

Create a target candidate persona, or a composite of your ideal employee. (Download these buyer persona templates to get started.) Use the information you find to make potent promises that your target candidate wants to hear and, more importantly, you know you can keep.

Are you hiring for a role in content marketing? Consider aspects of your existing marketing team that you want to see reflected in your new hire. What are your current employees' career goals? What do they enjoy most about the company? Which areas of expertise do they lack that your candidate can provide?

These are all valuable pieces of information that can help you draft a corresponding job description and ensure your potential candidates would be a fit at your organization -- both culturally and professionally.

2. Optimize the job title with the keywords that candidate is using.

Every day, the job hunt leads millions of people to search millions of keywords. This makes SEO very important to the recruitment process, especially when writing job ads.

In your quest to be unique and desired, don’t make up a new, creative name for an established role. In other words, don’t call your open content marketing position an “Attention Ninja” or “Audience Crafter.”

Example

For a role in content marketing, title your job exactly what you're looking for: “Content Producer.” If you’re in the B2B space with clients all over the world, for instance, add a few more adjectives: “Global B2B Content Marketing Coordinator."

Keep in mind that the experience level of your ideal candidate can change the words they use when looking for jobs online. If you're hiring for a mid-level content marketer, for example, consider words like "strategist," "specialist," or even "manager." Is the content you produce part of a much larger digital marketing operation? Include the word "digital" -- as in "Digital Content Marketing Specialist" -- to put a finer point on all the digital channels you want your applicants to be passionate about.

Post the position under a recognizable, keyword-friendly title, as that’s what candidates will be searching.

3. Start with a company summary.

Open your job ad's main text copy with a “Company Summary” paragraph. But don't simply paste your business's "About Us" boilerplate description into your job listing. Your "Company Summary" should help to put the job for which you're hiring into context for the applicant.

If your company sells security software, for example, it won't be enough to simply state your company name, when you were founded, the types of software packages you offer, and where you're located. Your applicants will want company details that pertain to the team they'd be joining.

Here's an example of a company summary for a (shamelessly made-up) software developer that's looking for an awesome content marketing specialist to join the team:

Example

Security Software Co. is a Boston-based software developer that puts today's most pressing ecommerce security challenges at the heart of its brand. We turn the best cybersecurity technology into trusted solutions for the small online business, and after a decade serving more than 70 clients, we need someone to help us tell the stories that matter most to our customers.

If you summarize your company in a way that resonates with your ideal candidate, you'll set yourself up to dive right into the job description itself. But don't be fooled: The best job descriptions can't simply be packaged into a second paragraph following the Company Summary above.

Describe your open position using subheads, or sections, in this order:

Benefits

Requirements

Responsibilities

Here’s a breakdown of each section along with example paragraphs that, when combined, will form a “Content Marketing Specialist” job description for Security Software Co. -- the fictional company we created in the italicized paragraph above.

4. Concisely describe the job's benefits.

Every ad must start with a concise description, or overview, of the role. It should be snappy and compelling -- just be sure to complement the clear, quick explanation of the role with the job’s big-picture benefits as well.

General Electric did a nice job describing the benefits of their roles in the commercial below -- part of an amusing series to help the company shift its brand to keep up with today's digital culture. Listen to how the man in the blue sweater describes his new position:

People inherently want to be part of something bigger than themselves. Appeal to that desire by helping candidates envision the impact of their work.

If you’re hiring a software developer, explain the mark that software will leave on others. Will it help them beat traffic? Will it help them communicate better with their family? Will it help them get clean drinking water every day? Be specific. The more specific you are, the more compelling your message will be.

Here's how our fictional organization, Security Software Co., might describe the benefits of working as their newest content marketing specialist:

Example

As the Content Marketing Specialist for Security Software Co., you’ll create articles, infographics, and eBooks that build an engaged audience. Your goal will be to drive thousands of people to subscribe to our newsletter and follow us on LinkedIn. Your success will expand Security Software’s global reach – helping millions of parents protect their children from online predators – while simultaneously developing your personal brand as a foremost expert in our space.

5. Summarize the benefits package.

Now that you have the candidate’s attention, draw him or her deeper into the ad with a section dedicated to the other benefits: your company’s benefits package -- a topic employees care about. But just know, there's a right and wrong way to write a benefits bullet ...

Use examples to help candidates envision the benefit, not just read it on the job ad. Like this:

The wrong way: “Heated parking garage.”

The right way: “Arrive and leave work comfortably, thanks to a heated garage.”

Example

At Security Software, we ask a lot of our employees, which is why we give so much in return. In addition to your competitive salary, medical/dental/vision plan, and matching 401(k), we’ll shower you with perks, including:

Dress: Wear anything you like to the office – and be as comfortable at work as you are in your own living room.

Flexibility: Two days a week, feel free to skip the commute and hit your deadlines from home.

Food: Save hundreds of dollars on food each year thanks to our well-stocked, healthy kitchen.

Location: On the days you are in the office, get here quickly thanks to our highly accessible central location.

Wellness: Stretch away the stress every morning in our in-house yoga studio.

6. Keep the job's requirements clear and realistic.

This section will be your ad’s most sterile, so don’t close with it. Stick it in the middle, sandwiched between two sections that highlight promise and opportunity.

Keep your list of requirements only as long as it needs to be. You don’t want to scare great candidates away with trivial prerequisites. You also don’t want to engage and inspire unqualified people with a shortlist.

Example

Not everyone can be a Content Marketing Specialist. To be seriously considered for this role, please have the following in regard to:

Experience: At least 3 years in a similar role with comparable goals and responsibilities (security and/or software background, preferred)

Education: Bachelor’s degree in English, Marketing, Communications, or a similar field, preferred

Skills: You must be an excellent writer, someone who understands how to frame a message in a clear, concise, and compelling way. You must also understand the mechanics of an efficient, effective Marketing Automation campaign (HubSpot experience, preferred).

Characteristics: This is an autonomous position, so you should be self-sufficient and self-motivated. It’s also a creative role, so you must be able to gracefully receive criticism and feedback about your work.

7. Use strong verbs to describe the job's responsibilities.

Responsibilities are the job. They’re the work, and the paycheck. But responsibilities can also generate excitement and promise in a passionate candidate.

Begin each bullet point of your job responsibilities with a unique yet fitting verb. For example, the role doesn’t “manage” people; it “shapes” them. The role doesn’t “oversee” projects; it “enables” their success. See the difference? One word can offer a fresh perspective, altering the reader’s frame of mind.

Example

As Security Software’s sole Content Marketer, you’ll meet the initiative’s strategic needs on your own, experimenting, learning, and adjusting as you go. Throughout your journey to grow our brand’s audience and reach, you’ll be responsible for:

Sculpting informative, entertaining, digestible articles that audiences can’t stop reading.

Designing beautiful, rich infographics that are as engaging as they are shareable.

Publishing easy-to-skim, value-driven eBooks for download in exchange for business-email addresses.

Crafting persuasive, laser-focused landing pages that compel your target audience to take one valuable action.

Purchasing targeted ad spend on well-performing social media platforms.

Pulling prospects through each stage of our marketing funnel, gradually warming them up for a productive conversation with sales.

The Final Product

Here’s what our example job ad for Security Software Co. looks like when stitched together:

Content Marketing Specialist

Security Software Co. is a Boston-based software developer that puts today's most pressing ecommerce security challenges at the heart of its brand. We turn the best cybersecurity technology into trusted solutions for the small online business, and after a decade serving more than 70 clients, we need someone to help us tell the stories that matter most to our customers.

OVERVIEW:

As the Content Marketing Specialist for Security Software Co., you’ll create articles, infographics, and eBooks that build an engaged audience. Your goal will be to drive thousands of people to subscribe to our newsletter and follow us on LinkedIn. Your success will expand Security Software’s global reach – helping millions of parents protect their children from online predators – while simultaneously developing your personal brand as a foremost expert in our space.

BENEFITS:

At Security Software, we ask a lot of our employees, which is why we give so much in return. In addition to your competitive salary, medical/dental/vision plan, and matching 401(k), we’ll shower you with perks, including:

Dress: Wear anything you like to the office – and be as comfortable at work as you are in your own living room.

Flexibility: Two days a week, feel free to skip the commute and hit your deadlines from home.

Food: Save hundreds of dollars on food each year thanks to our well-stocked, healthy kitchen.

Location: On the days you are in the office, get here quickly thanks to our highly accessible central location.

Wellness: Stretch away the stress every morning in our in-house yoga studio.

REQUIREMENTS:

Not everyone can be a Content Marketing Specialist. To be seriously considered for this role, please have the following in regard to:

Experience: At least 3 years in a similar role with comparable goals and responsibilities (security and/or software background, preferred).

Education: Bachelor’s degree in English, Marketing, Communications, or a similar field, preferred.

Skills: You must be an excellent writer, someone who understands how to frame a message in a clear, concise, and compelling way. You must also understand the mechanics of an efficient, effective Marketing Automation campaign (HubSpot experience, preferred).

Characteristics: This is an autonomous position, so you should be self-sufficient and self-motivated. It’s also a creative role, so you have to be able to graceful receive criticism and feedback about your work.

RESPONSIBILITIES:

As Security Software’s sole Content Marketer, you’ll meet the initiative’s strategic needs on your own, experimenting, learning, and adjusting as you go. Along your journey to grow our brand’s audience and reach, you’ll be responsible for:

Sculpting informative, entertaining, digestible articles that audiences can’t stop reading.

Designing beautiful, rich infographics that are as engaging as they are shareable.

Publishing easy-to-skim, value-driven eBooks for download in exchange for business-email addresses.

Crafting persuasive, laser-focused landing pages that compel your target audience to take one valuable action.

Purchasing targeted ad spend on well-performing social media platforms.

Pulling prospects through each stage of our marketing funnel, gradually warming them up for a productive conversation with sales.

APPLY NOW

This ad, for all intents and purposes, is a generic example. It’s designed to illustrate, at a high level, the techniques that make candidates feel something when they read a job ad.

Nonetheless, it’s important to first use your knowledge of the role for which you're hiring to create an accurate ad -- one that reflects your company’s culture and specific needs.

Good luck -- although something tells me you have this one in the bag.