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worldwidebt7 · 5 years ago

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Hell[L]ing || 04

§ — Pairing: Chimera!Taehyung x Empath!Reader (with mentions of Reader x Other Members)

§ — Genre: SciFi AU, fluff, angst, smut, horror

§ — Wordcount: 3,416 § — Rating: M § — Warnings: None. Kookie being the sweet helpful bun that he is.

§ — A/N: So, banged this entire chapter out in a day and a half because, well, QUARANTINE. I should have been working on my commissions or my Webtoon contest entry, but I had an itch to get the next chapter of this out because it’s about to get GOOD. Oh, and there’s a decent amount of Jungkookie in this chapter~ Enjoy!

Summary: You moved out into the wilderness to live a calm, peaceful life. Your abilities made it impossible to live in crowded places, so even if you wanted to you couldn’t return. But when something happens outside the realm of even your normalcy, you start to think that maybe having everyone else’s emotions bearing down on you isn’t such a bad alternative to being trapped with your own.

Today, it was raining. If you had the ability to have the sky open up and rain on you every day, you would do it in a heartbeat— you loved the rain. It was the only time where you felt fractionally normal around other people. The constant interference of energy caused by rainfall created something like a static that made it easier to drown out invasive outside emotions. You could have a conversation with someone and not get barreled over by wave after wave of their feelings. Plus, you couldn’t resist opening the windows of your home to let the sweet, clean air left behind a recent rain shower wash away any stagnant atmosphere that may have accumulated within its walls.

Beyond that it was raining, it was also, suddenly, surprisingly, pleasantly, Friday. After the short, but no less exhausting, encounter with your neighbor, Seokjin, and his sickly roommate, Taehyung, the rest of the week passed by with little excitement. Namjoon had given you the look—one you were expecting to get, but nerve-wracking nonetheless— once he found out that you had yet to write basically the first 75 pages of your novel, though at this point he was not surprised if the lack of spike in his aura suggested anything. He had given you until Thursday to write at least an outline of events so he could have a better understanding of how the heroine falls into the unfortunate situation she finds herself in. Thankfully, you had been able to accomplish this task, and was even able to send in dialog samples. Namjoon, for now, had been placated.

The other thing about Friday, or this Friday in particular, was that it was the third Friday of the month signaling your bi-weekly visit from your favorite grocery delivery boy, Jungkook. He would be arriving a little after 4pm, as he kept your delivery to the end of his route. Good thing too; the two of you have recently gotten close and your chattering would often cause tardiness to Jungkook’s other appointments. Not to mention you lived fairly far out of the way for your delivery boy who drove nearly 45 minutes just to drop off six measly bags of filled with the food items you had texted him the previous day.

Honestly the boy was too helpful for his own good. There was one Friday where he had popped by with your things when you off-handedly mentioned how the ice-maker in your freezer wasn’t working properly and making too much ice. The angel that is your delivery boy spent the next 20 minutes with your irritating ice-maker, chipping away at the ice that had frozen over the rotator and fixing the setting all so you wouldn’t have to go with your original plan which involved defrosting your freezer, losing your frozen goods, and cleaning up a cold, wet mess afterwards. He had not complained once. Not about the ice, not about having to use a screwdriver as a pick, not even when his fingers had become so cold that you could feel the pain— literally.

This was one of many examples of his unbridled kindness, and one of the many reasons you were always excited to see the boy. As you straightened your house and rearranged your pantry to fit the incoming foodstuff, the rain continued to strike the outside of your house, mixing in well with the low-fi hip-hop you had playing in the background on your stereo system. It almost made you sleepy, but your relaxed state wasn’t enough to deter the building anticipation towards your future visitor.

When you were pleased with your pantry, you backed away and closed the door, just in time it seemed, as there was a quiet knock at your door. You sighed happily— you hadn’t felt the boy coming at all, bless the rain and its emotion-jamming effects. Ah, wait, the rain…

You zipped over to the door, realizing a bit sluggishly that Jungkook would be standing outside in the rain with all of your groceries until you opened it for him, as he was always the model citizen and wouldn’t enter without your knowledge. Clad in only socks, you slide across the hardwood flooring and straight into the door, hitting it against your shoulder with a slight ‘thud’, before regaining your footing and flinging open the front door. On the other side was a wet, mop-headed delivery boy, looking rather shocked at the speed in which you had approached the door and more than likely hearing the impact your body made with it.

“Sorry, sorry!” You said, picking up the reusable bags that he had lugged from his car and sat on your front step. Before you could grab a third bag, his hands shot out to stop you, fingers grazing your arm and allowing you to finally get a clear read on his emotions— he was like the air after the rain: sweet, clean, and refreshing.

“Noona, you don’t have to do that, I got those.” He said, picking up the other four bags, two in each hand, before following you into the house and, albeit with some trouble, kicked off his boots. Jungkook really had no wicked bone in his body, not one. He never had a second agenda, never said something he didn’t mean, never held a grudge; and his emotions reinforced all of these facts regularly. It was no wonder you liked being around him— you never needed your abilities to tell you what he was really feeling or thinking. He was an open book for you, and he did so with the knowledge of what you were capable of.

“Thanks for coming all the way out here for me, I really appreciate it.” You chimed, setting the bags down on the counter, Jungkook following suit. He gave a light-hearted shrug before ruffling some of the water out of his own hair.

“It’s okay, you are paying me after all,” A small huff escaped your lips at his comment as you placed your new gallon of milk into the refrigerator. Humor spilled into the air as you became accustomed to his energy despite the rain and he stifled a laugh at your reaction. “I’m only joking— well, no, you are paying me— you know I like hanging out with you!” You cracked a smile, not even able to continue to pretend to be mad at him.

“Yeah, yeah… took you long enough to talk to me though!” Teasing him had quickly become one of your favorite past-times. He was so easily embarrassed, and the way he always touched his ears when he was especially bashful entered dangerous territories for your heart. Precious boy.

“Yeah, well, I’m not, I didn’t, UGH. You know what I’m trying to say!” You sputtered out a laugh, not even the least surprised that you did, in fact, know what he was trying to say. He had confided in you shortly after communication had been established that he got nervous around new people, most specifically women. You weren’t sure why, he was a kind, bright, good-looking young man, and he had never produced much of a reason for it either. That’s just how he was. Perhaps he didn’t want to overstep any barriers and make people uncomfortable? Though now that you knew him, being uncomfortable with Jungkook was entirely impossible. And at his pink cheeks and pout, you caved, throwing a grape at him just to make him flinch.

“Alright punk, I forgive you.” You said before popping a different grape into your mouth. The dark-locked boy rubbed his chest where the grape had bounced off, feigning offence, the continuous stream of humor flowing off of him enough for you to know that he was enjoying your banter.

“Thanks, noona, really appreciate it, almost a year later!” He crinkled his nose at you as if he were irritated before tumbling into a fit of laughter, where you joined him merrily. Precious boy.

“So, what have you been up to? How’s school?” Routine questions, but you honestly wanted to know. He looked thoughtful for a moment, clearly trying to think of any recent changes in his life. You raised an eyebrow as you closed the door to your fridge once you finished putting away the chilled goods. As expected, he shrugged.

“The usual.” He began helping you by unloading the canned goods onto the counter top. “My film class is getting pretty interesting though.” Folding the tote bag the groceries were in, he placed it on one of your bar stools and then looked at you. “What about you? Anything interesting happen lately? Any more birds fly into your window?” You rolled your eyes at his teasing— living out here by yourself, you rarely had anything substantial to share with your friend. This time, however…

“Well, I’ve got new neighbors…” You revealed, picking up a few of the canned goods. Jungkook raised his eyebrow, following your lead and collecting a couple of cans to help you on your way to the pantry.

“Oh yeah?” You hummed, nodding your head as you placed your cans on the shelf.

“Mmhm. A tall guy with purple hair and his roommate that’s apparently always sick.” You elaborated, not mentioning names for now. “They’re… nice.” At your hesitation, you felt a slight buzz of uneasiness from the man beside you. You looked at him, knowing he was aware that you felt his change. “What?”

“Just nice?” His brows furrowed slightly as he looked at you like he was trying to read your energy, which you believed with little doubt he could. You spent too much time by yourself anymore and you long had forgotten how to properly dress your expressions for social interactions. You let out a breathy chuckle at his concern.

“Yes, nice.” You reiterated, plucking the cans from his arms. He gave you an unimpressed look that was garnished with a pout. With a sigh, you indulged him. “I can’t get a good read on either of them…” Your confession only left him more confused.

“You mean your empath stuff, right?” A nod of affirmation. “Why can’t you read them? I thought you didn’t know how to turn it off?” You hummed thoughtfully, taking the last can from him.

“It’s not that I can’t read them, it’s just that…” You turned from the pantry after placing the last can on the shelf and ran a hand through your hair. “The one dude is always freaking out— panic, panic, panic— all the time! I’m afraid that he’s going to give himself a heart attack! But beyond that, I have a gut feeling telling me that he’s a good person, even when he deliberately lies to me.” Arms crossed, Jungkook looked at you pointedly.

“So… a good liar?” He asked, trying to understand your instincts. You shrugged with a groan.

“Maybe? I don’t know, I really do think he’s… good.” You stepped back over to the counter to grab your new paper towel rolls and plastic wrap to be set in their proper locations. Jungkook slid onto a bar stool and leaned against the counter.

“Okay, not really sure what that means, but…” You glared at him, and he grinned at you, obviously trying to hold back laughter. “What about the other one?” At that, you paused. How were you supposed to explain ‘the other one’? Caught up in your thoughts, you didn’t bother putting way the items in your hand, rather opting to just set them on the counter again.

“Well, uh…” You trailed off, not entirely sure if he would believe you seeing as the last time you tried to explain something improbable with Yoongi didn’t go as you had hoped. However, looking at the wide-eyed boy in front of you, everything about his aura was open and trusting and you knew that if you told him, he would believe you. “His emotions come in ‘blips’.”

“’Blips’?” He repeated— not in a condescending way, but rather as if he were trying to place the definition of the word. You nodded, less than prepared to explain yourself.”

“Yeah, I can’t feel his emotions all the time, they go away and reappear like radar blips. But they’re always super intense.” Resting your forearms on the counter, you let the edge press into your ribs a bit as you leaned forward. Even without your abilities, you could tell that Jungkook was trying to think of an answer, anything that could be the cause. You almost smiled at his thoughtfulness— there was nothing to suggest he didn’t believe you.

“Well,” he started, breaking you out of your trance. “You said he was sick all the time, right? Maybe that could affect your readings?” You had thought about that possibility as well— you had never been knowingly near a significantly ill person, so you couldn’t say that it wasn’t conceivable; though saying that was the only issue would be erroneous. Still, seeing as this was the only reasonable explanation you had come up with, you chose to put your faith in it.

“Maybe,” You agreed, nodding. You didn’t bring up the midnight visitor or the crawly feeling of being watched the last week or so, knowing the kind boy in your kitchen would likely throw a fit trying to figure out a way to help you. To be honest, you kind of wish he would, though that was only in your own selfish interests. Since you hadn’t had any real incidents besides that one, you decided not to worry the boy.

Unfortunately, Jungkook’s visit this time around had to be cut short, as he had other responsibilities to attend to in the evening. You gave him sass of course, stating that you couldn’t believe that he had something more important to do than keeping you company. He laughed and apologized, though a small twinge of guilt in the air made you realize that he knew the hidden meaning in your friendly repartee.

You were lonely.

You were also aware that he knew you’d be able to feel the minute change in his emotional state even with the rain, but neither of you commented on it before you ushered him out the door so he could drive home while it was still light out. He bid farewell before sprinting to his car to avoid getting completely drenched and you waved from inside the doorway, flinching when he peels out of your driveway like he was Brian O'Conner from the ‘Fast & Furious’ franchise.

Sighing, you stood in your doorway for a bit longer, listening to the rain and watching the reflections in the puddles dance. This was the part you hated most— the emptiness that follows the end of social interaction. You were used to being alone, and the longer you were alone the more used to it you became. However, the small instances when you were able to talk to another person, be near them, smile and laugh with them… they reminded you that humans were codependent on each other. You needed other people. As much as you were physically pained to be near them, you needed them. As you spent more time in isolation from the world, the more you yearned to be normal.

The sound of a blunt object hitting the glass of your window wall had you spinning on you heel out of reflex. As Jungkook had teased you earlier, it was common for birds to fly into the large window panes. More often than not, they were fine and they flew off. But every once in a while, they injured themselves, and you took it upon yourself to assess their injuries and making them comfortable if need be.

So, imagine your surprise when there wasn’t a small, winged creature on your back patio, but rather a tall, soaked, handsome boy with his palm pressed against your French doors. You blinked a few times for good measure, hoping this was just an illusion and that you weren’t currently looking at your sickly neighbor with the weird readings standing in the rain outside your house. When you realized he was just going to continue to stand there looking into your house until you greeted him, you quickly shut your front door and hastily made your way over to let him in.

As you got close, you realized there was a buzzing in the air, like it was vibrating, again in blips like radar. You recognized this as anxiety or nervousness and quickly deduced that it was coming from your neighbor. You paused before opening the door— you didn’t know this man; you’d barely met him more than once and only heard him speak a single time, and it wasn’t even to you. Plus, you still couldn’t shake the unnerving feeling you got whenever he was within your range; there was too much similar between how you felt about the boy in front of you and the thing you saw that night. Were you really about to let him into your house?

Almost like he could feel your hesitation, his hand slipped from the door and he looked at the ground dejectedly. A hole appeared in you doubt at this innocent act, and a quick, shooting pain pierced your chest. You couldn’t tell if it was your own guilt setting in or his emotions afflicting you, but you opened the door without another lingering moment to think about how bad of an idea this was.

‘He’s sick and shouldn’t be in the rain,’ You told yourself as you now stood in front of this near-stranger without the protective barrier of your glass door. You swallowed, your own nerves now wreaking havoc on your body, though the dark-haired boy in front of you look more shocked and more nervous than you did. In fact, if you didn’t get him to calm down soon, his nerves would probably cause you to throw up. And the fact that his emotions only appeared like explosions in the atmosphere around you wasn’t helping. Still, the way he looked down at his feet rather than at you, just…

“H-hello…?” You greeted; your uncertainty evident in your shaken speech. He made the smallest movement, like he was flinching at the sound of your voice and you almost wanted to backtrack. Good lord he was skittish. “What, uh, what are you doing here? I-I mean, can I help you?” Fumbling over your words wasn’t new for you, but for some reason you were especially aware of your tongue’s missteps at the moment.

He stood there for a moment, contemplating you surmised, before peeking up at you through his wet bangs. You made eye contact and— sweet heavens— you forgot about the alluring abyss that was his gaze. It only lasted for a moment before he looked at his feet again, which, you finally noticed, were completely bare.

“You said…” Now it was your turn to be startled; only now remembering how deep and velvet-like his voice was, even with how soft-spoken he currently was. “…that I could come….” He shifted, his nervousness beating around you like drums as you let his words sink in. You said he could come… you said he could come? When did you—

“Oh, um, well my house isn’t too far from yours…He’s welcome to stop by from time-to-time if he’s able… It’d be no problem… It’d be nice to have company every once-in-a-while.”

You suddenly remembered that, yes, you had invited him to visit you during your interaction Monday afternoon. At the time, you had your reasons, reasons that you couldn’t remember for the life of you at the moment. What on earth possessed you to tell a stranger it was fine to wander over to your house just because you were neighbors?!

And yet, the way his large body looked so small in front of you, like he was pleading with you to let him in…

“I-I did…” You relaxed your face enough to smile at him, your nerves still eating at you and a headache starting to set in from the intensity of his. You stepped aside to let him in, to which his head shot up and his eyes widened— you suppose he didn’t think you would actually let him in, but the sudden, yet agreeable change in his emotional blips was enough to tell you that he was relieved, pleased even, as he stepped in from the rain. “I should probably get you a towel, huh?”

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sxveme-2 · 4 years ago

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hidden // din djarin

description: the life of nobility wasn't one for everyone. some would rather duck under the shadows around them, especially after a great betrayal to the name of a planet. but despite being hidden, not everyone can avoid the blinding lights of danger. whether it be those after those who had escaped, or the poor bounty hunter who ended up picking her up. both with a large bounty on their heads. follow Cloak as she lives the days as an escaped noble, hiding from the eyes of serenno after the fall of count dooku, shacking up with one of the most sought after child and the mandalorian unfortunate enough to have a big heart.

Chapter two: the one with her new job

warnings: swearing

words: 3016

"shining light, come see me." her mother cooed, beckoning the young girl towards her bed in the large and grand room around her. her voice was weak and cracked halfway through, the effects of her illness continuing to push through the inevitable strength the queen had.

the young ten year old pushed off of the chair where she sat, reading a classic serennian tale to her mother. shutting the leather bound book, she hopped off of her tufted chair and walked towards the woman. her deep blue gown shifted around her gently, tickling at her bare ankles as she took a seat on the satin comforter that covered her mothers weak and failing body. those cold hands found themselves on the supple and tanned hands of the queens sole child. they were skeletal like, and she felt sick just thinking about it.

"can I ask a favour of you?" the dying woman whispered out, eyes fluttering shut before being forced open once more. those same eyes that reflected in the youngers head.

"of course mama." she whispered, eyes watering at the state of the woman she idolized.

"I need you to take care of the children in the galaxy, when I am gone." the cooed, voice falling weaker with each syllable, "you are always so great with them."

"mama don't say that, you'll be okay. father has the best doc- "

"don't play the fool, my shining light," the queen laughed weakly, "I grow weaker with each breath. you mustn't let your ideals blind the reality of the situation. it will only hurt more if you do so. I need you to promise this for me though...please."

"I promise mama." she whispered back, watching the light in her mothers eyes fail to exist as her own name fell from the queens lips for the last time.

-----

"I don't do being a nanny." she stated, going to turn away.

a part of her longed to take the job. to fulfill a promise she made more than a decade ago to a dying woman. a dying icon. but she couldn't bare to do it. she knew that if she took the job that the death would be true, that she fulfilled the dying wish of her. reliving the light draining from her eyes. hearing her name spoken from loved lips the last time. it killed a part of her every time she took the job to watch the children of the town. but those were children of her area, and were at most two days. this...this was a full time job. along with healing and caring for the hunk of metal that had dropped into the hanger that same day.

a tug on her cloak turned her back around.

"Cloak you're stuck in a rut here. I can't stand seeing you wake up and wander the sand dunes everyday searching for something you won't find here. out there, out in the galaxy, you can. and you will." peli stated, "I won't let you turn this down. I just won't."

"who said I even agreed?" that same robotic like voice called from beside her.

"I did," peli scoffed, "because you trust my judgement. Cloak here is an amazing healer and amazing with kids. you can't keep bringing him with you on missions. you're taking her." the mechanic concluded, dusting her hands off.

"...how much would I have to pay her?" the man asked.

she stared at him with eyebrows furrowed and nose creased. she didn't want the job...no, that's not true. she wanted the job. she didn't want the commitment. it was too long for her. because she'd be fulfilling that damn promise. the promise of a dead queen. eighteen years later or not, she had yet to come to terms with the loss. because it was after that loss that her entire life fell down a hill. it ate her alive everyday, knowing there must have been something she could do to stop it. but there wasn't. as far as she knew, the death was caused by an illness naturally, no foul play involved. but her heart didn't believe it, it didn't make sense. not with how fast her father married another and began another family.

"substantial, maybe even a bit handsomely. when I tell you she's the best, I mean it. no one would be able to come within an inch of the little guy without meeting the maker." peli chuckled, turning her attention back to her, "you're going, Cloak. would you rather die on this desert like the rest of us?"

"yes."

"oh don't be like that. you're taking it. now come, let's pack you up."

-----

she could have just refused. hopped on her speeder with reddan and sped off across the planet and found some town to plant her roots. or be killed by tusken raiders. either worked for her. but instead, she found herself lugging a bag onto a newly some-what repaired razor crest alongside a mandalorian and a little green child. with a new title to her name. caregiver. she was now in charge of keeping the child alive alongside mando. someone who she already disliked a bit anyways. he was too...she wasn't sure. she just knew it wasn't him she was doing this for. she took the job, or was forced into taking it, mostly because she could just tell the kid would be better off. but also, she could hear her mother reaming her from the other side. despite her convincing herself she would never fulfill the promise, she had already. sort of. with the children of tatooine. but she knew the risks of expanding off of tatooine, and letting herself be known elsewhere in the world.

"this place is a mess." she muttered, dropping her bag and looking around the ship, "I may very well be a blessing for you."

"not if you keep talking, you won't be." he scoffed, walking past her and up a ladder towards what she could assume was the cockpit.

she watched as he walked up. hearing the door to the cockpit shut, she ducked into the refresher. pulling off the large hood of her cloak and ditching the goggles, she let out a satisfying breath as her mask fell from her face. chocolate brown hair fell into her eyes as she stared at the small mirror in front of her. she saw the dead queens reflection in her own, her mother. the two looked so much alike. hazel eyes with a dominant hue of green. a perfectly swooped nose. cupids bow lips that were full and plump. her own were chapped and rough now, from five years of hiding underneath a mask on a dry planet. her high cheekbones sat perfectly under her eyes. whenever she saw them she remembered how clearly she could see her mothers on the final days of her life.

she hated her face for those very reasons.

her mother was the best person she had ever known. she was kind and caring, stern but nurturing. she cared for her more than her father ever had. the queen would read her to sleep every night, even when she became ill. she would wander into her mothers chambers and sleep with her many nights, especially near the end. her mother was unable to walk most of the time, so she simply was read to sleep in her bed. it wasn't like her father would wind up in it anyways. on her mothers final day, she read to her the entire day. feeling as though she needed it more.

a day didn't go by where she didn't miss her. the warm smile. the soft touches. the hugs. the tea parties. the soft singing voice. her kind words. everything. everything about the queen made her heart break. because she knew she'd never be that person to someone. a family wasn't anywhere in her sights. she could barely look at herself in the mirror, let alone fall in love with someone enough to raise a family. she didn't need to be that person. she'd rather be the lone caretaker and runaway. not having any real identity or attachment to someone.

"if you're done in there. I'll show you where you'll sleep." mando called through the steel door between them.

sliding her mask on over her mouth and nose and over her forehead, and returning her goggles to her forehead, she slid the navy blue cloak along her arms and pinned it in the front, pulling the hood over her head before sliding open the door to reveal the warrior. nodding quickly, the two made their way around a few boxes to a tiny cot she would be sleeping on.

"mind if I hang a curtain up around it." she stated, not waiting for an answer as she hooked a spare piece of fabric onto a few chains and attached it to a pipe above the bed, "don't need you creeping around."

"don't flatter yourself." he grumbled, crossing his arms, "we're heading to nevarro. there's only so much peli could do. though if you had actually helped maybe there could've been more done."

"alright buckethead let's not get ahead of ourselves." she muttered, bending down and picking up the child, "does this thing have a name?"

"grogu. and he's not a thing."

"...well then what is he?"

"I don't know." he concluded, before walking back up the ladder. leaving her alone with the small creature she was now tasked to look after.

dropping her head down, her eyes caught those large brown ones of the child. a smile broke out on her face as he showed his small teeth in a wide grin. she had to admit, he was really cute, and very loveable already. the way he would tilt his head or make small noises at her. how his sack like clothing covered his miniature body. her heart melted a bit each time he would coo at her and smile. until he would go and grab at her mask, like in that instance.

"okay kid, you're cute but we've got to work on boundries."

-----

"ever been here?" mando asked as the razor crest touched down on the planet.

readjusting the dark blue material of her cloak, she glanced over at him from underneath her goggles, "no. and please don't try to be friendly. I know you don't want me as much as I don't want to be here."

"just making conversation," he muttered, opening up the hatch, "if you don't want to be here why'd you take the job?"

picking up grogu and tucking him into her arm, she let out a forced chuckle, "I guess I just had a promise to fulfill."

without another word, the two walked from the ship out into the heat of nevarro. it was true, had never been to the planet. she had been to many places all across the galaxy, being who she was and all. she visited lesser planets to listen to her father and his wife make false promises, all while their children and her would stand by idly. she would often find herself wandering off from the family and giving loose credits to the young children and told them stories. those were her favourite memories, where she was alone and had the resources to give to those who never had enough, while she had plenty.

the two stepped down onto the dark ground, and the young child in her arms cooed. she smiled gently under her mask as they walked forward, readjusting the beige sack on her shoulder with the child's things. she wasn't sure what he exactly needed other than food, and that she could have just left on the ship or purchased something for him. but alas, mando had handed it to her so she didn't argue...he was sort of her boss now. despite the fact she will most likely not be listening to most of the things he told her to do. worst comes to worst, he drops her back off at tatooine.

"look who it is." a woman's voice called as they continued walking forward, "nice to see you again, mando. who's this?"

"hello cara," he returned, before glancing down at the girl carrying the kid, "this is um...I actually don't, know her name."

"Cloak." she stepped in, reaching her free hand forward, "just call me Cloak. nice to meet you." she introduced, shaking the woman's hand.

she lowered her eyes slightly at the woman before her. her voice seemed familiar, something that she could have sworn she had heard before. wracking her mind, she wasn't sure where but everything about her seemed so familiar. nothing seemed to pop up, but the words she spoke and the way she held herself as well as her stature was something that she knew. back on her home planet she had had stormtroopers at her home, due to threats and different things. and the tattoo on cara's arm gave her clue to her past. there had to be some co-relation...but she supposed right now wasn't the time for her to dive deep into her own past.

"nice to meet you, Cloak." she smiled, nodding down at the child she was carrying, "so are you this little guys new mom or something?"

"caretaker." mando stated, brushing past the two and walking further into the town that laid ahead of the group.

letting out a sigh, she nodded and looked up at the taller woman, "yes. I'm here to take care of the child and make sure he doesn't get himself killed, I supposed." she hummed, readjusting the child.

"it's nice to see he's gotten help, come on. let's let the mechanics finish up the job." cara hummed, gesturing for her to follow along as they walked behind the man,"...so you two like a thing or am I reading the tension wrong?"

a small cringe flexed on her face at the idea of anyone reading them anything like a couple or something like that. the two had only really known each other for a day or so. and the only reason either agreed was because both trusted peli's judgement and her own deep and philosophical growth within. there was nothing romantic and she was almost repulsed at the idea of ever being romantic with him. she wasn't a fan of his pompous attitude and she was sure he wasn't a fan of not knowing what she looked like as a security measure. she was sure if there were anyway, he would scan every record in the galaxy to learn who she was. however...she would do anything in the galaxy to ensure he never did.

"no," she stated simply, "no nothing of the sorts. I don't enjoy sitting in the same room with him for more than a few minutes at a time." she shrugged, glancing to the side at the woman.

"I see," cara nodded, "kid seems to like you. that's what's most important to him." the brunette chuckled, "though we won't stray too far for the first while. that kid is the most important thing to him."

she nodded and looked down at the little wrinkled green kid in her arms. she smiled softly under her mask, running her gloved thumb gently over his forehead and chuckling at the little noises he made. the way he would grab at her finger and smile whenever the two locked eyes. but he had yet to get over his habit of trying to grab at her mask and she figured he never would. she would have preferred that he grabbed at her hood instead, seeing as that was simply an extra precaution to hide her identity. he was one hundred percent taking over her heart, and she knew she had already become attached to the child. but the man that came with him? she wasn't entirely sure yet.

she recalled how she was with her own half brother. the two seemed similar. there was a large age gap between her and the young boy that her father created with the witch of a woman she called her step-mother. both were very grabby and smiley, and were able to brighten the room or galaxy with simply a smile. nodine was his name. she loved him very much, and a part of her wondered how someone like her younger brother had come from people such as her father and step mother, let alone related to the monster that was her half sister. the venom that now seeped through the veins of her old family was only slightly cured by that bright smile and kind words of nodine. he was the one thing that made her second guess her fleeing from her home planet. she pondered taking him with her, but she knew it would be no life for a kid like him. he deserved a life of stability and comfort. maybe that was another reason she found herself inclined to take the job with mando and grogu.

"well I promise I'll take good care of him. I do quite enjoy children." she stated simply, readjusting her position holding the child once more.

"he definitely seems like he likes you." cara stated, "now c'mon. why don't we get you and the little guy something to eat hm?"

nodding along, the two continued walking along closely to mando, only to find themselves paused right out front of a stall where mando was meeting with another man. he was taller and had a seemingly warm smile. she was slightly hesitant, for the air around the two men seemed a bit tense as they spoke in a hushed tone. glancing over at cara once more, she noticed the girl had wandered forward to the group. yet hadn't invited her. as much as she wanted to walk forward and join the trio as well, she figured it wasn't exactly her place. sighing softly, she bounced the young child her arms, glancing down at a bit of fruit at another one of the stalls. only to be interrupted by the large man of metal.

"we have a job here."

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian spoilers #din djarin #baby yoda #grogu #original female character #oc #enemies to lovers #star wars #star wars fanfic #fanfiction #the mandalorian fanfic #mandalorian fanfiction #din dijarin fanfic

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calderwoodrp · 6 years ago

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☆ VIVIAN BANCROFT

introduction –

NAME. Vivian Lucille Bancroft PRONOUNS. She/her AGE & BIRTHDATE. 28 | July 1, 1991 HOMETOWN. Calderwood, CA NEIGHBORHOOD. Carlysle City Center OCCUPATION. YouTuber and Owner of Extrav-Event FACECLAIM. Shay Mitchell

story –

[ cw: cancer, death, postpartum depression ]

The Bancrofts have been in Calderwood just as long, if not longer, than some of the so-called founding families. The name was once considered synonymous with sycophant but now more closely aligns itself with the influential. Once upon a time, they would lick the boots of those above them - the Carlyles, the Whitmans, and the like. They were new money, at this point in time, and they were only fit to be the right hand men of the rich and famous. But, being the person privy to all the details of those wealthy and powerful proved to be vital in skyrocketing their own power. They became the puppet masters of the town, pulling strings that cause change, or stagnancy, in Calderwood.

The most recent generation of Bancrofts are no different. Charles Bancroft has been the chief of staff to the mayor for as long as anyone can remember. He stood behind Stanely Buck for much of his career, but as he felt the wind shift in Carin Delarosa’s favor, he quickly changed his stance. He backed the new mayor, becoming a stand in campaign manager when hers fell through - and if Charles had anything to do with his downfall, no one is saying anything about it. Though he only works on the local scale - officially, anyway - most around town take his word as the word of God. He was a taste maker and jet setter in his own right, similar to his second wife, Louisa Bancroft, nee Santos.

Unlike Charles, Louisa focused on swaying the hearts of others, rather than the minds. She inspired some level of fear, similar to her husband, but she had a softer touch. People adored her, which was just the way she liked it. Her husband pulled the puppet’s strings and she yanked on their heartstrings. She was the unofficial event planner of the town - if anything more than a child’s birthday party was happening in Calderwood, Louisa had her hands on it.

Charles has two children from his previous marriage but he and Louisa had Vivian shortly after getting married; she was the final child for both Charles and Louisa, which proved to be a good thing as she was a notoriously difficult child. She was constantly throwing temper tantrums as a baby and perfected the art of making her nannies cry well before her fifth birthday. At her core, she was an attention seeker, and with parents like hers, attention was difficult to come by. Her father was busy man, with no real desire to form a bond with any of his children. Louisa, on the other hand, wanted desperately to form a connection with her only child, especially after the postpartum depression that had caused a rift between her and Vivian. This, however, proved to be rather difficult for Louisa and she had Vivian didn’t develop a decent relationship well after her infancy.

It wasn’t until she was six years old that Vivian grew closer to her mother; the damage was already done though. While they loved each other there was a rift that seemed impossible to mend. Louisa was smothering at the best of times and Vivian was desperate to earn her mother’s love and approval. This resulted in Vivian following after her mother as she planned and orchestrated events. Vivian fell in love with parties - the lights, the music, the feeling of euphoria when everyone fawned over what a perfect night it was, the luxury she was exposed to and that her family provided. She knew that she wanted to be just like her mother when she grew up. After a while, she had become her mother’s shadow during events and the planning that led up to them. She bonded with everyone involved in the process and by the time she was thirteen, she was booking the caters for her mother’s parties herself.

The school yard was her playground - she easily bent people to her will, collecting friends as she went. She clawed her way to the top of the social food chain, earning her title of Queen Bee. School work was a bit harder. She didn’t take to most of the work very well and she wasn’t accustomed to having to work for anything. So, she didn’t work for it; for a little while at least. She could only deal with people talking down to her and her father’s disappointed glare at the dinner table on the rare occasion he would join them.

She forced herself to pay attention, to take notes and ask questions after class. She still had her pride - she refused to look stupid in front of her peers. She taught herself what her teachers couldn’t explain to her, with some help from one of the few friends she saw as her equal. Many of her friends, or the girls who claimed her friendship, didn’t really care for her - not that she blamed them, she didn’t really care for them either - but Emmeline was different. Vivian couldn’t put her finger as why that was and every time she thought about it, she would a fluttering in her stomach that she didn’t really want to address. Unrecognizable feelings aside, Emmeline helped her get her grades up immensely. Of course, she cared much for the aesthetics of creating notes and a planner than she did actually acquiring knowledge.

By the time high school rolled around, Vivian had cemented herself as the local queen bee. She had also just started her own YouTube channel, Color Coded Hot Mess, jumping on the chance of even more attention. With the prompting of her friends and her mother, she uploaded videos about her mother’s events, modeling her clothes, showing off the meticulous spread of her notebooks and planners - say what you will about Vivian but she has impeccable highlighting skills, both makeup wise and pen wise. She quickly gained followers and became addicted to the small scale fame she had received. As more social media was developed, and she grew up, she expanded the brand she had crafted for herself.

When she graduated high school, there was no question of if she would go to college. Her father had been talking her up to the admissions at Stanford since she was born, which she never really cared for. However, if she intended to keep living in luxury on his dime, she was going to attend nearly all her family’s alma mater and she was going to have to pretend to like it. College wasn’t horrible; she was a Bancroft, which meant something around the school, allowing her to climb up the social food chain without much difficulty. She studied English and Business, the former thanks to Emmeline showing her the joys of Virginia Woolf and Jane Austen, and the later thanks to her father’s pressing.

She graduated from Stanford with relative ease, in part thanks to her desire to appear perfect for her growing number of followers and in part thanks to her father’s checks to her professors. She had planned to take a year off, “studying art” in Paris ( read: getting drunk and dick ) but all that was called off when she was told, only a few days after her graduation, that her mother had been diagnosed with ovarian cancer. Vivian canceled her trip and immediately returned home to Calderwood.

With her mother out of commission and Vivian desperate for any kind of outlet to distract herself from her mother’s depleting health, she started to take over as Calderwood’s unofficial event planner. A few months after she returned officially to the town, she moved out of her family’s estate in Winslow Hills and bought her own place in Carlyle City Center. It was there that she finally put down the roots of creating her own event planning business, Extrav-Event, with her mother’s blessing, of course. She threw a massive New Year Eve party in conjunction with the mayor’s office. Her mother was the guest of honor, her health taking a turn for the better. For a while, it seemed like everything was perfect.

However, nothing lasts forever. Her mother’s cancer returned with a vengeance, taking her life only a few months later. It was the first time in her life that she ever saw her father cry. Charles Bancroft, ever the stoic and impersonal man, had a bit of a mental breakdown after he lost another wife to cancer. It took a few weeks for him to leave the house but when he did, he emerged even more closed off than he was before. Louisa tempered his crueler nature, but with her gone, there was nothing holding him back. He lashed out at his children and pushed himself into his own work even more than usual.

Vivian attempted to steel herself after her mother’s death but still has difficulty doing so. Her mother was strong in her own right and while Vivian tried to mimic her as a child, she was much softer than anyone else in her family. With her mother gone, she’s almost become her mirror image - the operative word being almost. She was meretriciously put together like her mother was, appearing to be just as cold and strong as Louisa was in life. Vivian was strong, in her own way. But there was still a part of her that her father would call childish, a part that yearned for attention and fame and affection and love from a family that hardly ever expressed emotion. She’s thrown herself into her business, attempting to lose her own grief in the lights and music that she fell in love with in the first place. She’s taken more care than ever to cultivate an image of perfection on her social media, hoping that the validation she gains from there will fill the hole that was left behind with her mother died.

WRITTEN BY INGRID. SHE/HER OR THEY/THEM. EST.

#vivian bancroft*#carlysle city center*#taken*

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ecotone99 · 4 years ago

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This Was a Mistake

All of it, an error in judgment.

If I had known how quickly a lovely, beautiful thing could become so incredibly malicious- I would have never done any of this in the first place.

I look upon the disgraced, loathsome mess I have made and I question everything that I am. I come to the realization that I am not special, I am not grand. All of this is my own doing. I have lived with so much grief, such a great extent of contrition. And none of them will ever realize it. Truly, I can only take so much. Everyone else probably thinks I’m made of steel- but no, I am not.

I have failed remarkably as a father, as a man, as an artist, as a mentor.

And I tried to clean up my mess- I have. I’ve taken to giving out random acts of kindness. To deliver the greatest blessings I can onto each and every one of my children- but onward they go, self-involved and unaware. I didn’t teach them to be this way, to resort to vicious deeds and to indulge in disinterested apathy. But I guess…. I guess it’s too late now, isn’t it?

They have failed each and every test I have given them. Tests designed to measure their faith. Challenges sent to them so they may prove me wrong about all of this. I just wanted to be sure that no, I have not made a colossal misstep. Maybe I was just thinking too hard about it- I knew what I was doing.

But instead, they broke my heart again. Slaughtering themselves, slaughtering one another. Obliterating their donated home. Not thinking twice about what it is they are putting into eternal jeopardy.

As the infinite educator, I will never prosper. As a working society, they will never succeed. This I know now, without question.

It has come time to put it all to an end.

I shall call upon the militant sun, forever shining and waiting to unleash his power, and I will let him know that now is his moment.

May his roaring and luminous inferno teach them one final and enduring lesson, a lesson I have failed remarkably to deliver.

They have been content and jolly in the absence of the faith they had once held in me. But may they be prepared to find out what will happen when you shatter your maker’s faith in you.

submitted by /u/formaldehydechrist [link] [comments] source https://www.reddit.com/r/shortscarystories/comments/ixdxcp/this_was_a_mistake/ via Blogger https://ift.tt/3mGpAtt

#Blogger #Story

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theartfulmegalodon · 7 years ago

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Some Thoughts on Coco...

First of all, the movie was fantastic, and beautiful, and moving, and everything all the reviewers have said. Go see it, it’s amazing.

But I’m me, so I can’t help but have a few nitpicks. I wouldn’t dream of putting spoilers out in the open here, so if you’ve seen the film already and want to read my comments, they’re past the cut. (And, um, they’re long. Sorry.)

So... okay, I think most everybody who’s seen the film and given it some actual thought afterward has realized that there are some seriously troubling rules in place about the Mexican afterlife. It’s all fluffy and fairy tale-like at first glance, you know, older family telling the sweet story to the kids about how a picture on an altar keeps the memory of their departed family members alive... except of course in this case, it means keeping them LITERALLY alive, in the afterlife.

We’re shown that you NEED a picture of the person. Actually they only say “photo” throughout the entire film, making me wonder what happens if you don’t have any photos, or you were too poor to commission a painted portrait back in the day. Why wouldn’t, say, written letters count? Or family heirlooms, like jewelry or a comb? What if the family simply lost the photos in a fire or something? What if they didn’t manage to make an altar? Say someone’s the last of their line, keeping all their (photographed) ancestors alive, but right around DdlM they get hit by a car and are in traction for a week or more, unable to light a stupid candle next to some photos? The dead relatives are just SOL? Are poor people’s relatives also SOL, when the living simply doesn’t have the resources to do this ritual? And heck, if you’re an orphan with no family when you die, that means what? NO AFTERLIFE FOR YOU? Does it HAVE to be family that remembers you for it to count?

And then there’s the rule that you can only keep existing in the afterlife so long as your memory is maintained by someone who knew you in life. Hector confirmed this when Miguel tried to insist he could go back and remember these new dead folks now that he’s met them in the afterlife, so they wouldn’t fade away. But nope, “It doesn’t work like that.”

Except...

That can’t be true, because at the end of the movie, we see grandma Coco has died, and all of the extended dead family is still there, safe and sound. But Coco was the only one who’d remembered her parents, and especially Hector. So we see that Hector, and presumably anyone, can totally live on even after everyone who knew them in life is dead as well.

So... that’s a bit of a contradiction there. And then there’s the whole De La Cruz storyline about fame. Whether he chose to be famous at all costs just because he wanted the spotlight, or even on the off chance that he was trying to secure his immortality in the afterlife, it’s sort of implied that simply by being famous, he’ll never be forgotten, and as long as he has fans who put his picture on their altars (or his? not sure how that goes) he’s set.

So really, I have no idea how one stays alive in the afterlife, for sure. But Hector did say about fading away: “It happens to everyone eventually”, which... yeah, okay, makes sense. Which means, basically, that your afterlife is a whole new life, but you spend it knowing that your very existence depends on others to remember you and prove it with a ritual. If you’re not one of the very lucky ones (and the movie made it seem like there are relatively few unlucky ones, because kids movie) you’d spend your borrowed existence wracked with anxiety that any moment your luck will run out. Not to mention, your eventual second death (their “FINAL death”, as they call it) will likely be way worse than your first one. When they’re dying their final death, they do it with the knowledge that there really is nothing left for them AND that they’ve been entirely forgotten by the living world. The entirety of their existence is over, and there’s not even some comforting Grim Reaper type to send them off.

Sigh.

This isn’t really what I wanted to pick at, believe it or not. I’ve got more real issues with the actually family dynamics. Because family, as was made super clear, is basically the most important thing in life AND death, and without family, life is meaningless (or possibly OVER FOREVER). And that’s... kinda problematic for me. I know it’s culturally accurate, from what I know of Latin cultures and many others. But I really dislike the whole notion that your BLOOD relatives are always a good thing to keep in your life.

Miguel’s family was cartoonishly restrictive when it came to music, his one passion.

(And can we mention for a moment the absurdity of shielding an entire family line from ALL MUSIC? How exactly does that work? We don’t know for sure what time period this is. From the look of De La Cruz’s movies, and counting the generations hence, we could assume this is modern day. (In a really underdeveloped part of Mexico.) But trying to eliminate all music from someone’s life is only slightly possible if they’re a child, and you can control exactly what they do and where they go. But did Miguel never go to school? People sing songs and play music in schools. And did the adults in the family never go anywhere outside of their shoe shop and the cemetery? People in the world MAKE MUSIC. All over. All the time. It’s a deeply ingrained facet of human nature. Yet this family can’t even hum to themselves? It’s just... too absurd.)

ANYWAY.

Miguel’s family is ridiculous, and based on one (deceased) matriarch’s marching orders, this kid is forced to hide away his one joy in life and feel like a criminal among his own relatives for loving something that the rest of the world loves. The moment where they present him with his shoe-making apron and cheer about promoting him to official Shoe Maker, I swear in my head I just heard, “Oh! You finally had the noodle dream!” And when the grandma discovered his stash of music-related treasures and smashes them all in the street in front of him, I just saw Triton destroying Ariel’s human treasures, leaving the poor child in tears, of course.

In this case, the family was MOST DEFINITELY in the wrong. And yet Miguel is punished the second he tries to rebel. He gets cursed into the afterlife (a curse that was NEVER explained, btw) and then the family matirarch who started the whole mess basically holds his life hostage until he agrees to never pursue music again. The family blessing was paramount. They looked this little boy in the eyes and forced him to choose between a life without the thing he loves most or NO LIFE AT ALL.

Yes, yes, I know that the point was that they were in the wrong and that it all worked out in the end because past crimes came to light, and some hearts were melted, and the family came around. But the fact that Miguel and Hector had to beat the odds, escape capture, expose a murder plot, and tear down the reputation of the biggest celeb in the afterlife just so this old bitch (sorry, I really did like this movie!) would let her great grandson go back to being alive... That’s beyond unreasonable. Miguel was fantastically lucky, and running into Hector was the most unlikely coincidence in the movie.

EDIT: I’ve been reminded that Dante the spirit dog was involved in leading Miguel to meeting Hector, but that... doesn’t really solve my issue there. That’s writing in a band-aid for a plot hole. Can’t think up a reason your two long lost relatives would have a one-in-a-billion meeting? Spirits did it. And honestly for me (maybe because I’m not a little kid any more) the slapstick antics of the dog weren’t especially entertaining or amusing, nor was he written as an actual character instead of a plot device. So I’m not surprised in retrospect that I forgot most of his contributions to the story.

OKAY. Let me make the only real point I wanted to make here:

I was genuinely surprised by the reveal that Hector was Miguel’s real ancestor and that De La Cruz had murdered him. I think I was surprised because I was unconsciously expecting/hoping for De La Cruz to actually be his ancestor, but that he was simply a shallow, fame-loving, selfish dipshit, and that the Riveras were right to erase his memory from their family tree. Miguel would have learned that not all family is worth treating like family. And there would be Hector, someone who protected him, guided him, and mentored him, someone who was worthy of including on their family altar. He’d learn that sometimes family can be the people you choose to be your family.

I mean, I get it, the story that they actually set up and carried out. I liked the twist, really, and the touching backstory with Coco was, of course, very moving. There were tears.

But in the end, I guess I don’t like the convenience of the good guy he just happened to meet being part of his family after all, and the bad guy just being a bad guy, no grey area, no need to feel conflicted over anything. Also, he never bonded with anyone in the afterlife outside of his personal family, which is, again, kind of a shame. The entire crux of the movie, the matriarch’s elimination of music from the Rivera line, was based entirely on a misunderstanding, and only by luck (and spirit animals!) did it happen to resolve itself in the end. It still made a boy go through some ten years of cringing and hiding and emotional abuse over nothing he could control, all while framing it with the insistence that “your family loves you!” They love you... but you have to be unhappy, son. The end. No arguments.

Oops! Sorry, we guess that grudge we were holding over a guy we never met for a great-grammy who’s long gone was our mistake. You go play your guitar. We love you!

Oh, and if this is the modern era, they should really think about making some photocopies of that picture...

#movies #movie critique #long post #coco #pixar coco

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queenofallcorgis · 8 years ago

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The Course of True Love Never Did Run Smooth [Chapter Eight]

Summary: Although the Association of Supernatural Species (yes…A.S.S.) brought together all the various magical beings for conferences they didn’t much mingle. At least not until Phil met Dan. Pastel!Vampire!Phil and Punk!Fairy!Dan

Warnings: Violence, smut, noncon touching in later chapters.

Title is from A Midsummer’s Night Dream

Master list of Previous Chapters

“Well…you are certainly in a pickle,” Louise surveyed the scene, from the dead vampire on the floor to the unconscious fairy on the bed.

Phil nodded frantically, eyes wide. “Can you help?”

He had met Louise at a convention as well. She was a witch who worked at the children’s hospital, using her magic secretly to help the most extreme cases. They had become fast friends and Phil had Louise to thank for most of his fashion choices.

“I don’t think I understand the situation…you killed your maker?” She turned to him with wide eyes.

“She was hurting him. She was torturing him,” he whispered. “I couldn’t let her do it anymore. I love him.”

Her eyes softened and she looked down at Dan again. “I’ve never seen a fairy before. I can take him back to my place and patch him up if you want to grab a few of his belongings. We…we can call the authorities later.”

Phil nodded frantically and Louise gave him a reassuring smile. She placed a hand on Dan’s bare shoulder, closed her eyes, and muttered a few words. The air around them seemed to distort and then they were gone.

The silence that followed was overwhelming. Phil stepped around the bed to see Clara lying on the floor. When she had found him he had been desperate to forget the horrors he had seen. The celebrations and homecoming had been short lived and soldiers had gone from proud and strong to hollow eyed. Phil remembered how his hands had begun to shake even early in the morning and the only thing that stopped it was enough drinks that he couldn’t remember anything. He would wake up sick with some nameless man and woman.

He was dying slowly.

Clara had changed that. She had saved him from that slow death and showed him that there was something worth living for. They had traveled the world and she had held him when the memories had become too much.

Maybe he had even loved her once but not anymore.

Carefully, he knelt down and gathered her in his arms before laying her on the bed. Even in death she looked beautiful and a pang settled in his chest.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “But I couldn’t become you.”

With a shaky breath, he riffled through the overstuffed closet and found a duffle bag. He filled it with various clothes, books, and a 3DS that was sitting on the bedside table. Before he walked out of the room he grabbed a leather jacket and pulled it onto his own arms.

The leather was soft and worn, smelling of Dan’s cologne and smoke. Phil took a few moments to just close his eyes and breathe, trying to forget the last day.

This wasn’t like the war. He couldn’t just force himself to forget. Someone depended on him and he couldn’t let him down.

Phil slung the bag over his shoulder and hailed a cab to take him to Louise’s house.

By the time he was in her room Dan had been mostly bandaged up. The healing spells were hard at work but Phil knew that an injury caused by another supernatural being would take longer to fix. His neck was bandaged heavily as were his wrists and his chest barely lifted.

“I can’t give him a blood transfusion because of how different fairy blood is but he’s on a saline drip and glucose supplement,” she nodded at the IV stand. “He should be fine. It was close.”

Phil dropped the bag by the foot of the bed and sat down next to him. “You’re sure?”

“He lost a lot of blood. His neck will have a lot of scarring and no amount of magic will fix that. His wing also wont look like it did before. I stitched it up the best I could but it wont be the same.”

The wing did look a mess. It was obvious that Louise had tried to match up the patterns and colors but it still looked like Dr. Frankenstein had tried a hand at it.

“It’s all my fault,” Phil whispered, trailing a finger across Dan’s still too pale arm.

Louise paused and pulled her pink tipped hair back into a high ponytail. Her eyes were soft and sad when she turned to him. “It’s not Phil. You couldn’t have possibly known what Clara was going to do.”

“I always knew that she thought everyone else was below us,” he mumbled. “You weren’t around then but she was against the formation of the alliance. She believed in natural selection, that if another supernatural creature could be caught that it should be food. She hated the laws protecting others.”

Louise placed a hand on his back and rubbed it. “But you’re a good guy.”

“That kind of belief was what led to that bloody war,” he swallowed heavily. “We were born like this but it doesn’t mean we should act like others think we should.”

Dan was still unconscious but that was almost a blessing. The memory and the fear, betrayal, and panic in his eyes made Phil feel sick again. The idea that he had been the cause of that was almost too much to bear.

Now he looked peaceful, lashes falling in a graceful half moon across his palid cheeks. If he really pushed it, Phil could imagine that he was just watching him sleep.

“I contacted the association and told them what happened. They’ll be here shortly to take you into custody,” a chill ran down his back and Louise blinked back a few tears. “I’m sorry…I…”

“It’s fine,” Phil whispered and scrubbed a hand through his multicolored fringe. “I don’t know what to say. I killed her.”

Silence followed as Louise continued messing with the equipment. “I’ll take care of him. If you love him this much then he must be something really special.”

“He is,” Phil felt his heart drop further when there was a knock on the front door.

Louise gave him another glance before hurrying off. When she returned she was followed by three beings; a vampire, a witch, and a werewolf. They were all dressed neatly in suits and looked like they had never smiled a day in their lives.

“Philip Lester,” the werewolf spoke firmly. “You have been accused of the murder of your maker and coven leader Clara Woodbridge. Come with us for questioning.”

“Can I wait for him to wake up?” Hot tears burned in his eyes and made his throat grow tight. “See if he’s okay?”

“Come with us for questioning,” the werewolf said again, eyes looking like ice.

The earlier calmness turned into a raging storm and his breath quickened. If he was found guilty he could be burned at the stake and Dan would live the rest of his days hating him. The other vampire grabbed him with strong hands and pulled him to his feet.

“I’ll make sure he’s okay,” Louise said quickly. “It’s okay Phil, it’ll be okay.”

His breath continued in panicked gasps as they walked him out to a shining town car out front. Phil was pushed into the back seat and the officials remained silent the entire ride to the headquarters.

The room he was finally put into was dark and windowless. A metal table and a few metal chairs sat in the middle and he sank down into one.

He could burn for this.

The idea of it caused anxiety to claw at his insides. He could burn without seeing Dan’s smile or hearing him laugh. He could burn without holding him in his arms again.

But…but it was worth it. It was worth it knowing that Dan wouldn’t spend the rest of his shortened life as Clara’s slave.

“Mr. Lester,” his head snapped up to see a sweet older woman wearing an overly bright purple pantsuit. “My name is Ida Landsing. I am a Harpy with A.S.S. Yes, I know how ridiculous it sounds. I am hip with the kid’s lingo.”

He would have smiled in any other situation. “You don’t look like a harpy.”

“And you don’t look much like a vampire,” she nodded towards his pale blue sweater covered in clouds. “Although the jacket helps.”

“It’s Dan’s,” he mumbled and she nodded.

“That was the fairy involved yes?” He pursed his lips and nodded his head once. “Well Mr. Lester, do you understand what I do here?”

“No ma’am.”

“Harpies once went around the world gathering guilty souls to bring to the underworld. Obviously things have changed over the millennia,” she chucked to herself. “We still have a knack for knowing who has guilt in their hearts and Mr. Lester yours is drenched in it.”

A shuddering breath escaped his lips and he slumped further down in his chair. “I killed her. I wont lie.”

Ida nodded, her gaze never faltering. “Fledglings shouldn’t kill their makers. There is a bond between you both to stop yourself from doing that. How did you get past that bond?”

“Dan. She was hurting Dan and…and I guess that was enough,” Phil shrugged.

“I understand,” Ida leaned back in her chair. “You understand that you have been charged with the murder of another supernatural citizen, the murder of your maker, the murder of your coven leader, and the drinking of blood from a unwilling supernatural citizen. How do you plead?”

“You know that answer,” Phil whispered, staring at the smooth tabletop.

“I know that you don’t feel guilty for the death of Clara Woodbridge,” she said, her voice soft and gentle.

“No. She deserved it,” a tendril of anger colored his voice.

“And I agree. She compelled you, she planned on keeping someone prisoner, and she broke many of our bylaws. She would have been burned for her crimes,” Ida glanced down at her clipboards. “So you are guiltless in that crime. Your coven has agreed and they will not charge you for what you have done.”

The relief that crashed over him made him dizzy.

“But, I still can see the guilt,” the harpy continued. “What for?”

Phil swallowed and dug his fingers into the supple leather at his wrists. “I put Dan in danger. I played along with Clara and he was terrified of me. I’m the reason he is hurt. I’m the reason she is dead.”

Ida was silent for a long moment before reaching across the table and taking his hand. “Love is pain my dear. Love hurts. It is what we do after the hurt that shows us what love really is. It is a far more powerful magic than any of us can hope to control. She is the reason he is hurt and her actions are the reason she died.”

“How can he ever forgive me?” Phil managed to choke out and the harpy gave him a warm smile.

“Because he loves you and you love him,” she patted his hand before leaning back and writing something on her clipboard. “I’m going to declare you innocent. I hope you and Mr. Howell have many long, happy years together.”

She placed a warm hand on his back and led him to the door. Phil felt almost like he was in a daze, stumbling along in front of her. The clean modern halls of the association headquarters were almost blinding after being in that dark room.

He was free.

He was going back to Dan.

#phan #phanfic #phanfiction #Vampire!Phil #fairy!dan #pastel!phil #punk!dan

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kirkwall-group-therapy · 5 years ago

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City of Blood, ch 7

[Mature content warning, Act 1: cursing, adult topics, violence]

Chapter Seven: Blood Magic

Blood magic was unusually common in Kirkwall, and had been causing problems the entire time Hawke had lived there. But the issues only got worse as time went on, and Hawke only found herself more and more involved with each passing day. In the next several weeks in particular, Hawke had handled a number of different jobs involving mages and blood magic. The outcome of the most recent job had ignited a rather heated debate, when Hawke had sent a number of mages to the circle instead of letting them escape.

“What if they were blood mages?” Hawke asked, bringing the loud argument into the Hanged Man.

“What’s this?” Merrill asked as the group approached. “You know there’s nothing wrong with blood magic. It’s all just a bunch of superstition, really.”

“Merrill, there are two other apostate mages right here, one of them possessed no less, and even they agree that blood magic is too dangerous,” Aveline said.

“Not so loud, Aveline,” Bethany whispered, looking around the fairly empty tavern.

“That’s not the point,” Anders said.

“I’mmm just going to be over here, not arguing …” Isabela whispered and sat down at a corner table.

“How could you just turn them over to the templars like that?” Bethany asked.

“Do you think the templars would have just said, ‘oh gee golly, I guess those blood mages got away. Guess there’s nothing we can do about it?’ No! They would have continued to hunt them, and when they found them, the templars would have killed them. I saved their lives by staying the templars hand, and returning them to the circle,” Hawke said.

“They are in just as much as danger in the circle,” Anders cried. “And there they are defenseless. If you had let them go, they could have escaped.”

“And endangered others when they inevitably turned to blood magic,” Fenris said.

“You don’t know that!” Anders yelled.

“Anders, these mages have never lived outside the circle, not since they were children. They don’t know how to defend themselves, or find food, or shelter, let alone how to hide from the templars,” Hawke said.

“What about Feynriel? You could have let him go to the Dalish,” Bethany said.

“A fine point, Bethany,” Anders said.

“He was literally plagued with demonic dreams, on a nightly basis! The Dalish don’t have templars. What if he wasn’t strong enough to fight them? And for how long could he maintain that kind of strength? What if he ended up killing the entire clan? The circle is the only place that can help him,” Hawke said.

“I appreciate that you were only trying to protect them,” Anders said, though clearly still angry, “but it still should have been their choice.”

“How can you not understand the danger that they possess, when already we have found the dismembered bodies of missing women?” Fenris asked.

“We don’t know that blood magic is involved!” Anders said.

“Anders,” Aveline said. “Even you must admit that the evidence so far leaves very few other possibilities.”

“Can we stop fighting? I don’t like it when we fight,” Merrill said.

“Yes, thank you Merrill,” Anders said. “I have had enough of this argument myself.” Anders marched out of the Hanged Man and slammed the door behind him, startling the other patrons.

“Shit Hawke,” Varric said coming down the stairs. “How did you manage to piss everyone off?”

“Personally, I think Hawke made the right decision,” Aveline said.

“Nobody asked for your opinion,” Isabela whispered. Aveline turned around and shot Isabela a glare.

“Would you turn me in like that?” Bethany asked.

“Bethany,” Hawke pleaded.

“No, I want to know if my own sister would turn me in to the templars,” Bethany continued.

“If I thought it was the only way to save your life, yes,” Hawke said.

“I see,” Bethany said. “I’m sorry Varric, but I find that I’m not in much of a mood to be around my sister right now.” And she too left.

“Andraste’s tits,” Hawke cursed. She sat down next to Isabela and laid her head down on the sticky table, face first. “You’d think that I had just blatantly murdered a group of school children and their pack of adorable kittens.”

“I think you mean a litter of adorable kittens,” Varric corrected.

“You’re in a difficult position, and they are adults. They have to option to leave at any time. And whether they want to admit it or not, you’re the only one trying to protect everyone. Anders would let them all go free, regardless of who they might have already killed. And I, I would not be as merciful as you,” Fenris said. He meant well, but he wasn’t helping to ease Hawke’s frustration.

“Ugggh,” Hawke groaned, muffled by the way she was sitting, face down on the table.

“IIII think, it’s time for some drinks,” Isabela said.

“I have to return to the barracks,” Aveline said. “Good luck with Bethany later.” Hawke replied by banging her head on the table.

Hawke kicked rocks and bits of discarded trash as she slowly walked the three blocks back to Gamlen’s house. The journey didn’t take long enough. She circled the block once, and joined a few kids who were kicking a ball around, until their mother called them inside for supper. Hawke sighed, still not wanting to return home to face both Bethany and her mother, who undoubtedly had already heard the story from Bethany, and who of course would take Bethany’s side. She couldn’t avoid them forever, though she did actually contemplate seeing if Aveline or one of the others would let her stay with them for the night. But that was childish, so she accepted her fate, and went inside.

“Charlie, is that you?” Her mother called from the kitchen.

“Yes mother,” Hawke replied, less than enthusiastic.

“Is it true what Bethany says?” She asked, walking into the foyer wiping her hands on a raggedy old towel.

“Depends on what she said, I suppose,” Hawke smarted back.

“Did you really say you would turn her over to the templars?!” Leandra asked.

Hawke sighed heavily. “Did she also mention that turning her over to the templars would only be as a last resort, if it was the only way to save her life?”

“Charlie, really, I don’t know what’s gone on between the two of you, but you’re her sister. Her sister!” Leandra said.

“Which is why I would do just about anything to keep her safe. Mother, I’m really not in the mood to discuss this. I’ve already gotten the third degree from Anders and Bethany today. Can we just, not do this right now?” Hawke asked.

“Fine,” Leandra replied curtly. “Supper is ready. We shouldn’t keep Bethany or Gamlen waiting any longer.”

Supper was unusually quiet. Gamlen, who was usually quiet, did most of the talking. Bethany and Hawke remained silent. Hawke left the house to get some fresh air after supper, unable to handle the passive aggressive sighing and whispered whimpering, and the looks she was getting from both her mother and her sister.

“Guardsmen Donnic,” Hawke said as he approached her.

“Please, call me Donnic,” he said.

“Alright, Donnic,” Hawke replied.

“What are you doing out so late, and in your heavy armor no less?” Donnic asked.

“I need some fresh air, and thought I might clear out some thugs while I was out,” Hawke said.

“I’m not sure if there is such a thing as fresh air in streets of Lowtown,” Donnic said, looking around.

“Mm,” Hawke agreed. “Air then. I just needed air.” Donnic looked at her questioningly. Surely she knew that the air was everywhere, but it was Hawke that he was speaking to.

“Hawke, why don’t you join the guard? You seem to enjoy patrolling the streets as it is, and you are certainly capable of handling yourself. I know Aveline would love to have you in the guard,” Donnic suggested.

“Haha, yes, so she likes to tell me. Repeatedly. But the guard isn’t big enough for the two of us,” Hawke said. “Annnd, I wouldn’t be very good at taking orders from Aveline, truthfully.”

“I confess, I don’t understand. Were you not a soldier in the King’s army? I thought Aveline had said as much, but perhaps I misheard,” Donnic said.

“No, you are correct. I was a soldier in the King’s army. Aveline and I both fought at Ostagar, though I didn’t come to know her until later. But I … I can’t live that kind of life anymore. Fighting at the orders of someone else. Not after Ostagar. Not after Loghain,” Hawke said.

“I see,” Donnic said.

“It sounds like Aveline talks about me a bit?” Hawke asked.

“Yes. I mean, no. Truthfully, Aveline and I don’t speak much,” Donnic said, sounding strangely flustered. “But when we do, you often come up in conversation.”

“I’m flattered,” Hawke laughed.

“Aveline thinks very highly of you,” Donnic said.

“Mm, sometimes,” Hawke said.

They continued walking together through the dimly lit streets of Lowtown, in silence for a time.

“So how have your patrols been recently?” Hawke asked.

“Significantly better since Aveline became Captain,” Donnic said. “I cannot thank you enough Hawke, for what you and Aveline did for me that night.”

“It’s what I do,” Hawke said, trying to brush off the compliment.

“How has your … eh, work, been lately?” Donnic asked.

“I feel like I’ve joined the templars,” Hawke said, starring at the ground and kicking a rock.

“Oh?” Donnic asked.

“I’ve been chasing down and retrieving escaped mages, killing blood mages, and trying to find a bunch of missing women,” Hawke said. “What I don’t understand is with all the resources and forces that the templars have, why they aren’t able to do this on their own? What are they fucking doing, if they aren’t doing these kinds of things?”

“I’m sure glad that we don’t have to deal with blood mages,” Donnic said looking wide eyed. “That’s a royal mess, right there.”

They reached the road that split off and headed up to Hightown, and Hawke stopped. “Donnic, I think I’m going to wander around Hightown for a bit, before I call it a night.”

“Stay safe. Maker’s blessings,” Donnic said, and gave a short wave as they split off.

The Hightown market was empty and quiet. Peaceful. More peaceful than Hawke had hoped. The whole night was turning out to be a frustrating disappointment. Where were all the thugs? She was supposed to be able to take out all her frustration on them. Hawke wandered into the square in front of the Viscount’s office, the square it shared with the old Amell estate. Hawke sat on the ground, leaning her back against a stone pillar, and stared at the estate. This was their goal. Titles, fancy dresses, parties, and petty-coats. Silk slippers. Hawke couldn’t deny that it would be nice to be rich, but there was so much about the high society life that she wasn’t interested in. A bigger house, one that they didn’t have to share with Gamlen, would be nice. And at least Hightown did actually have fresh air. It even had trees and gardens. She plucked at grass that had grown between some of the paving stones beneath her, and just sat there.

A cool breeze flowed down the streets softly. The windows in Hightown were lit up and glittering off of the cool, grey stone walls of the buildings. The Chantry bell sweetly tolled midnight. She didn’t realize she had been out so late.

“Hawke?” Fenris said as he entered the square. “What are you doing here?”

Hawke didn’t reply immediately, searching for the words, and the energy, to reply. Fenris sat down next to her. He took a sip from the bottle of wine he was caring, and passed it to Hawke. She took a sip and passed it back.

“Still agonizing over the earlier argument?” Fenris asked. Hawke nodded.

“How come you don’t protest more whenever we do something that helps mages? I know there are many decisions I’ve made that you haven’t agreed with.” Hawke asked. “I mean, you certainly speak your mind whenever you don’t agree, but you don’t unleash a storm upon me like those two did today.”

“Hm. I supposed it’s because I have a tremendous amount of respect for you, Hawke. You’re … nothing like what I imagined, what I thought you were at first. I didn’t expect I would ever find someone like you. In truth, I had convinced myself that people like you don’t even exist. No, I don’t always agree with you, but it’s abundantly clear that you do not make decisions lightly. You always try to find a way to protect the innocent, no matter who they are. You always seem to know what the right thing to do is,” Fenris said.

“I feel like I never know,” Hawke said. “I try so hard, but it seems like all I do is piss someone off every time.” They were silent for a moment.

“Why do I have to be the leader?” Hawke asked. “Why does everyone follow me? Why can’t everyone follow Aveline, or Varric, or you?”

“Me?? Hah. That would be a sight,” Fenris said. “You were the leader when I met you. Why, you would have to answer for me. But from what I’ve seen since we met, everyone follows you because everyone respects you. You consider everyone, and all of their opinions, and try to make a decision that is good for all. Anders and I would both make lousy decisions that considered only our opinions. Aveline’s stance would be too harsh, too black and white. Varric is great guy, but he doesn’t have the backbone for it. He doesn’t want to be responsible for making decisions.

More importantly, you’re decisive. You simply take charge, whether you mean to or not. You do not waste time. You do not sit idly by waiting for someone else to do something, if you are capable of finding a solution. Too many others may say they want a position of leadership, but in truth they are too afraid to act. You don’t wait, you jump right in.”

“That’s only because I have no patience,” Hawke said. Fenris laughed.

“Do you truly not want to be the leader?” Fenris asked.

“I really truly don’t want to be the leader,” Hawke said.

“But there’s power in being the leader,” Fenris said.

“I’m not interested in power,” Hawke replied.

“Then what are you interested in?” Fenris asked.

“I don’t know anymore,” Hawke said. They sat in silence, enjoying the gentle night air.

“That’s the Amell estate, isn’t it?” Fenris asked after a time.

“Yes,” Hawke replied.

“It looks nice,” Fenris said.

“It is, or so I’ve been told,” Hawke sighed.

“There seems to be more bothering you than just the previous argument,” Fenris stated.

“I … I just … I feel lost,” Hawke said. “I feel so out of place here in Kirkwall.”

“I imagine you must miss Lothering a great deal,” Fenris said.

“I don’t know that I miss Lothering,” Hawke said, staring up at a cloud. “I hadn’t lived at home in several years, so I can’t say that I even miss our home. But I … I miss Fereldan. I miss my father. I even miss Carver,” Hawke laughed. “Carver was always so serious, so surly. I never understood why. Father wasn’t like that. I just, I think I just miss feeling like I belonged somewhere. Here, I have to fight tooth and nail so that I can carve out a better life for Bethany and mother. But it feels like I’m trying to force us to be something we’re not. Or at least, something I’m not.”

“Like trying to fit a square peg into a round hole,” Fenris said, then realized how it might have sounded. “I apologize, I wasn’t trying to make a lewd joke.” Hawke laughed.

“I finished that short book you gave me,” Fenris said. “’See Spot Run.’ “

“Oh? That’s great,” Hawke said.

“I enjoyed the pictures as well. I’ve always liked Mabari,” Fenris said.

“I have another book like that,” Hawke said. “I’ll bring it over tomorrow.”

Fenris sighed. “I will be glad when I am able to read more substantial material. Thank you again, for all your efforts, Hawke.”

“Of course,” Hawke said and smiled. “That’s what friends are for.”

“I am glad of your friendship, Hawke,” Fenris said. “You know, had I known Anso would find me such a capable woman, I would have asked him to look sooner.”

“I’m glad I’ve been able to help,” Hawke said blushing a little, caught off guard by Fenris’s compliment. “And I’m glad to have you as a friend as well.”

“I’m sure you must miss your friends in Fereldan,” Fenris said. “Have you been in touch with them much, since you came to Kirkwall?”

“They … No. They all died in the blight,” Hawke said.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Fenris replied.

“Me too,” Hawke sighed. “Bethany is my closest friend though. She always has been. The age difference has sometimes been challenging, and,” she sighed again. “And her being a mage has its own set of problems.”

“Your father is the one who taught her magic then?” Fenris asked.

“Yes. He grew up in a circle and later left after he did some work for the Grey Wardens. He never talked about it though, or why the circle let him go. Bethany and I suspect that the circle didn’t actually let him go. He never specifically stated that they did, and he always danced around it. But was very skilled. He had an extraordinary talent for magic, beyond most mages as I understand it,” Hawke said.

“It seems he was an equally skilled teacher,” Fenris said. “I must admit that Bethany’s level of control is beyond what I had imagined possible.”

“But you still think she should be in a circle?” Hawke asked. She wasn’t angry. She was exhausted over the topic, in fact. She was so tired of the quarrel over magic. If Hawke only knew then how things would end.

“I … yes, I still believe Bethany would be safer in a circle. You and your mother would be safer too. What a tragedy it would be for her to lose the battle against demons, to lose all that she is, to transform and lose her identity, for her magic to be turned against the ones she loves. I … I just think the risk is too great,” Fenris said.

“Living in Kirkwall has … Maker, it’s been awful mostly, haha,” Hawke laughed. “But it has really made me rethink everything about the circles.”

“Oh?” Fenris asked.

“When we lived in Fereldan, we actually knew a number of apostates. Since my father was one, and then my sister, apostate wasn’t a scary term, or a frightening reality. They were rather normal. At least in our area. We still had to watch out for the templars, but that’s just it. They were the danger, not the apostates. And the circles were tortuous prisons. People talk a lot about blood magic when they speak of apostates, but we never knew any who practiced blood magic. Many towns folk were comfortable keeping their silence to protect a few apostates, but they would never protect a blood mage. For that reason alone, all the apostates I knew were scared of blood magic and condemned it harsher than anyone else. Back then, I never would have considered sending Bethany to a circle. But it was also easier to avoid the templars in Fereldan, and they were more … more humane, than the ones here seem to be.

And yet I feel like everywhere we turn, we find ourselves fighting blood mages. They don’t even give us a chance to end things peacefully. Anders keeps saying that it’s only because they’ve been backed into a corner, and I can understand that to a certain degree. It’s just become a viscous cycle, and it’s a huge. fucking. mess. But seeing some of these mages, and hearing about Feynriel’s dreams, I admit that I’ve started to feel that maybe the circles aren’t such a terrible place. Although the circle here sounds especially terrible,” Hawke said.

“I feel for mages, to be burdened with such a curse. And obviously not all mages are like those in Tevinter, but they all face the same temptations and the same dangers, and thus are all a potential threat to all others,” Fenris said.

“Fenris?” Hawke asked. “Do mages in Tevinter ever turn in to abominations? I guess, obviously they do sometimes, but is it common? We’ve seen it here recently with all these blood mages, but every time you speak of Tevinter mages, you only ever mention their greed and abuse of power. You’ve never mentioned any who became abominations. But with the kind of freedom they have, I would have expected to hear stories about abominations simply running wild in the streets every day.”

“Mm. True. Honestly, I’m not sure how common it is. The only ones I’ve ever seen were ones that willingly became them. They purposely summoned a demon into themselves,” Fenris said.

“In all my years, before moving to Kirkwall, all the apostates that we knew, none of them ever became abominations. And in Tevinter where mages live freely, you say that they only become them if they are seeking to become one. It seems to me that, generally speaking, becoming an abomination is actually a rare thing. Here, I think the issue is that conflict between the mages and the templars is so great, that it’s driving both sides to use extreme measures. And in Tevinter it sounds like abuse of power, both magical and political, is the real issue,” Hawke said.

“Hm. Perhaps. But I would not risk the lives of innocent people on an unconfirmed possibility,” Fenris said.

“I said I would turn Bethany over to the templars if it meant saving her life,” Hawke said. “But I honestly don’t know if I could.”

“It speaks highly of you that you are so loyal and protective of your sister,” Fenris said. “It is very admirable, even if it is possibly foolish.”

“I wish you would tell her that,” Hawke sighed.

“I believe she knows that you would do anything to protect her. In time I believe her anger will dissipate and she will see what you were trying to say,” Fenris said.

“I’m so tired of mages and templars, Fenris,” Hawke said. Fenris laughed.

“Indeed,” he replied.

They talked a little longer until Hawke started to get cold, her butt completely numb from sitting on the hard stone street. Her energy was quickly fading, and her eye lids felt heavy. Hawke wished Fenris a good night, and made her way back to Gamlen’s house.

__________________________________________________

This fanfic is based on the amazing Dragon Age games, specifically focusing on the DA2 game. Thank you EA/BIOWARE for such amazing games & characters!

I’m new to tumblr, so please bear with me as I figure out the best formatting.

#dragon age #da2 #f!hawke #blood magic #fenris #anders #aveline #isabela #merrill #bethany #champion of kirkwall #fanfic #2020

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decorfrontline · 7 years ago

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Let’s Rummage for Good Thank you

New Post has been published on http://www.decorfrontline.com/index.php/2018/03/16/lets-rummage-for-good-thank-you/

Let’s Rummage for Good Thank you

Well, WE DID IT! The first (now annual:)) EHD ‘Lets Rummage For good’ sale is over and my goodness was it satisfying on so many emotional and physical levels. It combines so many of my favorite things: 1.) My love of thrifting and garage sale-ing, with 2.) Using my platform to benefit others with 3.) Gathering a community that thinks about serving those less privileged and 4.) Meeting and engaging with so many of you. It’s honestly the perfect recipe for my happiness. Plus the kids came and I ate delicious chicken sandwiches. But my experience and feelings aren’t really what are important here.

I can’t begin to put into words how thankful I am for all the time and energy everyone involved put into this sale. From Pen + Napkin (the non-profit) tirelessly picking up donations to Gina, our incredible event producer, putting in hours of work outside of her actual paying job – GOD BLESS YOU GINA. Then Abby from The Ruby Street for making sure everything went smoothly at the venue plus Lourdes and Zack donating this beautiful space and ALL the volunteers who gave up time out of their weekend to dress up in chambray and help us organize the mountain of donations we had from dozens of very generous people and companies.

And of course, the 600 people who came and shopped the sale to help raise almost $15,000! Yes you read that right. $15,000 was raised with 100% of it going back to such an incredible cause. The Ladies of Pen + Napkin (Catie and Ellyn I love you) were audibly sobbing when they tallied up the final number. I was clearly a wet-eyed mess as well seeing their reaction. With this money, they are going to be able to help so many more families who are transitioning out of homelessness feel loved, safe and secure.

It was full of items no longer needed by some but desired by others. My guilt about the amount of waste in my life disintegrated. It was a good day.

There are SO many people to thank and fun things to talk about so let’s get into it:

First off, these are the AMAZING ladies of Pen + Napkin. Catie, Jess, Ellyn and Debbie. In case you missed the other blog post, they design and furnish homes for people and families transitioning out of homelessness. The stats are pretty staggering with the percentage of people without furnished homes who end up homeless again versus those who have furnished homes. It just goes to show that putting time and love into your space is not for nothing. These ladies spent weeks coordinating and doing pickups for the sale all while still installing homes for the families they were already working with. Did I mention that Catie the founder was pregnant doing all of this?! They are a true inspiration to me and I am so excited for our partnership to continue and for us to help many many more. They are absolute examples for me.

Not to get on a soapbox about this, but we simply don’t care enough about human beings in this country. We look at the economic disparity and wish it were different but not enough people are prioritizing change. Catie and her husband have been doing this for FOUR YEARS. Volunteering for four years to help decorate homes of families with nothing is pretty incredible. Not only do we need to help the families, but we need to make sure that what she is doing is sustainable for her family (aka – people who run non-profits are simply not paid enough and in order for their service to be sustainable we need to help them).

This wonderful angel of a person, Gina, reached out after I first posted about the sale and volunteered to help coordinate since she had experience in such an event. There are two kinds of people in this world – the people who come to meetings with a detailed agenda of priorities, todo’s and next steps (GINA) and then those who arrive scattered, with no pen or paper in sight (ME). She took over, became my boss and while I was involved with the large decisions obviously, even the day before the sale I was like ‘Gina, what should I be doing’. I can’t thank you enough and hope to work with you forever. The world needs more people like you.

The week of the sale mother nature decided that LA needed a sprinkling of rain, and by sprinkling, I mean flash flood warnings. Which isn’t completely ideal when you are planning a giant rummage sale and need to load and unload trailers full of furniture, electronics, and clothes. It was comical for sure but didn’t stop us. Look we were even smiling.

Now when I say people generously donated I wasn’t kidding. Den Mobler, a wonderful 20th century design furniture design store in LA, donated HUNDREDS of amazing design books.

Den Mobler I appreciate and thank you so much.

Then we got an email from Makers Mess, an art studio in Silver Lake that also holds design and art classes, that they had 20 colorful chairs to donate. Catie jumped at that because if we didn’t sell at the sale (which they did) she wanted to use them in homes as dining chairs. Win, win. THANK YOU.

I was initially concerned that we weren’t going to have enough stuff to sell, but this is what the space looked like pre-sale. It was stacked top to bottom with so many good products and items.

And your eyes do not deceive you. Those are brand new OhJoy! products. My dear friend Joy, owner of OhJoy! donated a ton of adorable pillows, furniture, rugs, you name it. Thank you Joy!

All of our volunteers were amazing and willing to do anything we asked with a smile. How did we get so lucky? Here’s the first group of volunteers that came at 7am decked out in chambray:) Some were even there helping the night before. THANK YOU!

And of course, my wonderful team Sara, Jess, Julie and Brady were there too, helping prep the event as well as the helping the day of the event.

If you are wondering about pricing on items, I am a big believer in keeping pricing simple at large sales. It’s too chaotic otherwise. So we made color-coded posters to help with the majority of pricing questions. $2, $5, $10, $15 is what the majority of everything sold for. ‘Garage Sale’ prices made it so fun and successful.

And that sale was filled with good stuff.

I was overwhelmed by the quality of items we received.

A local east side hair salon, Establishment LA, donated all of this brand new Aveda makeup. Needless to say it went fast.

And remember when I hosted that Target event at Olive and June earlier this year? Well, Target being the insanely wonderful and lovely company they are donated all the new Project62 products we had at the event to the sale.

The biggest surprise was the insane amount of clothes that were donated. I am talking bags and bags of great clothes. Everything from vintage to new with tags. Also my wonderful friend Jen, owner of Ban.do donated boxes of brand new Ban.do clothes. Thank YOU Jen!

The volunteers that helped sort through all of it are truly saints.

You may have seen on my insta-story that last minute I decided to donate two of my large-scale oil painting portraits. It was a hard decision but well worth the profit we got for Pen+Napkin. I seriously donated so much and I feel soooooooo good about it. I finally have my garage back!

Every time I have an event I get a major case of ‘what if I threw a party and no one came.’ Well luckily people came and it was awesome.

The early birds (those who donated or volunteered) started lining up at 6:45 in the rain! If it wasn’t my sale I probably would have been one of those too. The really good stuff always goes super fast.

I was overcome with joy when I saw the other line (which wrapped around the corner). I knew it was going to be a good day.

The shopping started and the fun was underway.

I can be quite the saleswoman and was convincing this sweet couple they NEEDED this fine gentleman in their home. Did you see my insta-story poll on it?

And you bet I was successful. What a happy family:)

For the record I LOVE meeting, hanging and yes even taking photos with readers. Don’t ever hesitate, PLEASE. It makes me feel good and reinforces what I should be doing every day.

People didn’t hold back on the purchases. This is just one person’s loot!

I still can’t believe it was pouring rain and those people stayed in line and waited to come in (we had a maximum capacity in the room – all day long). Those definitely aren’t forced smiles… You also may be wondering why we had them all standing outside in the rain, and the only reason was we couldn’t let them all in at once due to the buildings capacity and the fire marshall potentially shutting us down. Thank you for sticking through it everyone that came and had to wait in line.

But once everyone was in the rain was a distant memory:)

I really wanted parents to feel free to bring their kids and for the day to be more of an event versus just a sale. I don’t give up time with my kids on the weekends so I didn’t want anybody else to as well. Since The Ruby Street had this amazing outdoor space I wanted to have some fun games that kids could do so they would let their parents shop with the promise of fun later. Enter Joymode and ResisterhoodLA. Joymode is an experience rental company here in LA and they donated these awesome oversized games. Then ResisterhoodLA, a class pass for volunteering organization, offered their services to oversee the games and help in any other way we needed. Having both companies there made the day so much better. Thank you!!

What would a rummage sale be without a food truck right? A bunch of starving, grumpy shoppers. Peaches Smokehouse and Southern Kitchen came and served up some delicious food namely those fried chicken sandwiches with strangely amazing pickles. Seriously if you ever see them on the street stop immediately and stuff your mouth with any of their amazing sandwiches. You and your belly won’t be sorry.

Now that we had Peaches as our food truck I reached out to Amy from Leaf and Love Organics. They make delicious organic lemonade juice boxes with no sugar, are gluten free and vegan. Basically, the best lemonade options for kids and my kids love them.

But in case the adults wanted some fancy spa-like water to help them hydrate during the shopping frenzy, The Surface Library donated these lovely pitchers for us to use.

Speaking of my kids, Brian brought them over so we all could be a part of this together. They are still a bit too young to really understand what this day meant to others but the more they can be around it the better.

Plus a vintage blue belt and blowing bubbles are an easy way for at least Elliot to be very interested.

And Charlie was very concentrated on his fishing game.

Originally I thought that the sale would go until 4pm. Then I realized I was crazy and no sale I have ever had has lasted past 1pm – due to everyone buying everything. And as you can see by noon the merchandise and crowd were dwindling, as almost everything had already sold.

Here is a before and after GIF to show you the shopping damage that was done.

To think how packed this place was and we hardly had anything left at the end. To say thank you feels incredibly insufficient. But THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU!

Pen + Napkin are going to do absolute wonders with this money and please if you have furniture or time to donate to them throughout the year they want it and will put it to good use.

There it is. The first (of hopefully many many more) ‘Let’s Rummage For Good’ sale. THANK YOU again to Pen + Napkin, The Ruby Street, Gina, all the collaborators, donators, shoppers and my team, of course. This sale made all of us feel amazing, as giving back typically does, so I am planning to have it be an annual (or semi-annual) event. If you, someone you know or any companies want to be involved in the next one please email [email protected].

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