Hello, Gaia-people. I've been away from the site for a while, and, to be honest, I only really came back here to try and get art of some of my OC's. x.x; Horrible, I know, but I am broke IRL and have a bit of gold on here, so I thought I could get some nice pieces...
But holy crap inflation. o.o; I can't even. Even selling off most of my stuff has not netted me sufficient funds.
So yeah, I'm settin' up shop in the hopes of raising some golds to pursue art of my OC's and the OC's of my bf. <3 Also, I would loooove some trading to happen: words for art. We'll see where it goes, ehn?
I shall pretty the thread up as days go by. XD
Rules
1. No ToS breaking please. Cool kids don't break the rules.
2. Don't try to claim my work as your own.
Hopefully, that will be all I need. Should I be forced to, I will add more. Play nicely, children, and all shall be well.
I don't have a form, because meh. Without a clearer view of what's going on with pricing and stuff, it wouldn't be a good one coming from me. XD
So to make a request, just post the following things in whatever pretty format your heart desires, so long as I can read it fairly easily. I refuse to scan through lines of text in post styles that have nothing to do with the request to try and figure out what you're actually asking for. If it's something relevant, like a form you've made for yourself as a long time requester, I will read through it. Just don't give me random pretty s**t that obliterates your actual message, because I won't do it. Sorry folks, I'm old and I don't have that kind of time anymore.
- Brief summary - just let me know in a few words what you're requesting so I know as I read the rest of the info. Like 'oneshot romance' or 'first person introspection' or something like that.
- Characters Involved - please please please be as in depth as you can. You can link me other places, other threads, wherever, if you don't want to post it directly in this thread. As long as said links do not give my poor, aging laptop herpes, that's totally fine. I want details!
- Any relevant world information - level of tech, time period, historical happenings, etc. If you have it, I'd love to read it, if you don't, bare-bones basics or what I can glean from character profiles is fine.
- Scenario/Ideas - maybe not all of you have these, which is cool. I can make stuff up based on character info. But if you have specific kind of scene or an idea, let me know. Heck, if there's a song or something that you feel speaks to the characters and/or situations, feel free to link me or give me names and artists, and I could see my way into maybe taking a listen or a gander to get some inspiration.
- Offer - what you're offering to gimme. XD If it's an art trade offer, please make sure to post a few samples or link me to a gallery!
- Length - how long you'd maybe like the piece to be.
Long as all or most of that is in there somewhere, we should be good to go! ^.^ If I need more information than what you initially supply, I will let you know.
Trades
This would be my absolute dream come true. I would love to trade writings for art. I would love you forever and ever if you can art well and would give to me some of that awesomeness for a few meager words. Such trades that I accept will be treated with reverence, and would entitle the other party to my best work. I'd be willing to do longer pieces, and several revisions, or just about anything else.
That said, I'm not gonna accept just anything for this. There needs to be a certain level of skill, and styles that I can envision my characters in. I don't like chibis as a rule, for example, so yeah. XD
There'll be a post below that has descriptions of characters I'm hoping to get some art of. I literally ONLY have text descriptions at this point, no refs, so yeah. Is a sad kinda thing. ;.;
Pricing
Okay, so I mentioned inflation above – I really can't even begin to price anything anymore. So yeah. XD Offer what you want, and that will partly figure into my accepting a request, I guess? I'll probably largely be looking at characters and storylines and stuff more at first, so that I can try to get some good samples going. That said, I do reserve the right to post stories I've written as samples here on Gaia, though I won't post them anywhere else if you'd like me not to.
I'm not going to really promise/offer any certain length for right now. Include what you'd like/expect for amount you're paying, and that will factor into decisions based on how much I get from the information provided. If I like what you've pitched but don't feel I can match the length, I would probably contact you and try to negotiate something else.
More interesting ideas/characters, with small or large offers, will definitely be considered more favorably.
Less interesting offers will take more monies for me to accept.
What do I find interesting or not? Take a gander at the post directly below to learn the answer to this question.
Interestes Intrigue me with a concept related to this stuff, and I'll probably do it no matter what the offer
Okay, I'll be honest. My two absolute favorite things to write are romance and angst. An angsty romance and my heart swoons with anticipation. I'm also into fantasy, medieval era stuff, morbid or melancholy stories, introspection, and character development. Sassyness and snark are specialties, so I like it when I can put a little of that attitude into any narration-type things that I'm doing. Stream of consciousness type things can be fun, and I also like to dabble in abstract ideas and concepts and symbolism.
Stuff that makes me go 'ugh' Which means you must pay me more or have an awesome concept
Fight scenes. Like, physical fighting, not fun verbal dramatic fighting. I'm just not good with such scenes, though I can do them if necessary. I tense up even thinking about it, so fight-heavy scenes are really not my favorite. Outright horror is not fun for me, nor do I like zombie stuff. Please don't ask me to do zombie stuff. You won't like what you get. First person narration can be a little bit unsettling for me, but I have and will do it if that's what you'd like, say in the form of journals or letters. Severely accurate historical pieces are also something that gets me kinda down. So much research, and I worry constantly I've missed something.
Do's
- romance
- angst
- comedy
- any gender or orientation
- friendship/bromance
- drama
- steamy
Don'ts
- pr0n/smut
- Twilight-esque vampires. If you ask, I reserve the right to hate you forever.
- most fanfiction
- steamy situations for those under the age of consent; where I live, that's 17
- anything that creeps me out That last one is just to cover all mah bases. I'm a smart lady, I am I am
A Note on Fanfiction
Generally, I will not do these requests, as I often feel I do not know enough about the series. However.
SAILOR MOON FANFICTION. I will do it. I really want to anyway, but I don't have a clear idea of my own. So if you want it and maybe have an idea you'd like to see brought to life, pitch it. If it's one I enjoy, I will write the s**t out of it. No lie.
Samples
So here's the thing. I have very few that would be both relevant and Gaia-friendly. Those that are or kind of are happen to be long. Uhm... yeah. XD So here's what I have.
Character Backstory Short
This is a backstory-esque thing that I wrote while trying to get a grip on a re-imagined OC I'll be playing again soon.
Once upon a time, she'd been a normal girl. She'd had friends, and parents, and a dog that she'd loved with all the strength her seven year old heart could muster. He'd been old when she was ripped away from her home... she ached with loss when she thought of how he must have missed her, how she wasn't there when he found his peace and returned to the earth. When her mother passed, she was at least allowed to attend the sending off, but she'd felt so strange in that place that had once been her home. Her father felt like just another grieving man, and the woman on the pyre was as distant as the stars they were releasing her to. She hadn't had it in her to even be saddened by the event – she'd cried beneath the tree where her dog was buried, but she hadn't been able to muster a single tear for the woman who'd given her birth.
But then, that woman and her husband had given her away, while her dog had never stopped trying to get into the wagon with her. They'd sent her off with smiles and cheerful waves while her heart broke.
Sometimes she remembered that her parents had been poor, that they couldn't provide much for her in regards to schooling or clothes or marriage prospects. She'd been going to a better life, in their minds. The trade was worth it, to them, and in quieter times she sometimes thought that maybe they'd been sadder than they'd shown in that moment. But most of the time, she remembered only how she'd wept, dragged away by priestesses who claimed she was destined to join their order.
Life at the temple wasn't bad, once she'd gotten used to it. Certainly there were new friends to be made, and so many wonderful things to learn. She'd watched faeries dance in the moonlight, heard the singing of elves and felt the magic that came from riding a griffon. Her life had been good, she couldn't deny that any more than she could help resenting the priestesses who had taken her and the family that had let her go. She'd had no choice, no hand in deciding her future, her fate. That was what stung the most, apart from the loss of her dog.
Years had passed, and the prophecy of the high priestess came true. More gifted in magic than most – both healing and destructive sides of the coin – she also had a deep understanding of the Lady's laws and secrets. It was whispered among some that she even knew the Lady's true name, the one that only a few would ever learn. Made a handmaiden to the Lady at sixteen, just after her first Beltane ceremony, she was the youngest in over a hundred years to be granted the honor. Tending the altar and offerings, cleaning the sacred spaces... she was gifted at it, sinking perfectly into the roles, as if she'd known them before. New whispers started, ones that claimed she was Eliana reborn, come to lead them through troubled times.
For the times were troubled, as she'd found on that first excursion out of the temple grounds to see her mother off. There was tension written on many faces, a hint of fear in others. The latter almost always came from those who held magic. She heard for the first time that magical races had been deemed 'beasts', even elementals and elves – less than human, not worthy of lands of their own or freedom. She heard on many lips that the beasts needed to be broken to human wills or be eliminated. That particular notion had her thinking that most humans were fools, and deserved to be taught a lesson. Such thoughts were unbecoming of her, as the Lady quickly pointed out. She needed to be more patient with people, try to encourage them along a more noble path. Always faithful to her Lady and Her cause, she obeyed, the best that she could.
The idea that magical beings were being hunted, however, was a thing that worried her almost as much as it did her goddess. Things were coming, she was told. Bad things and dark days, ones that they would need to weather to keep everything from being lost. There were plans being laid, safe havens being constructed, but the Lady didn't trust all of them. They were too open, with too many involved in their making. Something needed to be done to save magic, and those who were living examples of its power and beauty.
So she left the temple again, in her twenty-first year. Again, she'd left someone dear to her behind – he was a captain in the temple guard, handsome and brave and true. They were well suited, for she lit a fire in his heart and put a sparkle in his eyes, and he tempered her anger and impatience, making her laugh when she became frustrated with the world. He hadn't understood why he wasn't allowed to come with her, why she had to go alone. When she refused to tell him more, citing that the Lady had vowed her to silence, he'd stopped pushing... but she could see the hurt. The reminder that she was bound to another before him, could never be completely his, was a new wedge in their relationship. In the days before she left, she could feel him distancing himself – he started calling her by her title in public again, without adding her name to soften it. She could have loved him, if it weren't for the Lady, if it weren't for the visions that had determined her life-path before she was old enough to understand what her vows meant.
He'd made love to her, the night before she started out, but it hadn't felt like a promise to be waiting; it had felt like a goodbye.
The journey had been difficult, especially as she got further from the temple. Magic had always been a source of both wonder and fear, but now the fear was stronger. Worse, in some places, was the contempt, the belief that magic was unnatural and needed to be shunned. Keeping her own gifts secret, her identity private, had been hard. Both were so much a part of her that shucking them made her feel naked... but she also felt free. It took months, but she finally made it to the valley her Lady spoke of, one where her Consort spent much of His time. There were spells to be laid down, workings to be cast, and magical laws to bind to the land and the participants. Something was happening that she didn't understand, that the Lady wouldn't explain – it was draining Her, making it hard for Her to manifest. The Consort was fading too, but here in the Valley, so close to the place of His making, He was still strong. Without the ability to manifest Her own body, the binding had to be undertaken through Her handmaiden. Giving up her body for the duration hadn't been difficult – it was a small thing of the Lady to ask, after taking so much else. That ritual had gone on for days, and dimly, through the veil of the Lady, she found out what it was like to make love to a God.
Once it was done, the foundations of this sanctuary laid, she returned home. This journey was easier, bolstered by all that had happened in that strange valley. Magical beings of all kinds would flock there, she knew, taking secret paths that no mortal could ever hope to find, let alone navigate. She and her Lady and the Consort had done a good thing, had saved more lives that she could ever know. Still, when she returned home and found her captain had resigned his position and returned to his homeland, she almost hated her Lady for using her as Her tool. She'd wept and thrown things and broken others, had locked herself in her room for days... but on emerging, the turmoil in her heart was hidden from the others, and they forgave her for it. After all, they knew she was a passionate woman in every aspect of her life – it was easy to be swept away by such intense feelings. Even the Lady was lulled into thinking the storm was over, that Her Chosen had made peace with the sacrifices she'd made, would continue to make.
More years flew by, and the prediction of dark days came true. Only a year after she was given the title of High Priestess, war broke out across the land. Some said it was motivated by greed, others said it was a king lusting after a neighboring king's wife. Some asserted it was for land, others insisted it was a blood feud that had gone too far. The causes were vague, unable to be pinned down, impossible to penetrate... but she knew. The magic haters were using it as a cover, a way to hide the fact that they were committing atrocities, murdering those with the gift at will, subjecting them to torture and death to 'cleanse' them of the taint. She knew all this, and as war swept across the land, coming ever nearer to her temple, she began to be afraid. The Lady tried to soothe her, tried to tell her that all would not be lost – the sanctuary they had created would make sure of that. Everything that was happening had a purpose, and all would be made clear in the end. This was all destined, and only one sacrifice remained to be made. She was unconvinced, however. The priestesses and their male counterparts would be taken, the women probably raped. All would be tortured mercilessly, and all would die in horrible ways.
This would not stand.
She knew that she'd always been meant to die for her goddess; the people loved her, for all she was quick-tempered and prideful. She did real good among them, worked to better their lives through medicine and education and love. Seeing her die, seeing the way she was to be brutalized was supposed to wake them up, turn her nation into a place that would stand up to the darkness, a beacon for those that would fight to turn things for the better. Perhaps, if it had been her alone that would suffer, she would have let that fate find her. Her life hadn't been her own since she was seven, and she'd watched her dog run behind the wagon until he was too tired to keep up. She'd fought then, but not hard enough. Since that day, she'd simply followed along, sure that to resist fate was pointless, futile. But now... now the seeds of discontent in her heart took root, and grew fast. She'd had to leave her dog behind to suffer – she'd been helpless to avoid that. She'd been taken, and she would be taken now, but this time, she would make the choice, and do things her way. This time, her people wouldn't suffer.
Seeking dark magic was forbidden, but she did so anyway. Her intentions were still hidden from the Lady, whose attention was focused elsewhere, on other humans that She held dear, on other battles She was fighting. It didn't take long before she found what she'd been searching for – a way to end the attack that she knew was coming, a way to give her people time to flee... and a reason to disavow her. She was afraid, so afraid... and so alone. The other priestesses knew nothing of her concerns, didn't understand why her mood was so black. She missed her captain, the man she could have loved. He would have grounded her, given her courage enough to face her destiny... but he was gone, and so she stared into the pit on her own, ready to forge her own destiny.
The day the attackers arrived was beautiful – sunny, with a cooling breeze. It would have been the perfect day for children to fly kites, or chase each other in a game of tag. Instead, those that were bound to the temple were hidden deep in its bowels, crying silently as they were watched over by the majority of the guards. The adults were hopeful that it would be enough, that it would save them. But she knew better, knew that if this place was taken, those children would be subjected to horrors no one should ever have to face. With only a few members of her guard and all of her priestesses, Chelle stood in the altar room, face as immovable as stone. The current handmaiden of the Lady, Lisbet, stood at her side, ready for the end, ready to be taken by the invaders.
Their enemy, meanwhile, had ignored the city nearby – they were sure that once the temple fell, its residents would be cowed and fall in line, giving up their magic users willingly. All they had to do was take this temple, and the b***h that was in charge. She was a key, their masters had said. Breaking her would break the people, and loosen magic's hold on this land. And so, no terms of surrender were given, no quarter or mercy to be dispensed. Instead, the initial surge was brutal, killing those guards that had remained outside as a small line of defense. It was ripped through within minutes, and the attackers spread out, searching for their prey.
Most found no one, but the leader of the small army knew just where to look. He and his best men entered the altar room at a leisurely pace, an unpleasant smile on his face. Her guards had attacked while the priestesses screamed, running to the far side of the room. They were killed just as the others had been – one of the only sacrifices she had been willing to make, to draw in the invaders. When they were dead, the leader, who hadn't bothered to even draw his sword, looked up at her. His brow lifted in an arrogant gesture, that nasty smile widening. He approached the altar slowly, looking around him in apparent amusement. He would be the one that would have broken her, she knew, and her violet eyes were hard as amethysts when they met his. “High Priestess.” he greeted, the word a taunt, a slur, a barb.
She looked him over, distant and as untouchable as the stars. In that moment, she was beautiful, and proud, and noble, and that awful man came to a stop. For one single heartbeat, there was awe in his eyes, and just a bit of respect. Had that lingered longer, she might have been swayed from her purpose. But that sneering smile was back, and lust was in his gaze as it roamed over first her body, then Lisbet's. Her heart went cold, and for the first time in twenty years, she took hold of her life, her fate, and made it her own. Suddenly, there was a dagger in her hand – the surface was darker than a night without stars, a jewel of a sickly yellow hew embedded in the cross guard. It felt... hungry, like a living thing, a beast that would devour the world if it could. But she knew its limits, had bound it in the proper way – it would do her bidding, than fade back to the nether reaches where she had found it.
Gripping the handle tightly, she grabbed Lisbet with her free hand, pulling her over, putting the dagger to her slender, young neck. The handmaiden struggled, suddenly terrified of her own leader, but the grip that held her was strong as iron. She didn't have it in her to feel pity, or sorrow – the black pit that she'd been facing had gotten larger, and was about to swallow her whole. She was going to break every vow she'd ever made, throw everything she'd ever worked for away. Her people would be safe, but they would despise her, would denounce her. They would fear magic, shun it... and thus they would be free of the horrors these next years would bring. The sanctuary would be endangered as well, but the Lady – who's attention was finally on her, all too late – would be able to save that. She could feel the goddess descending, trying to take hold of her body, but she knew it wouldn't be in time.
Violet eyes met blue, and then her lips turned up in a smile that was strangely serene; peace was nearby, she knew. After this act, she could rest – maybe she'd be able to find her dog, to apologize, and they could play under the trees forever. Then, in one quick, violent move, that moment was shattered. The dagger drew across Lisbet's throat, dragging a gurgling scream from the girl as she died. The other priestesses, finally understanding, were running forward, trying to stop this... but they were too late, just like the Lady. “My name,” she told him, her eyes still locked on the man's as blood poured over the blade, over her hands. “Is Chelle.”
The name echoed through the suddenly silent hall, a dark magic gathering around the blade in her hand. Raising it up, she pointed it at the leader, and whispered a strange, guttural word that crackled with energy. That energy hung in the air, feeding off the blade and it's magic growing larger and larger... and then it burst, crashing over the invaders, leaving devastation in its wake.
********
None of the attackers survived, none of their bodies were recovered. All that was left in the temple grounds were sobbing women who swore they would never use magic again, and children who were told that it was a thing of evil, that they should forget all they'd been taught of it. Chelle herself was gone, swallowed by a violet light that had come just as the blade unleashed. The Lady, horrified by what had been wrought, furious that Her priestess had gone against Her wishes, found a fitting punishment. Then, to protect what had been made, the goddess poured everything She had into the valley, making sure it would weather the storm, and last to become a beacon of hope, as Chelle was supposed to be. Then She faded to nothing more than a whisper of an idea, unreachable by mortals, forgettable and soon forgotten.
Without Her guidance, the priestesses went into hiding, and lost their gifts; they survived, but not untouched. The city wasn't ransacked, wasn't turned into a warlike nation. It survived and then thrived. As the years marched on, they forgot what had really happened, forgot who Chelle was and what she had stood for. Instead, there were tales of a monster who had descended to spill the blood of innocents, a monster rooted in dark magic, proof of why it was evil. She became a demon, a tale to frighten children, children of those who would have died that day had she not acted.
********
Deep in her isolation, the living crystal that had become her tomb, Chelle slept. She slept, and while most of her dreams were full of shadows and danger and pain, every so often, she would dream of her dog. They were both young, she only seven and he little more than a puppy. And in those dreams, they played beneath their favorite tree, and no one ever came to take her away.
First Person
An example of me doing first person, which I don't really like to do. XD Another OC of mine, writing a letter to a potential future offspring
Immortality is craved by most mortal creatures. They wish to tarry forever here on this plane; they think it a blessing to do so. Humans especially seem enamored with the idea of never passing out of this world. They believe that being tied here will free them; being ageless will shield them from change. Afraid of the unknown, Death is to them the greatest evil of all. The reek of the fear of it, the smell swirling around them like an acrid cloud that burns my nostrils. Those that aren’t afraid of dying are usually instead terrified of really living. They have no idea what immortality really means, what it really entails. To them it is enchanting and perfect, saving them from falling into the void they all fear lurks beyond the confines of the world.
But then, humans have always been fools.
I have lived in this sorry world for years uncountable. I have watched their wars, their conquests, their fruitless victories. I see them destroy the world around them, and for what? So often it is greed, for humans always want what they don’t have. The land that belongs to their neighbors, the woman that is married to their brother, the gold another has earned. Women yearn to have children of their own while thousands die every day from neglect. Some destroy everything around them for the simple joy of watching things burn. They break relationships, possessions, bones. The very earth that gives them sustenance is regarded as unimportant, and they despoil it in their ignorance. When first I walked, the lands were green, the air clear. Standing atop the mountains, I could look out over leagues and see everything with clarity. Now, with their smog choking the air, my sight is limited to a sad degree. The stars that I have always loved still shine in the sky, but the humans block them out with the lights from their cities and the pollution from their filth. Death and destruction stalk the planet unchecked, killing off living things in the water, the air, the forests and plains.
This is all created by humans, who fear death more than anything, who consider themselves above all else around them. They have lost their connection to the Web. No longer do they feel the beat of the earth in their own heart, or hear the whispers in the wind. Water and fire are resources to be harnessed, not wonders to be humbled by. Their eyes are shut to the world at large. They are tiny kings of tiny kingdoms, worried only with protecting and preserving what they call ‘theirs’. They are always seeking more to add to what they own, looking for power and love and riches. Fools and bringers of chaos, humans are helpless to avoid their true natures. They wreak havoc even when they mean to do good. They are thoughtless creatures, unable to consider the long-term consequences of their actions.
This is why I have so often told that fool, Eden, to give up on her appointed task. The humans are too destructive for Power to waken in them truly. The grey snow she sends to cover the land creates more monsters than miracles, even when she limits the area of influence. In all my long years observing her and this fruitless cycle, I have never seen what could be called a ‘success’. This world will die in the next millennia or so. I have told her to either send her curse to blanket the whole of the world, or to simply leave it alone to limp on till the bitter end. Hasten its demise, or let it rest, turning her mind to other things. But she doesn’t see the logic there. She cannot let go of the purpose she was charged with, cannot understand that her pursuit if folly.
I think she has been broken by the long years of her ‘life’. Before I walked, she had already been alive for a span of time even I find difficult to fathom. Many of those years were spent alone, from what I have been able to gather. Alone is what she is, what we all are. Those of us who dwell longest in this world come to that realization. Without the fear of death, we do not become stronger, or more free. The march of time does not pause in its tracks because we cannot die. We watch the world shift and change around us, faster than sand falls through an hourglass. I remember using hourglasses, before the rise of machinery. Before that, candle marks, or the sun. Once, time meant almost nothing; there was no need to count hours, or number days. Perhaps it is this ridiculous urge to track every moment that drives humans to fear death so. Every hour that they see pass is one more that is lost, one less that they have to go on living. While I do not begrudge those around me for counting time, I myself do so as little as possible. The world does not change because we call it ‘Sunday’ or ‘Tuesday’. Knowing what the hour is doesn’t make me feel any more secure that the day is progressing. I let time be, and it flows around me, changing everything in its wake.
Change is the curse on immortals, and it is one even humans fear. I have seen cities rise and fall, watched the wilderness be sacrificed in the name of progress. Everything I once loved is gone, or so different that seeing it only brings melancholy and regret. Even if I used my power to rule the world, if I gave into the urge to take all these humans under my wing and guide them, I could not stop change. It would come, eventually leaving me lost and heartsick. This is something I realized long ago. Eventually, the long years will wear on me so that the yearning to fall into the soft dark will be too much to bear. The first time this thought occurred to me, I fought it talon and beak. I refused to think that someday the fire in me would not be an inferno, but only a small spark, capable of only one last kindling to a blaze.
It has only been the last few hundred years that I have had to accept the thought. Everything changed so quickly, even for the short-lived humans. The things I have always known are ceasing to be true, with new truths arising that I find hard to accept. I grow weary of watching these humans destroy everything, and I wish only for peace. Even once that was realized, I fought the final conclusion, that I would soon need to create an Egg, as my people did before the first blanket of ash smothered the world. The knowledge is there, though I had no one to teach me. My final blaze is used to pass on the fire to another Phoenix, letting me embrace the cool dark. The lore is that all those that came before live on inside the newborn; I wonder if they are still Aware, or if they’ve found the quiet peace I long for. But creating that Egg means that I will condemn another being to this sorry world, to live out what I see as its final years. How can I bring new life, knowing that my child will know so much heartache and so little pleasure to sweeten it?
No, I believed I could be strong. I would be here to the end, as I was here at the second beginning. I would witness and grieve, and then disappear gladly into the cleansing flames that will bathe the planet. I clung to that thought as another might to a lover; it gave me hope, a purpose. For a few short years, I had some small insight into Eden’s desperation to hold onto her meaning. But I am not an all-powerful being. I am not human, but I still have limits. My heart can still break, and my spirit bow under the weight of the years. At long last, I have grown tired, and I wish dearly that I could simply be taken from this world, that I did not have to live forever. Though I am trying to hold on, it is difficult, harrowing. I am not sure that I can do so for more than a century or so.
That uncertainty, and my guilt over what is the inevitable, is why I am writing this for you, my darling. You do not exist yet, and perhaps you never will. But if one day I bring you into this world, I want you to know that I love you, and that I am sorry I have left you in a place with so little in it. You will have my lands, my people, my nest… they will all be yours, for as long as you choose to keep them, up until the world’s end. In these journals, I hope to offer some comfort, to give you some wisdom that will help the fire in your heart carry you through many burdens. You are alone in so many things, but that does not mean that you have to be lonely. There is one being in this forsaken place that I hold dear; she is older than I, older than Eden. Many would say she is without morals or compassion, and perhaps that is true. She is a demon, and does not see things the way that humans do. But then, neither do I, and neither will you. While she does not come here often, I have wrung from her the promise that she will be here for your first years. She will offer you what I cannot, for she clings to this world with a fervor that I can no longer muster. Even without the virtues that humans prize, with all her foolishness and her habit of manipulation, she is dependable. I hope that she will offer you as much comfort as she has me.
If at last I give in, and you read this, take the fabric square secured to the page. Trace the symbol with your fire – you know how to grasp it, so do not be afraid. Almost everything you need is already inside you. All you have to do is look. So trace this symbol, and let the fire consume the fabric; let the smoke rise into the air. Once that happens, she will come to you. It may take her a day or two, but she will come. Have faith.
Her name is Nara, and in my own strange way, I love her; in her own way she loves me. I believe that she will love you too, and will not put you in danger. Believe in her too, my dear child.
Never forget that I love you, and I wish that I had enough fire left to linger in this world long enough to see your face, to hold you. Forgive me, if you can.
My name is Shula, and I am the Phoenix, Mistress of Cinead Hold. I am the Guardian of Fire, the keeper of these journals.
But more than all that, I am your mother, whose heart broke when I realized I would bring you into the world alone. I am your mother, who hopes that, despite everything, you can find a measure of happiness.
Goodbye, my child.
Abstract
Lastly, a piece I did while, again, trying to get a grip on a character, one who is a little... insane. It's kind of really abstract, so yeah.
The room was mostly dark, only a few candles offering some light and casting long shadows as a price. Two windows took up the majority of one wall; both were open to the night, a strong breeze drawn through them to invade the small space. The wind stole the warmth of the place, whistled and moaned as it blew… but the curtains didn’t flutter, nor the candles flicker and gut. Nothing moved in that place but the wind. All else was silent and still, and there was an oppressive feel in the air, a sense that the room and its inhabitant were waiting for something.
For there was an occupant standing in the center of the room, facing a mirror, though she may as well have been a statue. Her breath barely stirred her chest and her blinks happened rarely – when they came, they were slow, as though moving them took everything she had. Despite the fact that she’d been standing there for almost an hour, there were no other motions that gave a clue to the life that was inside – her fingers never twitched, she didn’t sway or turn her gaze one way or another. Despite the cold, she was naked, the nightgown she’d had on earlier pooled at her feet. Her eyes were caught on the mirror in front of her, taking in the person there as a whole. The light in the room was almost nonexistent, but she could still make out everything just fine, or so it seemed to her.
The woman in the mirror was beautiful, of that there was no question. She was taller than the average female, standing a few inches shy of six feet. Her body possessed all the feminine curves that would be expected of a romance novel heroine, though her proportions kept that look from going into the territory of the absurd. Earlier, every inch of skin had been examined and catalogued from where she stood, all the parts taken in separately before any attempt to construct a larger picture. Everything was there, where it was supposed to be; the skin was almost milk-white, creamy splashes of pink warming it just enough to keep it looking real. Smooth, silky to the touch, it was the kind of skin people might like to caress… The examination had moved on to the face, and again, all there was pleasing to the eye. The color of the irises couldn’t be discerned in the light, but they were probably dark – memory supplied ‘amethyst’, but memory was a tricky, tricky thing. Her eyes were large, making her look softer, sweeter, and there seemed to be a heavy fringe of lash on each, adding to that impression. Her nose was small and sightly, her mouth plump and kissable… at least if one went by those same standards already set forth: a romance novel heroine. High cheekbones gave her a classic look, and on the right cheek, just under the outside corner of her eye, there was a beauty mark.
Oh yes, the parts were all pleasing, and put into a whole, everything made sense. It was a complete person standing there in the mirror, and she was lovely. Suddenly, a frown touched those full lips, and one hand lifted, passing over her face. The woman in the mirror was moving… why was the one outside of it doing the same? Her hand lifted higher, sliding into her hair, feeling soft strands under her fingers. The dark hid so much color, but again there was a vague idea that the hair should be a coppery blonde, woven through with shades of brown and red. Large, soft curls tumbled down to just past her shoulders. Checking again, she slid her hand down, gripping the locks and pulling them into a mock pony-tail. Again… the one outside the mirror again followed suit. Her frown became more severe, confusion in those dark eyes, though she knew it was hidden from the outsider. Letting go of her hair, she reached out, to the one on the other side of the glass, beckoning. Come here and let me look at you. The words weren’t spoken, but they were heard anyway. The woman in the room had beckoned too, but she hadn’t really meant it. They both knew the glass was a barrier that could not be crossed; the one inside the mirror would not be able to come to the one outside. The one outside shivered, then began to walk forward in small, tentative steps. This time, the woman in the mirror was the one to echo the movement – the other would see how it felt! Or maybe it was to offer comfort, so the woman outside would know she wasn’t the only one feeling uncertain.
Closer, closer… they both approached that glass barrier, staring into each other’s eyes. Trembling, the one inside held up her left hand, reaching… and the one outside met her with her right hand. Though the glass separated them, it was as if they could feel each other. The one in the mirror was warm to the one outside; there was no wind in that land, perhaps. Or maybe it was summer there… The woman outside though, she was cold to the one inside. So very cold, her hand longing for another to hold it, to warm it with their own. With the glass in place, there was only so much of her own warmth she could offer. The woman inside tried to examine the one outside, but… mirrors are unreliable things when looked at from the wrong side. The form of the other wavered and broke before her eyes, shifting and changing too fast for any sense to be made of the whole picture. Who are you? Again, the question was silent, but the other heard. She flinched, and the woman inside the mirror felt a keen sense of pity. Who are you? The tone was gentler, but the only answer still came as a flinch, and this time, the one outside pulled her hand away from the mirror.
Hurt, the one inside dropped hers as well. You are someone. She was trying to be kind, but the one outside didn’t seem to care. Were those… tears she could see, sparkling on skin? They stayed, though the cheeks they ran down didn’t stop wavering. In sympathy, tears sprung to her own eyes. The poor creature didn’t know who she was… she didn’t have a firm grasp of her form, had no sense of self. It will be okay, she soothed, wishing she could reach out and sweep the other into the mirror with her, where it was warm and safe. You are someone. More tears, coming faster, harder… and now there was sound in the room outside again as the woman there began to sob. You’ll remember. The fierce reassurance did nothing to comfort, to soothe, and the woman outside crumpled to the floor, the one inside following, trying to get the other to look at her again. You’ll remember so it will be okay. How could she help this woman, who she couldn’t even reach? How could she help her when she didn’t know her name? I’m Michelle. The attempt to be friendly brought forth harsher sobs – it was a slap in the face, though she hadn’t meant it that way. Realizing that she could offer no help at all, the woman in the mirror didn’t try anymore. Instead, as the wind howled and the candles began to burn down, she could only be there with the woman who couldn’t remember who she was anymore.
The woman inside could only watch the woman outside with pity, and be glad that she lived in a mirror, where the appearance of a person was all that was needed to make them whole.
In the event that you would like to exchange a picture for words, here are OC's that I currently am wanting art of. I have no references, because I suck. Once my bf gives me some of his descriptions, I'll put those up too. Yay!
Because I have no refs, I tried to go kind of in-depth with the descriptions... that makes them long. So much length in this thread. ;.; There's also a history/personality/relationships bit included, should you be one to like having such info before making art. If you have any questions, feel free to ask! I'm proud of my babies, after all. <3
Aysu
Appearance
Looks to be in her mid- to late-twenties
Has silver eyes and silver hair – her hair should be a lighter shade of silver than her eyes. Her skin is very pale, and in the moonlight can almost look like a pearlescent alabaster.
Her hair falls just below her shoulders and has a slight wave when it's down, but she rarely keeps it that way while she's awake. Generally, she prefers to keep it in a ponytail or a braid; it's almost never neat while in those styles. Usually there are wisps that fall around her face and stray hairs that escape everywhere.
Her facial features are a little angular and sharp; chin and nose should be just a little pointy. Nothing too extreme, but there shouldn't be many completely round forms. Her cheekbones are high, and her eyes have that hooded, bedroom look. Her lips are full, but she rarely smiles; instead her expression is pretty blank. When that isn't the case, there's usually a fierce glare or scowl on her face. The only time her expression really relaxes and turns 'soft' is when she's with her sister or other people that she genuinely cares about.
When it comes to body-type, she's fairly slender and is five-foot-five. Her body shape is feminine, but not overly curvy. There is some muscle definition in her arms, legs and abs. Generally, she prefers clothes that are a little baggy, or will dress in layers. She's almost never in 'girly' clothes such as skirts and dresses, and most of the time will refuse to don shorts as well. The leaves jeans and the occasional pair of black dress pants she puts on – her pants are often distressed with worn patches or small rips. They're also really the only article of clothing that does tend to be form-fitting. She likes vest paired with long sleeved shirts, and sturdy, black boots. The colors she wears also are usually pretty severe; lots of black and darker colors.
When she's at home, in the Valley with her sister, she does occasionally don those more girly fashions. In those cases, the skirts will always be knee-length or longer, though the sleeves can be shorter. Cleavage displayed is usually minimal, as she likes to be covered up.
Jewelry is usually not present in the outside world, but she does wear it in the Valley. Settings aren't usually very ornate, the metals are always silver, and any gemstones will be moonstones, rainbow moonstones, lapis lazuli or blue apatite. Actual gem cuts aren't a big thing with her; usually it's polished or raw whole stones. She has one piercing in each ear, and will wear necklaces, rings and ankle bracelets; actual bracelets are not something she likes.
The woman does have a couple scars, though they wouldn't be visible while she is clothed. She has a long scar that starts on her left hip and goes down to mid-thigh; it curves inward as it moves down her leg. There's also one on her left shoulder that's circular; it looks as though someone dug out a chunk of her flesh, and though the wound closed, there is scar material filling it in.
Personality/History/Important Relationships
Aysu has been alive for about five hundred years, and most of them were not kind to her. Her father is a minor deity, a Lake God, who is the protector of a sanctuary for magical beings. As he is tied to the Valley and cannot leave, he created for himself a daughter to send out into the world to gather information and protect those on the way to the sanctuary. Despite her appearance, she was very young and naive when she first left the protected, sheltered Valley, and a lot of awful things happened as a result. She was, at one point, captured and tortured for several weeks by a magic-hating group she now calls simply the Enemy. The years after that were often just as difficult; her father often made new siblings, but they were all killed or unmade, leaving her alone again.
This has made her very bitter and jaded, and her guard is up almost all the time. When she interacts with humans who don't have magic, she tends to be short and sharp with her words. She never holds back and can be exceptionally rude to those she deals with. With magical beings, another side of her comes out; protective and caring, though not overly friendly. They are her charges, and she will protect them with her life to guide them to the Valley where they can be safe until the outside world is again ready to accept them.
Recently, her father created another daughter; she will be the last, and she cannot be unmade without the consent of Aysu as well. Her name is Kasumi, and the two sisters are very close. With her, Aysu is fiercely protective, almost overly so; she will do ANYTHING to keep her little sister safe. This includes charging her with overseeing the Valley, becoming the mediator and caretaker of all the beings within it. This keeps her baby sister at home in the Valley, without it looking like that's what she's trying to do. She is the only person that Aysu will completely let her guard down with, becoming warm and sweet and kind. With her sister, she will also be physically affectionate, where no one else is allowed to touch her.
Oryll Nox, a new addition to her life, has put the cold, bitchy woman into something of a tailspin. He doesn't react like other people, which saps her of the urge to lash out. She has no idea how to handle him at all; as such, she regards him as both an oddity and someone who she might actually be able to call a friend.
She hates Joryll, and would beat the crap out of him if she could. He is referred to alternately as either 'pretty boy' or 'that little s**t', depending on the day and her mood.
Kasumi
Appearance
Looks to be in her early- to mid-twenties
Her eyes are a moss-green that will darken to emerald when she is angry or using magic. Her hair is a honey blond, and falls to her mid-back when she leaves it free. Generally, that is what she does, often winding flowers, leaves, or other bits of nature into the golden tresses. When she does put it up, it's in a braid, and every hair is immaculately in place. Even then, there's usually a flower tucked behind her left ear. Her skin is a creamy color, touched with pink in the cheeks.
When it comes to her facial features, they are much softer than Aysu's, which means rounder shapes. She does have the same hooded, bedroom eyes, and her lips are also full like her sister's. The woman is almost always smiling or laughing, and generally looks as if she'd greatly enjoying life.
Her figure is also just about the polar opposite of her sister: she's far more curvy, and is also taller at five-foot-seven. She has the traditional hourglass shape, and while she isn't well toned, she is well-proportioned. During warm, sunny weather, she prefers to wear dresses and skirts – most of the time, the length is about at her knees, but she will sometimes go shorter or longer. If longer, the skirts are flowy and fun, and she enjoys prints of all kinds. She likes pinks and greens and blues – all in bright, cheerful shades. She also will don jeans and shirts, usually fairly casual in nature, and she likes tighter tops with shorter sleeves. Her favorite shoes are sandals and other things that she can kick off easily - she'd rather be barefoot most of the time. To facilitate that, she often paints her toenails different 'happy' colors.
Kasumi never wears jewelry, and has no scars.
Personality/History/Important Relationships
Kasumi is incredibly young; she was made about two years ago and has never been in the outside world. She lives in the Valley, cut off from the world at large. Though she isn't upset about it or at all resentful, she does burn with curiosity when she thinks about what could be out there, beyond the mountains that encircle her home. Completely sheltered from the true evils of the world, Kasumi is Pure, in the words of those she is charged to take care of. She spends her days wandering through the entirety of the valley, meeting and spending time with the residents. While some may not like her or her judgments, she has no true enemies inside the Valley. Whenever there is a dispute or disagreement between tribes, species or even individuals, Kas is asked to step in and help sort it out.
Her general outlook is incredibly cheerful and happy, untainted by disappointment or hurts caused by other people. Her life has been good, with only a few stumbling blocks. Between Aysu's experiences and those of her siblings no longer with them, her sister and her father are almost overly-protective of the newest member of their family. With nothing to warn her away from doing so, she welcomes everyone with open arms, and trusts as soon as she meets a person.
Perhaps that is why she was so eager to embrace the man that stumbled into the Valley one day. Named Azael, the man had no magic, and was amazed and awed by the sights around him. During his stay, Kas fell in love with him, swept away by his sweet words and passionate nature. He said he returned her feelings, and needed only to leave for a while to tie up a few ends so he could be with her forever without worry. Breaking every rule and taboo, Kasumi let him leave, showing him the paths to properly return to the outside world. As soon as he was back in the world, he sold the Valley to the highest bidder. The Enemy eagerly bought the information, and have launched several attacks against Kas.
She, unknowing the complete situation, eagerly awaits his return so that he can love her and protect her, freeing Flower to find his own friends. Once her lover has returned, they can live happily ever after forever. As she waits, she takes great care of the child growing within her, happy to be so linked with Azael.
Her relationship with Aysu is fairly typical of two sisters; they may bicker or not agree on things, but they do love each other very much. She doesn't know much about her sister's past, or the other siblings that came before her; she has been shielded from that knowledge. Because of that, she often doesn't understand why Aysu is so protective. Still, she's very affectionate with the other woman, and loves when her big sister brings her back trinkets from the outside world.
Flower, a mysterious man who appeared before Kasumi in the Valley, is regarded as a dear friend – this despite the fact that they haven't known each other very long. When they first met, it felt like the man was half asleep and hardly able to converse; once he saved her from some attackers, she warmed to him quickly. He agreed to stay with her to protect her while she waits for Azael, and she can see him starting to wake and become a whole person.
Oryll, who she has only just met, already has the title 'big brother' in her mind. She's pretty sure that he and Aysu are together, even if they won't admit it. She thinks he's funny and cool, and she really wants to make a good impression.
Kas is pretty neutral towards Joryll, though she does like his golden eyes and pretty hair.
Cyrus - ambitious teenage warlock; 16 years old, average height, skinny build; pale skin, fair hair tied in a pony-tail, blue eyes; wears a black tunic and pants, a blood-red cloak, and carries a wooden staff. Hungry to prove the powers of his kind are more than childish superstition.
Kane - the King's champion knight; late 20s, tall and well-built; dark hair, gray eyes, grizzly stubble; wears the uniform of the King's Guards. Skilled warrior and captain of the guard, although he tends to goof-around and act a bit cocky.
Alus - noble King; early 30s, average build; short brown hair, brown eyes, trimmed brown beard; wears an embroidered tunic, black leather breeches, a purple cloak, and a plain gold crown. Generally competent ruler, but prone to over-thinking issues.
- Any relevant world information - swords and sorcery tech, in a high medieval time period, history sadly unknown as of yet...presumably something has occurred to marginalize the warlocks, though.
- Scenario/Ideas - Might be a problem...feel free to play up the verbal dramatic fighting and only mention the physical fighting in passing. v.v;
Cyrus strides into the castle and demands an audience with the King, intending to demonstrate his prowess with a demon he has summoned, only to be dismissed as a child. Amid the ridicule, he lashes out, and Kane warns the lad to knock it off or he could hurt himself, but Cyrus continues his assault, prompting Kane to start sparring with him. Kane is clearly more skilled, but gradually the tables turn - his footwork seems clumsier, his breastplate oddly cumbersome, his voice...higher?! The demon is an age-stealer, and Kane is getting younger and younger as it drains him of his growth! Now a beardless youth, Kane fights frantically as Cyrus taunts him about being forced to repeat squire training, page training, and even potty training, laughing at his high-pitched protests and struggle to keep his pants up. Shrinking into a baby, Kane is ultimately humiliated as Cyrus scoops him up and conjures a diaper round him, mocking his "tantrum" as he cries indignantly.
Easily subduing the other guards, Cyrus presents the defeated captain to the King with an ultimatum - step down, or be shrunk down. The King has trouble believing the bawling babe is his champion, but soon finds himself getting younger too! He proceeds to duel with Cyrus, but, not used to such exertion, his situation is dire - his slipping headgear and sagging breeches don't help as the warlock reverts him to awkward adolescence, sneering that he should quit playing at ruling a kingdom and leave it to the grown-ups. All looks lost as the King becomes a mere boy...however, a well-placed throw of his crown smashes the crystal on Cyrus's staff that controls the demon - it turns on the outraged warlock, reducing him to infancy and restoring the others before departing. Lifted from his adult trappings, Cyrus wails in frustration as Kane teases his predicament and the King muses that his champion would make a firm-but-fair father.
- Offer - 35mil?
- Length - 3000 words?
Hopefully that's okay; feel free to ask any questions. <3
Sorry it took so long to get back to you - I wasn't feeling well yesterday, and I didn't really get out of bed at all. XD
This sounds really fun and interesting, so I shall definitely accept! Shall get working on it and have it done ASAP. <3 Do you have a specific time you'd like it by, and would you like to see any drafts or anything?
Sorry it took so long to get back to you - I wasn't feeling well yesterday, and I didn't really get out of bed at all. XD
This sounds really fun and interesting, so I shall definitely accept! Shall get working on it and have it done ASAP. <3 Do you have a specific time you'd like it by, and would you like to see any drafts or anything?
No worries, thank you for getting back to me - I hope you're feeling better now. <3
I'm glad you like the sound of it! Is a week too soon? Don't worry about sending drafts or anything, I'm happy just getting the finished product. :3
- Brief summary - any pov friendship / light romance thingy
- Characters Involved - them
- Any relevant world information - modern setting
- Scenario/Ideas - i really have no idea xD
- Offer - 100m min ( price to change with length )
- Length - the longer the better!
Setting: Post-apocalyptic modern day / future (several years after the fall), whichever one of those calls out to you more. I would leave it up to you on how the world got turned onto its ear; however in the setting there are now creatures lurking about. Zombies, Mutated humans, mutant-animals, cults of crazed survivors. The world looks grim, and truly it is a bleak time but there are still small bands of people, relatively ‘good’ people that are just trying to cope with day-to-day comings and goings. Food and water would probably be sparse and most buildings have fallen to ruin or prove to be too dangerous to explore or camp in for extended periods of time. Unlike in other horror based writings where if there is a centralized virus or unknown pathogen in the air or water, maybe carried by blood transmission, there seem to always be ‘quarantine’ areas or military outposts under martial law. In this story, those just don’t exist, unless of course you really feel it is necessary. Basically what I am trying to state is people just tend to group together and wander about seeking shelter where they can find it while saying out of harm’s way.
Plot: Mostly what I am looking for in this story is there are two women traveling together with this group. However many you want in the group is fine; a small group works just perfect. But they tend to never really talk to each other or have time to get to know each other when the others of the group (the male characters) go either scavenging or on patrol to check to make sure everything is okay, they normally take the protagonist with them so they are never left alone together. Then all heck breaks lose when this band of … not so nice survivors that are armed better decide to jump the group in effort to get their provisions. A few of the characters should be killed off but the two women escape. Basically I would like to see them go through some hardships, run into creatures, get hurt . . . comfort each other. Then after that is established they actually run back into their original group and the character named Charity or Pippa as the main douchebag guy will call her, starts to claim her and she doesn’t realize that the protagonist has deep feelings for her so she just sort of . . . goes it because she is lonely and this guy provides protection . . . ensue jealousy from the main character. I would like some rather dark themes in this if you are up to that, if not that is fine as well. Continuing on, the two females develop more feelings for each other and eventually the group finds a town that has make shift walls built around it and provides some sense of normality. The town has jobs for people, simple ones mostly being guards and others as errand couriers to get supplies from one part of town to the other and then there are the scavengers that make trips outside of the wall into more dangerous zones. Each person is assigned a role and every week they hold … pit fights… to boost morale and give the town folk the opportunity to gamble their food rations on fights. The main fighting that takes place is between a person and one of the mutated animals that they find out in the country, it varies what sort of creature it is week to week but . . . seeing as how the protagonist should be really depressed by now, she will want to battle one of the creatures to gain from notoriety in the town so that maybe Charity will be wooed or at least comfort her if she gets hurt. The douchebag character actually intervenes with the fight and kills the creature for Betty . . . which pisses her off because he did it just to humiliate her. She gets bite… or scratched … something and it actually mutates her somewhat . . . her eyes go from being green to radioactive yellow.. and she gains some powers… such as strength, speed… heightened senses like smelling and hearing (when she first gets them they are overwhelming for her and cause her… ungodly amounts of agony) . . . I feel like I am babbling now…but yeah…so that…then just sort of …ya know…take it from there and make it a romance in the end with lots of conflict and such.
Protagonist:
Betty“Jinx”Webb: Betty or as others call her Jinx, is a petite brunette that is rather sullen, she is a sweet person and very intelligent but she tends to be insecure and somewhat gloomy when it comes to how she sees herself and the situation around her. She is normally taken onto hunting trips in the group because she is rather handy and small so she can fit in a lot of places the men can’t. She is amazing with bladed weapons such as knifes and has a gift for making poisons and low grade explosives (given she can find the right materials) she is also an a genius when it comes to making food. The group thinks before the world went to ruin she might have been a chef, especially with her handling skills with small knifes. She is short, standing at 5’2” and of slim weight, she is pale with green eyes and tiny hands. She has a habit of saying sorry for everything and has various scares on her arms and a small zigzag scar on her jaw on the left hand side. She isn’t girly, rather a tomboy. She is called Jinx because she actually was found by the group’s leader stuck in a drainpipe, back then she used to be rather overweight and everyone was shocked a girl of her size managed to survive long enough to be rescued. Since then she has slimmed down and is actually really attractive but the guys tend to stay away from her because no one wants to call dibs on her seeing as she has stated several times “men really aren’t my thing.” But everyone just assumes she is joking. Betty is the type of person that …sulks… and doesn’t complain if she is in pain and will try to act like nothing is wrong.
Charity Taylor: Sassy, quick tongued, fiery tempered. A little whiny especially when it comes to manual labor, Charity is a fun-loving sort of person with a casual serious side (meaning she will be a b*tch if she needs to and knows when to stop joking around and be serious when she has to) Charity is just a little taller than Betty, standing at 5’3” and she is curvy. Charity has short black hair that she wears slicked back under a beanie and actually has a more feminine style in clothing. She has warm honey brown eyes and is African American. Charity normally isn’t taken into hunting groups because she gets too high strung in those sort of situations. Charity is rather new to the group, they found her just outside of a ruined hotel where she was taking a shower in a private suite and enjoying the mini bar. Charity loves food and is always grateful to be fed. She is a good cook but normally she is assigned the task of boiling water to make sure it is safe to drink or inventory at the end of the night to check supply count, she doesn’t distribute supplies to the group but she does make the list and prioritizes it according to the members.
or
*blushes a little*
Type: romance, angst, drama, fluffy-steamy (which ever you are more comfortable with)
Setting: High school / College (again whichever one you prefer)
The main pair would be a girl like before named Betty "Jinx" Webb (the same characteristics apply to this version of her as well, she is still sullen but tries harder to be less so), she is this cuddly, somewhat accident prone, introvert that tries to be out going because she enjoys sports and other social activities but she sometimes is uncomfortable in crowds and certain people just upset her to no end. She is fairly intelligent but tends to act like a know it all to compensate for subjects that she isn't too well versed in. She should be trying to get into a sport, such as kendo, fencing, track, volley ball, something of that nature but the other team members really have an issue with her because she seems to be a cry baby and a liability because she is so accident prone.
The other character should be a girl named Annie Landhardt, she is the cool and stoic type but actually is really fun-loving but doesn't show it often because she likes to be feared by her team and classmates. Annie should be the star player of whatever sport you are going to shove Betty into as well as on the Football (American Football) team. Annie is a complete bad a** and is rather scary to those that don't know her. Annie secretly loves food and cute things but again doesn't outwardly display that emotion though when something "cute" does catch her eye she watches it like a hawk and that at times can be unnerving. (Betty being one of those cute things)
Oh right, physical appearance. Betty is short. Petite, thin, very thin actually, and wears over-sized hoodies and sweaters, normally wears jeans. Betty tends to be barefoot when she can get away with it but is forced to wear shoes, she tends to have her laces undone so she can slide in and out easier. She has shoulder length, messy brown hair that is in jagged layers that frame her face and fall into her eyes. She is pale and has green eyes.
Annie is a tall, lean blonde with pale blue eyes, she keeps her hair in a ponytail or a bun when she is engaging in sports, Annie normally wears hoodies or button up dress shirts and slacks with cleats . . . she has been known to kick people with her shoes if they piss her off. Normally she has earphones on and tends to block out the world when she is walking through the hallways or eating at lunch.
. . . feel free to write whatever plot you want between the two
I would love if you took a shot at either of these pieces . . both if you really wanted to . . . with the first one it would be rather lengthy I feel . . . somewhere near the 20k to 30k mark . . . depending on how you would write it . . . I would be willing to part with 2 to 3 billion for that
For the other work, its length depends on you and how you were feeling, I would love if it were at least a few pages long . . . 10k to 25k worth of words . . . I am willing to have the base price as two billion and depending on how long you make it, go up from there. And of course I would love for them to all be in third person . . . *smiles and waddles off* Thank you so much for you time. Quote me if you have questions or ... ya know wanna take my offer.
