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goldafterglow · 4 years

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my love is a dagger

Summary: Jack Daniels is hopelessly gone for you, and you’re starting to think it’s a two way street. Maybe.

Request: “May I please ask for Basorexia and Whiskey please? 🥺” - @scribbledghost (ma’am I’m SO sorry this took me so long and then after the long wait you got whatever this is); taken from this post

basorexia: the overwhelming desire to kiss

Pairing: Jack “Whiskey” Daniels x reader

Word Count: 4.8k+

Warnings: suicidal themes (just a little and not really but there’s definitely a line), sexual harassment, anGST!!, PINING omg SO much pining like folks get ready to y*arn, a little bit of fluff bc Jack is a sweet talking southerner and I couldn’t help it, more angst I rly hope you cry, there’s a cute little lesbian couple in one line so don’t read if ur homophobic! but that goes for all of my work :)))

Author’s Note: Thank the GODS for @catfishingmorales for being my first ever beta reader!!! maybe this one will make any fucking sense at all!!! also a special shoutout to my wife @pascalplease bc she stayed up all night vomiting headcanons with me about this and I didn’t even get to all of them.

Gif Cred: the lovely @coredrive

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“Two single-bed rooms,” he says. No; he manages.

Jack has to pry the words out of his esophagus, the passageway so clogged with sleep that he thinks that if he clears his throat he might be able to clear it.

It doesn’t work.

He tends to add a little brightness and smile to his voice when he talks, always eager to please even strangers. He embellishes his sentences with pleasantries and a chipper shimmer that makes even the most overworked bartender smile and the most destitute rancher crack a grin because he has this uncanny ability to make everyone feel special. But right now, at eleven pm on a Saturday evening after what might’ve been the worst, most emotionally grueling mission Jack has ever completed, he is not pleasant. His words are simply a tool for him to get a message out, his voice choked and flat.

“I’m so sorry for the inconvenience, sir, but it looks like we only have one king-size room available,” the lady informs. She is looking intently at the screen, still typing and clicking like the words might miraculously change right before her eyes.

The powerful Agent Whiskey’s heart falls into his stomach.

He can’t tell if this is the best or worst thing that has ever happened to him. Is this finally the excuse he needs to sweep you off your feet, like the catalyst giving him the strength to overcome his intense paranoia? Or is this the last straw, the final stone before you step off the staircase of his heart and back out onto the run-down open streets without him? Panic floods his chest and he is so paralyzed that he doesn’t even know what to tell her; for once, Jack Daniels is speechless.

Thank god he doesn’t turn around; he’d’ve seen your wide frantic eyes and would’ve known immediately what you’re thinking.

“Oh, it looks like a vacancy just opened,” the hostess chirps, a hint of relief floating on her words. You and Jack turn your heads to your left, where a young couple is saying their “thank you”s as they rack up the handles of their suitcases, hand-in-hand. One girl leans over to kiss the other on the temple with a smile; they both seem so secure. You turn your head back to the hostess; the sight of two people being content was disturbing to you and frankly a little offensive. “Unfortunately they’re on separate floors. Is that-”

“We’ll take them,” Jack gruffs. He wants to sleep, wants to die, wants to be in any existence where your soft eyes aren’t glued to the back of his head because he can feel it and he thinks you might burn holes into his skull just to find that he’s hollow inside.

Empty.

The transaction is quick and a little forced. She hands you both your respective key cards wordlessly, and if your eyes had lingered on her just a little longer you would’ve caught her face falling into it’s default relaxed state of misery. Jack walks with you to the elevator in silence, but he’s still close. He’s always close to you. Often you’ll turn your head in an empty room and anticipate him being there just to be sorely disappointed, though you aren’t sure what you’re always so disappointed for. His spirit haunts your thoughts, floats around your body and does laps around your brain because he is always there when you need him, so much so that you expect him to be there when you don’t need him. You want him to always be there. To always be with you.

Strange thoughts to have so late at night.

Jack sets his bag down beside you, stepping forward to press the button for you; it’s such a small gesture, something that he probably didn’t even think to do since hospitality runs in his bones, and yet you noticed it.

Strange.

The door opens, and he wordlessly puts a hand on your back, guiding you towards the elevator in front of him. Letting you on first. You can’t help but smile a little at him; you can tell he’s so tired and yet he still finds it somewhere in his heart to make you feel so important.

“You know I don’t need that from you,” you tease lightly, turning to look at him as the doors drag shut. The elevator shudders around you, indicating that it’s ready to start it’s journey to the fifth floor.

Jack grins at you; it’s not something he’s doing with his voluntary muscles, something that he thinks is coming off muted because he just doesn’t have the energy. It’s something he doesn’t even think about doing, a visceral reaction to hearing your sweet voice like aloe vera on his scorched throat.

“Well then, darlin’, take it anyways just to indulge your favorite cowboy,” he almost begs, lip pouted and eyebrows raised like he’s a child asking for candy except he’s an addict crying for just one more dose before the night ends because the nights he goes home without the memory of your eyes, your smile, your scent in his system are the nights he can’t sleep through.

You giggle softly, nudging his side gently because you want to crush him in your embrace and lift him onto the barbs of feathers into the moonlight all at the same time. To Jack, it feels like you’ve just kneed him in the chest, hogging all his air and wrapping his head in plastic so he can’t breathe, not that he minds. He’d let you tear at the delicate skin of the inside of his wrists, bite into the gentle flesh of his cheeks until he’s on his knees, bleeding at the seams. He’d let you destroy him if you wanted to.

He sighs a little, so dead, as a flush of air enters the vacuum of the elevator; you’ve arrived. But he doesn’t want to leave yet, wants to wring every last drop of your attention out of your pliable bones, so he follows you out and walks you to your room.

“I don’t need this either,” you say, a yawn stretching and blurring the edges of your words.

“I know,” Jack concedes, rolling his eyes in a way that is so adoring that he might as well have kissed you full on the mouth.

Not that you wanted him to.

“I know you don’t need a lick of help from me, sugar. Maybe I just like giving.” He grins down at you again, his side brushing against yours as you place slow, careful steps down the carpeted floor.

Yeah, he likes giving.

He gives you his leftover coffee when he “doesn’t want it” - it’s a tall cup of his favorite brew. He definitely still wants it. He gives you his blazer when you call his desk landline just to tell him your office is cold because you know he’ll give it to you. What you don’t know is that it’s because he’s completely and utterly whipped for you - he’d strip naked in a snowstorm to keep you warm, hold you in an icehouse as the bite of the frost burrows into the cracks of his dried skin, because he doesn’t need clothes when you’re in his arms. That’s about as warm as he’s ever been.

He gives you his time of day - almost all of it. He’s the first person you see when you step into work, the last face you see when you’re ready to retire. He walks you to your office every morning - he had to beg Champ to switch offices with him so that he could be adjacent to you, but every ounce of dignity lost was paid back to him with royalties in the precious extra seconds he gets to spend rubbing his shoulder against yours. He saunters into your office unannounced daily at 12:35 pm sharp to eat lunch with you, flopping onto your couch with the audacity of a man wet with wealth and simultaneously listening to you rave about your day with the patience of a therapist. Your time is a sacred commodity to him, and he makes sure that he’s earned it.

He gives you his whole soul. Sometimes he wonders if you’ll one day open your purse and find his glass heart sitting there, beating hard and loud and only for you. He wonders if you’d pick it up and smash it against a wall. He wouldn’t mind it at all.

The silence hangs in the air, dancing on your breaths as you seem to be inhaling each other, soaking in each other. It’s strange, the moments you share alone with Jack. There are the ones you share late at night, croaking at each other over the phone about how shitty that one show ended or how beautiful blue things are. Blue like his suffocated lungs, like the ocean of tears that drown him when he looks at you, like the finger you’ve got him wrapped around real tight.

But then there’s the moments when you’re in a room full of people. The briefing room sitting at a table spanning the length of the room that’s completely full of people, a club chock full of sweat and neon energy, the lobby of the lavish estate of a target where the bourgeoisie can swarm and stalk each other. All he has to do is toss you a roll of the eyes, a grin, a subtle brush of his hand against yours, and you are instantly thrown into the web of his affection as you get lost and locked in the atmosphere of his presence. Like, even in a room full of people, he’s the only one around. You’re not breathing in oxygen but the hickory fumes of his skin, the only sound getting registered being his dark honey voice. You’re not quite sure how he does that, distorting reality so heavily that you feel like you’ve traversed to an alternate dimension every time he touches you, pays any mind to you. Every single time.

“This you?” Jack asks, his words like a rubber band to your pulse as you’re snapped out of your train of thought. You look up at the room number - room 513 - and then down at your keycard. It reads the same. There’s a dull ache of disappointment that erupts through your chest, beige and static like the chipped paint on the walls.

“Yeah,” you mutter, turning to face him with your back to the door. He smiles at you softly, gentle like his fragile soul that you always manage to make hurt so bad without doing a single thing, and he opens his arms to you. Nothing out of the ordinary; you’ve grown accustomed to his goodbye hugs. “You’re so needy,” you giggle, stepping forward to bury your face in his pillowy chest and letting yourself sink into the quicksand of his warmth. It’s so easy to get caught up in him like a butterfly to a flower, and yet it’s so hard to pull away. He’s always been difficult to separate from; every time it’s like you’re sewing a microfractal of your esse into the velvet of him. Not big enough for you to notice, but still missing, and it adds up every time until there’s a big gaping hole in your chest that Jack holds claim to and the only way you feel right is when he’s with you.

I know, he wants to say to you. I know I’m needy. I know that you’re the only one, the only person, the only fucking thing that I’ve ever wanted this bad. I know I steal your time and your space and your thoughts but I’m a greedy man. Please forgive me. But he doesn’t say that; he could never say that to you. So instead he buries his face into the top of your head, trying to get a big sleepy lungful of you before he parts with you for the night, and says “Can you blame me, baby?”

You look up at him, eyes bleary and red but still eager to be so close to him. “Always such a tease.” He smiles wide at you, like he’s looking at a whimsical sprite so colorful and magnificent, but it’s just you. What does he see when he looks at you?

“G’night, pretty girl,” he coos, arms still wrapped around you and eyes big and doe-y. Please don’t leave yet, my perfect thing. Except that’s the part that stings him the most; you’re not his. He doesn’t get to say that sacred “my.”

“Good night, Jack Daniels,” you whisper, words fanning on his cheeks like waves of heat from a bonfire. But you don’t move, and neither does he. Not yet. Please.

He’s looking down at you with a certain reverence, like you were sculpted by the angels and placed right here in front of him with intimate precision. And then, without a breath to spare, he leans down and presses a kiss on your forehead so light that you wonder if it even happened or if someone has just thrown a marshmallow at your face. A friendly kiss from a friend that you’re friends with.

It feels like the seams of your limbs are being ripped out as you slowly separate from him, flashing him a soft smile as you take your duffel bag and unlock the door in front of you. You step into your hotel room, the air conditioning immediately sticking to your damp skin. As you close the door you catch him still standing there, looking at you like you’re something so precious.

Platonically, of course.

You sigh as you look around the room, suddenly freezing. The tiny dress you’re wearing doesn’t add much insulation and the big diamond necklaces and chandelier earrings and silver cuffs adorning your body like ornaments become ice on your skin. Kicking your shoes off and into a forgotten pit of the room, you step into the bathroom. Flicking the light on, you stare straight at the bulbs, letting the light sear your pupils just so that you can focus on something other than Jack fucking Daniels. Your jewelry is the first to go, becoming a delicate display on the bathroom counter. Something so pretty, but they’ve left angry dents in your skin that are starting to inflame and you figured it was too good to be benign. Nothing so beautiful, nothing that makes you feel so beautiful, could do so without hurting the paper-thin barriers of your heart. You’d have to be a fool to not know that.

You open up your duffel bag, fishing around impatiently until you find your makeup remover and cotton pads. As you erase the paint on your skin, removing the rough mission from the memory of your face, you start beginning to look less disheveled and more exhausted. Now you can really see the dark circles under your eyes, the discomfort of Rolex’s touching the small of your back and Armani cologne grabbing at your hips while you let it happen. Your body had become free real estate and in just hours you had broken down to feeling like you were stained, a dirtier version of yourself that couldn’t ever be cleaned.

You hadn’t felt so filthy when you were in Jack’s arms.

Eager to try and scrape the mission from your lungs, you peel the tight fabric off your body, letting out a breath of something far redder than relief as it falls to a pool around your ankles. You turn around to reach for the shower handle and grip it hard, letting the cold steel fill your palm as you twist it mid-way. While you wait for the steam to seep into your pores you reach for a bar of packaged soap on the bathroom counter, sizing up the créme box. It’s about a centimeter thick, easily filling your palm, and you frown a little at realizing that most of it will be thrown away, unused. Such a waste.

Turning your attention to the water, you run your hand under the water pouring out of the shower nozzle. It’s warm enough. But you don’t want it to be enough. You want it to melt your skin, to burn through your used body and shed your cells to unleash the layers beneath, the layers that Jack had touched, because thinking that your body has been safe inside his embrace feels better than thinking that you put your head in the jaws of the alligators and hoped they wouldn’t snap.

Once the water is burning, sure to inflame your skin, you step in and close the shower curtain before beginning to let the soap glide along your arms. Except it’s not enough. You’re not clean enough. So you run the bar over yourself again and again, wearing it down as your skin turns hot to the touch until you’re using the tips of your fingers to salvage the last bits of product onto your chest. Shit. You don’t even realize that the bar is all used up until you feel the sensation of your fingers rubbing against your now irritated skin and yet you still feel soiled. So you elect to give up on your sorry attempt at washing away the strange eerie touches and predatory looks and turn off the water, drying yourself off.

The solitude in the air stings.

By the time you’re laying in your bed and looking up at the plain off-white ceiling so that you don’t have to look at the old collections of dirt in the crevices of the wall and carpeted floor, you haven’t thought about Jack for the past 30 minutes. Not since you were washing yourself and the ghost of his fingers scraped your scalp, making you long for the feeling of his chest pressed to your back and the sound of his voice floating into the vinyl of the curtain liner while his hands danced in your hair -

Not since then.

But Jack Daniels is most certainly thinking about you, and he’s far too deep to bother pretending that he isn’t anymore.

He stands outside your door for just a little while longer after you close it, staring at the fool’s gold embellishment on the front as he basks in the faint warmth of your spirit that lingers in the space of the hall and inside of his bones. He’s not sure how he got so lucky so as to be able to touch you without abandon, kiss your forehead out of greed and hold you in his arms because he really is so needy. He replays the scent of your dainty floral perfume and rewinds the heat of your forehead under his used, chapped lips, trying to commit you to memory as if he hadn’t done this a million time already, as if he hasn’t tried to burn a million of your hugs into the plush cotton of his skin like a brand. Your fading ghost consumes his mind, and by the time it’s whispering farewell to him, he’s already at the bank of elevators waiting patiently for the doors to open for him. Jack does a lot of that; waiting.

The weight of his duffel bag starts to grow and he can’t tell if his tired left arm is getting weaker or if the bag is getting heavier, but he can tell that his nerves are aching because he already misses you.

He’s always missing you.

The trip to his room is quiet, lonely, and as the elevator doors close for him to make his way to the 6th floor he wonders if this is how it’ll always be. Having you so close, seeing you right in front of him, and yet never truly being with you the way he wants to be. Never belonging to anybody, just a wisp of air passing through your life without holding any true substance or having any real meaning to you; but what a privilege to be one of your wisps. To have been in your lungs and have seen what he imagines are wide open plains, vibrant with wildflowers and gentle beasts. He wishes he could stay.

The elevator door dings.

This time he is caught off guard and he inhales like a shudder, eyes darting around the cold yet damp walkway to see if anyone has caught him thinking, caught him yearning.

Hallucinating.

Deluded.

He steps inside of the compartment with his stupid heavy duffel bag, immediately letting it fall to the elevator floor. His eyes find the plastic, cloudy buttons making up the keypad of the elevator. His left arm lifts to press the “6” button but he immediately regrets it, feeling a searing agony shoot through his shoulder. He mutters a little “fuck” to himself like it’ll help balm the pain, and of course it doesn’t, but Jack is a stubborn man and the buttons are to his left, so he shakes his arm out the way you shake out your boots before stepping inside mama’s house and tries again. But his dry, chapped fingers struggle to reach for the buttons, shaking in his own seismic wake. It takes him a few seconds to steady himself, taking temporary control over his body so he can actually touch the button; the plastic is cracked, a small piece having fallen off to be lost, likely thrown away. A discarded fracture in the shell leaving the inner label forever open and exposed, never to be whole again.

The elevator door shuts.

Jack lets out a low sigh, leaving his arms to fall to his sides as he leans against one of the walls. The back wall of the elevator is reflective, muddled and stained but clear enough that Jack can see what has become of him. His stetson is barely on his head anymore, his tie crooked and his collar untucked. He almost feels like a suit monkey, walking around playing dress up with the caveat of poisoning a man’s fresh champagne. But you told him he looked so handsome all gussied up like a proper gentleman worthy of taking a dime like yourself out. So he leaves it at almost.

He does a lot of that too.

The elevator hiccups, and as expected the doors open, inviting him to leave. He looks down at his duffel bag and he can already feel the weight of it on his weeping muscles, but he’s so close to his room and he can’t give up now that’s he’s made it so far, so he uses the momentum of his swinging right arm to sweep the bag up off the floor and drags himself out of the elevator. Not the best thing he’s ever done, but certainly one of his proudest moments.

The sixth floor is less damp, less like a moldy underwater cave and more like he’s at the top of a breezy mountain where the strands of air are like spurs to his cold, tight skin. Crisp. It is different, and yet he feels the same. Like his joyful warmth has drained out of his system, flushed out of his body, and on the inside he is the 5th floor of a shitty decrepit hotel in the middle of fuck all Kentucky.

He makes quick work of finding his room, the inertia from getting off the elevator being the driving force that gets him down the two hallways and standing before room 645. He pulls out the plastic keycard, adorned with scratches on its surface and stains on its edges, and shoves it into the card reader. With a subtle flash of green and a gentle click, the door gives way for Jack to practically fall inside. He flings the bag as far across the room as his arm will let him, letting gravity control his movements as he is drawn to the white mattress in the center of the room. He releases a groan a little louder than should be appropriate this late at night - he checks the alarm clock on the bedside table to confirm that it’s 11:08. He hasn’t been apart from you for longer than what, 4 minutes? No, he did stand outside your door for a little bit. He decides it’s been 5 minutes.

Oddly enough, the extra sixty seconds don’t make him feel any less fucked.

Now that he’s finally still, his body begins to focus on how sore his legs are as any pain grows from the ends of his limbs and seeps into his chest. He can feel the weight of the night press down heavy on his diaphragm, suffocating him in a way that travels to his eyes and sprays sand like mist onto the walls of his throat. He selfishly lets himself lay there for a second, thinking about that weight being you pressed up against him, face buried in his chest or his neck or in his own face. It’s sacrilegious the way Jack thinks about your touch, the flutter of your lashes like majestic butterfly wings against his cheek, so enticing. So pretty.

His shower is fast despite the way his muscles screech at him to let them rest, begging him to just fucking sit down. When he leans down, back made of creaky burnt red iron, to reach for his sleep clothes, he does a double take; there’s not much in the bag at all. A bunch of small, disguised weapons, communications devices, a pair of grey sweats, a white t-shirt. Nothing oppressively hefty to pull on his tendons; at least, not in a way that could practically drag his shoulder out of its socket. Then suddenly he remembers; he had been holding your bag until you’d both reached the lobby desk. It was a long walk from where you’d been instructed to dump the care and the hotel, so after watching you squirm a little in the freezing air, he offered to take your bag off your back. He’d walked with a bag in each arm for maybe a minute before he realized that his greedy fingers missed being wrapped around your side, missed your melted essence seeping into his stomach, so he’d held both bags in the one left hand for the rest of the thirty minute walk. He hadn’t even noticed how bad he was hurting; perhaps you were too distracting, smile too alluring as your words painted his eyes in lilac and blinded him from his own discomfort.

For being the one person Jack wanted, you sure did hurt him a lot.

Once he is dressed, he lets his sore body absorb into the linen sheets as his muscles finally find some form of permanent relief in the salve of stillness. But this is a dangerous state to be in; when Jack isn’t talking someone else’s ear off, he thinks. He fantasizes, ponders, mulls and muses himself into a state that is suspended between consciousness and sleep.

He thinks about your lips.

You’ve never been too shy to mouth him off, poking and prodding at him and his eccentric cowboy aesthetic. Seeing you walk in every morning and beeline it straight to greet him with a casual fifteen-second hug sends daggers flying into his heart every time, a pain that he’s learned to brace himself for and yet can never seem to be able to handle. And when he looks down at you, adoring eyes and all, he can never help but glance at your lips. It’s always short, a self-indulgent guilty pleasure that he could never admit to, and he thinks about the way they feel against his collarbone when you hold him tight. He thinks about the way they might feel on his own lips.

Sinful.

And then he is thinking about that wretched mission, flashes of luxury clothes and manicured hands trying to feel you up right in front of his eyes. The way you fake smiled at men with money and wrinkles as they leaned into your ear, trying to whisper enticing tales of exorbitant trips to islands that are garishly tropical and dresses so exclusive and designer that no one in the world would own a duplicate. Watching in utter silence because no matter agonizing his need for you is, you’ll never be his.

Suddenly that ache in his body has traveled to his face. It’s so painful to think about you, and yet he takes the jagged edges of his love for you and drags them through his wrists because he’d rather fucking bleed than ever forget you.

Outside his window he hears the clouds crash into each other as an icy downpour beats the pavement. And like a curse, at the expense of his own self-destruction, the image of you in his arms in front of room 513 slices through his brain. Your face right under his mouth, forehead right up against him, your lips right fucking there. And then the feeling of you pulling away. Of you leaving him to rot with the flies, because he’s never going to be strong enough to tell you how bad he needs you, let you tear his heart into a million pieces for good.

From somewhere in his room the rain begins to fall on his face.

people who asked to be tagged: @gustavos @catfishingmorales @keeper0fthestars @1zashreena1 @blancatobarxoxo @honeyedspace @chaotic-noceur @opheliaelysia @adikaofmandalore @din-damn-djarin @ergotautology

people who most certainly did not ask to be tagged sir: @agentpike @damndamer0n @dindjarindiaries @moonglowcarrillo @girlwithanewplan @mrpascals @bunnykjm @maxlordd @buckstaposition @cryptkeepersoul

This is new so I’m putting it down here too, but I made a little form for those of you that want to be added/removed from my taglist (pls take it my tags are very disorganized rn).

#agent whiskey #jack daniels #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey x you #agent whiskey angst #jack daniels x reader #jack daniels x you #jack daniels angst #angst #iris writes #iris original #this was supposed to be a cute fic about wanting to kiss ur crush #and now it is #this #wow the mistakes i make

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strosmkai-rum · 4 years

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ADDITIONAL DRAGON SHOUT USE HEADCANONS

note: these are headcanons for the use of shouts by dragons. also known as, bethesda, i KNOW dragons know more shouts than the three or four they use in game. so here. every shout covered.

- fire breath. oh. oh.

- okay but definitely fire breath shouts have different colors like to show how hot/strong the flame is

- a really bright red that sputters a lot or catches in their throat means that they don't quite understand the meaning yet, and it'll take more meditation/practise before they can get a constant orange stream of fire

- so we know how fire breath looks in game. it's a stream of orange flame. well i raise you:

- the fire will burn hotter and change color (red to orange to white to light blue, see the charts abt fire color or something idk what they called), and even stagger the user if it's too strong.

- very, very strong fire breath shouts have the impact of unrelenting force, so first they destroy anything in their way with the sheer impact and anything else is melted by an actual stream of lava/that shit is definitely not fire at that point, lava's the only comparison i have even if lava not blue-

- i fucking hate that in game if you use fire breath on a rock it'll like, be burnt only. enough understanding of fire breath and you can turn anything into slag.

- fire is just so cool. maybe some dragons like roasted meat, like huge scaly gordon ramsays. maybe they shout at some ground so they have a warm place to sleep. it’s canon that it’s greeting though, so a weak fire breath to say hello not friend, i will not roast you alive and instead slightly warm you.

- frost breath. a stream of icy wind IN GAME. not really here, though. i agree that it’s something like an icy wind, but has extreme power and force behind it, and while fire breath will roast you, frost breath will just plain fuck you up if you try to hold your ground. you won’t get the chance to be frozen, you’ll just go flying.

- weak understandings make a really cold breath. sort of how in winter you can see your breath? yeah, that’s a weak frost breath.

- strong understandings will cause most things to frost over. it has the effect of a weaker ice form, but with a lot more versatility.

- both fire breath and frost breath are commonly used in sweeping motions, as opposed to focusing on one target. let’s face it, what kind of a human can stand up to even half a second of that? it’s a lot more efficient in taking out big groups, or destroying the terrain to give them a disadvantage.

- ice everywhere. that is all.

- ice form now, hehe. so! don’t try to block it. your shield or arm is gonna get cast in ice and be useless/immediately shatter. yeah, that’s right. you don’t thaw out of an ice form, you explode. into lots of frozen pieces.

- but, let’s say, you don’t like my exploding hc. that’s fine. i raise you, person frozen in a solid chunk of ice that would put the sea of ghosts to shame. they not gonna thaw out in time to be saved. sorry. no escape.

- call dragon is used when, you know, calling other dragons. other dragons know other dragons, so it’s either a challenge, or a call for help. or, in paarthurnax’s case, bro i just wanted to talk nO DONT SHOUT-

- being called for aid in a battle is an honor and a sign of trust between dragons imo, shows that you trust them enough to cover you when you need aid and that they’re strong enough to pull you out of whatever crap you’re in.

- storm call. beautiful. it's control over kynareth's domain, so yeah, kind of an ego boost. but also mad useful in a fight, striking down your opponents with lightning. dragon's can't fly while using this, as a bolt could hit them instead. and oh boy, they're strong. can easily tear a whole through a wing or break a plate.

- clear skies is funny too. can you imagine a heavy downpour and some dragon’s trying to sleep without the ground turning to slush, so he just shouts the storm out of the skyr? incredible. just as storm call can summon one, clear skies gets rid of it. the stronger shout prevails. but use it enough times in succession, and kyne might get a bit pissed off…

- oh, i can def see drain vitality used after a rough battle, dragon needs healing stat so they find a crowded area/a big animal and steal their life force. an easy way to heal up.

- dismay would be used with battles against huge numbers of people/a literal army. it’s sort of like mind control, but you can only control the effect, and that’s about it. make them scared and stuff. for some people, they’ll turn tail and run. others maybe hesitate. others don’t care. won’t work against akaviri though. stoicism and all. or other dragons.

- cyclone would be hella useful against big groups. great for sowing chaos.

- disarm. ah yes. used, quite often, in battles with worthy opponents. say an akaviri. say some words, and their katana goes flying. it’s a great intimidation tactic. oh, try to hold onto it too, and you can easily snap your wrist or fingers.

- and i say worthy opponents, as in "mortals that were specifically trained to fight dragons/are incredibly powerful, not your average soldier".

- marked for death, oh i like this. so the wiki description is that the opponent’s life force and armor are weakened. can you imagine battling a dragon, they shout at you, and suddenly your armor just...starts disintegrating? like there’s holes forming, straps holding armor plates together disintegrating entirely, and any wounds you have are opening up like chasms. it’s devastating. used against a dragon, their scales start to grow brittle and weak, so it's a lot easier to break a plate.

- slow time, ah, this would be a huge huge ego boost. time’s akatosh’s domain. it doesn’t stop for anyone, but maybe it’ll slow down a bit for dragons.

- hc that dragons are not affected by slow time. they’re fragments of akatosh, the time god. they sure won’t slow down. neither will the db. so imagine one of them uses slow time, and suddenly there’s this normal paced battle one on one, with everything else at a standstill/veeery slow, until time catches up and everyone but them. is so out of it and jaded bc humans can’t really comprehend time, they’ve like a hundred years at most (hc that bretons live slightly longer due to slight mer blood). elves have a more firm grasp of it, esp altmer. yeah, yeah, they’ve a right to brag here.

- additional thoughts, maybe stuff affected by slow time either:

1. has normal running thoughts but physically is slowed down (not very probable imo, but still possible)

2. has both slowed consciousness and physical form (most probable)

- bend will. aha. now this, works on the dragonborn as well as other dragons. it’s pretty much mind control. you need a strong willpower to break free, though.

- unrelenting force. nice. it is strong. trees are easily uprooted. boulders fly. people fly too. no matter who you are, though, always brace yourself before using it, because you could go flying too.

- dragons won't get thrown back too far, but maybe they'll jump back or take flight for a second before landing again.

- dragonrend. no. they’re mad scared of it. mad scared. partially the reason they hate and fear akaviri. a dragon can’t comprehend dragonrend, because it’s mortality in a shout. and for most of them, what they don’t understand, they fear.

- whirlwind sprint is interesting to say the least. so, the db can use it and...run really fast? so how does it work for dragons? they can't run, per se, so here's my take.

- maybe dragons can use it while flying. probably super useful in aerial combat with other dragons. it lets them quickly dodge shouts, change direction unpredictably, and stay out of their reach.

- become ethereal, oh, oh. just, can you imagine a fucking dragon turns blue during a fight and suddenly you can’t hurt them? heehoo. it’s not used very often, as become ethereal's best used when you’re not doing too hot and need to heal up a second. not much can get them to that point. but it’d be so funny though.

- aura whisper isn’t very commonly used, actually. dragons have incredible sight and smell, they’d probably sense anyone way before they could approach. by the way bethesda, what’s that thing called “i can sneak up on a dragon?” yeah, no. you can’t.

- kyne’s peace, maybe if they’re really not having it with the local wildlife and just want to nap in peace. but i don’t think that many bears or wolves will threaten a dragon.

- animal allegiance isn’t used much either; they’ve no use for the local flora. there’s not much stronger than a dragon. maybe sometimes they use it to acknowledge kyne’s gifts, and that animals/nature can be worthy allies..

- elemental fury is kind of an ehh, skyrim says it lets you swing faster. maybe it lets them fly faster/use teeth/talons/wing claws faster? i'd imagine it's only applicable to physical attacks, though.

- battle fury’s a maybe. it’s for allies, and i don’t think there were too many references in game about dragons being super close with each other. i could definitely be wrong though. they do call themselves brothers and sisters, but maybe it’s just a shared blood thing.

- throw voice is practically useless in game. dragons wouldn't want to hide anyways, unless grievously wounded.

- soul tear i'd imagine only durnehviir knows, and for good reasons too.

- call of valor isn’t here, for obvious reasons.

- dragon aspect i wouldn't think, as it's meant for the db to take on a draconic aspect. can't get much more draconic than an actual dragon.

- alduin’s meteor storm shout isn’t actually a shout, mans just roars.

- alduin’s shout to resurrect dragons i’d assume would only be known by him, and other dragons are unable to comprehend the meaning of the shout. so, the words of the shout are slen (flesh), tiid (time), vo (un, like the prefix). so has his own grip on time, and can use it to bring dragons back to life, provided they still have their soul.

- look, there’s gotta be a better explanation as to why other dragons can’t use it. maybe they can use it. but then the ability bring other dragons back to life would be so widespread, the dragon war probably would have ended a lot sooner and not with the outcome we wanted. so maybe only alduin truly understands the meaning of death and rebirth, having destroyed the world many times before, only to be reborn with it and repeating the cycle again and again.��

- universal hc that lots of words in dragon speech can be used in different shouts with interchangeable meanings.

you’re at the end. good. listen here. journalism class is on my ass about articles and shit. i’m going to be busy from now. i had some stuff to slowly give to you guys to give me time to make more, but i caved and released them all at once. give me some time. please. sorry if these weren’t quite up to par with my last ones, but i said “hey, imma release two thing today” and it’s12:08 am here.

can you tell i’m super tired? i wrote like half of these half asleep.

#skyrim #tes #dragon #shouts #magic #lore #headcanons #my headcanons

89 notes · View notes

eydika · 4 years

Text

eydika’s name list 2.0

more... names because the first name list I made isn’t enough anymore

Abaddon

Abbey / Abbie

Abel

Ace

Ada

Adam

Adrien

Agnes

Aiden

Akari

Alaska

Alchemy

Alec / Alex / Alexa

Alessi / Alessia

Alexis

Aliana / Alianna

Alice

Alison

Alistair

Alivia

Allie / Ally

Alpha

Alya

Amber

Amelia

Amity

Amos

Amy

Andie / Andy

Andrew

Andromeda

Angel

Anita

Anna / Anne

Annabelle / Annie

Apollo

Apple

Apricot

April

Archer / Archie

Arden

Ares

Argus

Ariel

Aron / Aaron / Auron

Arrow

Artemis

Arthur

Artis

Arya

Ash / Asher

Aspen / Aspyn

Astrid

Athena

Atlas

Atticus

Aubrey / Audrey

Audio

Auger

Auggie

August

Aurelia

Aurora

Austin

Autumn

Ava / Avaline / Avalon / Aveline

Avery / Avrey

Aya

Baby

Barbie

Basil

Bea / Bee

Bean

Beatrice / Beatriz

Bébé

Beck / Beckett

Beetle

Bella / Belle

Beryl

Betty

Bijou

Billie

Birdie

Bishop

Bitter

Blair / Blaire

Blaise

Bloom

Blue / Blu

Boheme

Bonnie

Bowie

Briar

Bridget

Brina

Brody

Bryson

Bunny

Byron

Cade / Cadea / Caden

Cairo

Cal / Calum

Caleb

Callie

Calliope

Calvin

Cameron

Candace

Canopy

Carly / Carlie

Carol / Caroline

Carter

Casper

Cassandra

Cassius

Catherine

Celia

Cetus

Chance

Charlotte

Cherry

China

Chip

Chloe

Cian

Cinnamon

Civet

Clara / Clary / Clarabelle

Claire

Clementine

Cleo

Clover

Cobalt

Colby

Colt / Colten

Constance

Cooper

Cora

Corey

Corvus

Cosmo

Cricket

Cynthia

Cyra

Cyrus

Dacre

Daisy

Dakota

Dalia

Dallas

Damien

Dana

Dandelion

Dandy

Dante

Daphne

Darby / Darcy

Darius

Darla

Davina / Divina

Davos

Dawn

Deacon

Deb

December

Deja

Delaney

Delta

Demi

Denim

Denver

Desmond

Dexter

Diego

Digit

Dion / Dior

Doe

Domino

Donna

Doran

Dorothy / Dot / Dottie

Douglas

Dune

Dusk

Dylan

Eachan

Ebele

Ebony

Echo

Eden

Edris

Effi / Effie

Egan

Elijah

Eliza

Ella / Ellie

Elliot

Ellis

Elodie

Elsbeth / Elspeth

Elsie

Elyse

Embla

Emily

Emlyn

Emma

Emmett

Emory

Erica

Erin

Ernest

Ernie

Esryn

Estelle

Ethan

Eugene

Eva / Eve / Evie

Evan

Evangeline

Fae / Fee

Faith

Fawn

Fawke

Felix

Fenris

Fergus

Ferris

Fig / Figgy

Finbar

Fizz

Fletcher

Fleur

Flint

Flora / Florence

Forrest

Fox

Frankie

Freya

Gage

Gaia

Gavin

Gemma

Gene / Genesis / Genevieve

Gigi

Gil

Giselle

Gladys

Gloom

Gloria / Glory

Goldie

Grace / Gracie

Greta

Griffin

Gus

Hadley

Hailey

Hana

Harlow

Harmony

Harper

Hawk

Hayden

Hazel

Hector

Henley

Henry

Hera / Hero

Honey / Honeydew

Hope

Hunter

Ian / Ion

Idris

Ieni

Iesha

Illori

Ilya

Imelda

Imogen

Imp

India

Indira

Ingrid

Irina

Iris

Isaac

Isara

Isla

Ivory / Ivy

Izzy

Jack / Jackie

Jade

Jake

Janice / Janis

Jason

Jasper

Jay / Joy

Jenan

Jericho

Jerry

Jibo

Jill

Jinx

Joan

Jude / Judith

Juleka

Juli / Julip

June / Juno

Juniper

Jupiter

Justice

Kaiven

Kale

Kappa

Kayla

Kellen

Kelly

Kes

Kimber

Kitana

Kitty

Kiwi

Knox

Kris

Kristy / Kirsty

Krull

Kumo

Laken

Lana

Lapse

Lark

Laurel

Lavender

Lemon

Lenka

Leo / Leon / Leonie

Levitt

Liberty

Lilac

Lilith

Lima

Lindsey

Locus / Lotus

Lottie

Luca / Luka

Lucia / Lucie / Lucy

Lucille

Lucky

Luis

Luna / Louna

Luther

Lux

Lynn

Mabel / Mable / Maple

Madison

Mae / May

Maeve

Magnolia

Mango

Mantis

March

Marcia / Marcy

Margaux / Margo / Margot

Marina

Marion

Marley

Marmalade

Mars

Martha

Mary

Mason

Maude

Maura

Maxine

Maya

Meadow

Medea

Melancholia

Melba

Memphis

Mercedes

Mercy

Mick

Milan

Milla

Millenia

Milo

Mina / Mona

Minerva

Minnie

Minnow

Miron

Misery

Mona

Monday

Montgomery

Monty

Morrigan

Morwenna

Myrtle

Nana

Nancy

Nasira

Nate

Nathaniel

Naveed

Navy

Ned

Nefarian

Ness

Nestor

Never

Newt

Nikki

Noah

Nora

Norma

Nova

Nutmeg

Nye

Nyx

Octa

October

Odessa

Olive / Olivia

Ollie

Omega

Omen

Onyx

Opal

Ophelia

Oriana / Orion

Oscar / Oskar

Otis

Owen

Ozzy / Ozzie

Paige

Paisley

Parker

Pat / Pattie

Paula / Paola

Pea / Peach

Pebble

Penelope

Pepper

Pepsi

Percy

Petrichor

Philippa

Philomena

Phoebe

Phoenix

Piccolo

Pip / Piper

Pixie

Poe

Pollux

Pomeline

Poppy

Portia

Primrose

Queen

Quentin

Quibble

Quincy

Quinn

Rachel

Radian

Ransom

Raven

Ray

Razzia

Rebus / Remus

Reverie

Rhubarb

Rick

Rider / Ryder

Rigby

Rilla

Roach

Robin

Rory

Rosa / Rosalie

Rose

Roux

Rowan

Roxanne / Roxie / Roxy

Ruben

Ruby

Rune

Sabina / Sabine / Sabrina

Sable

Sadie

Saffron

Sage / Saige

Salem

Sam / Samantha / Sammie

Savant

Savian

Scarlett

Scotty

Scout

Sean

Sesame

Shea

Skye / Skylar

Sloane

Solomon

Spencer

Sprout

Star

Stella

Sunny

Sybil

Syc

Symphony

Tabea

Tabitha / Tabs

Tali / Talia

Tasha

Tate

Tau

Temper

Tharan

Theodora / Theodosia

Theros

Thimble

Thirteen

Thorn

Tia

Tilda

Tina

Topaz

Tora / Torian

Trinity

Trixie

Trope

Tulip

Turnip

Twig

Ukiyo

Umara

Umbra

Ursa

Valentin

Valerie

Valora

Vargas

Vaughn

Vector

Vega / Vegas

Velvet

Venus

Vera

Vernon

Vesper

Vinette

Violet

Vivek

Volt

Waverly

Wednesday

Wendy

Wes

Whisper

William

Willow

Winnie

Winona

Winter

Wish

Wren

X + Y + Z

Xena / Xenia

Xeno / Xenos

Yuki

Yuri

Zafira

Zaria

Zephyr

Zero

Zoe / Zoelle

Zona

Zyra

LAST NAMES

Abbot

Abernathy

Alton

Arcanum

Ashe

Astor

Badger

Balker

Bass

Bennett

Benton

Blake

Bleu

Blunt

Blythe

Cable

Cabot

Cain

Carter

Carver

Castillo

Choi

Clemonte

Coldwell

Collins

Colt

Craft

Craven

Crimson

Croft

Dabney

Danvers

Dayholt

Delpy

Driver

Dyer

Eades

Edge

Epithet

Epps

Evert

Farley

Fell

Fenner

Fig

Finch

Findlay

Fletcher

Foley

Fowler

Fray

Freud

Frost

Geller

Gill

Guest

Hale

Hapley

Harp

Hart

Hearst

Hooper

Hunt

Hyde

Ivy

Jinx

Keller

Kersey

Kingsley

Knight

Knox

Kraft

Krav

Laveau

Lecter

Lock / Lockwood

Lowell

Lush

Marr

Mills

Mist

Morgan

Morrison

Murray

Myers

Oaks

Patel

Pierce

Pike

Powell

Price

Pruitt

Quint

Quiver

Random

Ripley

Ryder

Sears

Sloane

Sparks

Stele

Strom

Sutton

Talbot

Tate

Thorne

Twig

Twist

Tycho

Utley

Valentine

Vance

Vaughn

Vos

Walker

Wallow

Weaver

Webb

Wiley

Wilkes

Winston

Wreath

Wright

Wrong

York

Zella

Zepeda

#text #list #names #reference #inspo

256 notes · View notes

wlw-lovestruck-fiction · 4 years

Note

Okay so the sad marriage scenario about MC and Xenia not being able to be together broke me… what if it’s the same thing, but MC has to marry Ruelle?!

Written by @riverleafing

Ruelle rolls her eyes. “Like they suggested, marriage is only for making heirs, right? What use would it be otherwise? She’s already a Queen.”

“That just it!” Piama snaps. “She doesn’t need to marry equal or higher. She should be free to marry for love no matter their position!”

“Weird to hear a Spring princess say that. You lot social-climb faster than ivy on a trellis.”

“Well maybe I’d prefer fighting to marry the one I Iove, equal or not!”

Their bickering increases to a point that MC tries to tune them out. She turns to Xenia. “Oh, Love, what am I to do? If the council insists the people of the city require I marry soon, and to someone… someone who has never been married before?”

Xenia closes her eyes a moment, gathering herself before answering coolly. “It’s true, the traditions in Altadellys hold on to superstitions too strongly for a new Queen to try otherwise. Politically, it would not be in your best interests.”

Behind them, Ruelle’s voice barely audibly growls, “And if I seized the chance?”

A thump against MC’s dresser causes everyone to look over to Piama. Her face flushed in embarrassment.

Xenia’s eyes casts to Ruelle just in time to see her hands disappear from Piama’s hips.

“Pardon me, your highness. I…” Piama bows her head, “I merely stumbled ungracefully.”

Xenia pulls MC’s attention back, “You should select a noble from one of the houses. To ensure the security of the crown. And for the future of the people, produce an heir that they will trust in to follow.”

“Frost,” MC breathes out with a sense of helplessness. “Why must it be so complicated?”

“For the usual rotting Season rules and circumstances,” Ruelle grumbles to the room, distancing herself from Piama once again.

“Is there really no way to keep you so near anymore, Xenia?” MC’s eyes go tearful as she sits on the edge of her bed.

“Must I truly marry someone I barely know or trust?”

Xenia tenderly grasps MC’s hands, petting over her knuckles with her thumbs. “We will control everything we can,” she offers with a confident tone. “We’ll choose a viable, and malleable, option. Someone who shall serve well enough to our benefit.”

Piama sits beside MC, linking arms and rubbing a forearm in comfort. “Don’t worry. We’ll be here to work things out as best we can.”

Seeing the two comfort MC, Ruelle draws her brows together and approaches to pat MC’s head.

MC smiles at her friends weakly, but grateful.

Xenia continues, “It may take some time, however. There aren’t very many princes or princesses who would easily keep your best interests in mind.”

Ruelle goes still before frowning deeply. Her strong hands grip her daggers firmly for her own support. “Mistress Xenia, I could offer myself to–”

“No,” Piama interrupts. “Absolutely not you.”

Piama adamantly reasons with Xenia and MC, “Ruelle hasn’t even been trained as a princess. What would she do for diplomacy as a Queen? Stab the policy makers?” She places a hand against her chest confidently. “I am trained. I don’t seek more than friendship from MC, and I get along with you in Autumn well enough. Why not have it be me?”

Ruelle grimaces, apparently annoyed at the outburst. “Piama–”

Piama stands sharply, marching over to glare up at Ruelle with her stormy-blue eyes. “You said you weren’t even interested in signing any marriage contracts for now. You wouldn’t do that with anyone. You told me! You promised.”

Piama gasps. Suddenly feeling eyes at her back, she drops her head. The warm earthen tone of her face flushes darker. “Oh, I… Please excuse me, your Highness.” Piama turns and rushes out the door before anyone can respond.

Ruelle’s autumnal eyes flash to Xenia. “And an olemus token,” she adds to her unfinished offer. “MC would always have something close and to treasure then.”

Xenia pins Ruelle with her sharp gaze. “Perhaps.”

Ruelle hesitates, then nods and dismisses herself from the room.

MC stands with a deep sigh, walking to the window. “Is it wise, Xenia?”

Xenia turns her gaze on MC, studying her. Eventually responding, “Winter would be unwise; spring would cause imbalance for the other seasons; summer could work, but few have a personality you would find tolerable…and as for Autumn? Well, I suppose we all have our challenges.”

She stands and saunters closer to MC, placing a set of hands on MC’s hips, and the others warmly against her sleeved arms.

MC speaks her thoughts to the window. “Well, Ruelle’s not a stranger. You trust her. And, with her, we would see each other frequently - won’t we?” MC looks over her shoulder.

Xenia’s gaze roams over her face, considering. “It’s true. Very few would I trust to keep you safe, and autonomous, as much as she would. But when married, my time with either of you would need to appear… more measured.”

MC turns fully. “Well, you know I trust you, your guidance and intentions,” MC responds genuinely. But anyone could read on her face that MC was still hurting.

Xenia brushes an errant strand of hair behind MC’s ear, and smiles warmly at her. “That’s a good girl.”

The phrase does not fill MC with the usual, familiar warmth.

“As for tonight, I must have time to consider the best strategies from here.” Xenia’s face turns pained. “I regret not being prepared to protect you from this outcome. The emotional sacrifices we’ll need to make. How twisted they’ve worked angles–”

“All’s well,” MC reassures with a smile. “Whatever you can do to get the most out of us together, you can trust that I will embrace it.”

Xenia inclines her head slightly. Her fingers thread through MC’s hair while her other pair of hands wrap around MC’s waist. “I will do whatever I must.”

She envelops MC in a kiss that spins a world that could threaten to fall around her and she’d not care. Xenia carefully pulls away, peers into MC’s face before heading to the door. “I’ll see you before tomorrow’s council for your announcement, my Love, my Queen.”

Farther down the hall, Piama is sitting tucked into a small alcove, lit by a wide candle sconce.

Hunched and sniffling, Piama weakly speaks just loud enough for herself. “Why is this happening?” She sighs shakily. Her hand reaches out to steady herself against the cool, smooth stone, but, as if realizing something new, she stops short.

With a deep shuddering breath, a calmness begins to overtake her, punctuating the night’s stillness. A low voice suddenly murmurs from the shadows beside her, “You’ve experienced worse.”

Piama turns her head slightly towards the murmur. “Have I?”

A pregnant silence fills the air. When a length of hair moves gently across the flowers on her face, Piama presses her shimmery eyes closed and leans her cheek into the apparent wind.

A staccato of heeled boots slowly sounds approaching. Leisurely, Xenia paces out to lean against the balcony, looking up at the stars, and pretending she didn’t see Piama hurry away before her arrival. After a moment, Xenia breaks the silence with a wistful sigh.

“MC accepts your offer, Ruelle. I decided I will prepare it. The olemus.”

…

“Yes, Mistress.”

*Later that week…*

Piama shrieks at Ruelle’s sudden appearance beside her, then glares angrily. “I hate it so much when you do that!!”

The corner of Ruelle’s lips lifts. “I enjoy catching you off guard in your gentler moments. Besides, I heard you confess to the Queen that my presence makes you feel safe.”

Piama narrows her eyes. “When the Queen and I are together ‘alone’, I would prefer to keep things between us from now on. Anyway, I need to seize every moment to keep our relationship close. It’s important for safety and happiness in my future.”

“Why not ours?”

Piama hesitates at the intent look in her eyes and suddenly serious tone. She feels heat rise in her chest. “You know very well my gran- Aunt Vo would not approve. Perhaps less of you, than as much as she does of me and my happiness. Even showing you care for me, more so if I returned any overt affection, could spell ruin for your reputation at Altadellys. She’s done so before with people I grew close to, every time.”

“Maybe that Vo could do with a stabbing.”

Piama regards Ruelle with credulousness. “Is that how you solve all your troubles?! What if one day I get in the way of what you want? Will you stab me, too?”

“Only in the way you wish me to impale you,” Ruelle teased flirtatiously.

Piama turns away, but her cheeks flush pink at the implication. “Honestly, Ruelle. You’re too much.”

Ruelle’s warmth looms closer. “What? You don’t wish me to?”

“I wish to be loved, cared for, and tended to. You know that, don’t you? Aside from Lyris and you, and now the Queen—I hope—I’ve never had a friend who seemed to care what would become of me.”

“… Am I only to be a friend of yours, then?”

Piama sighs. “Ruelle, I know, you profess to love me but it’s… difficult for me to trust my heart to another. I’ve been fooled and hurt by so many in my life. …Besides I know I am not the only one you’ve romanced. You’ve left them all, haven’t you? Once you’ve had your way.”

“It was just sex, Piama. It wasn’t for romance. It wasn’t for love.”

“Well, how do I know I would be any different for you? What assurance could you offer me?”

“I suppose I can’t assure you of my promise–more than with time.”

Piama turns her head, muttering, “It’s something we have so little of now, isn’t it? You’ve offered yourself to stand in Xenia’s place as Queen Consort.”

“So that they can continue to love each other.”

Piama snaps, “Not overtly! Not satisfactorily! Just like us.”

“… So, you do love me?”

“Ruelle. I—” From the far entrance, the Queen turns a corner that enters their hall. “I can’t.”

“Piama!” the Queen calls fondly, smiling broadly as Piama hurries towards her. “I’ve been hoping to find you somewhere here!”

“Your Highness!” Piama attempts to covertly wipe the corner of her eyes.

“Have you two been arguing again? You know, you’ll need to find a way to lessen whatever it is between you when she must be seen by my side more often.”

“If it weren’t for her constant harassment, it would be much simpler Your Highness. But I shall try my best, for you.”

“And, Ruelle? How fares my Love?” Her eyes convey she speaks of Xenia, but her voice carries well for any listening ears.

“Very well, my Queen. And I trust I am not alone in wanting all the excess ceremony is finally said and done.”

“Yes, you are right. I am fairly impatient for it be finished too.”

Over the following month, the Queen finds herself extremely busied in preparation, in a blur of traditions and efforts she cannot control. Lately, she hasn’t even heard nor seen Xenia more than on the council or for other official needs.

Naturally, the Queen is spending a lot of time with Ruelle now. It’s a challenge suddenly needing to spend more time together in the public eye, for both of them, but thankfully the MC is still able to send and receive messages from Xenia this way. Piama, too, is frequently around and—despite the occasional bickering with Ruelle—is able to excitedly guide the fashion and beautification plans for the upcoming ceremony quite well.

“It will be so romantic!” Piama clasps her hands in delight. “In front of the couple we’ll have an enormous gleaming chalice towering overhead, overflowing with flowers and red ivy to symbolize both your houses. Those flowers are popular with hummingbirds, too, so we’ll release them to flit around drinking their nectar. It will be sweet, and entirely spectacular, as befit a Queen of Altadellys!”

On the day of the wedding, the Queen is standing at the altar beside Ruelle as the priests from each of the houses deliver their specialized blessings. But the MC has tuned out their droning. With only her eyes wandering, the Queen searches for faces in the reflection of the giant silver chalice arching over their heads. She spots Piama attempting to casually wipe away her tears. Lyris beside her with an uncharacteristic frown. Aunt Vo appearing rather smug. And finally, there, she spots Xenia appearing…unreadable. If anything, she exudes a cool disinterest. The MC feels an irrational stab of pain pierce her heart.

With a cordial smile plastered on her face, the Queen & Queen Consort finally must accept gifts from members of each of the houses. The continuous monotony of ceremony and practiced words seem to blend until the moment Xenia approaches the new brides.

“A gift of Autumn,” Xenia announces as two of her hands rest atop her cane while extending two others towards the Queens with long elegant fingers. Between her hands hangs an intricate silver necklace with a center drop of caged crystal. Ruelle steps forward and permits Xenia to place it around her neck. “A child between you will be yours,” Xenia states frankly, just for her ears. “Both of yours. No one else’s.”

The MC leans in to hear her familiar voice, but only picks up the firmness of her tone. Then suddenly the Queen feels a bubbling of elation when Xenia then turns to her. Passing by the MC, Xenia inclines her head. “Autumn’s blessings for comfortable changes for both of you, your Highness.” Xenia’s expression is arranged into one of simple cordiality before she turns to depart. The Queen feels the twist of that invisible blade in her heart.

Piama, meanwhile approaches the bridal gifting stage. Her grey-blue eyes float over Ruelle and her voice chokes out as if she’s hardly used it. “Your Highness?” Ruelle flinches slightly before acknowledging her greeting with a nod. Piama approaches, presenting a small box with both hands. “A gift of Spring. Wishing you both love and…fertility.”

On a bed of magenta flowers rests a delicately carved golden timepiece, its hoop tied with a woven green and black ribbon. Ruelle’s eyes widen, glancing up to Piama, “This is…”

“The flowers are called zinnia,” Piama’s voice interrupts in a hush. The distracted Queen catches a bit of her words, seeming to mishear. Piama’s smile seems to confirm her awareness of the somewhat similar name to Xenia. “This might serve to keep your more queenly appointments, your Highness, when necessary.” Ruelle nods and accepts the box. Her eyes watch Piama greet the Queen and gracefully depart.

From there, the evening wears on with gifts from each of the houses, again and again. The festivities last until late evening until, at last, they can retire to Queen’s chambers.

There, Ruelle removes the necklace Xenia placed around her neck, carefully opening the filigree cage of the drop. “The Mistress purposely prepared this for you, my Queen.” In her hand she holds a clouded black crystal, the thickness and length of her thumb. “Do you know what an olemus is?”

“No,” the Queen takes it into her own hand, feeling a surprising warmth emanate from it. She looks at Ruelle in surprise, “What is it?”

“A part of Xenia’s essence for you. That is, something to enable you to have a child we would make, but with a considerable part of her…spirit and personality…in the making.”

“But the child would look like us? Like you and me?”

Ruelle nods. “The stone holds her essence most strongly now but it should last, in some lessening amount, for decades to come. There’s no rush for us… for you…” Ruelle gazes a bit at the astonished queen, then bows as she turns towards the secret passage door. “I’ll leave you to—“

“Ruelle.” The commanding voice stops her in her tracks. “I want to try. Tonight.”

Ruelle turns to the Queen, watching her determined features shift to uncertainty. “If…if you’re willing.”

Ruelle takes a breath. She inclines her head, and slowly begins to unbuckle her clothes, setting aside her daggers unsurprisingly to a place of easy access.

But the Queen’s eyes widen more as Ruelle’s flesh begins to be exposed. Newer than the All-Seeing Heart tattoo on Ruelle’s chest, the MC now takes in the curious tiny scars dashed across Ruelle’s arms and abdomen. She draws her eyes along the firm angles and rounded curves of a Ruelle’s long, beautifully lithe body watching her muscles stretch and contract as she pulls off the remnants of her clothing. Ruelle doesn’t seem to be made bashful by the Queen’s wandering eyes, but the MC’s cheeks flush at her own growing interest. “Wait,” she directs Ruelle. The Queen steps away and snuffs out the candles. The darkness feels intensely warm. “Now you may… Oh! …Oh my, Ruelle…”

Outside the Queen’s chamber doorway, Piama is leaning against the wall. Her body quakes and her eyes squeeze shut. “What am I doing?” She breathes out a shaky laugh at herself, bringing herself upright, wiping her cheeks. “The last of our time ran out today, anyway,” she murmurs as she heads back to her own room, reminding herself with finality. “Our time, Ruelle…my Love… It has really ended.”

#Anonymous #lovestruck #women of lovestruck #reigning passions xenia #xenia x mc #xenia of the autumn #reigning passions ruelle #rp ruelle #reigning passions #angst #woeful wednesday #lovestruck headcanons #answered

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ravioverse · 4 years

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Tumblr decided to be incredibly rude so we couldn’t directly post the ask lol, but sure, buddy! We actually have a couple posts that help introduce the lads, but we’ll give you an updated version (complete with images lol) And if you’re new, Ravioverse is an AU based on the LinkedUniverse comic!

We’ll go in chronological order beneath the cut since this’ll be pretty long lmao:

First and foremost is Origin! He’s the first Ravio and the source of the hero’s spirit, though he was never chosen by the Gods to be a hero. He’s got a vendetta against The Demon King Demise and looks forward to the day that he gets to snipe him with a silver arrow.

Fun Fact: He knows a little about how to enchant equipment since his family had been enchanters, but he usually lacks the materials to do anything more than arrows made with Roc feathers.

The second is Empyrean (who I will one day draw better lmao), aka the counterpart to Hyrule’s Chosen Hero (Skyward Sword), and the Ravio responsible for forging the Sovereign Rod. He’s the eldest of the lads during the events of Ravioverse and generally the leader of the group.

Fun Fact: This man is an Actual Father. He married his Hilda (Comet) and their children’s names are Aurora and Aster.

Our third is Sylvan (Hyrulean counterpart: The Hero of Men), although you won’t be seeing him for a good long while since he doesn’t travel with the main group. He’s fantastic at twisting words to his advantage, but absolutely loathes telling lies.

Fun Fact: The fairies that he dealt with during his adventures weren’t nearly as nice as the ones you see in games. He used the pseudonym Sylvan before meeting any of the Ravios out of necessity.

Vex! He’s the Hero of the Four Sword’s counterpart with a strong preference for shadow magic over anything else. He doesn’t remember much about his life before being brought to Hyrule by Ganon, but he’s working on accepting that he has an identity unrelated to Link. His magic comes from the Dark Mirror, but once he was sent back to Lorule after being defeated by the hero, he shattered the mirror on Lorule’s side so he wouldn’t have to go back ever again.

Fun Fact: He has a friendship bracelet and you will hear about it.

Things get spicey now because we have three universes/timelines to get into, starting with Viola (aka as Frost or Rime depending). He’s one of three counterparts to the Hero of Time and was the only one out of the VoS Trio to successfully save Lorule during their era.

Fun Fact: His girlfriend’s a swamp witch.

The second of The Hero of Time’s counterparts, Space (aka Blaze or Flare). He came close to saving Lorule during his era, but ultimately failed in his final battle when the Sovereign Rod split right in his face; the scar is a result of the light magic that exploded from the rod.

Fun Fact: The circumstances surrounding the split of the Sovereign Rod left Space with an intense fear of forests. He greatly prefers not entering them at all, but if he must, he is constantly on edge.

The third member of the VoS Trio and Time’s last Lorulean counterpart is nicknamed Flow (aka Gust or Zephyr). He vanished halfway through his quest, thus unable to finish and save the kingdom; instead, he ended up becoming the Dark Link fought during Ocarina of Time.

Fun Fact: He struggles to tell the difference between dreams and reality. He collects small, tangible objects to remind himself that he is not trapped in a blue void anymore.

As you may be able to guess, Shade is a Twili and the Hero of Twilight’s counterpart; his era follows after the Vanished Universe (aka Flow’s). He actually doesn’t have much of any combat experience due to the nature of his quest, but he’ll have a chance to learn. He forged a soul link with Space so that he could travel freely outside of the Twilight Realm.

Fun Fact: Great at politics; terrible at acting.

Born a pirate and a master navigator and sailor, Compass is the hero of the Great Sea (Hyrulean counterpart: The Hero of Winds). His era follows after the Successful Universe (aka Viola’s).

Fun Fact: He’s got friends in odd places. He calls on them when he needs an extra set of hands. (Or eyes. Or blades.)

Sketch is the original Ravio from A Link Between Worlds and thus The Hero of Legend’s counterpart; his era follows after the Failed Universe (aka Space’s). He actually does have combat experience but avoids combat at all costs for a variety of reasons.

Fun Fact: He has more than one reason to keep that hood of his on, even after ALBW.

Atlas is our darling angel boy the young Prince of Lorule and the younger brother to Princess Hilda (nicknamed Historia); his counterpart, of course, is the Hero of Hyrule (aka Zelda 1 and 2). He actually has the most traveling experience out of the boys, though he’s surprisingly tight-lipped about most of what he went through.

Fun Fact: He has a debilitating fear of mirrors.

This man is a tank and the Ravio from Hyrule Warriors, aptly nicknamed as Battler. He wasn’t always a fighter, but once troubles began finding their way into Lorule, he was willing to do what he had to protect his home. You’ll start seeing posts about his adventure soon.

Fun Fact: Values unity above all else. If anybody starts trying to start something, he’ll put a stop to it immediately and try to force a resolution.

Melior is the hero from 10,000 years before the eras of CotA and BotW. He’s a member of the Necroi––the Lorulean equivalent to the Zonai Tribe––and boy do we have lots to talk about when it comes to them. Besides that though, Melior, like Sylvan, also doesn’t travel with the main group so you won’t be seeing much of him for some time unless asked.

Fun Fact: He chose to stand guard over the Triforce in his era. He has more than one reason for doing so.

The last of the lads is Warp, who is naturally the Hero of the Wild’s Ravio counterpart. He specializes in mechanics and has several tools and robots at his disposal, most of which he built himself with the help of his Princess Hilda (nicknamed Circuit).

Fun Fact: He’s superstitious; not only does he perform little rituals to make sure his machines are happy and run well, but he also is terrified of ghosts.

#legend of zelda #loz #ravio #linkeduniverse #ravioverse #ravioverse crew #asks

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broomsandbrews · 5 years

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Witchy Playlist and Inspiring Songs for Different Spells/Curses/Rituals (Masterpost)

Jill Andrews - No One

Donovan - Season of the Witch

Within Temptation - Neverending Story

Kelli Ali - Psychic Cat

Local Natives - Mt. Washington

Fleetwood Mac - Gold Dust Woman

Cocorosie - Smokey Taboo

Within Temptation - Mother Earth

Libana The Circle is Cast - The Earth is our Mother

Marilyn Manson - Salem

Halsey - Garden

Eagles - Witchy Woman

Florence and the Machine - Cosmic Love

Alina Baraz - Maybe

Within Temptation - Our Solemn Hour

Son Lux ft. Faux Fix - No Fate Awaits Me

Dolkins - Mountains

Tove Lo - Out of Mind

Culte de Ghoules - Children of the Moon

Gary Stadle - Fairy Nightsongs

Amy Nuttall - Scarborough Fair

Meg Myers - Numb

Tori Amos - Lust

Vienna Teng - Lullaby for a Stormy Night

LEAVES' EYES - Hell To The Heavens

Florence and the Machine - My Boy Builds Coffins

Within Temptation - Memories

Myah - Circus Freak

Trobar de Morte - Summoning The Gods

Denean - Angels Calling Me

Heather Dale - Mordred’s Lullaby

Evanescence - Whisper

Birdy ft. Rhodes - Let it All Go

Inkubus Sukkubus - Wytches

Secret Garden - Sleepsong

Wolf Gang - Lions in Cages

AMBERIAN DAWN - Magic Forest

Apocalyptica ft. Lacey - Broken Pieces

Florence and the Machine - Never Let Me Go

Within Temptation - Our Farewell

The Neighbourhood - A Little Death

Russel Brower & Derek Duke - Lament of the Highborne

Evanescence - Lacrymosa

Peter Gundry - White Witch

Culte de Ghoules - Vintage Black Magic

The Bird and the Bee - Witch

Nicholas Hopper - In Noctem

The Brothers Bright - Blood on my Name

Ruelle - Monsters (Acoustic Version)

Lana Del Rey - Young and Beautiful

Little May - Hide

Within Temptation - The Truth Beneath The Rose

Emily Afton - Lost

Sofia Karlberg - Crazy in Love

Alanis Morissette - Uninvited

Gothica - The Cliff of Suicide

Sparklehorse - Piano Fire

Within Temptation - See Who I Am

Lana Del Rey - Once Upon a Dream

Lisa Thiel - Samhain

Indica - Children Of Frost

James S. Levine - La La La

Wardruna - Fehu

Meg Myers - Monster

Silversun Pickups - Future Foe Scenarios

Joseph Van Wissem ft. SQURL - The Taste of Blood

Raffertie - Last Train Home

Halsey - Haunting

Irfan - Invocatio

The Civil Wars - Poison & Wine

Olafur Arnalds - Raein

Florence and the Machine - Only If For a Night

Aurora - Under Stars

Warbringers - Jaina (Daughter of the Sea)

Ross Copperman - Holding on and Letting Go

Love Spit Love - How Soon is Now

XANDRIA - Nightfall

Angus & Julia Stone - The Hanging Tree

Loreena McKennitt - Incantation

Marina & The Diamonds - The Outsider

Meadowlark - Fly (Acoustic)

Omnia - Wytches Brew

Panic! At the Disco - LA Devotee

Culte de Ghoules - Storm Is Coming, Come the Blessed Madness

Deadmau5 ft. Colleen D’agostino - Seeya

Gandharvak - The Time Machine: Eloi

Lana Del Rey - Born to Die

Ella Vos - Down in Flames

Nouvelle Vague - The Killing Moon

Joji - Don’t Wanna Waste my Time

Michael Holborn - Sunbird

Ed Sheeran - I See Fire

The Cinematic Orchestra - To Build a House

Crystal Fighters - Follow

Phildel - The Wolf

Skillet - Hero

Evanescence - Hello

Calla - Custom Car Crash

Ordo Funebris - A Witches Song

Daughter - Improve

Blue - Birdshake (Remix)

Evanescence - Going Under

Within Temptation - Angels

koethe ft. Riley Hawke - Taking You There

Within Temptation - The Howling

Breaking Benjamin - I Will Not Bow

Bjork - Frosti

Within Temptation - Aquarius

Loreena McKennitt - The Old Ways

Fleurie - Hurricane

Corpo Mente - Scylla

Beth - Waves

Within Temptation - Stand my Ground

Sofia Karlberg - Berlin

Helios - A Rising Wind (Instrumental)

Florence and the Machine - Blinding

Evanescence - Bring me to Life

Elle Vee - Fly Low

Koethe - Amber

Verite - Echo

Within Temptation - Faster

Little Red Lung - 50 Fingers

Little May - Boardwalks

Stevie Nicks - Edge of Seventeen

Iko - Heart of Stone

Beach House - Levitation

The Moon and the Nightspirit - Ejkoszonto

Suuns - Pie X

Austin Wintory - Bloodlines

Loreena McKennitt - The Heart of the Witch

Lana Del Rey - Love

Jose Gonzalez - Crosses

Peter Gundry - The Forest Queen

Within Temptation - All I Need

Dead Can Dance - Yulunga (Spirit Dance)

Breaking Benjamin - Failure

Lisa Gerrard - Swans

Glass Animals - Holiest

Ingrid Michaelson - Turn to Stone

Bibio - Dye the Water Green

S.J. Tucker - Witch’s Rune

Siouxsie and the Banshees - Face to Face

Daughter - Dreams of William

Bjork - Dark Matter

Within Temptation - Forsaken

Widowspeak - Harsh Realm

Wolf Alice - Soapy Water

Erutan - Come Little Children

Artie Shaw - Nightmare

Dead Can Dance - Summoning of the Muse (Remastered)

Tove Lo - Habit

Legs Occult - Breathe

Agnes Obel - Riverside

The Soft Moon - Want

Willy Moon - I Pull a Spell on You

Fleetwood Mac - Sara

Gorillaz - Saturnz Barz

Bahari - Wild Ones

The Zombies - Time of the Season

Evanescence - Haunted

Lia Marie Johnson - Relapse

Ella Fitzgerald - Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered

Evanescence - Tourniquet

The Eastern Sea - The Snow

Gabriel Rios - Broad Daylight

Maty Noyes - Haunted

Kim Petras - Boo! Bitch

Lorde - Biting Down

Florence and the Machine - Seven Devils

Plumb - Cut

Rasputina - Transylvanian Concubine

Olivia Foa’i - Tulou Tagaloa

Gorillaz - Sleeping Powder

Masha - Come As You Are

Agnes Obel - The Curse

Richard Armitage - Misty Mountains

Lera Lynn - Ring of Fire

An Danzza - Hekate

Imogen Heap - Hide and Seek

Evanescence - Lithium

Gin Wigmore - Written in the Water

Russell Shaw - Temple of Light

Loreena McKennitt - The Mystic’s Dream

Lana Del Rey - Black Beauty

Marika Hackman - Deep Green

Faun - Walpurgisnacht

Agnes Obel - Stretch Your Eyes

CHVRCHES - Broken Bones

Decyfer Down - Fading

The Weeknd - Earned It

The Changelings - Melusine

Sonic Youth - Halloween

Les Rita Mitsouko - La Sorciere et l’inquisiteur

Chelsea Wolfe - Carrion Flowers

Florence and the Machine - Third Eye

In this moment - Witching Hour

Portishead - Magic Doors

Myrkur - The Serpent

Arcade Fire - Abraham’s Daughter

James S. Levine - Violet Theme

Lauren O’Connell - House of the Rising Sun

Siouxsie and the Banshees - Spellbound

Haroula Rose - Lavender Moon

The Chainsmokers - It Won’t Kill Ya

Hozier - Angel of Small Death and the Codeine Scene

Stranger Things - Theme Song

Eivor - Trollabundin

Carina Round - Do You

Son Lux - Flickers

Fever Ray - Keep the Streets Empty

Ibeyi - River

Benjamin Wallfisch ft. DiSA - New World Coming

Emily Browning - Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This)

Igorrr - Probleme D’emotion

Stevie Nicks & Don Henley - Leather and Lace

Whilk and Misky - Love Lost

Amorphis - Amongst Stars

Cocorosie - The Moon Asked the Crow

Linkin Park - My December

Nightwish - Turn Loose the Mermaids

Black Lullabies - Black Lullabies

Florence and the Machine - Which Witch

Kehlani - Gangsta (Harley Quinn & Joker Flashback Version)

Sara Bareilles - Winter Song

Exxus - Glass Animals

Najwa - That Cyclone

Pierce the Veil - Tangled in the Great Escape

Dotan - Let the River In

This Mortal Coil - Dreams Made Flesh P.S.: Keep in mind a lot of these songs might not be ‘‘witchy’‘ or have ‘‘witchy’‘ lyrics but some people suggested them to me because they help them with their craft, put them in a ‘’witchy’’ mood and inspire them with certain spells for certain situations like strained/toxic relationships, breakups and heartbreaks, not feeling accepted, family problems, mental illness (although if you are feeling like you want to end your life, please talk to a professional), etc. (or curses, though I’m pretty neutral about curses and hexes.) Use the ones you like, and ignore the ones you don’t or don’t do it for ya. Thank you!

KEEP THE SUGGESTIONS COMING SO I CAN ADD THEM AND IT GROWS IN SIZE!

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metalby · 4 years

Video

youtube

Last Knight “Envy” from [Seven Deadly Sins] 2019 イギリスのMandalabandでも活動するスペインのKey奏者Jose Manuel Medinaによるシンフォニックプロジェクトによる5thアルバム．彼はEternityというアンビエント系のソロプロジェクトでも活動中．バンドではなくプロジェクトというだけありJose以外のメンバーとしては， Vo : John Mitchell (Arena, Frost, It Bites, Lonely Robot) Vo : Richie Castellano (Blue Oyster Cult) Sax, Flute : Theo Travis (Gong, The Tangent) など．

youtube

Last Knight [Seven Deadly Sins] 2019 (Spotify) アルバムのタイトルから分かるように，本作はダンテの神曲煉獄篇の七つの大罪をモチーフにしたコンセプトアルバム．Nightwishのインストパートみたいなシンフォニックでファンタジックな作品．2曲目の"Gluttony"はギターのトーン，コーラスなどQueenっぽく，Gus Latoのハイトーンボーカルが響きわたる4曲目"Sloth"などはYesっぽいところも．アートワークはJames Lobaco and Miguel Angel Magdalenaが担当． ----- 2019 [Seven Deadly Sins] 2016 [Talking to the Moon] 2004 [Cantabrico] 2003 [Journey to the Land of the Wind] 2001 [Lord of the Time] ----- https://www.lastknight.eu/ https://lastknight.bandcamp.com/

Last Knight [Seven Deadly Sins]

#L #Last Knight

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themiscyracomics · 5 years

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Road to Avengers Endgame : les héroïnes du MCU en comics #1

Découvrez tous les articles de notre série Road to Avengers Endgame ici !

Chères Amazones, on entre dans la dernière ligne droite (J-22) vers la conclusion de la Saga d’Infinité dans le Marvel Cinematic Universe (MCU). Avengers : Endgame débarque le mercredi 24 avril 2019 dans les salles françaises pour nous anéantir.

D’ici là, pour vous faire patienter, je vais vous proposer une série d’articles pour vous aider à retrouver les héroïnes du MCU dans les comics ! Aujourd’hui, focus sur Carol Danvers et Monica Rambeau.

Carol Danvers alias Captain Marvel

Comment ne pas commencer avec l’héroïne qui a secoué le box-office mondial en ce début d’année 2019. Le personnage a déjà plus de 50 ans, mais était encore inconnu du grand public. Les lecteur·rices de comics en revanche la connaissaient déjà bien !

Devenue « Miss Marvel » en 1977, sa série de comics a tout de suite affiché des propos ouvertement féministes. Elle dura une vingtaine d’épisodes, avant d’être arrêtée.

Les épisodes #1-3 sont disponibles en VF dans l’album n°18 de la collection « Le meilleur des super-héros Marvel » chez Hachette.

Ce n’est qu’en 2006 qu’elle obtient une nouvelle série solo, après avoir vécu des aventures dans différentes séries X-Men, Avengers ou encore Iron Man. À partir de ce moment, Carol Danvers devient une Avenger que l’on retrouve dans la plupart des équipes pendant plusieurs années.

Artiste : Frank Martin Jr.

Miss Marvel (2006) n’est pour l’instant disponible qu’en VO, et a été réédité récemment en 3 grands volumes : « Captain Marvel: Carol Danvers – The Ms. Marvel Years ».

En 2012, elle adopte finalement l’identité de Captain Marvel, qui était auparavant celle de son mentor Mar-Vell et de plusieurs autres héro·ïnes. Depuis, elle a pris encore un peu plus d’envergure à travers ses séries solo et son implication au sein des Avengers.

Panini Comics commence tout juste à publier les aventures de Carol en tant que Captain Marvel en VF, une partie de ses comics sont donc désormais disponibles !

Artiste : Julian Totino Tedesco

Carol est notamment au cœur de l’évènement Civil War II, qui l’oppose à Tony Stark alias Iron Man, dans un conflit autour de la justice prédictive.

Artiste : Kris Anka

Monica Rambeau

Vous voyez, la petite fille malicieuse et perspicace dans Captain Marvel ? Eh bien, dans les comics, c’est une super-héroïne depuis un bon moment, et elle le deviendra probablement dans le MCU aussi. Puisqu’à l’époque d’Avengers : Endgame, elle devrait avoir autour de 35 ans !

Elle aussi affectée par l’explosion d’une mystérieuse machine, Monica a la capacité de se transformer en énergie, et d’en générer pour en projeter. On ne sait pas encore ce qu’il en sera dans le MCU si son statut d’héroïne est exploité, mais c’est en tout cas son histoire en comics.

Introduite un peu après Carol, Monica a pourtant porté le nom de « Captain Marvel » avant celle qui sera bientôt une des têtes d’affiche du MCU. En l’occurrence, elle fut Captain Marvel de 1982 à 1995. Pendant ce temps-là, elle a vécu des aventures avec les Avengers, qu’elle a même menés le temps de quelques épisodes.

Deux one-shots de Dwayne McDuffie et Mark D. Bright ont été consacrés à Monica Rambeau en tant que Captain Marvel en 1989 et 1994.

Artiste : Mark Bright

Après avoir légué le nom de Captain Marvel à Genis-Vell, le fils de Mar-Vell, elle a adopté plusieurs identités : Photon, Pulsar et désormais Spectrum.

Ces dernières années, Monica a mené l’équipe de la série « Nextwave » aux côtés d’Elsa Bloodstone ou encore fait partie de l’équipe des « Heralds » avec She-Hulk, la première Valkyrie et Emma Frost. Plus récemment, elle travaillait au sein des « Ultimates » avec Carol Danvers, Black Panther, America Chavez et Blue Marvel pour résoudre des problèmes à l’échelle cosmique.

Artiste : Christian Ward

Monica a donc toute la légitimité pour s’imposer dans la prochaine saga du MCU comme une héroïne majeure. Reste à voir si Marvel Studios saura exploiter son potentiel et ne pas la reléguer au rang de side-kick comme de trop nombreux·ses héro·ïnes non-blanc·hes.

C’est tout pour aujourd’hui, on se retrouve ce vendredi 5 avril pour la prochaine chronique qui portera sur de nouvelles héroïnes du MCU !

Captain Chocolatine

#marvel #comics #captain marvel #carol danvers #monica rambeau #spectrum #photon #mcu #marvel cinematic universe #avengers #endgame #road to avengers endgame #captain chocolatine

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double-croche1 · 3 years

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[CANNES 2021] La Sélection Officielle, la Quinzaine des Réalisateurs, la Semaine de la Critique et l’Acid du Festival de Cannes 2021, qui se tiendra du mardi 6 au samedi 17 juillet, ont été annoncées. SÉLECTION OFFICIELLE - COMPÉTITION 06/07 : ‘Annette’ de Leos Carax – Film d’ouverture 09/07 : ‘Benedetta’ de Paul Verhoeven 14/07 : ‘Bergman Island’ de Mia Hansen-Løve ‘Titane’ de Julia Ducournau 18/08 : ‘Drive My Car’ de Ryûsuke Hamaguchi 25/08 : ‘France’ de Bruno Dumont 15/09 : ‘Le Genou d’Ahed’ de Nadav Lapid 22/09 : ‘Tout s’est bien passé’ de François Ozon 29/09 : ‘Flag Day’ de Sean Penn ‘Les Intranquilles’ de Joachim Lafosse 13/10 : ‘Julie (en 12 chapitres)’ de Joachim Trier 27/10 : ‘The French Dispatch’ de Wes Anderson ‘La Fracture’ de Catherine Corsini 03/11 : ‘Compartiment n°6’ de Juho Kuosmanen ‘Les Olympiades’ de Jacques Audiard 10/11 : ‘Tre Piani’ de Nanni Moretti 17/11 : ‘Memoria’ d’Apichatpong Weerasethakul ‘Haut et fort’ de Nabil Ayouch 01/12 : ‘La Fièvre de Petrov’ de Kirill Serebrennikov 08/12 : ‘Lingui, les liens sacrés’ de Mahamat-Saleh Haroun 15/12 : ‘Un héros’ d'Asghar Farhadi 02/02/22 : ‘Red Rocket’ de Sean Baker 16/03/22 : ‘L’Histoire de ma femme’ d'Ildikó Enyedi 11/05/22 : ‘Nitram’ de Justin Kurzel SÉLECTION OFFICIELLE - UN CERTAIN REGARD Films datés : 21/07 : ‘Onoda, 10 000 nuits dans la jungle’ d’Arthur Harari – Film d’ouverture ‘Bonne mère’ de Hafsia Herzi 15/09 : ‘Blue Bayou’ de Justin Chon 13/10 : ‘Freda’ de Gessica Généus 29/12 : ‘Lamb’ de Valdimar Jóhannsson 05/01/22 : ‘Mes frères et moi’ de Yohan Manca 26/01/22 : ‘Un monde’ de Laura Wandel 09/02/22 : ‘Great Freedom’ de Sebastian Meise ‘The Innocents’ d’Eskil Vogt 23/02/22 : ‘Les Poings desserrés’ de Kira Kovalenko 09/03/22 : ‘Women Do Cry’ de Mina Mileva et Vesela Kazakova 16/03/22 : ‘Moneyboys’ de C. B. Yi 13/04/22 : ‘Et il y eut un matin’ d'Eran Kolirin 29/04/22 : ‘Prayers for the Stolen’ de Tatiana Huezo (Mubi) 06/07/22 : ‘After Yang’ de Kogonada 03/08/22 : ‘Les Promesses d’Hasan’ de Semih Kaplanoğlu Films non datés : ‘A résidence’ d'Alexey German Jr. ‘La Civil’ de Teodora Ana Mihai ‘Rehana Maryam Noor’ d’Abdullah Mohammad Saad ‘Les Nuits de Zhenwu’ de Na Jiazuo SÉLECTION OFFICIELLE - CANNES PREMIÈRE Films datés : 08/09 : ‘Serre-moi fort’ de Mathieu Amalric 29/09 : ‘Cette musique ne joue pour personne’ de Samuel Benchetrit 12/12 : ‘JFK : L’Enquête’ d’Oliver Stone (OCS) 29/12 : ‘Tromperie’ d'Arnaud Desplechin ‘Belle’ de Mamoru Hosoda 12/01/22 : ‘Jane par Charlotte’ de Charlotte Gainsbourg 20/01/22 : ‘Val’ de Ting Poo et Leo Scott (VOD) 13/04/22 : ‘Vortex’ de Gaspar Noé 18/05/22 : ‘Evolution’ de Kornél Mundruczo 21/09/22 : ‘Juste sous vos yeux’ de Hong Sang-Soo 30/11/22 : ‘Cow’ d'Andrea Arnold Film non daté : ‘Mothering Sunday’ d’Eva Husson QUINZAINE DES RÉALISATEURS Films datés : 14/07 : ‘Journal de Tûoa’ de Miguel Gomes et Maureen Fazendeiro 04/08 : ‘De bas étage’ de Yassine Qnia 06/10 : ‘Mon légionnaire’ de Rachel Lang – Film de clôture 17/11 : ‘Les Magnétiques’ de Vincent Maël Cardona 12/01/22 : ‘Ouistreham’ d’Emmanuel Carrère – Film d’ouverture 02/02/22 : ‘The Souvenir Part I’ de Joanna Hogg – Séance spéciale ‘The Souvenir Part II’ de Joanna Hogg 23/02/22 : ‘La Légende du Roi Crabe’ d’Alessio Rigo de Righi et Matteo Zoppis 02/03/22 : ‘Ali & Ava’ de Clio Barnard 16/03/22 : ‘Medusa’ d’Anita Rocha da Silveira ‘Entre les vagues’ d’Anaïs Volpé 30/03/22 : ‘Retour à Reims (Fragments)’ de Jean-Gabriel Périot 06/04/22 : 'Employé / Patron’ de Manuel Nieto Zas 13/04/22 : ‘A Chiara’ de Jonas Carpignano ‘Toute une nuit sans savoir’ de Payal Kapadia ‘Face à la mer’ d'Ely Dagher 20/04/22 : ‘Murina’ d’Antoneta Alamat Kusijanović 27/04/22 : ‘Hit the Road’ de Panah Panahi ‘La Colline où rugissent les lionnes’ de Luàna Bajrami 01/06/22 : ‘Clara Sola’ de Nathalie Álvarez Mesen 22/03/23 : ‘Neptune Frost’ de Saul Williams et Anisia Uzeyman Films non datés : ‘Ripples of Life’ de Shujun Wei ‘Europa’ de Haider Rashid ‘Futura’ de Pietro Marcello, Alice Rohrwacher et Francesco Munzi ‘Întregalde’ de Radu Muntean SEMAINE DE LA CRITIQUE Films datés : 01/09 : ‘Une histoire d’amour et de désir’ de Leyla Bouzid – Film de clôture 15/09 : ‘Les Amours d’Anaïs’ de Charline Bourgeois-Tacquet – Séance spéciale, Film du 60e anniversaire 17/11 : ‘Olga’ d'Elie Grappe 26/01/22 : ‘Une jeune fille qui va bien’ de Sandrine Kiberlain – Séance spéciale 16/02/22 : ‘Piccolo Corpo’ de Laura Samani 02/03/22 : ‘Rien à foutre’ de Julie Lecoustre et Emmanuel Marre ‘Robuste’ de Constance Meyer – Film d’ouverture 09/03/22 : ‘Petite Nature’ de Samuel Theis – Séance spéciale 23/03/22 : ‘Plumes’ d’Omar El Zohairy ‘Bruno Reidal’ de Vincent Le Port – Séance spéciale 06/04/22 : ‘Libertad’ de Clara Roquet 27/04/22 : ‘La Femme du fossoyeur’ de Khadar Ayderus Ahmed Films non datés : ‘Amparo’ de Simón Mesa Soto SÉLECTION OFFICIELLE - SÉANCES DE MINUIT 06/10 : ‘Tralala’ d’Arnaud et Jean-Marie Larrieu 17/11 : ‘Oranges sanguines’ de Jean-Christophe Meurisse 24/11 : ‘Suprêmes’ d’Audrey Estrougo SÉLECTION OFFICIELLE - SÉANCES SPÉCIALES Film daté : 20/10 : ‘Les Héroïques’ de Maxime Roy 02/02/22 : ‘H6’ de Yé Yé 07/03/22 : ‘Marin des montagnes’ de Karim Aïnouz (Arte) 29/06/22 : ‘Cahiers noirs I - Viviane’ et ‘Cahiers noirs II - Ronit’ de Shlomi Elkabetz 27/07/22 : ‘Mi iubita, mon amour’ de Noémie Merlant 15/09/22 : ‘Are You Lonesome Tonight?’ de Wen Shipei (VOD) Films non datés : ‘New Worlds, The Cradle of a Civilization’ d’Andrew Muscato SÉLECTION ÉPHÉMÈRE DE FILMS SUR L’ENVIRONNEMENT Films datés : 22/09 : ‘Bigger than Us’ de Flore Vasseur 10/11 : ‘Marcher sur l'eau’ d’Aïssa Maïga 24/11 : ‘Animal’ de Cyril Dion 15/12 : ‘La Panthère des neiges’ de Marie Amiguet 22/12 : ‘La Croisade’ de Louis Garrel Films non datés : ‘Invisible Demons’ de Rahul Jain ‘I Am So Sorry’ de Zhao Liang ACID Films datés : 12/01/22 : ‘Little Palestine, Journal d’un siège’ d’Abdallah Al-Khatib 26/01/22 : ‘Municipale’ de Thomas Paulot 09/03/22 : ‘Soy Libre’ de Laure Portier 30/03/22 : ‘Vedette’ de Claudine Bories et Patrice Chagnard 20/04/22 : ‘I Comete’ de Pascal Tagnati 27/04/22 : ‘Ghost Song’ de Nicolas Peduzzi 12/09/22 : ‘Down with the King’ de Diego Ongaro (VOD) 12/10/22 : ‘Aya’ de Simon Coulibaly Gillard Film non daté : ‘Vénus sur la rive’ de Lin Wang A&B

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